The Blackout Girl ✔️

chapter two

Chapter Two

The murders weren't connected until the third body was discovered. They found him in a shady motel just off the highway. His pants were pulled down around his knees, blood coating the front of his briefs. His head was angled toward the door, and officers were met with empty, ragged sockets. They were forced to stare into what once were eyes until he was zipped into a body bag for processing. Photos were snapped, the room was blocked off with yellow tape, and the pay-by-the-hour establishment was shut down for the day.

It crossed county lines, blurring a matter of jurisdiction. The Dallas County Sheriff's department got the call forty-eight hours after the fact when case files were studied and the homicide was ruled to be a serial crime. The chief of police didn't want to admit it. His arrogance wouldn't allow it, which is precisely why the deputy was the one who followed up.

It took five minutes for them to contact the feds.

The FBI Field Office in Dallas was always buzzing. The task force for violent crime was perpetually busy because no matter how much they tried, they could never quite catch up with the workload. The five primary agents were stationed at their respective desks, working in harmony, but seemingly not at the same task. Their energy was synchronized. It had to be for them to be efficient.

Nolan Foster was surveying a stack of case files, teaching himself what he could about past investigations while he had the time. Dre Keaton was finishing a report and nursing a cup of coffee. Darren Harte was handling some emails, his fingers rapping against the keyboard of his work computer. Clint Price, the man in charge, was holed up in his office, waiting for their next big break.

It was Kaytee Carlisle who answered the phone. She spun in her chair the second it rang, one freshly manicured nail pressing down on the button to answer it. She held the receiver to her red lips and chirped, "FBI Dallas Field Office. This is Kaytee Carlisle with the violent crimes task force."

Dre's chin perked up from a few feet over. He mouthed Who is it? at her, but received no immediate reply. She held up a finger, listening intently to whatever was being said. Her brows furrowed, a certain tension taking to her delicate features. Her round face suddenly grew serious, all traces of a lighthearted mood fading.

"Got it," she replied. "Are you absolutely certain?"

Nolan, too, seemed interested now. "What's going on?"

"KC will fill us in," Dre replied. "Hang tight."

Kaytee hung up the phone a few moments later, her lips pursed into a thin line. "There's a serial killer in Dallas. Get to the briefing room. They're faxing files over now."

Nolan swallowed hard, pushing his sleeves to his elbows. He hesitated, definitely nervous. He couldn't move his dress shoes from the spot they were held to the floor.

"You alright, bro?" asked Dre.

"Fine," Nolan replied rigidly. "I've just... this is my first..."

"You're learning. The only way to get better at this job is to gain experience. They brought you on for a reason," Dre said, throwing in one of his trademark smiles for good measure. He was probably the nicest one within the unit, the eternal extrovert. It was no surprise he got along so well with people. Nolan liked him. Well, as much as he could when they were basically strangers.

He'd been working in violent crime for a month, but he still felt so naive and lost. Everything was so new to him, and he wondered if that feeling would ever go away.

While Kaytee seemed soft-spoken on the outside, she was a force to be reckoned with when she had a job at hand and something to focus on. She was already spreading copies of the case across the boardroom table when they took their seats, diligent and ready to get started. Her shoulder-length brown hair was falling forward despite being tucked behind her ears. She would have it up before they went anywhere, knowing her. It helped her concentrate when it was out of the way.