Disclaimer: This is solely for the enjoyment of the readership. There is no intent to infringe on characters owned by CBS.
Please read "Sharpshooter" first as it sets up some of the relationships in this story.
Rating: PG
Keys to a Killer
It was early Friday evening as Calleigh pulled into her parking place in the garage at her apartment building. A sack of groceries sat in the seat next to her. Glancing at her watch, she noted that Horatio would be there in less than an hour. She'd have to hurry to get dinner started and to shower quickly before he rang the bell. It was their customary Friday evening since their engagement.
She was completely unaware of the man lurking behind the van in the stall next to hers. He was so swift and strong. A burlap bag was cast over her head. Calleigh fought like a cat, and then he applied the chloroform to her face. Her struggle was over almost before it began. Like a limp rag, she crumpled across his left arm. He looked around furtively before retrieving her keys from the floor. He popped the trunk and slung her inside. It was then he noticed her service pistol and badge. He moaned in delight at the sight of them. Without wasting more time, he removed the weapon and placed flexi-cuffs around her hands. He made a hasty search for her cell phone and took those as well. The trunk slammed shut, and he drove off.
Half an hour after Calleigh left in the trunk of her car, Horatio pulled into the visitor slot nearby. He checked and found that Calleigh's stall was empty.
"Must be a very special dinner tonight," he commented to himself with a smile.
He reached for the key she'd given him weeks ago for such events. He rode the elevator up and rang the bell out of respect. No answer; no surprise. He let himself in; the security system chimed. He pressed in the numbers to silence it. Foxy came out to see who was home. She stopped along the way to give a good stretch before greeting Horatio with a "Meowl."
"And a very good evening to you, too, Foxy," he bent down to pet the cat. "Looks like I beat Calleigh home."
"Meowl," Foxy replied as she headed for the couch and another stretch.
Horatio headed for the 'fridge, draping his jacket across the chair at the breakfast bar. He popped the top on a soda and sat down next to the cat. Instantly, Foxy made her place in his lap. Shoes off and feet on the table, Horatio flipped on the TV. The lead story for the evening was the only one his team was currently working. There was some killer-rapist running loose between Dade and Monroe Counties. It seemed he'd snatch women in Miami, and they'd turn up as dead rape victims in the Keys. The killer would steal the car of the victim and then leave her inside at the dump spot. He was proceeding down the Keys in a methodical pattern. He was also kind enough to leaving his DNA all over his victims, almost like a calling card. What the news did not report was the mutilation of his victims. It was also his calling card and much too horrible to report.
The first of four bodies had been dumped in the middle of the night on Key Largo in front of a popular tourist stopping spot. The next body was left on Tavernier, then Plantation, and the last was left on Islamorada. He snatched them on Thursday or Friday, tortured them, and dumped them by Sunday morning at the latest. Since he crossed jurisdictional lines, he was making it harder to stop him. Either Miami-Dade had to catch him in the act, or the Monroe County Sheriff would have to grab him in the Keys. Until now, he had slipped past them all. Horatio had been late this evening because he was working to remedy that situation so that both departments could move across the lines and apprehend this cold blooded killer. "H" hated politics, and he especially hated politics when it toyed with the lives of ordinary citizens. Until he sat down on the couch, he had hardly noticed how exhausted he was. He dozed quietly as he waited for Calleigh to come through the door. Somewhere around nine that night, he sank more fully into the couch. Foxy curled herself around his ankles as he slept soundly. It was not his first night asleep on his fiancée's couch, nor would it be his last he figured. Usually on Saturday mornings that followed such a Friday, he'd awaken to a warm quilt thrown around him.
His four-legged alarm clock went off around six that Saturday morning. Horatio groaned and grunted awake. He was chilled – no quilt. No quilt! No Calleigh! Now he was awake and panicked. He found her bedroom door open, bed still made, as it had been when he arrived the night before. Horror ran cold through his soul. What if that creep had Calleigh? He tried hard to push that thought as far away as he could.
"Alexx, Calleigh's missing. She didn't come home last night. She's not there with you, is she?" fear filled his voice.
Alexx awoke with a jolt to the sound of Horatio's voice, "What did you just say?"
"Calleigh's not home. She never came home, Alexx," was his response. "Foxy just got me up. I fell asleep on the couch waiting for her. We were going to have dinner…" his voice trailed off.
"I'll be in the office just as fast as I can. I'll meet you there," Alexx assured her friend. "We'll find her, Horatio, we'll find her, Honey. You can't blame yourself for falling asleep."
Alexx had known Horatio for many years. She'd worked with him, held his hand during his divorce, been there when Ray died. She had always loved Horatio. She knew him well enough to know that he always took blame for things that went badly. Alexx been thrilled watching as Calleigh lifted the pall from her friend. She loved Calleigh dearly, too. As she made her way into the office, she could not bear the thought that anything evil had befallen her two dearest friends in the world. She tried Calleigh's cell phone time and time again, just as Horatio had done. Both got the same message – out of area or off.
Horatio met the whole team in the lab. Nobody had heard from Calleigh after they all left for home Friday evening. Eric had checked the main desk – no reports of missing women or of dead bodies showing up in the Keys with the same MO of the killer they were currently chasing. He was the first to say what everyone was thinking.
With that on the table, Horatio called Adele and asked her to meet the team at Calleigh's building. He needed to declare her parking garage a crime scene and gather whatever evidence they could find. If this killer had Calleigh, they had maybe twenty-four hours to find her alive. He worked hard to keep his fear under some control.
Friday night, Luke Doyle meandered around town before heading for Dixie Highway rather than the interstates. It may have been slower, but the police would hardly be looking for him down a city street. For that matter, the police were not looking for him just yet. Doyle was a careful driver, and without a record, the police would not have probable cause to search any vehicle he was driving. After all, the victim could not have reported her car stolen if she were riding in the trunk. His logic was smooth and simple; he watched all the TV cop shows. However, this time would be a little different. He had a cop in the back. The thought pumped up his adrenaline rush that much more.
At Homestead, Dixie Highway became known simply as U.S. 1 as it ran 120 miles through the Keys. Calleigh was still out cold in the trunk as he crossed into Monroe County. He had done this five times now. He had the timing down pat. Late at night, he would head for the Keys, missing tourist traffic. Just in case, he left the rag of chloroform near the victim's face. It simply would not do to have her awaken before he was ready to play. It was a short four-and-a-half hour drive to his shack on the far end of No Name Key. There was no one out there to hear her screams, no one but the mangroves, Key Deer, and no-see-'ums.
To get to No Name Key, Doyle had to travel across Big Pine Key. The thrill: Big Pine Key was the most heavily patrolled of any of the Keys. The deer out there were an endangered species and fell easy prey to car traffic. It gave him an extra charge, as he would slip quietly past the Sheriff's car sitting at the head of the key. Seeing more than one cop a night made his hands sweat deliciously. It drove his arousal to a frenzied pitch.
His shack looked more like a Tiki hut on stilts with sides than it looked like a house, but it served his needs more than adequately. It was just before dawn when he pulled Calleigh's car into the makeshift drive. Coral gravel crunched under his feet. He opened the trunk and found Calleigh still unconscious. Doyle slung her over his shoulder, and then he slammed the trunk shut. Calleigh was lighter than his last victim. What was her name, he pondered. His pit bull sounded off at the shutting of the trunk. He ascended the steps with his latest prize.
Early Saturday morning, Horatio's team went over the parking garage carefully. Horatio pulled spit off the pavement and put it into a collection tube. He smelled urine behind the van that stood next to Calleigh's empty parking spot. He collected that, too.
"'H'," began Speed, "What do you make of this?"
Horatio moved quickly to see what was found, "Looks like dung."
Speed bagged it, "I don't think it's a dog – too green. And no cat would fail to bury it."
Horatio was one step ahead of him, "Run it back now. See if it's rabbit or maybe, deer. And have these checked for our suspect's DNA."
Eric picked up some dust, "Hey, and take this back to see if it's coral."
"You're thinking Keys, aren't you?" Speed offered.
"Mmm, the Keys," Horatio remarked, keeping his emotions on a tight leash. "If it's deer and coral, then we are looking at the Lower Keys."
"Big Pine Key," Eric added. "I took my niece Concha down there to see the deer. She'd been begging me to see them and the fresh water croc they've got at the refuge."
"Let's get back to the lab, now, gentlemen. He's got a good head start on us, and the clock is ticking," concluded Horatio.
Horatio paced back and forth as his technicians analyzed the materials they'd brought back. Adele just watched him pace.
Eric got the first hit. It was coral dust. Speed's analysis was deer scat, too. All they needed was the DNA preliminary report. Was it or was it not the same DNA as their killer? Within six hours the preliminary would come back, "yes." For now, Horatio did not need a fixed match to call for the chopper and Monroe County Sheriff's Task Force Office. He had deer scat, coral dust, and a hunch.
Horatio called the Monroe County Sheriff from the air as he, Adele, and Eric headed for the Keys. They decided on wearing the heavier, exterior SWAT vests. It took a turboprop one hour to get from Miami International to Key West International, flying between 150 and 200 miles per hour. The police chopper was somewhat slower, but Big Pine Key was also thirty miles closer to Miami. The killer would hardly expect an air assault combined with the Sheriff on the ground.
Speed was left in Miami with Hagen to find the killer's car. Horatio assumed that the killer would drive up to Dade County, steal the victim and her car, drive to his killing place, do the deed, and then dump the body. Following the dump, he'd take a bus back to Miami and pick up his car. Horatio was hoping for a name, to go with the DNA and fingerprints. If they found a car with Monroe County plates that was "abandoned" in the general area of Calleigh's apartment, and had deer dung near it; they would have plates to run. The more evidence they had, the tighter the lock, the more severe the sentence.
Doyle put Calleigh on the floor and locked her feet to a central post with another set of flex-cuffs. With her hands behind her, feet tied together – post between; there would be little opportunity for escape. With that, Doyle crashed out for some sleep. He figured that when he awoke, his dinner would be ready and awake, too. The dog grew quiet outside as Doyle stretched out and closed his eyes.
Calleigh awakened to find herself effectively hog-tied. She squirmed to see her hands behind her. Indeed those were flexi-cuffs that bound her securely. The steel handcuff key in her back pocket was useless. Even more irritating was that post that she now straddled. There was no way to work her hands forward. Maybe, if she could get her hands as far as her knees she might be able to make some headway with the plastic.
She heard Doyle stirring, so she returned to the posture prior to consciousness. Doyle found his victim still asleep, which annoyed him greatly. Taking a bucket of water, he dumped on Calleigh who responded appropriately. Doyle laughed as he sat her up.
"What the hell do you want?" Calleigh demanded.
More laughter, "You."
"Why me?"
"Why not you?" he rejoined. "Why not any of them?"
Calleigh knew she was in trouble, but now she knew the trouble grew geometrically with that admission.
"You killed those other women?" she asked.
"Sure," he started without any passion in his voice, "And I'm going to kill you, too."
Doyle got up and pulled a large knife out of its rack. He began to sharpen it.
"And I'm going to cut out your heart and eat it," he continued.
A chill went up Calleigh's spine.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because," he responded.
"Because of what?" she tried to engage him in conversation. "Surely Horatio is on his way by now," she thought to herself. "I just have to keep me alive until he gets here."
"Because that is what the voices tell me to do," Doyle stated. "I have to do what they tell me to do. I don't have a choice."
"We all have choices," Calleigh added, then quickly switching the subject. "What's your name?"
"I suppose I can tell you that," he said, "Luke Doyle. My name is Luke Doyle."
Doyle continued to sharpen the knife, testing it on himself.
"Where are you from Luke?" Calleigh asked.
"Why do you want to know?"
"I just do. I think I have a right to know something about you before you kill me," she pushed.
"Do you now?" he leaned forward with the knife. "Well I don't. You talk too much. I don't like that. I have too many voices to listen to anyway."
A chopper buzzed overhead.
"What was that?" wondered Doyle.
"My fiancé, if you must know," Calleigh was confident that it was Horatio.
Doyle looked at her, ran his free hand through her golden hair. Calleigh resisted pulling away in horror. Instead, she stiffened.
Horatio and Eric spotted Calleigh's car simultaneously.
"There it is!" they shouted.
"Get Monroe County Sheriff here now," Horatio called to Eric. "Put us down now," he directed to the pilot.
The pilot could not find a good place to land, so he passed by the shack.
"Down, now!" screamed Horatio.
The chopper swooped by the shack one more time before the pilot found a clearing that he hoped was large enough. Horatio was on one skid of the chopper ready to jump off if he had to. Eric reached out to hold Horatio's belt. The last thing he wanted was two of his friends dead. Horatio looked back at the physical restraint.
"Let go, Eric," Horatio demanded.
"When we are closer, 'H'. You're not thinking clearly right now," Eric cautioned.
It was like being slapped on the face. Horatio drew in a deep breath and nodded.
Finally the chopper set down, and Horatio was out the door, pistol drawn. Eric and Adele had a hard time keeping up with him. In the near distance, sirens were approaching.
Doyle had cut Calleigh free from the post so that he could use her for a shield. Occasionally, her feet touched the ground. He had swapped his knife for her pistol. Holding it to her head, he headed toward her car. The keys were left in the ignition.
Horatio came into sight of Doyle who promptly fired. He missed, not that a gunshot would have stopped the charging red head. Doyle then did the one thing he could do. He tucked Calleigh even more closely in front of him and put the barrel to her head.
"Come any closer, and she's history," Doyle demanded as he fumbled with the door.
"It's over Doyle," shouted Horatio. "We know who you are. We found your car in Miami. We already had your prints and DNA from the other murders. You're history, my friend, you're history."
Horatio took a less aggressive stance by lowering his weapon.
Doyle hesitated for a moment, thinking or listening to the voices. He moved the aim back to Horatio and fired at near point blank range. Horatio staggered. Calleigh kicked Doyle's knee and pulled free. Doyle fired again. This time he his bullet found its way into Calleigh's shoulder. She screamed, hit the ground, and rolled.
Horatio screamed, "No!"
Adele fired the shot the ended the affair. Doyle dropped quietly, dead at Calleigh's feet.
"Pretty humiliating, being shot with your own weapon," Calleigh offered Horatio.
Horatio cut the flexi-cuffs off Calleigh and cradled her in his arms. He smoothed back her hair with the gentle touch of his hand. Eric called for the Navy's SAR helo to come for rescue. As they waited, Eric pulled the med-kit off the chopper and began to treat Calleigh's flesh wound. Horatio continued to cradle and rock her; his kisses caressed her forehead. The Navy helicopter was there within half an hour. Eric had stopped the bleeding with a pressure bandage. Calleigh felt miserable except for being in Horatio's arms.
The Navy Corpsman dropped down on a fast rope. He secured Calleigh in the Stokes basket litter for transport. Carefully, the Stokes was guided between the trees up into the hold of the helo.
"Where are you taking her? Florida Keys Memorial or Fisherman's?" Horatio inquired.
"Florida Keys, sir," the petty officer responded. "It's on Stock Island. Can't miss it. It's right near the golf course," he turned to leave, "Not to worry, she'll be okay. I've seen much worse with the Marines," with a smile he was off in a horse collar hoist.
"Damn... These guys are good," muttered Eric.
Horatio exhaled for the first time that day. The Monroe County coroner arrived to collect Doyle's lifeless body. Horatio and crew climbed back into the Miami-Dade PD chopper for the ride to Stock Island. It was for all purposes over – Calleigh was safe and the killer himself was dead. If he had a say, she'd sleep in her own bed tonight with him under a quilt on her couch.