Father of Fear by Ethan Cross Page A

red-brick accents. He should have been in there with the other detectives from the task force. This was the first big case he had been involved with, and his mother had stuck him on the sidelines babysitting some bureaucrats.
    The Coercion Killer case was a political minefield that had the whole state living in fear, and so it was no surprise that the Governor had requested two representatives to observe the investigation. But it did come as a surprise when Kaleb’s mother—Captain Maria Duran, commander of KC’s homicide division—assigned him to be their liaison. He should have been in there with the lead detectives and FBI agents, watching and learning how to properly conduct a murder investigation of this magnitude. Instead, he was stuck outside in the drizzling rain waiting for the Governor’s two reps to grace him with their presence.
    A man from the opposite side of the police cordon called out to him. “Hey, buddy, what’s going on in there? Is it that Coercion Killer?”
    “You can find out on the news like everybody else.”
    The man was a biker type covered in tattoos, with a piercing through his nose and huge holes in his ears. Kaleb hated the way that guys like that always seemed to wrongly view him as a kindred spirit instead of a cop. He had considered removing his own tattoos. They would probably never let him into the FBI with the tribal motif that crawled from his chest up his neck.
    Through the rain, Kaleb saw two men approaching the barricades. He told the cop to let them through and then shook hands with the pair of glorified errand boys. He had first met the pair two weeks previously when he’d been assigned as their babysitter. The first man, Andrew Garrison, seemed competent enough. He wore a black suit, white shirt, and a black tie and could have blended in with the agents from the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit who were conducting their inquiries inside the house. The other guy, Marcus Williams, wore an untucked black button-down shirt, no tie, and a leather jacket. He had two days’ worth of beard growth on his face and dark bags beneath bloodshot eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in a week.
    “Give us the details,” Williams said as they walked toward the house.
    “I already told Mr. Garrison everything over the phone. You guys didn’t really have to come down here.”
    “Tell us again, kid.”
    Kaleb bit back a sarcastic comment and replied, “Same as the others. Sometime after Brad Dunham left for work the UNSUB entered the house and abducted Mr. Dunham’s wife and son. When Mr. Dunham returned home, he found a packet containing a video message and information about his target. Pretty much everything identical to the past cases. The only difference is that this time we have a head start. Mr. Dunham’s best friend is one of our detectives, and so Mr. Dunham called him immediately for advice.”
    “Signs of a struggle? Witnesses?”
    “We’re questioning all the neighbors. No signs of forced entry. There’s a broken glass in the kitchen, and the milk was left out on the counter with the cap off. We’re also checking for a connection between the family and the target or between them and the other victims.”
    “You won’t find any. He chooses them all at random.”
    “How can you be sure of that?”
    “It makes him harder to track and catch. That’s what I would do,” Williams said as he pushed through the front door.

Chapter Twelve

    The metal chair rested in the center of the dining room. They had removed everything else, bolted the chair to the floor, and tied a rope around the chair and the prisoner’s midsection. Ackerman’s arms were pulled behind his back at an awkward and uncomfortable angle. A thick nylon rope encircled his wrists up to his elbows and had been secured to a two-by-four stud that the CIA contractors had broken through the plaster wall to expose. Another rope bound his feet in the same manner. They had even knocked out a portion of the