In the Shadows of Evil

By Lana L. Beck

Former FBI profiler, Dr. Alexa Reid, was perfectly happy with her simple life in South Deering, Chicago. Those close to her might accuse her of running away from her past, but Alexa would argue she was perfectly content back in her hometown running her Dads little mid-western tavern. Until one day, a gruesome murder struck to close to home.

The Nursery Rhyme Killer was making headlines throughout Chicago. Dr. Alexa Reid was trying to avoid reading any associated stories, trying to avoid opening up painful wounds. As the body count rose throughout the Windy City, Alexa awoke one morning to a grisly crime scene in her apartment. Her roommate, her friend, had been killed and evidence pointed straight to the Nursery Rhyme Killer. As lead detective, Jax Stryker, began investigating the case, Alexas past began to unravel and both were thrown into a game of cat and mouse with one of the most prolific serial killers in the history of Chicago.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477254189

Lana L. Beck

Lana L. Beck is the Director of Communications for a non-profit organization dedicated to strategically developing training and awareness on the dangers of drug abuse. Previously, she produced a training series called “Drug Enforcement at the Crossroads of America.” She received her bachelors in Criminology in 1994. Throughout her career she has conducted cutting edge drug demand reduction programming, media campaigns and law enforcement training. She has won several prestigious awards for her work, including the Telly, Addy and Communicator.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

IT WAS AS though everything she had done in the past led her to this pivotal moment, even in her dreams. Critically acclaimed for her text, Serial Killers: The Mind of a Madman, she was at her book signing. People had come from all over just to get a signature and a handshake from Dr. Alexa Reid. Alexa was amazed at how many people were there. Then he walked up, handsome and charming, smiling at her. Smiling back at him, she thought perhaps she could be interested. She asked him what he would like her to write in his copy of her book, and he replied, Die Bitch. Just as he said it, he took a knife and drove it right through her heart. Then she woke up.

Sweating and a bit shaken, Alexa was obviously letting her job get to her, but who wouldn’t though, if they’d been in the company of serial killers for the last fifteen weeks as she had. Dr. Alexa Reid rubbed her eyes and focused in on her surroundings. It was then that she clearly saw where she was, in less than adequate but familiar accommodations at a motel in Starke, Florida. Alexa had been traveling quite frequently now because she was chosen as the lead behavioral psychologist for a study the FBI was spearheading on a new type of therapy for psychopaths. Her research geographically concentrated on four different prisons in four different states—Joliet State Prison in Illinois, Sing Sing Correctional Facility in New York, San Quentin State Prison in California, and Florida State Prison in Florida. Her assignment was to counsel four different types of psychopaths—distempered, charismatic, primary and secondary serial killers, one from each prison—for six weeks using this new form of psychoanalysis as well as evaluate any changes, good or bad, in their behavior. Alexa had been one of the first psychologists trained in this new type of therapy but was feeling as if she would need therapy herself before this assignment was over.

Alexa went to work for the FBI shortly after she finished her PhD in psychology at the University of Florida in Gainesville. Originally from the south side of Chicago, she moved to Florida as a teen after her parents divorced. She attended the University of South Florida and received her bachelor’s degree in criminology but decided almost immediately that she wanted to go all the way in school. Now based in Washington D.C., Alexa found herself back in Florida, working on this nearly finished assignment.

Two more weeks and she would have completed three out of the four states, leaving only six weeks left of this grueling tour. She stretched than yawned; not being able to sleep in her own bed or eat home-cooked meals was really getting to her. Alexa was sure that she’d gained five pounds doing all this traveling, living out of a suitcase and all. She primarily ate at fast food and greasy spoon restaurants, which made her even more motivated to exercise while she was away from home. So she jumped out of bed, even at the grand old hour of 6:00 a.m., threw her hair up in a ponytail, dressed in warm ups and went for a jog, knowing it would only be a couple of hours before she’d be back behind the barbed-wired walls of the prison. Starke was a small town, old and run down. There was no scenic route she could take. Highway 301 ran smack dab in the middle of the decaying city and other than a few beat-up businesses there wasn’t much around. The town was famous for the prison and it also housed a huge military base called Camp Blanding. Alexa had seen enough of the prison to suit her but she kept telling herself, only a couple more weeks.

Alexa knew she was a disciplined woman; she had a confident air about her that some might have even called arrogant, but she was damned good at her job and worked in a field full of men with bigger egos than hers. She was a master marksman and worked considerably hard to gain the respect of her fellow agents. Sometimes it seemed that men were uneasy or intimidated by her, but even at the age of thirty-one she was in no hurry to get married. Sure she dated, currently an FBI agent named Blake, but she didn’t know how serious they were, or if their relationship would even go any further than the dinners, the wine, and the mediocre sex. They both traveled a lot with their jobs so they didn’t see each other often enough to get too serious.

She knew she was attractive, being slender and of medium height, having all the right curves, but she never tried to accentuate them with tight shirts or short skirts. Well, only maybe when she really needed to, but definitely not in her current capacity working in prisons that housed only the most sinister and violent of criminals. Tailored suits from Neiman’s and her long, blond hair pulled up gave her a sophisticated and more professional look. That was her style. She once considered dyeing her hair a darker shade so that she wouldn’t be noticed as much because everyone knows that whether you are pretty or ugly, if you have blond hair it warranted a look. She decided against the color change but started to wear black-framed glasses while she was conducting her interviews. Although her vision was a perfect 20/20, the glasses humbled her appearance.

Returning to the motel room after her jog, Alexa jumped into the shower and proceeded to get ready to enter what she would call the gates of hell. Oh, but who was she fooling, she loved her job; it was exciting and challenging all at the same time. Steam was fogging the bathroom and she could feel her tight muscles starting to loosen. As she let the warm water rush down her back, she drifted into a memory of when she was a little girl anxiously awaiting her father Dennis Reid, a Chicago policeman, on his return home from work. When he’d pull up in the driveway in his squad car, he’d hit the siren once so she’d know he was home, and then she would greet him with a big kiss. He would put his black checkerboard police hat on the top of her head and tell her how much he loved her. She was always so fascinated by the fact that her dad was a cop. However, now that she is with the FBI, he tells her how proud he is of her.

Drifting back into reality, Alexa looked at her watch that was resting on the corner of the sink. She realized that she was running late. Shit, shit, shit, she cursed herself and jumped out of the shower, dressing in record time. She blow-dried her hair and put it in a twist, then threw on her beige suit. She resigned herself to the fact that she would have to apply her make-up in the car while she was driving to the prison, and she would not have time for breakfast. A blessing in disguise, she thought.

It had started to drizzle right as she pulled up to the guard gate of the Florida State Prison, the same prison that housed Old Sparky, their infamous electric chair. She smiled, showed her credentials and the guard gave her a nod then waved her on. She knew rain was coming. When she went for a jog this morning the sky was gray and overcast as dawn’s early light peeked through a blanket of storm clouds. She turned on the wipers and heard them drag across her rain-spattered windshield. She proceeded with her usual protocol, which had become routine for the past four weeks. Then she made her way to the maximum-security unit that she had become all too familiar with. Fences after fences topped with razor wire surrounded the massive institutional looking buildings. Alexa thought the gloomy weather only added to the eerie scene that seemed to envelop her. Hairs on the back of her neck prickled and a chill ran up her spine when she opened the door and felt the rush of heat from the building mix with the cool dampness of the outside air. She suddenly felt like she was being swallowed up by the devil himself.

Jesse John Roberts, her distempered psychopath of the month, better known as the rest stop killer, was charged with the rape and murder of sixteen young women, leaving their dismembered remains at various rest stops along five southern state highways. Although seriously disturbed, he’d seemed to be responding well to her treatment, being polite most of the time and even controlling his agitation. She could hear the echo that the clicking of her own heels made on the floor as she walked down the corridor and into the small room with a water cooler, table, and two chairs. John Roberts, as she called him, sat at the table with his right leg vibrating anxiously. He was forty-five and of medium build with slicked back salt-and-pepper hair that came down to his shoulder. He was definitely unkempt and desperately in need of a razor and a dentist.

Alexa had always heard you could tell what someone is thinking by the way they held their eyes, and there was something leery in John’s eyes this morning. Something was strange about this whole day and it was only ten after nine. She took a mental note of his behavior as she made her way into the small room.

I’ll be right outside the door Dr. Reid, if you need anything, assured one of the guards.

Thanks Jake, but John and I go way back, Alexa said jokingly. She felt more comfortable with John Roberts now that she had worked with him awhile. But she knew she could never trust him—he was a killer with no remorse.

His hands are chained, but, in any case, yell if you need anything, OK? the guard remarked.

Oh, I’m not worried about John; we’ve been making some real progress, right John? said Alexa positively, still standing by the door. John didn’t respond, so she walked over and sat across from him anyway, just as she had every day for the past four weeks. She fumbled with her briefcase, trying to keep an eye on John as she removed her paperwork.

Good morning John Roberts, how are you doing today? said Alexa as she settled herself.

There was a long pause, and then John Roberts said, Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Ah yes, death is among us Dr. Reid. His voice was low, cold, and emotionless. Alexa furrowed her eyebrows concerned that he might be regressing. She swallowed the lump that started to form in her throat and asked,

John, is there any particular reason why you are thinking so much about death this morning?

Death has become me, Dr. Reid, and perhaps it could become you, said John Roberts now solemnly smiling. Alexa thought about how she should respond to John’s preoccupation with death and then said calmly,

You know John, most people are confused as to the real meaning of Psalm 23. Most think the verse is about death, when in actuality, it is a Psalm of faith used when someone is going through a difficult time, giving the assurance that the tender mercy of the Lord is working during one’s time of need. John, are you afraid of something, has someone threatened you?

John didn’t make a sound. He just sat and stared into space, mumbling something Alexa couldn’t make out.

Alexa tried several different questions but got no response from him on any of them. She began to feel slightly agitated and uneasy herself. Her mouth was dry, so she stood, turning her back to John and heading for the water cooler to pour herself something to drink. The water cooler sat under a large glass window that looked into the corridor. As Alexa pushed the nozzle on the cooler to dispense water she didn’t hear John’s mumbling anymore, and again the hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. She stood back slightly then looked up when she felt the hot stale breath rush across her neck. She saw John’s reflection in the glass right behind her. Before she could scream, he wrapped his arm, chain and all, around her throat from behind, and then she felt it, pain in her back, her lungs, and her heart. It was a sharp, blunt weapon of some sort, probably a homemade knife, and she tried to struggle but didn’t remember at what point her body gave up the fight. She heard John Roberts’s voice vaguely as he kept repeating the word you, you, you. And then it faded away as everything else did.

When Alexa drifted back into consciousness she could hear the sounds of voices. Not John Roberts’s voice, but others, and many of them.

Possibly 8 to 15 stab wounds, someone said.

There’s blood all over the place, I can’t see anything, said another.

Her blood pressure’s dropping. We’re losing her, said yet another.

Then she heard it as if someone were talking right in her ear, Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil . . . . A white light appeared, and then she heard nothing.

CHAPTER 1

EVERYTHING WAS STILL white, even though it was well into March. As she jogged onto Avenue F, Alexa thought it had been a frigid winter in Chicago. She saw the old dirty snow swept up against the curve as she rounded her alleyway. Then it hit her—something unexpected, a memory. It would be one year tomorrow since that terrible day in Starke, Florida. She visualized the whole scenario, which slowed her jog to a walk, and then eventually to a defeated shuffle. Sure she had scars from that day, but they ran much deeper than the eleven wounds that covered her back. She knew there was no more Dr. Reid, only Alexa.

She thought about her life back in Washington D.C. after the Florida incident, before she moved back to Chicago. She realized that her boyfriend Blake had issues with her scars and after a lot of prodding on her part, he told her she didn’t arouse him anymore. Alexa thought shaking her head, What an ass, he actually used the word ‘aroused’. She hadn’t really blamed Blake though. She figured if she couldn’t deal with the scars herself how could she expect him or anyone else for that matter to deal with them. She knew she’d have to accept them eventually for they would forever inhabit her body and, if she wasn’t careful, corrode her soul.

She could see her two-flat now; it was brown brick with a brown roof, and there was a prism hanging in one of the windows reflecting the sun. She moved there about eight months ago with her two long-time friends, Jennifer Macklavich and Nina Marks.

Alexa recounted how after she retired from the FBI she nearly became agoraphobic because she never wanted to leave the house. As soon as she stepped outside her apartment she would get dizzy and it was as everything around her would expand and then contract. The feeling was maddening so she just stayed indoors. Her psychiatrist finally suggested that she get a small part-time job. She really didn’t need the money because she had gotten a settlement and a nice severance package, but her job kept her from going stir crazy. She began tending bar at her father’s tavern, a place in South Dearing, called Ragtyme. Sure she suffered, physically and mentally, but her father would look in on her from time to time, reminding her of her sanity along with Jen and Nina, of course. They all helped her recover from that terrible day that would forever be burnt into her psyche.

Her dad retired some five years ago from the police department and moved to Warsaw, Indiana, but he kept the building, only a few miles away from her Eastside apartment, that housed the tavern, four bedrooms and a small one-bedroom apartment. Situated in an industrial area, the neighborhood was slummy. The mills across the street had long been closed and their structure just rotted away day by day. What used to be a thriving area, probably in the fifties, was now falling apart and riddled with drug dealers. Her father would typically rent the rooms to ironworkers and stay in the apartment himself when he would commute to Chicago every two weeks or so, but now that Alexa had somewhat taken over the bar, he didn’t have to come in as much. He wasn’t concerned with her safety, though, because a lot of coppers frequented the tavern on their off hours. She was glad to help out and enjoyed spending the time with her father when he’d come down.

She could see her breath as she walked up the alley. It was cold and she could feel her dry lips against her tongue when she licked them. She spotted her cat Lucky waiting for someone to let him in out of the cold weather, which was about twenty-seven degrees today. He was an orange cat with green eyes, and she named him Lucky because he was lucky she found him. He was stuck in a spring of an old couch someone had dumped in the alley about four months after she’d moved into the building. She heard him carrying on and took him in, right before a snowstorm no less. She also noted that Jen hadn’t left for work yet when she saw her car still parked in the driveway. Jen was a radiologist at Cook County Hospital, who worked afternoons, three to midnight. It was going on a quarter after two, so Alexa figured she was running late, as usual. Jen was an attractive brunette with a top shelf that turned heads. She was the fickle sort and fairly emotional but Alexa liked to think of her as just being a very passionate person. Her other roommate Nina, was a petite girl with mousy shoulder-length hair and looked much younger than her actual age, which was twenty-eight. She worked at a ticket counter at Midway Airport in the daytime and was going to school at the University of Illinois three nights a week to finish her master’s degree. Alexa made her way up the stairs to the second floor and yelled, You’re late, as she entered the apartment and hung up her jacket and scarf on the coat hook by the door.

I know, I know, a voice coming from the bathroom yelled back.

You’re going to get in trouble at work you know, teased Alexa.

Jen peeked her head out of the bathroom and responded, Yeah, yeah, I guess I will just have to wear something low cut, then maybe Dr. Greer won’t be so pissed at me for being late.

With an attitude like that, you’re going to get yourself in trouble someday, Alexa said, half disapproving and half joking.

Are you working today, Alexa? Jen asked.

No, my dad’s coming in so he’ll bartend tonight.

Oh yeah, the phone rang as I was getting out of the shower, and I couldn’t get to it, but it sounded like your dad’s voice on the answering machine.

Ok, I’ll check it.

Alexa made her way over to the phone and pressed the button on the recorder. The answering machine responded, You have one new message, Thursday, March 15th. Yeah Lex it’s daddy, and I’m trying to catch you early enough, because I won’t be able to make it over there until next Monday. Papa fell and fractured his hip, he’s all right for the most part, but now I have this to contend with. I’m going to need you to pick up some beer to tide us over until I can order more from the distributor, and oh, well just call me when you get this, love ya, bye.

Well I guess I am working tonight, Alexa sighed and told Jen who was scurrying to grab her purse to leave.

What time are you going in? Jen asked

Well Julio is there until six, so I won’t cut him any breaks. So I guess then six. Is Nina off school tonight?

Yeah, she is but she said she was going to head to the library after work so she could work on her research paper.

Oh well, I wanted to ask her if I could borrow her red sweater poncho thingy, but I guess I’ll just talk to her tomorrow.

Hot date?

Yeah, right, Alexa replied rolling her eyes as if Jen were crazy for even thinking such a thing. Alexa didn’t date, plain and simple. She knew she was self-conscious about her scars, of men, and she told herself more times then she could remember that she could do without sex. After the incident, even when she did have sex with Blake, she was numb. He couldn’t bring her to climax and then when the truth came out about his feelings she decided she wasn’t going to put herself through it again. It wasn’t worth it. Some of the coppers who came in the tavern had asked her out and Jen and Nina were constantly trying to fix her up but still she would always politely decline any of those offers.

She won’t care, just borrow it, but I got to go, see you later.

Bye. Alexa said as Jen walked out the door.

As soon as Jen left, Alexa picked up the phone to call her dad and make sure everything was all right with her grandfather. He was eighty-eight but still a tough old bird. She walked over to the sink and started to wash dishes as she balanced the phone between her ear and shoulder as she waited for her dad to pick up.

Hello, he answered.

"Hey