Psycho: A Jack Beckett Thriller

By D.G. Baxter

The media called him psycho killer after the third set of double homicides. It quickly grew to six sets. FBI Agent Sam Cunningham called Riley O'Connor into his office and laid it out. "You're my best agent, Riley. Get this guy."

Riley put her team together. Sarah Murphy, Nora Smith, and Jack Beckett. As if to thumb his nose at the new team, the killer struck again within hours, leaving his signature mark. Bloody corpses stuffed into construction-grade black bags and dumped at the curb on quiet streets.

An old man who couldn't sleep became the first witness. But it wasn't a witness that posed the biggest threat. It was Nora Smith, a former profiler who dug up something from 25 years ago…a murder-suicide that shed light on the mystery.  

Beckett eventually realized the killer had something to hide. That was the key. Figure that out and they would catch the killer. It was their only hope.

Hundreds of five star ratings including:  

Jack Beckett and FBI Agent Riley O'Connor novels just keep getting better and better. (DT)

A Beckett story keeps you glued to the pages until you finish it! Every book has been awesome! (DK)

I loved, loved, loved this book of mystery and intrigue and the ending was phenomenal. (TM)

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.G. Baxter
• Release date: Dec 10, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393786160

Book preview

Prologue

Jack Beckett, or Beckett as he is often called, has been the protagonist from the start of this series. In each book, I’ve tried to add more depth to his character, but he is nothing if not consistent across what is now a 14-book series. Writing about Beckett and his adventures, I’ve naturally come to know him well. Sometimes it seems as though he writes his own stories and my job simply falls to putting his actions and words on paper. Psycho has been more of challenge in ways I did not expect. For one thing, Beckett must share the stage with three strong female FBI agents. Beckett is no longer center stage in this tale. But Beckett is still Beckett, willing to take on a difficult threat and protect the well being of those he cares about. He’s still unconventional, too, willing to use his size and fighting ability if the situation calls for it.

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Each Beckett book is populated with colorful antagonists, available to show the reader their dark side. They are complicated characters who pose a threat that Beckett must eliminate or neutralize. They are just as important to the story as the good people around Beckett. The characters in a Beckett story form a classic struggle between good and evil, and you get to take that ride to its logical conclusion.

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In Psycho, the antagonist carries as much weight as Beckett. We learn a lot about Raymond’s life, and we see the tragedy of his childhood and how it impacted him throughout his days. As this story unfolded, I wanted the reader to clearly see how childhood trauma manifests itself for a lifetime. In most cases in the real world, it often does. Emotionally damaged people can do great harm later in life, although some miraculously seem to escape the worst of it.

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In the end, nothing is worse than taking a human life, and once a character crosses that threshold the only redemption is from within. I won’t say if Raymond found redemption. In fact, I won’t say what happens to him. It’s up to you, the reader, to see the mystery unfold and reveal its truth. If you are reading this, you have bought a copy so I can ask a favor. If you review this book, don’t reveal the ending. You’ll understand when you read the last word.

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D.G. Baxter

1

Raymond was more or less an average 30-year-old. He stood a few inches under six feet, and he weighed 170 pounds. He kept his hair short, and his face was always clean-shaven. He worked in a warehouse and kept to himself. He didn’t cause problems, nor did he have friends. He was a loner. His coworkers long ago stopped asking him to go out for a beer after work because he always politely declined.

No one would have guessed that he was the man the media had dubbed the psycho killer. Never. Not in a hundred years. He was just Raymond, the guy who clocked in at seven and clocked out at three every afternoon. The guy who drove the forklift and quietly fit in. The guy who never stirred up trouble.

The person who knew the most about Raymond was Chad, the personnel manager. But he knew very little other than Raymond passed a background check and his work records were spotless. None of his previous employers had anything negative to report. Since he had prior experience driving a forklift, that’s all Chad needed to hire him. That had been a year ago.

Over most of that year, the San Francisco Bay Area had steadily followed the gruesome story of the psycho killer running around in their midst. Tension had been mounting when no progress was made. Twelve people had been killed in the past year. After the third double murder, law enforcement knew they had a serial killer on their hands. A pattern had emerged, and there were too many similarities between the victims to think otherwise. The victims were both male and female, all in their twenties. Their backgrounds were all different, but what tied them back to one killer was how they were murdered and how they were discovered.

The victims were mutilated, their bodies showing evidence of dozens of cuts before the fatal stab wound was delivered, a large knife plunged into the heart. The corpses then showed up on residential streets stuffed inside large black construction-grade bags, placed on the curb of unsuspecting homeowners sometime in early morning, most likely a few hours before sunrise. As the day unfolded, the homeowner or a passerby discovered the large black bag. If he or she opened the bag, they were horrified to find a bloody corpse. This only happened a few times before the media got the word out with wall to wall coverage. After that, no one opened a black bag found at their curb. They immediately called 911. And now it had been twelve months. It had been twelve murders. And there were no clues.

That was the situation when Riley O’Connor was called into Sam Cunningham’s office. Cunningham’s assistant, Sharon Sorenson, called Riley as soon as she came in that morning.

Sam wants to see you, she said.

Do you know why? O'Connor asked. She had just wrapped up a big case in Washington, DC and Sam had promised her a break before the next case came along. This was her third day back. Apparently, the break was going to be a short one.

Sharon smiled and shrugged. He didn't say, but he sounded somber. Friendly Sam is hiding in there somewhere. Why don't you go in and find him?

Riley returned her smile and walked past her desk on her way to Sam’s office.

Sam’s door was cracked open, so Riley knocked once and walked in.

Sharon told me you wanted to see me.

Cunningham had his back to O'Connor as he sat looking out his window in the Federal Building. The FBI office occupied the entire 13 th floor. He swiveled around before he greeted her and managed a smile.

Have a seat, he said, still managing a slight smile, although O’Connor knew it was for her benefit. She took one of the two chairs in front of his desk and sat down.

Sam began with small talk. Have you rested up yet from the DC case?

I’m good, she began, but I have a hunch my downtime is about to end.

Your hunches are always good, Riley. I do have something I need you to work on.

O’Connor just nodded.

You’re familiar with the psycho killer, no doubt. The media came up with that name, and they go nuts every time he kills again. Each new killing gets extensive coverage.

You’re assuming it’s a guy.

Correct. Odds are it is a guy, as you know. There’s only been a few documented cases of female serial killers. Either way, it doesn’t matter. The case has ended up in our lap as of late last night. I got a call from the SFPD chief, Ed Sweeny. He wants some help in solving this case. After twelve dead, the bodies are piling up, so to speak. He's getting pressure and, frankly, his investigation is at square one.

Time to call in the cavalry, huh?

Yep, Cunningham said. And you’re it. You’ve been batting a thousand, in case you haven’t noticed.

Thanks, Sam. Nothing like a little pressure early in the morning.

You can handle it, or I wouldn’t dish it out. It’s going to be a tough case, but we need to give it our best shot. Pick your team and let me know who they are. Then get on it.

O’Connor nodded, then got up and walked out of Sam’s office. She knew Sam had placed a lot of trust in her. This case was a big deal. The pressure was not only on the local police; it was now on the FBI. She wanted to go back to her desk and give some thought to who she would ask to be on her team. Typically, that would be two agents plus herself. But O’Connor had an ace in the hole.

His name was Jack Beckett. Beckett was a big part of why she had batted a thousand. She would call him tonight after she put her team in place.

Raymond was feeling the pressure, too. It started as a tingling in his body and soon became mental, something his brain grabbed and wouldn't let go. The more he tried to put the thought out of his mind, the more it seemed to cling to every cell. There was no escaping it. It was insidious. It seemed to double in intensity minute by minute. Raymond didn’t understand it. He refused to consider anything that wasn’t obvious to him. If he couldn’t touch it or see it with his eyes, it wasn’t real. But this not-quite-real thing was eating him alive.

He knew how to beat it, however. He knew how to stop it. He knew how to make it go away until it returned. He had to kill. Not politely. Not quickly. He had to kill violently. The savage thing inside him had to come out and kill as a savage would. He had done it before, and soon he would do it again. Maybe tonight. Yeah, it would be tonight.

O’Connor sat at her desk. It was part of an open floor plan. If she needed quiet, she would go to a conference room. The din of other voices and people milling about didn’t bother her. She was used to it, much like people living near a freeway get used to the constant noise. The plus was it offered a collegial atmosphere where anyone could walk up to her desk and strike up a conversation.

She began to consider who to put on her team. Her good friend Murphy was a strong possibility. She had complete trust in Murphy. She was smart and resourceful, and she could act independently. There were a handful of agents older than her with years of experience, but none of them felt right for this case.

The new agent, Nora Smith, came to mind. She had met her a few times and liked her immediately. Nora wasn’t exactly a new agent. She was just new to this office. She had transferred in from Detroit when her husband's career brought him to San Francisco. Nora had spent some time as a profiler but moved back into investigations after a few years. Her time as a profiler might come in handy. Nora was a possibility. She and Murphy might work well together. Riley planned to call them and make sure they wanted to take on this case.

She picked up the phone and called Murphy first. Hopefully, she would have her team lined up before lunch.

2

Day one, 10:05 am . O’Connor, Murphy, and Smith had started their first meeting in conference room B, the smaller of two conference rooms on the 13 th floor. O'Connor had talked with both agents, and they were agreeable to join the psycho case. Murphy and O’Connor had worked together for three years, but Smith was a bit of an unknown. O’Connor decided to learn more about her by asking her how she would proceed.

What are your thoughts, Nora? O’Connor asked.

We start by looking at the coroner’s report for each victim. There might be something the local police missed. I can do that. Murphy should look over the case notes from the SFPD. Again, there might be something they missed. Call it a second look with fresh eyes. Make a note of anyone the police interviewed. Were they a person of interest, or a witness to some event tied to the murders?

And me? What should I do? O’Connor asked.

Smith laughed.

I’m sure Cunningham put you in charge for good reason. How do you see it?

O’Connor nodded.

I’m going to meet with the detectives that worked this case. They probably have hunches. Perhaps theories. They’ve been on it a year. What ground have they covered that’s not in the reports? Then the three of us meet again, and we compare all that we learned. If you don’t mind, Nora, when we have collected the available evidence, would you feel comfortable creating a profile of the killer?

Smith looked at O’Connor, turned away for a few seconds to collect herself, then turned back and met her eyes.

There’s something you should know.

O’Connor nodded for Smith to proceed.

I messed up in Detroit. I blew a profile and sent my team in the wrong direction. It was enough to allow the actual perp to kill a kidnap victim. She was a 14-year-old girl, and the perp wanted a ransom. I couldn't keep doing that job after that, although I didn't want to leave the bureau. The special agent in charge convinced me to stay on, just walk away from profiling for a while.

O’Connor looked at Murphy and trusted her to ask the next question.

How about the cases before that one? How many did you get right?

All of them, Smith said. Up until then, I got all of the profiles right.

Then you are good, Murphy said. "No one