After conducting several interviews with Kemari Whitlock's closest friends, we learned new facts. Kemari confided his relationship details to them about Denzel but none of them knew about his relationship with William. Two of his friends told us Kemari told them he was in love with Denzel while three others never heard him say that. We also had more insight into what happened the night Kemari disappeared. He'd been drinking heavily because he was upset about the argument he'd had with Denzel, according to his friends. They got him a ride with Lyft and were waiting outside with him until he assured them that he was fine and could wait by himself. He insisted that they go back inside and have fun. For some reason, he began walking away mere seconds after his friends reentered the nightclub.
"No one called or texted him," I began while making my case to Karen, Cox and Saunders. I pointed to the replaying footage of Kemari that was caught by nearby surveillance cameras that night. "As you can see, he's walking towards something or someone. There is an urgency in his pace."
"So, what are you saying?" Saunders asked me.
"I believe he saw someone in distress or someone caught his attention and he was either lured to them through wanting to help or by attraction. We don't know because the last buildings on that side of the street and across the street are vacant buildings without surveillance cameras. And that tells me something else: whoever did lure him in that direction knew the cameras were there and stayed out of frame."
"It could be a coincidence," Karen suggested.
"Yes, it could be, but do we have the time to come up with any other suggestions as to why Kemari walked away from that nightclub in the only direction that ends with no surveillance cameras pointed at the sidewalk?"
"Damn, I'm impressed," said Cox with a smirk. "Would you be willing to quit working for the FBI to come and work for this precinct?"
"Even if this explains how he disappeared," Saunders cut in, "it does nothing to prove he's still alive."
"I was about to get to that," I said while looking at him. "While thinking about all of this in my hotel suite last night, I came to the realization that this is more personal than I originally assumed."
"What do you mean?" Karen asked, sitting up in her seat.
"The way Kemari was lured away from safety and taken is not a coincidence. This is the exact same method that was used to get my friend Thomas Bennett in 2013. I am more convinced now that this is the network. It's keeping Kemari alive to toy with me."
Karen cleared her throat and began, "Rowell..."
"No, I haven't lost my mind and I'm not trying to make this about me; they are. Why go out of their way to stage the exact same tactic they used to get Tommy? Why try to make us think either Denzel or William caused Kemari's disappearance?"
"So, what about the other missing men?" Saunders asked me. "How do they fit into all of this?"
"They're already dead," I told them, causing both Karen and Cox to gasp. "I know, it's an extreme theory but this network is murderous. There were no surveillance cameras or witnesses when those men went missing. They disappeared without a trace and there are no clues for us to even begin searching for them."
"That doesn't mean they're dead," said Cox.
I looked at her and said, "Yes, it does. This network murders people they deem unimportant and only lets someone live if they can gain something by keeping that person alive, and that's only temporary. From this point on, we have to move carefully and not let much information get out. I was able to outsmart them largely due to them not knowing I was working with the FBI as a civilian off the record years ago."
"So, we keep this only amongst the four of us?" asked Cox. "Okay, I like that idea."
"There is still one unanswered question," said Saunders. "Where do we start? How do we go about finding Kemari?"
"I don't know at the moment," I admitted. "However, I do believe when their backs are against the wall, they will slip up. Well, either that or they'll do something to distract us."
Not a moment after I said that, an officer entered the boardroom and told us, "You all may want to come with me."
We quickly followed him out of the room and over to an opening in the middle of the precinct where all the emergency calls came in. The officer stepped over to the microphone and asked the dispatcher to repeat what they'd told him. A chill went up my spine when the dispatcher repeated, "A body has been found displayed out in Fernbank Forest. It's believed to be the body of Michael Travers. Over."
"10-4, over," the officer said to the dispatcher.
"Displayed?" I asked. "What does he mean by displayed?"
I prepared myself for the worst as we drove out to Fernbank Forest, which was a wildlife preserve and museum located in the Druid Hills suburb of DeKalb County. Karen, Cox, Saunders and I worked with the officers on the scene to lock everything down and let no one into the woods. The precinct phoned in a forensics team and Karen also phoned in the FBI Atlanta field office's forensics team. After checking the credentials of everyone working the crime scene, we headed deep into the woods to where the body of Michael Travers had been displayed.
"Do you want to make the official recording or do you want me to do it?" I asked Karen after we'd found the body.
"You can do it," she said without looking up at Michael Travers's mutilated corpse. "I'm afraid I'm already feeling sick."
"Jeffries..."
"I'm fine, Rowell. Just do it."
I stepped away from her and pulled out my phone to record my examination of the crime scene. As I approached the tree Michael had been nailed to, I began recording, "The victim has been fixed to a tall tree with what appears to be railroad spikes just off of the walking trail in the southwest section of the woods near a small creek. He is approximately eight feet above ground and is completely nude. There are signs of torture in the form of burn marks and superficial cuts on the victim's face, neck, chest, wrists, arms, and legs. The victim's abdomen has been cut open and his intestines have been stapled to several nearby trees; creating somewhat of a spiral design that loops back to the tree the body has been fixed to. I cannot make an educated guess on the cause of death because it appears the victim's disembowelment occurred postmortem." I paused the recording the moment I heard Karen vomiting near the creek.
"This is sick," said Cox. "I can't believe what I'm seeing."
"Working homicides isn't for the squeamish," said Saunders with a laugh.
"This isn't funny," I snapped at him. "That is someone's child up there. Show some respect."
"My bad, man. You're doing a better job keeping it together than your partner over there. Get that girl some water."
"That's it," I said angrily. "You need to go search for anything the killer or killers may have dropped out here."
"Hold on, you don't get to order me around just because you're with the FBI."
"Would you knock it off already, Javon?" Cox asked him. "Come on, let's just do what Agent Rowell said to do. This is serious."
After they walked away, I went over to Karen and asked, "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she replied before taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry. With all my years working for the bureau, I'm still not used to seeing things like this."
"I understand. This is downright horrific. Only a monster would do that to someone."
She wiped her mouth with a handkerchief she kept inside her coat pocket and asked, "How long do you think he's been up there?"
"If I had to guess, I'd say less than twelve hours. Of course, he'd been dead longer than that, but he's only been up on that tree for about four or five hours. The animals have barely touched him. Judging by the discoloration of his skin and the coagulated blood from his wounds, I'd say he's been dead for maybe twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Whoever did this took their time to get him up there." I looked down at the ground and told her, "It looks like they even used a rake to make sure they didn't leave behind any shoe prints. Look at how the dead leaves and other debris have been raked around each tree that was used. I should record all of that for the record."
Just as I was about to resume recording, Cox called out, "You guys, come here!"
Karen and I hurried over to where they were and noticed Saunders was holding a sock with a note attached to it. He read the note aloud, "Forgive me for taking away a pastor's son. He's an angel now, his course has run."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Cox asked.
I thought about it for a second and remembered, "Michael Travers taught a Bible study class at his father's church. Maybe whoever wrote the note was talking about that. Or maybe it's a double entendre. The course could mean the walking trail out here."
"I don't get it," Karen said to me.
I thought about it some more and immediately put it together. I told them, "Look for a Bible on the trail."
"What?" Saunders asked.
"Just do it," I told him before heading off towards the trail.
The four of us went in separate directions and began searching different parts of the trail. Within five minutes, I found it. After using my phone to take a few photos of it from multiple angles, I called out, "I found it, guys."
They made their way over to where I was and after seeing the Bible on the ground, Karen asked, "Is that a bloody handprint on the front?"
"Yeah," I answered. "I already snapped pics of it for the record so we can pick it up." I bent down and picked it up and noticed that there was a note inserted in it. I read the note aloud, "I cheated myself, like I knew I would. I told you I was trouble. You know I'm no good." I looked at them and asked, "Why does that sound so familiar?"
Karen offered, "They sound like song lyrics."
"One of the missing men is an aspiring singer, right?" Cox asked.
"Vince Hendricks," I replied. "Do you think this is about him?"
"It could be," said Saunders while pulling out his phone and unlocking it. After a few seconds, he informed us, "I Googled the words and Amy Winehouse popped up. They're lyrics from one of her songs." He searched something else and his face froze immediately.
"What is it?" Cox asked him.
"I typed in Vince's name along with Amy Winehouse's name and several YouTube videos that Vince uploaded popped up. He recorded himself covering several of her songs."
"What made the killer or killers choose those lyrics?" Karen asked.
"I'm not sure," Saunders replied. "But I remember reading in Vince's case file that he was dating a guy who worked at a winery. I think it was called Vine Vault."
"Winehouse," I said while thinking. "Do you think the note is referencing that winery?" I used my own phone to access a map and searched for the winery. When I put the map on satellite mode, I noticed something troubling. "Shit."
"What is it?" Karen asked.
I showed them my phone's screen and informed them, "Vine Vault is located next to a heavily wooded area. Guys, Vince Hendricks is most likely in those woods. We need to get a search team to that area now."
"We are going to be buried to our necks in paperwork," Saunders said before sighing loudly. When we all looked at him, he shrugged his shoulders and asked, "What?"
Word spread fast about the two victims we'd found that day and large crowds of people had shown up at both crime scenes. It took us hours to process evidence and data at each scene and additional hours to carefully retrieve both bodies. Since Michael's body was suspended eight feet above the ground, it took our team longer to get him down and into a body bag. Vince had been impaled by several javelins which were keeping his body standing upright in the woods near the place where his boyfriend worked. His head was positioned between two of the protruding javelin ends in such a way that it looked as if he were still keeping his own head up even though he was dead. His eyes were open wide and his mouth had been pried open to show his tongue had been cut out.
"Make sure you stay with the medical examiners at all times," I told two of the officers from Saunders and Cox's precinct. "I want everything secured and do not let anyone except the medical examiners near the bodies."
"Yes, sir," they said to me before heading to their squad car to follow the medical examiner's van.
"There are no notes out here," Saunders told me as he approached me. "None of the agents from the local FBI field office found any and neither did the guys from our precinct."
"I wonder why?" asked Cox.
"Because they haven't murdered Randall Williams or Kemari yet," I suggested.
"They're buying themselves time," Karen theorized. "If we can find out how Michael and Vince died from the medical examiners, then maybe it will give us something to start with."
I nodded and said, "I agree, Jeffries. In the meantime, we need to inform their families. They have been waiting for months to know what happened to their loved ones and they shouldn't have to hear it from the local news."
"I have experience with talking to victims' families," said Saunders. "Sergeant Cox, do you wanna help out with that?"
She gave him a look and then replied, "Yeah, I'll help."
"Meet us at the bar in our hotel tonight," Karen told them as they were walking away. She then turned her attention back to me and asked, "When are you going to report your findings back to headquarters?"
"I won't be reporting them until I can get a chance to speak with either the Inspector General or the Deputy Attorney General."
"Why?"
"I'm not at liberty to share the reason with you, Karen."
"Oh, okay. I just thought we were partners for this whole thing. I didn't know I was assigned to play second fiddle to an agent much younger than I am."
I looked at her and said, "Karen, we are partners but I need you to understand that there are things I can't share with you. You'd do the same if you were in my position."
"Look, I understand a lot happened to you when you took on Kappa Sigma Phi but we need to have some sort of understanding so that we can end this network."
I stared into her eyes as I told her, "We have an understanding. We're investigating this case and we report our findings back to our respective superiors. Yours are at the Los Angeles field office and mine are at headquarters. That sounds like a simple and complete understanding to me."
She was about to say something else but her cell phone rang. After answering the call, she looked back at me and said, "The Whitlocks have requested to talk to us."
While heading out to the Whitlock estate in nearby Buckhead, I tried to figure out why the network chose Michael and Vince. They didn't have anything in common other than being proud gay black men. It was similar to how Kappa Sigma Phi were choosing their victims; however, there was a pattern in that case. Those college students had all been upperclassmen and all had boyfriends. Randall and Vince had boyfriends, but Michael was single. And speaking of Randall, why was he spared for the time being instead of one of the other two? Had they all been kept in the same place prior to being murdered? I had so many questions in my head and absolutely no answers.
We arrived at the Whitlock estate nearly thirty minutes later. It was a beautiful mansion in Buckhead that was enclosed by a tall spiked gate. Karen and I had to be buzzed in by the estate's security. As we climbed out of the car and headed up the walkway to the main entrance, I found myself wondering why Kemari didn't want to live in such a beautiful home. Before Karen could ring the doorbell, a woman with tears in her eyes opened the door.
"Are you the FBI agents?" she asked while wiping her tears with a handkerchief embroidered with the initials MW.
"Yes," I replied. "I'm Special Agent Rowell and this is Special Agent Jeffries, my partner."
"We're here because you requested to speak with us," said Karen.
"I'm Michele Whitlock. Please, come in." She let us into the mansion and after walking through the foyer, we followed her into a study where Samir Whitlock was sitting at his desk facing a window. Michele cleared her throat and said, "Honey, the FBI agents are here."
Samir turned around in his swivel chair and looked at us before asking, "Is it true? Did you guys find two mutilated bodies today?"
Karen and I looked at one another for a second and then Karen explained, "We did but we can inform you that neither of them were Kemari."
The moment she said that, Michele grabbed her chest and let out a long exhale before weeping loudly. A single tear rolled down the left side of Samir's face but he quickly wiped it away and asked, "Do you have any idea who is doing this?"
"We're trying to find out, sir," I told him.
"Thank goodness the FBI has been brought in on this. The police departments in each surrounding county has no idea what the hell they're doing. My son has been missing for weeks. He's never gone so much as a day without calling me or his mother."
"So, you were in a good place with your relationship with him?" Karen asked.
"Of course," answered Michele. "We're his parents. He's our only child, our miracle baby."
I don't know why, but there was something in the way she said that that triggered off an alarm in my head. It was in that moment that I put together a possible connection between the victims. All four were without siblings and came from parents who accepted them being gay. While it was helpful to realize that fact, it was also sad because the parents were losing their sole children and were most likely past the age of being able to conceive naturally. I'd undergone extensive training to separate my personal feelings from my work; but in that moment at the Whitlock estate, I almost failed to live up to that training.
"He was a happy child growing up," Michele told us while serving us tea in the family room. "Samir and I had difficulty conceiving because of my fibroid tumors. When I finally got pregnant, I did everything the doctor told me to do and I had a healthy, beautiful son. About a year later, I had to have a hysterectomy. I wanted another child but I couldn't have my eggs frozen."
"Why not?" Karen asked.
"The hysterectomy was an emergency. I had a uterine rupture and almost bled to death. It takes time to harvest viable eggs using hormonal injections and I didn't have that kind of time. As a result, Kemari is our only child."
"We're so sorry," I offered. "You have our word that we are doing everything in our power to find your son."
"We're sad about the two families who lost their sons today," said Samir, "but we are relieved that Kemari wasn't one of them. However, this does little to ease our fears. Is our son still alive or are we just waiting until his mutilated corpse is found up in some tree or something?"
I looked at Karen for a second before turning my attention back to the Whitlocks and assuring them, "We're doing everything in our power to find your son."
"How long has Kemari been living on his own?" Karen asked them.
"He moved out of here after signing with the modeling agency," Samir answered. "That was in May of 2016. He's been using his trust fund to pay rent and to support himself whenever he isn't making money from modeling in fashion shows or posing for brands. He never asks us for a dime. He always tells us that once he's spent all of his trust fund money that he'd either have to make more money or settle for a less adventurous lifestyle." He almost got choked up as he explained, "Kemari was raised with our financial influence but you wouldn't know it. Yeah, he parties like any other young man in his twenties, but he's humble. He isn't spoiled."
"We try to give him money all the time," Michele laughed. "He always tells us his trust fund is enough." She stepped over to a picture frame of Kemari and picked it up from the small table it was sitting on. "This is him last summer painting a room at a house for homeless transgender youth. He spent a lot of time at that house helping out whenever he could. He had a friend from school who was transgender. She committed suicide when they were fifteen."
"So, if someone was in trouble," I said while looking at them, "Kemari would help?"
"Yes," answered Samir. "He wouldn't even hesitate to help someone if they needed it."
I now had confirmation that Kemari was lured away by someone pretending to need help. Although he'd had a few drinks, he still tried to help someone he thought needed his help. Once again, I thought about Tommy. Tommy did everything he could to help people and was involved with so many different causes on the Calhoun University Campus. He was someone I aspired to be but fell short of ever becoming. I'd long made my peace with Tommy's death and I'd overcome my survivor's guilt, but it still didn't sit right with me that such bad things happened to good people. Tommy didn't deserve it. Kemari didn't deserve it.
"Cameron," said Karen as we were driving away from the Whitlock estate. "Why didn't you tell them we were investigating this from the angle that Kemari is most likely still alive?"
"Because I didn't want to get their hopes up," I replied. "I still believe he's alive and I believe the network is using him to get to me, but I know not to underestimate those murderous bigots. Just as easy as it is for them to keep him alive to toy with me, it's as easy for them to kill him to make a statement about their mission."
After finishing his glass of bourbon, Saunders asked me, "What do you think the connection between the victims mean?"
"I don't know," I answered honestly. "It's too obvious to be a coincidence yet not strong enough to provide a clear motive. They can't be the only gay black men in Atlanta with accepting, loving parents. Why them? Why choose them?"
"I'm out of suggestions," said Karen before drinking from her glass of club soda.
Cox ran her hand through her hair and sighed loudly before saying, "The medical examiners haven't called yet. They probably won't have any info until tomorrow morning. We should call it a night."
"It's too early to call it a night," said Saunders. "How about another round of drinks? I'm buying."
"Oh no," I said with a laugh. "I know my limit."
"Well, how about you?" Saunders asked Karen. "You've been sipping on club soda this whole time."
"I'm not really a drinker," she admitted.
"I find it hard to believe a woman as beautiful as you doesn't at least have a glass of wine every now and then."
"Javon, stop it," Cox snapped at him. "You are married."
He shrugged his shoulders and asked, "And? What does that have to do with anything?"
"You know what, it's definitely time to call it a night. I need to get home and feed my cat anyway."
"Go home to your cat then, lady."
"Fuck you, Javon!" She grabbed her things and began walking away.
"Really, Maliah?" he asked with a laugh. Once she was gone, he turned his attention back to Karen and asked, "So, your suite is in this hotel, right?"
She smiled as she replied, "Yep, it sure is. I'm going to go up to it right now and I don't want any company." She looked at me and said, "Goodnight, Rowell."
I watched as she left the bar and headed to the hotel elevators. I then turned my attention to Saunders and asked, "Why don't you want to go home to your wife and kids?"
"Man, I don't know what you're talking about," he said before throwing his hand up to get the bartender's attention. "Hey my man, bring me and my buddy here another round."
"No, that's okay," I told the bartender. "We've both had enough."
"Why did you do that?"
"Because you've clearly had enough. Besides, I need you as sober as possible to answer one question for me."
He smiled and asked, "Ah yeah, and what's that? You wanna know if I'm curious or some shit? I know you're married to a dude. Go ahead and ask me."
"Okay. Detective Saunders, why did you and Sergeant Cox have sex in Kemari Whitlock's apartment?"
The moment I asked that, his entire demeanor changed. He sat up in his seat and asked, "Did Maliah tell you that or did you hear it around the precinct? I knew she was talking to people about what we do!"
"No, I had a hunch and you just confirmed it. How unprofessional have you two been this whole time?"
"Whoa, you don't have the right to go there with me."
"I don't give a damn about some silly affair but I do not appreciate you two disturbing someone's apartment, especially when that person has been kidnapped."
"We didn't disturb any damn thing. All we did was..."
"This is serious! Do you understand that? Do you think these fucking people are playing games? We are talking about people's lives here, Saunders! You better get your shit together and get it together quick because if they come at you and you're not ready, they will end you."
I could see that he was still angry by the look in his eyes, but he slowly began to calm down as he asked, "You're not going to report us to our commissioner, are you?"
"Like I said, I don't care about your affair. But you better not let it get in the way of anything we're doing."
"Man, I don't even remember why I started cheating on Rebecca. I swear I don't. And Cox practically invited me into her apartment that night. It's convenient pussy and..."
I stood up from the table and quickly asked, "Can you get yourself home or do I need to arrange a ride for you from Lyft?"
"I can get home."
"Fine. Remember what I said, man. No more bullshit from you."
"Is Cox going to get this parental talk from you, too?"
"No. You can tell her all about what I said to you the next time you see her. If you two so much as share a kiss while we're in the middle of working this case at a scene, I will report you to your superiors so fast that your dick would still be wet."
He laughed a little as he said, "Damn, you are cold. I like that though. You FBI suits do not play, not even you gay ones."
"Never underestimate me, Saunders. The last person to underestimate me ended up dead in a federal prison with his jugular vein slit. And that's when I was trying to help his sorry bigoted ass."
He cleared his throat and nervously responded, "Um...okay. Goodnight, bro."
I left the bar and headed up to the floor me and Karen's suites were on. Instead of going to my suite, I went to her door and knocked on it. I had to let her know that our unspoken agreement about the affair Cox and Saunders was having was right. However, my knocks were unanswered. Karen never came to the door. I assumed she was as exhausted as I was and fell asleep with loud music playing on her earphones. Not wanting to wake her, I headed to my suite and called it a night.