by Addison Fox
That chocolate was long forgotten for the body they’d practically stumbled over, laid out in plain sight.
In plain sight.
“It’s another break in pattern.” Daria sidled up beside him, her own cup of coffee steaming in her hand.
“A dump site in the woods?” Trey asked.
“Yes. Added to the taunts we received this past week, it’s not like the other murders.”
Trey had already assessed the same and was going to get Aisha’s take on it all when they spoke later. Daria continued on. “Agent Roberts thinks we have a copycat on our hands.”
Trey had asked Daria to stay close to the agent. He’d sensed from the start they’d get more cooperation and collaboration if he appeared separate from the investigation.
But this was new.
“When did he say this?”
“Last night.”
“Last night was Saturday.”
Although he couldn’t see any evidence of a blush in the darkened light, he did see her shoulders stiffen slightly. “I was working late.”
“Daria. I know we’re under a lot of pressure but I don’t expect that.”
And he didn’t. They worked like fiends during the week, and while he appreciated the additional time everyone was putting in over the weekends, that didn’t mean more evenings were required. “You’re entitled to a life.”
“If you hadn’t been at your engagement dinner, you’d have been there right along with me.”
Could he honestly argue with her?
Before the whole engagement charade with Aisha, he absolutely would have been there. He hadn’t taken more than about three days off since the discovery on Wicked Mountain. But even knowing that about himself, he didn’t expect it of his deputies. No matter how talented and gifted they were.
“I still think you could find better ways to spend your weekends.” He held up a hand before she could say anything. “But we’ll argue that another day. What did Roberts want?”
“His visit was unexpected. I’ve done my best to get close to him, like we discussed. Up to now I’ve felt like he’s doled out a few dribs and drabs.” Daria took a sip of her coffee. “Enough to make it look like he’s being collaborative but really just a front, you know?”
Trey did know. It was why he’d hoped Daria would get more than he had, but it remained clear the Feds wanted this case. Sharing information was on their agenda only if they could get something in return.
“He just showed up?”
“Yep. Surprised the hell out of me. Surprised me even more when he not only shared information, but seemed like he needed to get a second opinion.”
Trey considered Agent Stefan Roberts for a moment. The guy had come off as entirely aboveboard. Although Trey’s experience with the Feds was limited, he had worked with a few throughout his career. Most were fundamentally decent, but they operated at an entirely different level.
And expected to be alpha in every single situation.
While he wouldn’t say Roberts hadn’t come in to mark his territory, he had been respectful and fair and it had gone a long way toward easing Trey’s attitude. If the man had shifted to cooperative and in need of help, it suggested the Avalanche Killer case was more of a challenge than any of them had anticipated.
“What did he have to say?” Trey finally asked.
“They’re puzzling over the killer’s note, same as us.”
“Their profilers haven’t figured it out?”
“Nope. Not only that, but they can’t get a handle on any of the words or the cadence of the note.” Daria turned to face him, her eyes glittering in the glare of the halogens his deputies had set up. “It’s why they think it’s a copycat.”
As ideas went, it made sense. Everything about the murder, from the killer’s taunting to the hair and note to the discovery out in the open, broke pattern. Neither was it a big mystery that a killer was on the loose. The press had descended into Bradford County over the past few months with all the finesse of locusts. Anyone looking for an angle would need to look no further than their morning, noon and evening news.
And someone looking to commit a crime could easily position their work as the killer’s, in hopes they’d get away scot-free when the Avalanche Killer was eventually caught.
“Sheriff!”
One of his deputies hollered from the clearing where the body still lay. They’d covered the woman as best they could while waiting for the ME but the sheet did nothing to hide the reality of what was beneath. Someone, acting in cold blood, had taken another woman’s life. In the end, that was what stung.
Trey didn’t really care if it was a copycat or the original killer. Another woman had died on his watch. Another innocent life placed in the tally column.
A bit of coffee spilled over onto his palm, and Trey quickly eased his grip on his cup. He’d deal with this like he dealt with everything else.
By the book.
With dedication and focus.
And he hoped like hell he’d get there in time before the killer struck again.
* * *
The man stood back in the clearing, his attention fully focused on the grisly tableau that played out before him. Another kill.
And he wasn’t behind it.
What were the odds?
Had someone else decided they could use the bumbling police to their advantage?
He’d definitely taken advantage of pulling the strings from a distance. Having a killer in their midst had been a stroke of good fortune and he had never been one to turn down a bit of luck. Or a chance to capitalize on the misfortune of others.
But this was concerning, too. He’d used the Avalanche Killer to his advantage, keeping an eye on the man’s every move. Hell, he’d taken pride in the fact that he was the only one in town who knew the man’s identity. But a new player in the game meant he now had a blind spot.
The police continued working over the site, like ants scurrying over a mound, and he considered Sheriff Trey Colton. The man’s reputation preceded him, just as every other damn Colton in town. Was it at all possible he was the target?
It seemed like a long shot, but a serial killer on the loose was bad news for local law enforcement. He’d watched as Sheriff Colton had grown more haggard and worn as the hunt for the killer continued on over these past few months. His use of several well-placed charges had set off the avalanche in the first place, and it had been their trusty sheriff who’d borne the brunt of the cleanup work.
His maneuvering behind the scenes ever since had only added to the sheriff’s busywork. He’d had such fun poking at Phoebe and Prescott, ensuring last month’s film festival was full of unpleasant moments for both of them. And even before the killer’s crimes were discovered, he’d ensured the Coltons remained in danger. Hadn’t he put the gun in David Swanson’s possession in hopes the man would use it on Bree Colton? And wasn’t he the one who’d knocked Sloane Colton out before setting fire to her barn?
He was careful and methodical, no one even close to figuring out he was responsible. Yet because of his work, everything he’d ever wanted was falling into place.
Which meant he had to get ahead of this copycat. Vengeance on the Colton family was his to take, not some nameless, faceless stranger.
He’d come this far. There was no way he was giving it all up now.
Chapter 14
Aisha struggled to balance the bursts of happiness that even now still coursed through her with the reality of what was discovered in the wooded area just outside Roaring Springs.
Another body.
Although just as with the taunting letters and the blood and hair samples, this crime appeared different from the work of the Avalanche Killer. Colder, somehow.
Or no, Aisha admonished herself as she stared at the crime scene photos. Functional. The bullets to the body, the w
ay the woman had been dumped in the woods, even the way the hair had been cut from her head, all indicated a functional treatment of the body.
A definite break in pattern.
Aisha hadn’t been at the station long, careful not to look as if she were rushing over, but it hadn’t taken long for the whispers to reach her. A copycat killer was the running theory on the unidentified woman.
While there was an odd comfort in not feeling as if the young woman had been targeted and toyed with, the raging disgust was no different. A human being had lost their life due to the will of another. Not natural causes. Or Mother Nature’s wrath. Or even the horrible ravages of disease.
No.
Another had preyed on her and, for whatever sick reason, had deemed her no longer able to live.
What right did she have to be happy? Aisha wondered. Not when it was evident what was going on mere miles from her. The violence that had befallen Roaring Springs for the past eight months was horrifying.
As a mental health professional, she knew that was her internal response to such horrors. But as a woman, she couldn’t quite veer the course. Whatever else might be going on, the violence that had befallen Roaring Springs for the past eight months was horrifying.
And terribly sad.
“Aisha?” Before she could register his arrival, Trey had her in his arms, pulled snug against his chest. “What’s wrong?”
It wasn’t until his arms came around her that Aisha realized the depth of her sorrow. “I’m sad, Trey. And sick over what’s happening.”
“I know. I know how you feel. And I’m sick over it, too.”
“Why does this keep happening?” she finally asked.
“I don’t know. This is a quiet place. I wouldn’t go quite as far as bucolic, especially because of the high-end crowd that we get here, but this is fundamentally a quiet place.”
“You’re going to catch him. I know you are.”
Trey’s arms tightened around her, and she felt the strength there. She’d felt it in different ways just the night before. The powerful strength of his body as they had sex. The even more powerful feeling of rightness that had taken over once they both got past the initial nervousness of taking the large leap into intimacy.
It had been wonderful. And if she’d woken up alone in her bed with the momentary concern that things had changed, well, that was normal, wasn’t it?
And just like that, she was back in her head, obsessed with whatever it was spinning out of control between her and Trey. They both had bigger things to deal with, yet here she was, thinking about the night they’d spent together.
But how could she think of anything else?
“You don’t have to be here. It is Sunday.”
The solid strength of his arms that remained wrapped around her belied his casual words.
“I do need to be here. And I want to be here. I want to help.”
Trey shifted, pulling back from the embrace. “The FBI thinks it may be a copycat. A conclusion you came to last week.”
“It makes sense. More and more when you consider the breaks in pattern. The call and the taunting with the hair samples. The body left in plain sight.” Her voice trailed off as her gaze caught, her attention on the table.
He pointed to the photos. “Do you see something?”
Aisha reached for one of the crime scene photos that had particularly caught her attention. “Did you notice this one? The fingernails.”
Trey caught on immediately. “It doesn’t look like she struggled very much.”
“No. And I don’t see how that could be. Clearly, this woman was abducted, yet she didn’t fight him off. Who wouldn’t do that? Or maybe a better question is why. The bodies discovered on the mountain all showed signs of struggle and acute distress before death.”
In her own mind, Aisha was helpless not to imagine the absolute fear that would descend upon her if she were in the same situation. Fear. Panic. And a desperate need to escape.
Trey traced the hands in the photo. “She did fight. A little bit. There’s some bruising on her face and you can see struggle around her mouth. Likely from a gag.”
“There is that. But you think she would be manic to escape. Yet that’s not evident around the fingers, the nails. There’s not any blood or even any bruising. Look here.” Aisha pointed to what had really caught her attention. “Her nails are painted and you don’t even see any chips or stress points in the paint on any fingers other than those two. This woman didn’t really struggle before she was killed.”
If she wasn’t a civilian, she’d directly pose the question to the FBI. Although Trey had given her the title of civilian consultant, she didn’t want to draw attention to herself. But Trey and Daria could. This was an area they needed to press.
“The ME has her now. If there were drugs in her system, the tox records will show it.”
Aisha’s gaze drifted over the victim’s nails once more. “I don’t see how there can’t be.”
“Me, either.”
A new idea struck her. “If this is a copycat, does it become your jurisdiction or the Feds’?”
“If they definitively rule out the work of the Avalanche Killer it will shift back to us. As it is, the Feds are keeping close tabs but giving us a bit more deference than I’ve seen so far.”
“That’s good.” She hesitated, taking in the grim slash of his mouth. “Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know anymore, Aish. We need all the help we can get. And copycat or real thing, we’re sitting on another body.”
He picked up one of the photos, studying it before throwing it back on the table in disgust. “Another woman. Another life.”
Aisha struggled to find a reply that didn’t sound as empty as she felt when Daria rushed into the room. “Trey! Come quick.”
Daria waved them over to one of the TVs mounted in the corner of the conference room. She flipped it on and in moments had them on a local news station. An image of the sheriff’s building came into view, a yelling, posturing Barton Evigan visible in front of it.
“How long will the good citizens of Bradford County put up with this? Another woman has been brutally murdered!”
* * *
Trey marched through the station and toward the front door. He’d purposely kept the death of the young woman on lockdown, anxious to determine her name and notify next of kin before alerting the news media. Clearly, it had been too much to hope the news would hold for a few hours as they did their work.
How the hell did Evigan find out so fast?
Although he’d struggled with Evigan from the start, Trey had believed his opponent to have some shred of decency. Using the latest death to his own political advantage proved once again just how low the man would sink.
The ranting that had been muted in two dimensions on the TV came into full, 3-D effect as Trey left the building. A wall of cameras swung his way, drawing momentary attention off Evigan as the various reporters assembled caught sight of the county sheriff. Although he’d been willing to take the high ground, the attack on Aisha the night before at dinner had reset his perspective. “What’s the meaning of this?”
A flurry of reporters screamed questions, ignoring Trey’s.
“Sheriff! Can you confirm there’s another body?”
“Has the Avalanche Killer struck again?”
“What are you doing to keep Bradford County safe?”
Trey lifted his hands to both calm the questions as well as indicate he was prepared to speak, determined to keep the spotlight off Evigan. The man’s eyes had already narrowed into slits at the interruption and Trey knew he didn’t have long.
“My office is working with all available law enforcement personnel and agencies to find the perpetrator.”
Another round of questions echoed back toward him in a wail of sound, variations on a theme and all tie
d to the premise that the Avalanche Killer had struck again.
“One at a time.” Trey pointed toward a reporter from Denver who’d been somewhat sympathetic to him so far.
“Sheriff, where was she found?”
Trey wasn’t sure if the victim’s sex was a guess, and again he wondered at the knowledge the media already had. “A female victim was found in the copse of woods outside Roaring Springs. My office was contacted early this morning and we’ve been doing our very best for her ever since.”
The reporter attempted a follow-up, but Trey pointed toward another waving notebook.
“Sheriff. Is this the work of the Avalanche Killer?”
Trey knew the question was coming and sought to position the crime in a way that didn’t immediately incite panic. “While we recognize the legacy of those crimes has been front and center, the body was only recently discovered. It’s premature to assume the perpetrator is the Avalanche Killer.”
“Assume! What else are we supposed to do!” Evigan shouted into the crowd.
Trey maintained a level, even demeanor, channeling every bit of composure and confidence he’d gained since taking on the role of sheriff nearly four years ago. “What you need to do is allow the police to do their work.”
“Work! Bah!” Evigan puffed up his chest. “Like you’ve done any work so far. Six women, pulled dead off the side of a mountain. A visitor to town back in January, dead with no leads. Another woman, dead in our town. You’re useless, Sheriff.”
Trey refused to back down. It didn’t matter that every word Evigan screamed matched all the emotion and frustration Trey carried in his heart. He would not let this man win.
