After an hour of what seemed like breakneck flying, they touched down in a rural area in Upper Delaware on the border of Pennsylvania.
“Can you wait here? We’ll be a few hours,” Dominic said to the pilot as the guy turned the engine off. The rotors slowed and Ava heard the pilot agree.
She would be shocked if this didn’t last a lot longer than a few hours, but it finally felt as if they were closing in on this UNSUB. Ava grabbed her stuff, opened the door and followed Dominic, both of them avoiding the tail rotor as they quickly strode to a waiting SUV. She’d been so busy filling him in on the details of Caroline Perry’s death that he hadn’t had time to tell her exactly who Sandy Warren or Fernando Chavez were, but she’d pieced some of it together. Ava had spent a good deal of the flight researching Galveston. He’d been a classic sexual sadist, and Dominic had put a bullet in him during his apprehension. She was guessing Sandy Warren was the woman who’d played the decoy hitchhiker, and Chavez was another FBI agent from NYFO.
“SSA Sheridan and Agent Kanas?” A man in a gray suit and dark sunglasses held out his hand to shake both of theirs. “I’m Agent Pine. The State Governor just signed the order. Everything is ready at the cemetery.”
They both got in the vehicle. Dominic had been texting on his phone the whole journey, obviously steamrollering this usually paperwork-heavy event. And he was probably still mad with her about not telling him the truth about Gino and her past.
“Any updates?” she asked, probing for information.
Dominic lowered his sunglasses and looked at her from his seat in the front of the SUV. “NYPD Detective Sandra Warren’s husband was found injured in their home. He opened a package that turned out to be a pipe bomb that had been addressed to Sandy and mailed to their house. They got him to the hospital, but he lost a hand and isn’t out of danger yet.”
Emotion gripped Ava by the throat. “Could Caroline Perry have mailed it before she died?”
The woman had been right in front of them, serving them food and drink and they hadn’t suspected a thing.
Dominic nodded. “It’s possible. They are putting a rush on all the DNA evidence found during this case and any other lab tests that need to be conducted. This is the Bureau’s priority number one. Agents were already tracing every aspect of Perry’s background from kindergarten to present day—and trying to ascertain if the waitress actually was ‘Caroline Perry’ but as far as we can tell she has no living family. So far no one named ‘Perry’ has turned up with any connection to the Galveston case.”
“So, what’s the plan?”
“Exhuming Galveston’s body shouldn’t take long. A couple of hours at most.”
“Why exactly are you exhuming the guy’s body?” Agent Pine asked.
“Because I need to demonstrate he’s actually dead.”
“You put him in the ground and now you’re digging him up?” Pine laughed. “No wonder people say the federal government is inefficient.”
Dominic didn’t smile. “As soon as the connection between Galveston and these other incidents become public there will be speculation about whether or not Galveston is really dead. He is. I checked for his pulse after the shooting. I witnessed the autopsy where his brain and black heart were weighed on the counter.”
“People will say he somehow faked it. Took some sort of poison to slow his heart. The guy was a multi-millionaire, he could buy off the Medical Examiner, buy off the cops…switch out a body,” Ava exclaimed. Conspiracy theorists could get seriously crazy.
“Or that you guys got the wrong person,” Agent Pine put in.
“Exactly.” Dominic pushed his glasses back up his nose. “And I’m gonna prove that cocksucker can’t hurt anyone anymore.”
Ava wondered if he needed to prove it to himself too. Van had told her there were cases that shaped your entire career. Her father’s murder and taking down the mob had been Van’s. Maybe this case was Dominic’s.
“How did the shooting go down?” she asked.
“We realized we had a serial killer after the decomposing bodies of three women were found in the woods either side of the Delaware River. The river divides New York and Pennsylvania so the FBI were immediately involved.” Dominic pursed his lips. “Who knows how many remains we didn’t find. DNA swabs from the cabin turned up forty different profiles, although we were never sure if they were all victims or not. Some might have been friends. According to Galveston’s video journals he liked to entertain, often with a girl tied up and incapacitated somewhere else in the house. He got off on that.”
Ava shuddered. The mob were vicious and brutal, but it was a different kind of evil to these types of murderers. Still reprehensible. But different.
“We knew the victims generally went missing on a Friday night off highways 178 or 97. We decided to use a female cop to pose as a hitchhiker along a mile stretch of road on a Friday evening. We had a surveillance unit hidden in the woods. We were about to call it a day on our fourth week when this shiny new pickup truck drove past and slammed the brakes for Sandy.
“She’d been told not to get in the car. We were simply taking names and license plates at that point. Next thing we know she’s on her knees on the side of the road, and the driver is getting out and starts manhandling her into the truck.”
“Everything happened fast after that. We drive out of the woods right in front of the truck and he almost T-bones us. We caught him by surprise. I jump out and tell him to get out of the truck. He doesn’t do it fast enough so I open his door and he’s reaching for a .356mm Magnum. Sandy manages to knock it out of his hand despite her being tasered. Once again, I order him out of the vehicle, but he lunges for the gun instead. So, I shot him twice in the chest. It was over in about five seconds but every moment felt like it lasted a century.”
Ava blew out a big breath. It sounded like solid ground work and blind luck had caught the serial killer. The razor-fine edge between success and failure was both gratifying and terrifying because sometimes the luck went to the other side. Sometimes the bad guys got away and kept on killing.
Agent Pine pulled into a rural cemetery with a beautiful, old brick church with a white-painted spire, topped with a cross. Old, weathered stones competed with fresh, white marble in the lush, green grounds. Ava got out of the car, trying to conceal the sudden chill that swept over her skin. Maybe it was the fog that had started to crawl in from the surrounding forest. Maybe it was the cool mountain breeze. Maybe it was the ghosts of all Peter Galveston’s victims. Whatever it was, her flesh crawled.
In the far corner of the graveyard, a small digger was building a steadily growing pile of soil at the side of a tall marble obelisk.
Ava followed Dominic out of the car and across the damp grass. Right now, Sheridan was very much the remote professional in command of this scene. It was hard to reconcile this man with the person who’d licked her naked body a few hours earlier, but Ava wasn’t expecting any PDAs. Didn’t want them. Even if they had been in a real relationship, she’d expect SSA Sheridan to behave as a federal law enforcement employee first and foremost. Later when they were alone, who knew what might happen, but she wasn’t going to beg like a dog for his affection. She hadn’t been needy for attention since her father had been murdered in front of her, and she’d discovered the safety of a strong man was an illusion.
She strode after Dominic, and Pine followed closely behind. She glanced around, checking the area for potential threats. A man and woman were tending a grave a hundred feet away. The woman on her hands and knees pulling weeds. Man filling a watering can. No press. Good.
Dominic walked up to a small group of men watching the excavation, shook hands and introduced himself.
“Where’s the tent?” Dominic asked.
Usually with an exhumation there would be a crime scene tent covering the proceedings from prying eyes. Usually they had a little more time to plan…
Pine answered, “ME’s office is on the way with a tent and some sampling equipmen
t. ME told me to get the coffin out first as their tent isn’t large enough to contain the digger and the dirt too. Said he’d be here by the time we were ready for him.”
Ava watched Dominic’s jaw clench, but his expression remained neutral. He was skilled at hiding his emotions. Something she’d never mastered.
A man came towards them from the church and introduced himself as the local pastor, Robin Elgin. He looked to be in his early thirties, a handsome guy, wearing jeans and a green sweater and black trainers.
Hip and trendy for a man of God.
Dominic shook hands with the guy. “Sorry for the inconvenience, Pastor. We won’t be in your way for long.”
The pastor’s lips pulled back in distaste. “I suppose it was inevitable considering whose grave this is.”
Ava canted her head to one side. “Do a lot of people visit the grave?”
Dominic perked up at that question.
The man nodded. “Absolutely. We get a lot of traffic because of our famous resident.”
“Any regular visitors?” Ava asked.
“Quite a few actually.”
“Do you know any of their names?” Dominic asked, his interest sharpening.
The pastor looked surprised. “No, I mean,” he shrugged and looked around, “they aren’t local residents.”
Dominic did that thing he did when he wanted someone to keep talking. “Aren’t local residents?”
“Well, I mean they might be, I don’t know everyone around here, but I don’t think so. They certainly don’t come to church on a Sunday, but that seems to be dying off anyway.”
“Galveston is buried in a family plot, is that correct?” Dominic asked.
The pastor nodded and cleared his throat. “Yes. I wasn’t here at the time, of course, but the Galveston family owned most of the land around here. They donated this acreage to the church on the condition any direct descendants had the right to be buried here.”
“Almost like they knew it would come in handy one day,” Ava quipped.
The pastor smiled. From the way his eyes drifted over her body he hadn’t taken any vows of celibacy.
She blinked in surprise. He made her oddly uncomfortable.
“Do you have some sort of book these visitors might have signed?” Dominic asked.
“Why, yes, although I don’t know if they did or not.” The pastor’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down a few times. “I try not to spy on people when they are here paying their condolences no matter who they happen to be grieving for. If you follow me, I’ll show you where the visitor book is so you can look at it.”
“Ava,” Dominic ordered.
Damn. She didn’t want to leave him but could hardly disobey a direct order. Plus, he should be safe enough with Agent Pine.
When the pastor turned around and started to walk away, Dominic stopped her with a hand around her wrist and leaned close to her ear. “Watch your back. I don’t trust him.”
“Yes, sir. And you watch your back too. This place is freaking me out,” she said quietly.
“Scared of ghosts, Agent Kanas?” Dominic’s smile was hard.
“No, sir. I’m scared of people.” And right now, she didn’t trust anyone. Not even the dead guy.
Dominic gave her a grin that made her heart flip like a landed salmon. She heaved a sigh as she followed the pastor to the old church. Despite everything she’d told herself, she was falling for Dominic. If she wasn’t careful, she’d be cooking beef casseroles and holding out her heart in her hands for him to trample all over.
Goddammit.
She winced then and went inside the church with a silent apology. It was freezing inside, nothing like the heat of their Virginian summer in this part of the country.
Pastor Elgin led her to the back of the church and picked up a visitor book that sat on a side table alongside a black pen. Part of Ava wanted to bag the lot for evidence, but what would it prove? Nothing conclusive except the need for hand sanitizer was real.
She followed Elgin into a side corridor and through to a room with a small couch and TV, a sink, fridge and coffee making facilities.
“Can I make you a drink?”
The image of Dominic being pried out of his Lexus jumped into her head.
“No thanks. Water would be good though. I’ll do it. I don’t want to cause you any trouble,” she insisted and gave the man a bright smile. He brushed against her to reach up for a glass from a shelf.
Ava rolled her eyes as she took the glass from him. She couldn’t decide if he thought he was God’s gift—understandable under the circumstances—or was slightly clueless about personal space. Yeah, she’d never been big on the clueless excuse. Different cultures had different personal space limits, but they were all Americans here.
She filled her glass and took a long drink of water without taking her eyes off the guy. She wiped her mouth. “How long have you worked here, Pastor?”
He blinked, and she noticed he had freckles and bright blue, guileless eyes. “About five years now. I can’t believe it’s been that long, actually. Before that I was in college doing a Ph.D. in theology.” He rubbed his hands over his forearms. This place was an icebox.
“Did you pick the parish or did the parish pick you?”
He laughed. She noticed a red patch of skin when he rolled up his sleeve.
“A bit of both, I suppose. I applied for the job when the last pastor moved away and was lucky enough to be chosen. I’d had a position as a deacon in Connecticut before this.”
“Good pay?” Ava asked with a smile. You really did get more from people when you were friendly.
He shook his head. “Terrible, but I get decent accommodations included, and it really is a beautiful part of the world.”
“Even with a serial killer in the graveyard?”
“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” The pastor’s tone was mocking rather than sanctimonious.
“Very Christian of you.” Ava smiled and washed up her glass and put it on the counter to drain. Then she went over and sat at the small table and pulled on gloves to page through the visitor book. You couldn’t be too careful.
The first entry in the book was dated four years ago. “Do you have the books for the years before this?” she asked. “Specifically, ten years ago when Galveston was first buried?”
He straightened. “I don’t know. They should be around here somewhere. Let me look for them.”
“Ever heard of a woman called Caroline Perry? Or a guy named Karl Feldman?”
Elgin frowned. “No. Should I have?”
“Just curious.” Ava started leafing through the book, working backwards. The answers were somewhere. It was just a question of figuring out where.
* * *
Dominic didn’t want to leave the graveside until the coffin was up and open and he was staring at Peter Galveston’s rotting corpse. But as he watched Ava follow the clergyman who could barely keep his tongue in his mouth, Dominic didn’t want to leave her alone with the guy either. That was more a personal preference than a professional one so he stayed where he was. Apparently, Mr. Loner had gotten used to his beautiful shadow over the past few days.
Get a grip.
Ava Kanas didn’t need his protection. She’d taken down dangerous fugitives and drug dealers and that was just in the last week. Hell, she’d taken on the mob at an age where most kids were playing dress up. What had he been doing at age seven? Probably crying because his mother was dead and then crushing his brother at Mario Kart.
He drew his attention back to where the digger was lifting bucket upon bucket of heavy black soil out of the ground. The noise of the machinery meant it was impossible to carry on a normal conversation. Two more federal agents arrived, probably to check out the proceedings. It wasn’t every day they dug up a serial killer.
Dominic used the time to center his thoughts about the case.
This killer had planted C4 in Chavez’s speedboat and sent a pipe-bomb to Sandra Warren that had
maimed her husband. He, or she, did not care if other people got hurt. They didn’t care if kids got hurt.
If it was Caroline Perry then what was her motive? What was her connection to Galveston?
Dominic raised his gaze to the tombstone and read the inscription. Older sibling. Parents. Nothing for Peter except his name, date of birth, date of death. The man had been an only child after the early demise of his brother. Dominic would bet the farm that Peter had had something to do with that premature death. Psychopaths did not like competition for attention.
The guy had had plenty of friends, but they’d all scattered like roaches after he was shot and claimed they had no idea about the man’s murderous pastimes. They were probably telling the truth. Most of them. The FBI had never been able to connect any of them specifically with his crimes.
Dominic walked around the obelisk and rocked to a halt. Someone had left the bastard a teddy bear. It was an expensive make, he knew that from the label on the foot. Who the hell left a serial killer a stuffed toy? Someone who loved him, that’s who.
He took out his cell phone and snapped a photograph and sent it to Lincoln Frazer. A minute later he got a call from the man.
“Where is that?” Frazer asked.
“Peter Galveston’s grave.”
“Give me the GPS coordinates.”
Dominic texted them and waited silently on the line.
Frazer finally came back to him as the digger hit something solid in the earth with a slight thump. The people around the grave jostled in excitement.
“Alex Parker managed to isolate a cell phone number that had been active around the bar in Fredericksburg, Van’s house, and the area where Caroline Perry’s body went into the water. It also pinged the tower nearest your house a couple of times. Parker checked, and it pinged the tower nearest your current location on several occasions over the past year.”
“Send me those dates.” He needed to show the pastor a photo of Perry, see if the guy recognized her. “Where is the phone now?”
Cold & Deadly Page 23
