After a few hours of paperwork, Ben Garrison swung by with a couple of chocolate croissants and a to-go cup of coffee from the bakery across the street. Smart idea putting pastries and coffee across from the sheriff’s station. “You look like the weight of the world is on your shoulders,” Ben said.
“Well, I do have a serial killer trying to take me down, so there’s that.” She bit into the flaky, buttery crust and a burst of rich, dark chocolate exploded on her tongue. She chased it down with a nutty, bitter brew. Perfection. “I haven’t seen Adam since yesterday.” When he’d seemed so angry at her.
“He took a sick day.”
That probably explained his crankiness. He’d been coming down with something, or the beat down by the drunk could have attributed.
Greer’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen. Cindy Woolridge. “Hey, Cin, what’s up?”
“How are you? Everything okay?”
“For now. I’m at the station working, unofficially.” Thanks to the serial killer.
“I need a favor if you have time.”
“Okay.”
“Mark Whittle came down with the flu—it’s going around—and he’s supposed to get some soccer team shots this afternoon—”
“It’s supposed to storm this afternoon. You know that, right? And won’t the fields be muddy?” Greer asked.
“Yes to all of that, but I’ll be honest. I’m being selfish. Michael has to be out of town for the first two weeks in May, and I don’t want him to miss the picture with the boys. Next year they won’t be on the same team since Jeff will move up in the age division and Michael will only be their coach this once. Storms aren’t set to come in until after five. I’ve been monitoring. Pictures are at three thirty.”
“All right. I can do it.” The boys would grow up and have that memory with their father. Being together. Playing together. Photos of Greer and her dad were few and far between. She couldn’t judge Cindy for this. She checked the time. One hour. “I owe you for so much.”
“Offer is still open if you need help with Lin.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I’ll see you there. Kids have practice after the photo shoot—if the weather holds—and I’m the snack mama.”
Greer didn’t know how Cindy did it all. They’d no doubt be homemade snacks. “Save me a treat,” Greer said, then ended the call and grabbed her things. “I’m heading out to the soccer field. Team photos and practice. If you need me, call. I’m taking a deputy’s vehicle. Sheriff won’t mind.”
Ben indulged in his second croissant. “You want company?”
“Company or a babysitter?”
A sheepish grin creased Ben’s baby-faced cheeks. “Tomato, to-mah-to.”
She retrieved her gun from the desk drawer, holstered it and grabbed the bag with the last croissant from Ben. “Thanks.”
Outside, chills broke out across her arms and neck. She searched the lot and saw no one.
But something ominous seemed to ride the wind, prickling her skin. Watching. Waiting.
* * *
Locke whistled to grab Greer’s attention and she jumped three feet in the air. “You scared me half to death,” she said, clutching her heart. “Were you watching me?”
“No. I just pulled up. Where are you going all by yourself? You know it’s not safe, right?”
Greer sighed. “I was going to text you when I got inside the car. I have a photo shoot in an hour at the soccer fields. I need to set up.”
Locke checked his time. “Storms are coming. Bad ones.”
“Not until after. I’ll be done quick.”
Locke rubbed the back of his neck. He’d been with the team all day, researching and tracking storm systems. He’d been editing and tagging photos for hours, but the last hour and a half he’d done something else. “Do you have time for me to show you something? Then I’ll drop you off at the fields unless you need the deputy vehicle. You can follow.”
“I can ride with you. Cindy can bring me back. Where are we going?” She followed him to his truck and climbed inside.
“Somewhere.” He half grinned but his stomach was in knots. After talking to Jody and trying super hard to be still and quiet with hopes of knowing where and how God was leading him, he made a decision. Wasn’t sure it was the right one or what Greer would think, but he had to prove somehow that he was a worthy dad who would never skip out on his kid.
He’d also visited the bank before coming by. Now he made a right on Main Street and drove past a cluster of houses that led to the far side of town, only ten minutes from Greer’s place. He pulled into the small driveway of the farmhouse. Rolling pastures behind. Horses. Three bedrooms.
“What is going on?” Greer asked.
Locke swallowed the lump in his throat. “You said you wanted me to settle down. To move here. To be a full-time dad. Be home every night. This morning I saw this house for rent. I called. It’s affordable. And the horses can be ridden if I’ll do the feeding and muck the stalls. Lin might like riding horses, don’t you think?”
Greer sat as still as a statue, staring straight ahead. “You want to rent a farmhouse and live here?”
Open land. Great places for nature pictures or even family portraits. “I want to be in our daughter’s life, Greer. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove it. If that means I need to join the force and do some side photography, then that’s what I’ll do. Because love is about sacrifice.” He stared Greer straight in the eye. “I love Lin.”
“Sacrifice,” she whispered and tears welled in her eyes. “Opposite of selfishness.” Greer didn’t seem to be addressing him, just talking in general. He sat quietly.
“I could put a tree swing right here in front. She’d like that.” This wasn’t ideal but the more he resolved in his heart to make the changes necessary to be with his daughter, the more excited he became. Until he thought of seeing Greer every day. She may never trust Locke—would always be waiting for the shoe to drop and him to leave. She’d keep herself guarded from him, but she might be open to love someone else. That thought turned his gut and soured his mood. It would be excruciating to watch Greer fall in love with another man.
But this wasn’t about Greer. It was about their daughter.
“I don’t know what to say,” Greer murmured.
The other thing Locke wanted was to give Greer what she was owed financially. He opened the glove box and pulled out an envelope. “We’ve discussed this, too, but fair is fair, Greer. You shouldn’t have had to provide for Lin alone all these months, plus the prenatal care. So I moved some money around this morning and I want you to have this.” He handed her the envelope.
Slowly, she opened it and gasped. “Locke...this is a lot of money. I can’t—”
“You can. You should. It’s only right.” He didn’t have many expenses and while he was impulsive, he wasn’t much of an impulsive spender. He’d saved most of his money. No one deserved it more than Greer and Lin. “I don’t want it back but if you refuse, I’ll put it in a savings account for her college fund or something. But, I’d rather you take it now and lighten some of your load.”
Greer pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, her lips quivering. She gave a quick nod of acceptance and inhaled deeply. “I need to get to the soccer field.”
Okay. So much for conversation, but it was a start. She hadn’t refused the money and she hadn’t protested him renting this house. He still had to talk to the research team leader. He may have to finish out his two months, but surely Greer would see his planning as a step in the right direction. And if he could follow through with his work commitment, maybe she’d believe he’d follow through with his parental commitment.
He backed out of the driveway.
“Did you sign the lease?”
He had. Even if he had to finish up his two months, he’d pay the rent to
keep the place for when he could move in. “I did.”
Greer didn’t say much more than that. Thunderheads rolled in but a few sprays of sunshine popped through the clouds as he pulled into the soccer-field complex. Cars littered the parking lot. Kids ran around as if storms weren’t coming in. Parents chatted with one another. “Bad day for photos,” Locke noted.
“Yeah. Is what it is. I’ll be about an hour.”
Locke clicked his back teeth together. “I have to work, Greer. I was hoping you’d be safe at the precinct all day.” That he would prefer.
“Look around, it’s chock-full of people. It’s not like a sparse park. And I’m steering clear of Porta Potties these days.”
“Har. Har.” He didn’t love the idea, but she was right. She hopped from the truck and tossed him a half smile. A war was going on in her eyes, but now wasn’t the time to ask questions. He’d let her process it all. A gust of wind whipped her hair. “I got a bad feeling, Greer. If it suddenly quiets down or you see any rotation near the rain base...get Cindy and get out. Okay?”
“I will.” She clutched her camera to her chest and closed the door, jogging toward the fields.
Locke waited a beat then headed back to the mobile unit, about six miles south, where all the action was predicted to take place. He’d never dreaded bad weather more in all his life.
THIRTEEN
Greer weaved and bobbed through the crowds of parents watching practice. She waved to several people she knew, spotting Cindy by Complex C. She rushed over and hugged her.
Cindy grinned. “I so owe you for this.”
“No way. We’re even.”
Michael jogged up in his white-and-purple coach’s jersey. “Let her owe you with a pie. She’ll make two and I’ll have dessert for a few nights.” He winked and kissed Cindy’s cheek. “But seriously, thanks for this. I got called out on an emergency construction job. Bad stuff in Birmingham. They need help with rebuilding.”
Greer had watched that on the news the other night. Businesses and residential districts had been wrecked. “At least it’ll only be for two weeks.”
“For now.” He waved at the assistant coach and glanced at the sky. “I hope you have time to do the photos.”
“Round everyone up. I’ll get started.” She turned to Cindy. “How many teams am I photographing?”
“Four.”
Could be worse. Thunder lightly rumbled in the distance. “Let’s get moving then.”
Greer waited while Michael corralled his team of rowdy soccer players. Her skin crawled and she scanned the area as a tremor of fear awakened in her bones. A hand clamped on her shoulder and she flinched, shrieked.
“Hey. It’s just me.”
Greer spun and Adam stood there, a grin on his face.
“You scared me.”
“I noticed. Ben said you were here. I don’t see Lin’s father.” He glanced around.
“He’s working. What’s up?” Adam wore his deputy’s uniform, unlike her. “I thought you were taking a sick day.”
“I was. Got called in.”
In the last twenty minutes? “For what?”
“Standby for storms.” He waved off the conversation. “I want to talk to you about something. Can we go somewhere?”
“I can’t right now. I’m about to shoot some soccer-team photos.”
“Lot of ears here. Can I wait for you?”
Better they have a private conversation. She couldn’t be sure what Adam wanted to say, but she knew what she wanted to. Locke may have been right. Adam had turned moody when Locke had arrived in town, and with all the time he was spending with Greer... If this was about having feelings for her, then she needed a place to let him down easy. “Yeah. I shouldn’t be too long. How are you feeling? I know you were beat up yesterday.”
Adam winced. “Sore but making it.”
“Same.” She gave him a friendly smile, as sisterly as possible. Wind picked up as thunderheads built. Then suddenly the wind died. The air didn’t even stir. “This ain’t good.”
People paused, gazed at the sky and murmured about the weather. A few parents wrangled their children and sprinted across the wide-open field. Greer needed to move fast. “Cin!” she called and touched Adam’s arm. “I have to go.”
She raced to Cindy. “I may only be able to get y’all’s soccer team done before the weather gets brutal. It’s looking ugly.”
“It seems pretty calm to me. I can see the sun.”
Meant nothing. “Let’s get moving.”
The same creepy feeling slithered over her skin, pulling and tugging at her.
* * *
“Doppler is showing signs of severe weather moving in and rapidly,” Jerry said. “Locke, can you head northeast and get video and photos as it moves in?”
“Roger that.” Locke signed off and hung a hard right on the back road leading outside of Goldenville. The conditions were ripe for a supercell storm and that meant possible tornado. Already a warning had been placed in the surrounding counties.
Greenish sky. Quiet atmosphere. Locke didn’t like it. His phone rang and he pressed the Bluetooth speaker on his steering wheel. “Hey, Jode, everything okay? Lin isn’t sick or hurt, is she?”
“No, nothing like that,” Jody said. “We are watching the weather, though. News just broke in to regular programming and Evan has on his satellite radio. You in the thick of it?”
“I have a feeling I’m about to be. ’Bout to get some footage. What’s up?” He pulled to the side of the road and hopped out, switching to his earpiece. He grabbed his camera and strode down the ditch into the plowed-up field that reached for miles in both directions. Clouds overheard grew sooty, more ominous. He took advantage and went to work getting the necessary shots.
“Wheezer called me.”
If the computer analyst at her security company was calling then there was news. “What did he find?”
“Well, the crummy news is he couldn’t find one employee who worked all the carnivals during the time of the murders.”
“It’s possible someone kept shoddy records.” He gauged the wind. It had picked up again, gaining momentum and blowing his hair in every direction and his denim jacket open.
“Right, but that’s not the case here. Wheezer hunted for missing persons reports using the same traits as the victims. Brunettes with blue eyes. He broadened the age range from eighteen to twenty-nine. We got a hit.”
“Okay,” Locke said and studied the weather. Took a few more photos and some footage.
“A nineteen-year-old girl went missing from a carnival called the Dixie Entertainment twelve years ago in Decatur. She worked as a knife-throwing assistant.”
Locke fumbled with the camera. “Did they find her?”
“No. So we can’t determine the way she died or even if she’s dead. But everything else fits. And... Flip Bomer worked the carnival at that time. He was twenty-five.”
Locke raked his hands through his hair, every nerve in his body on fire. “The blackmailing has to do with a missing girl—likely murdered by the guy who killed Flip, Tiny Tim and attacked Greer—doesn’t it?”
“It’s possible. If Flip is the blackmailer everyone says he is, he could have been blackmailing the killer and he’d had enough after all this time and offed him.”
But why now? Why after twelve years? Could Flip have only recently discovered the killer’s crime? Or recently blackmailed him?
“Locke, only one other man was on payroll who fits the bill—that we know of, due to such poor employment records—at the Dixie Entertainment carnival during that time.”
“Who?”
* * *
Greer used an elastic cloth hair band to pull her unruly mop into a ponytail. The wind was cutting up and sunlight was slowly disappearing. The eight-and nine-year-old boys weren’t cooperating. Three were
wrestling in the mud, two more were running around the goal.
Michael clapped his hands. “Okay, team. I mean it now. Huddle up.”
A dot of rain pecked Greer’s arm. This photo may not get done at all.
“Greer! We’re ready,” Michael called. She blinked as a few more pops of rain dotted her cheeks.
She held up the camera and zoomed in. “Scooch in, y’all!”
“Pile up!” Jeff, Michael’s oldest, hooted and went full-on linebacker toward his dad.
Greer lowered her camera as Jeff and Greg, along with two other yahoos, dove onto Michael. She used the opportunity to capture the shot as Michael groaned and winced as they dog-piled him. She took several more. “Okay for real now.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Adam was gone from the first row of bleachers. Guess he didn’t want to wait.
“Get it together, boys,” the assistant coach boomed and the boys fell into line.
Greer positioned the camera and zoomed in. Her lungs morphed into iron and her breath caught. She zoomed in again. Her hand trembled.
She eased the camera down.
Nothing.
Picked the camera back up, went into zoom position and saw it again.
Minute. Just a drop of blood leaching through the shirt on his shoulder.
As she lowered the camera again, Michael met her gaze. Greer stumbled backward. It was there for the first time since she’d met him a year and a half ago. The facade had faltered, like a curtain being pulled back, revealing his truest form.
Evil.
And for the first time, Greer recognized his eyes. The same eyes of the killer. She couldn’t make herself look away. Hate. Murder. A glint of sick amusement dancing in them.
This man had...he’d kept her own child in his home! She’d placed her trust in him. Sat with him at lunch and even church, and thanked him for taking care of Lin. A new wave of nausea flooded her. Why? Why did Michael Woolridge murder Flip Bomer? And so many other women?
Cindy! The woman was clueless. She doted on Michael, who traveled for his work at times, giving him prime opportunity to track carnivals and hunt victims. He was leaving for two weeks in Birmingham to help rebuild, but was that one-hundred-percent true? Had he zeroed in on another carnival in the area?
Killer Exposure Page 17
