Familiar faces. She was among people she knew. Sort of.
Some of Bailey's tension eased. "I'm doing ok. I just spoke with Mel at W4HAV. I'm playing third base on Saturday."
"Fun. We're really looking forward to it. How can I help you today?"
"I'm here about a case you worked twenty-eight years ago. A woman's body was found on South Boethe Street. The case was never closed. You worked it with Joe Kimball."
That detective had despised Bailey—he'd made that clear when she'd worked forensics at Finley Creek. Snide little comments about her—and her father. Bailey had done her best to avoid the man who’d been a deputy since before she was born.
She'd rather deal with this man who'd arrested her father than Det. Kimball. By a long shot.
"Come inside. Lacy's got the dog in the air-conditioning. Rumor has it she's making lemonade."
Lacy Deane had been one of the surgeons who had saved Bailey's life. Her brother-in-law had been the other. That brother-in-law was now Kevin Beck's son-in-law.
Lacy greeted them when they entered the kitchen. Bailey was nearly knocked over by a speckled beagle when she stepped inside. She laughed.
She'd always loved dogs and cats, but had never been able to have one of her own. This guy was a real doofus, but infinitely loveable. And loved.
The dog broke whatever tension remained.
Kevin grabbed two glasses of the lemonade and led her into a small den off the main room. "I still think about that girl."
"What can you tell me about her? Other than her name and vitals from Detective Kimball, your notes are all I really have to work on."
"You mind telling me why the Value TSP is interested? This is a bit out of your jurisdiction."
"We found a body in our county. There are some similarities. Preliminary ones, but they are strong. To be honest, I think the sheriff agreed to let me speak to you after my appointment at W4HAV just to rule it out while we wait on autopsy results." Bailey was hoping it was just coincidence. She didn’t want to think about the possibility that there was a serial killer in their area—one who was still possibly still out there. Statistics said that there were only about one hundred and fifty deaths attributed to serial killers in the United States in any one-year period. One percent of all US murders each year.
That a serial killer was in this small part of Texas was highly unlikely. Possible, but not nearly that probable.
She needed to prove that first. By proving that each case was unrelated.
If she could.
"Missy Layne was twenty or so, I believe. Not much bigger than you. Also a blonde. She was a clerk at the video store. She was a quiet, unassuming young woman who was low-risk. She clocked out at nine and walked home. Her body was uncovered in a shallow grave five miles south of the city. We believe her killer grabbed her outside the video store and just stayed on Boethe until it turned into the state farm-to-market road. She was found by dogs six months later. She didn't have much family and wasn't close to very many people. We think she was just a victim of opportunity. It made sense. There was nothing to indicate she was a high-risk target at all. Or lived a high-risk lifestyle."
Bailey nodded. All of that had been in his notes. "Why do you remember her so strongly?"
"Because I never found the answers. That girl was someone's daughter once. And because we had so little forensics to go on. Whoever killed her was careful enough to not get caught. Practiced."
"Experienced. Because he'd done it before?"
"Probably more than once. I’ve always thought that." He went into detail about why he believed that. She appreciated his calm manner. The clear way he looked at her. He didn't hold her father's actions against her like quite a few others in Finley Creek did. That was saying something.
Old issues with her father was a definite con of her transferring to Finley Creek. She hadn’t overlooked that.
Nor had she forgotten that Chief Marshall had given her an open-ended offer.
"I have several other case files to look at," Bailey stood to leave. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"
"There were a few other cases in the area that were similar. I wanted to look deeper, but was encouraged not to. At the time, I trusted my superiors. Now? I wish I hadn't been quite so trusting. If you can give me a day or two, I'll have a chat with Elliot Marshall. See if he can get one of his task force to drop off a few of those cases for you to take a look at. Privately, of course. The task force is not a well-known entity right now."
"Thank you for telling me about it. I know you don't have much reason to trust me."
"Of course, I do. My daughters vouch for you. That's enough for me." He leveled a frank look at her. "I've never believed in sins of the father. Everyone's judged on their own merits in my book. Anything that jerk Kimball said, ignore it. He and your father had beefs going back long before the arrests. Kimball had a real thing for your mother. He made a nasty drunken pass at her at the auxiliary dance one night. Your father stepped in. That's what his enmity is about. Nothing more. And you look a good deal like her. He's the type to let that cloud his professionalism. Old creeper should have retired ten years back. If you'd like, I can get one of Elliot's people from the task force to sit in with you if you have to speak with him again. Keep Kimball in line."
"Thanks for the offer, but I never expected this job to be easy. I can handle Detective Kimball, if I have to. I'm not sure I even need to talk to him, honestly. You were listed as the main investigator. And your notes were the most recent."
"That's because I never gave up on that girl. I still take a look at her case from time to time. I go over the photos a lot."
That pricked her interest. They had nothing but written reports. She certainly hadn’t seen any photos. "There were photos? None were in our files."
"I have more than four dozen. Copies of originals. Those files should have had photos." He grabbed a post note from the nearby desk. "You head over to my house. I'll call the security gate, and they'll let you in. My daughter Brynna is at the house across the street with her husband. Have him grab you the file—same file number you already have. Brynna can copy the photos for you. I'll call ahead and let them know to expect you."
Not exactly something she’d planned on, but she wanted those photos. "Thank you. Maybe there will be something we can tie to another file. Some way to finally move forward."
"Just let me know if I can help some other way. If not—I'll see you Saturday."
***
It added another two hours to her time in Finley Creek—especially when Brynna insisted she eat something before driving back to Value. Brynna was another frequent visitor to W4HAV, and their paths had crossed before that as well. She had worked briefly with Brynna during her time at the Finley Creek TSP post.
The other woman was very direct, but Bailey appreciated it.
And they both understood trauma. Bailey considered her a friend.
Brynna carried her daughter, a beautiful baby quite a bit younger than Liam, strapped in a carrier on her chest. The baby just watched everything out of bright eyes. Her orange hair stuck up everywhere on her tiny head.
Bailey couldn't help smiling. "She's so beautiful."
"Thank you. She's fussy today, so I'm carrying her close for a while. To see if it helps."
"Colicky? My nephew struggles with it, poor kid."
"A little. I read that heat against her stomach might help, so I'm trying it. If that doesn't work, my brother-in-law is a doctor. He can take a look at her for me when he gets home."
By the time she was finished getting Kevin Beck's files, another storm had rolled in, cutting off the pretty sunshine, and most of the workday was gone. She had just enough time to get back to the office and fill the sheriff in on what she'd learned. Then she'd go home—where she'd spend a few hours going over the photos.
It was a long shot, but it was something. Bailey’s fingers itched to get started.
Chapter 30
The first time
he made it into Value town limits, Glen snorted at how ridiculously down-home hick the little town was. Whistling the tunes to older Texas country songs, he’d driven his old truck down the main drag, actually waving at the sheriff as he passed.
It took him a moment to put together just exactly who that sheriff was.
Clay Addy. Of course. The prick deputy who’d put Glen behind bars.
He’d googled the man during one of his times in the prison computer lab.
Clay had certainly moved up in the world. Maybe. Glen parked and took another look around before deciding that the man hadn’t ended up all that much better off than Glen had.
This town was seriously a piece of shit. Most of the houses were old relics. The buildings of Main Street were almost ragged in appearance.
There was a charm about it, he supposed. But not much of one.
Glen was not made for towns this small.
Finley Creek was much better for Glen’s need to blend in.
He was such a nice guy, after all. Quiet. Stayed to himself. He didn’t seem the type.
He snorted. Sheep like those in this small town would believe anything. They never thought anything bad could happen to them.
He got himself something to eat at the diner. Then he settled in to watch the denizens of Value, Texas, go about their day.
He could have stayed in Finley Creek. But today was his first day out from under the supervision of his parole officer.
Glen was officially a free man now.
And that meant he could go wherever in the hell he wanted. Finally.
He was going to celebrate by finding himself another blonde.
There was a pretty trio of blondes walking up the street now, a passel of children in front of them. They looked enough alike to be sisters. For a moment, he entertained himself with the idea of sisters.
He’d never dated two blondes at once, let alone three.
Most of Glen’s dates were spread out over a few years, anyway. He wasn’t an overly sexual man. He had needs, but he was good at servicing himself when needed.
It was safer for a man that way. Especially with the kind of whores that were out there now.
The blondes came into the diner, with their brood along with them. The blonde in the middle was obviously pregnant. The other two were near the same age. All had the same build and same blond hair. The eyes were light, his favorite kind.
He just watched them.
Two wore wedding rings.
The third didn’t. But she had a son. A boy of about five or so. The child looked just like her and like the other children who were far too loud for Glen’s peace of mind. Pretty children.
The women were obviously well taken care of as well.
Someone joked about one of the blondes and the mayor. He took it to mean the woman’s husband was the mayor of this little Texas shit hole.
Glen understood what fate was telling him. He could look. But he wasn’t about to touch.
Someone as well connected as those blondes would only bring a man like him trouble.
That was confirmed when the sheriff himself walked in and was greeted by two of those women easily. One even kissed Addy’s cheek.
No.
It was time Glen got himself out of Value before he did something stupid.
He wasn’t about to face prison because of Clay Addy again.
Chapter 31
Bailey should have been back a few hours ago. Clay tried not to be concerned, but other than a quick text to Jeremy saying she'd be in as soon as she could, he hadn’t heard anything from her.
The storms were picking up, and he still had to check the bridges over near Bracker’s Mill Road. He wanted to close them off before the damned creek flooded again.
Finley Creek was actually almost the size of a river in this portion of his county, and it flooded more frequently than he wanted to deal with.
Better to close the roads and be safe rather than sorry. Some not-so-bright county residents would try to go through the floodwaters if he didn’t. Hell, even if he did.
Clay hurried out and took care of that task. When he returned to the precinct, Bailey was in the parking lot, muscling a box from the passenger seat of her vehicle. Clay hurried up to her and grabbed it. The box was almost as big as she was. "Get inside. Rain's going to break any minute."
"I need to grab another box."
She grabbed a smaller box and started across the small parking lot. Clay followed, manfully not looking at how well the green TSP pants fit her rear. Well, not looking more than once or twice.
When they were back inside, he looked at her. "Where the hell have you been?"
"Speaking with Kevin Beck. He thinks there may have been a serial killer active in the area about twenty-five years or so ago. He had photos that were left out of the original files Elliot Marshall sent us. I suspect Detective Kimball did it on purpose. He’s an ass and has a problem with my father, apparently."
"Nice."
"I got copies and am going to go over them tonight. Did you hear from the ME yet? Those reports were supposed to be ready today. I think they had to send to Wichita Falls for part, though."
"Yes. A general estimate of time frame. We're looking at approximately twenty-five to thirty-five years ago. On the Chase ranch body." Which could match up with what Kevin Beck had said, Clay thought. He wasn’t jumping to any conclusions yet.
"That's a wide range. How are we to determine exact time?"
"I don't think we'll be able to. So we're looking at a time frame on both bodies of twenty to thirty-five years ago." He hated cold cases. For this very reason. Too hard to find a starting point. And even when they had one, it often turned out to be the wrong point, and they had to do an abrupt about-face.
"Unless we can find their identities and track their last known movements."
"Missing persons cases as well. I have Jeremy running those." He would have had her calling the other counties again, but she'd been missing half the day. He needed to know what else she’d found. "I would have had you on that, but you were gone too damned long."
"Sorry." She wasn't. It was in those blue eyes of hers. Bailey was starting to lose some of her insecurity. Before she’d been abducted, she’d looked for his approval for almost every task. His or Jeremy’s, when his chief deputy was in charge. But now...now she was just doing what she had to do. Asking forgiveness rather than permission? He had to admit he was glad to see that change. He liked this newer, confident Bailey. Probably too much.
"Kevin Beck had more than I thought, and I had to run out to his place to get copies of his case files. I ate lunch there with his daughter Brynna. And I had my appointment with my therapist this morning. It took longer than expected. I'm going to work on these files tonight, though. When I get home and after I put Liam to bed. Jake has a meeting of the historical society tonight. I’m on baby duty."
He ignored the reference to her playing mommy again. And that ass Jake. "What exactly are you looking for?"
"Anything that connects the cases. Kevin—Detective Beck—mentioned that he believed Missy Layne wasn't the killer's first victim. What if they are all connected? Twenty, thirty years ago, there were a lot of things that were hidden or overlooked by the TSP. What if this is part of that? Maybe a corrupt cop didn’t want it known that there was a possible serial killer in the area? Look at everything that happened with...your uncle. Sorry. I forgot that you were related to Handley Barratt."
The odds of a serial killer being active—even twenty-five or thirty years ago—in this small area of Texas was damned slim. The odds were that the victims had been killed in domestic violence situations and buried. Or any host of other things. Serial killings were just too rare to jump right in with both feet. "We have nothing to say that our two bodies are even related to each other. Let alone connected to these others. Don't jump to conclusions, Bailey."
"I'm going to explore every option, Sheriff. How can we not?"
She had him there. "Just do
n't hear zebras when we have horses. Help Jeremy on the missing persons. I'll come out to Bert's tonight, and we'll go over these photos of Kevin Beck's together."
Chapter 31
Bailey fought the nerves that the idea of Clay intruding on her home turf brought in her. She grabbed leftovers from the freezer—Bert made certain there was always something for her to heat up—and popped them into the oven. She would feed Clay—and Liam—and then put the baby to bed.
After that, they were going to delve deeper into the cold-case files. Maybe she wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of him coming out there, especially after his revelation before, but it was a cold case involving dump sites older than Bailey. It was understandable that he couldn’t devote too much daytime manpower to it.
Not with Value’s limited resources. She wasn’t certain she wouldn’t have made the same call.
If she was going to stay at the Value TSP, she was going to have to get over these feelings he brought out in her.
He was early, and she let him in. Liam was clutched in one arm, babbling at her and giggling. She kissed him, mostly because she needed to do something instead of staring at her boss.
The man was made for a pair of jeans. “Hey. Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. I need to give Liam his bath. Then we can eat. Once he’s in bed, we can go in Bert’s study.”
He nodded. Then to her surprise, he held his hands out for Liam. Bailey handed the baby over. “If you can take him for a few minutes I’ll get his tub set up and check the oven.”
“Of course.”
***
Clay shifted Jake’s kid closer, keeping the kid steady. Bailey was dressed in thin jeans and a light-blue tank top. Those shoulders were bare again. The kitchen smelled great, welcoming. Real food. Not takeout like he was used to. She stepped into the small bathroom off the kitchen, and he heard the sounds of water splashing.
Holding the Truth Page 9
