by KJ Kalis
Trying to look as casual as possible, Emily walked up behind the agents. There was a man in between them, wearing jeans and a rumpled plaid shirt. Emily tried to judge the distance between her and Cash. She texted Mike again, “Now!”
Another text came back a second later, “I don’t see his number. You’re not close enough.”
Emily took a couple of steps to the side, coming out from behind the cover of the man with a plaid shirt a bit, her heart pounding. She turned away from the people in line, focusing on her phone. “Now?”
“Got him. Stay in that position. I need about a minute.”
Based on the conversation she’d had with Mike and Flynn the night before, she knew that cloning Cash’s phone required the two phones to connect. She breathed a silent prayer, hoping nothing would appear on his phone letting him know what was happening. Mike had assured her it wouldn’t, but he wasn’t the one standing in the restaurant. From the corner of her eye, she saw the line inch forward. Cash and the woman he was with were now at the register, paying for their orders. If Mike didn’t complete the connection now, she wasn’t sure when he would be able to. Her heart started to beat faster in her chest. They had to know what Cash knew. They had to know if he had any leads on the case. Emily swallowed. She tried not to look up and stare at him. People somehow always knew when that was happening. Another text came from Mike, “Hang on. Almost there.”
From ahead of her, Emily could hear Cash’s voice telling the cashier thank you. She glanced up for a second, seeing Cash and the other agent gather up a tray of coffee and white bags filled with food, his handcuffs shiny and silver attached to the belt at his back. Just the sight of them nearly made her freeze, the memories flooding back over her of the night she was arrested. Time was running out. There was no way Emily could follow them out the door and hope not to be detected. She moved to the side, a little closer to the man in the plaid shirt. His height was a godsend. It helped to block her from his line of sight. Emily stood still, half staring and half glaring at her phone. She hoped Cash and the other agent were so preoccupied with their conversation he didn’t notice her.
As they walked away, Emily’s thoughts started to race. Did Mike get the clone done in time? What kind of leads did they have on the case, if any? Where were they going? The questions came fast and furious in Emily’s mind while she tried to steady her body. The last thing she wanted to do was look fidgety and nervous as the agents were making their way past her and out the door. Emily pivoted towards the man in the plaid shirt as they passed by, holding her breath. If Cash saw she was in line again, she wasn’t sure it would raise a lot of suspicions, but any attention thrown her way could prove to be disastrous to the case.
The man in front of Emily stepped forward. From behind her, Emily could hear the little bell on the front door of the restaurant ring as Cash and the other agent walked out. She glanced up, seeing them pass by the big glass window in the front of the building. Cash never looked back. Emily stared at her phone, “Did you get it?”
Mike didn’t answer. The line moved up again, the man with the plaid shirt stepping off to the side. Emily took her turn at the counter, “I like to order takeout, please.” As she gave the waitress her order, a large black coffee and a blueberry muffin, Emily waited, staring at her phone. She kept her head down. A second later, just as she moved away, she saw the door open again. It was Cash. He’d come back into the restaurant. Emily’s heart raced, but he beelined for the counter, standing not more than ten feet from her. Using as much self-control as she had, Emily turned away, walking toward the bathroom, never looking back.
Inside the bathroom, the smell of fake floral deodorizer hung in the air, the bright fluorescent overhead lights casting shadows on everything. Emily took a minute, splashed some water on her face and waited. She flushed the toilet and ran water in the sink, although she hadn’t used the bathroom just in case someone was listening outside. Who would care, she wasn’t sure, but there was no reason to arouse any suspicion. Emily stood at the door for a second, closing her eyes, taking a deep breath. Please be gone, she thought as she turned the knob.
Pretending to stare at her phone again, Emily walked out of the bathroom and paused for a second. Having the baseball cap so low on her forehead gave her good cover. No one could see her face unless she looked up. And, with her shorts and windbreaker on, she looked like someone who just finished their run, a local, not someone who’d come in from Chicago to interfere in a serial killer case.
Before going back to the counter, Emily turned on the camera feature on her phone, changing the angle so it would capture the counter. In the viewfinder, she could tell that Cash had left. Why he’d come back into the restaurant, she had no idea. Maybe they forgot napkins or plastic utensils, or something? It didn’t matter. He was gone.
Emily walked back to the counter. The waitress nodded at her, “Your order’s right there, honey.”
Emily waved without saying anything, picked up the paper bag and the coffee, and used the side entrance to head out to her truck. In the parking lot, there were no black SUVs. That was good. Emily let out a long sigh. It felt like she’d been holding her breath for hours when it had only been a few minutes. Getting back in the truck, she started the engine, turning on the air conditioning. Her forehead was drenched with sweat, the tension of trying not to get caught pouring out of her. She stared at her phone again. Still nothing from Mike.
A wave of frustration passed over her. How long could it take to figure out if he got the clone or not? She took a bite of the blueberry muffin, breaking off part of the top and then called him. “What’s taking so long?”
“Nothing, I mean, I got it. I was just trying to configure it when you texted me. What happened?”
“Other than I almost got caught? Nothing. Would’ve been nice to know if you got it.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. You know me, I got caught up in the tech stuff. Anyway, I’m just starting to go through his texts now. Give me a couple of hours and I’ll get back to you. Flynn and Alice are gonna give me a hand.”
Emily nodded, “Okay.” The fact that Flynn and Alice were helping was good news in Emily’s mind. More brilliant eyes on what little information they did have. If Alice did nothing else than keep Mike focused and calm that would be a start.
21
Cash was sitting in the truck in front of the Cooper’s house, finishing what was left of a mediocre, watery omelet from the local restaurant when Jeremy walked up to the car. No one on the team had gotten much sleep after finding the footprints on the ground.
“Good omelet?” Jeremy said, leaning against the side of the car.
“Not really,” Cash said, wiping his face. “Any news?”
“Not a lot. We followed those footprints you found, and I’ve sent the data back to headquarters. They’re trying to run it for the type of boot, but best we can tell it’s a size twelve men’s utility boot. That brand’s pretty common on the market.”
“Anything else?”
“Well,” Jeremy said, using the back of his hand to wipe his forehead, “based on the directionality of the footprints, I’d say they belong to our killer or at least someone who had approached the back of the Cooper’s house and then turned around and went back the other way. If it was a hunter, there would be no reason for them to go directly to the Cooper’s house and then directly back.”
Cash slid out of the car, “So, what you’re saying is that the path of the footprints looks intentional enough that you think whoever has Lexi is the person wearing those boots?”
“Can’t say for sure,” Jeremy said, tilting his head to the side, “but what I can say is it doesn’t seem all that logical for a hunter to walk directly towards the Cooper’s house and then turn around and go back the other way, unless they were tracking something that was in their backyard. That said, if I’m a hunter, I’m not shooting something so close to someone’s house, unless I’m using a crossbow. A loud rifle blasé isn’t exactly what a homeo
wner wants to wake up to in the middle of the night, if you know what I mean.” Jeremy squinted his eyes, “Man, it is hot out here already.”
Cash nodded, “It is. Did you get any sleep last night?”
Jeremy shook his head, “Nope, been up all night.”
“Why don’t you head back to the bed-and-breakfast, get some food and a few hours of sleep.” Cash checked his cell phone. It was just after seven o’clock in the morning. “How about if you get back here around noon? I’ll text you if we need anything sooner.”
Jeremy nodded, “Thanks. My eyes could use a rest, that’s for sure.”
“I’ll bet. See you in a little while.”
Knowing that the boot prints approached the Cooper’s house and then went back the other way was a small lead, but it was a lead, nonetheless. The problem was Jeremy was right — it certainly could have been a hunter who was tracking something through the Cooper’s backyard, but it could also be the person that abducted Lexi. There was no way to know.
The frustration of having only a tiny bit of information made Cash want to pound his fist into the hood of the SUV but losing control and damaging FBI equipment wasn’t a good look for a senior agent. Cash stared down the street as a black sedan pulled out of one of the driveways a couple doors down from Lexi’s house. There’d been no ransom demand, no sighting of Lexi and other than the boot prints, they had no information. If this was the torso killer, they were running out of time.
22
By the time Ollie unlocked the basement door and went downstairs, Lexi was awake, but just barely. She seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness. Ollie realized he might have hit her too hard, but the crying was no good. That wouldn’t help anyone, even her. Staring at her, the smell of urine filled his nose. She had wet herself. He could’ve been mad, but he wasn’t. She couldn’t be blamed. After all, she was strapped to the chair with no way to get up and no way to call for him. Even if she could call for help, he was the only one around. He sat on the step in front of her and stared at her. She looked so much like Sage it made his heart hurt.
He watched her for a moment, thinking about touching her hair, but he didn’t, keeping his hands balled up at his side. Glancing up, he saw the calendar and noted the date. It was almost time. Almost.
23
Her part of the cloning job complete, Emily decided to drive back to the hotel to change. There wasn’t much she could do until Mike got more information. Heading up the back steps of the bed-and-breakfast, Emily felt a little stronger, knowing that Mike, Flynn and Alice were figuring out exactly what Cash knew. She hoped it would make her job a little easier or at least keep her out of jail.
Pushing the key card into the slot and hearing a quiet beep, Emily went into her hotel room. She quickly changed out of the running gear she had on during her morning trip to the restaurant, sliding back into a pair of jeans and her boots. Just as she was fastening her pistol on her hip, her phone chirped, “We need to talk.” It was Mike.
Her stomach clenched. “That fast?” she muttered, as she dialed his number.
“Houston, we’ve got a problem,” Mike said before Emily even had a chance to say hello.
Emily started to pace. “What is it? Did you find something already?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I’ve been scrolling through Cash’s texts over the last twenty-four hours since he got to Tifton. When he bumped into you yesterday, we know he ran your plates. What I didn’t know was that he asked for a full background check on you. Not a partial.”
“A full background check? Why?” Emily’s heart started to flutter in her chest.
“I guess your story about being a criminal justice student didn’t ring true to him.”
Most of the time, Emily could get away with her lies. Apparently, not this time. She shook off the thought. “Did the information come back yet?”
“Not that I can tell.” There was a pause, “When it does, he’s going to see everything.”
The words hung in the air. Mike didn’t need to tell her that Cash would know she was a disgraced Chicago police officer who’d been handcuffed and humiliated in front of her peers. Anger rose in her chest. “What is it to him if I’m here? What does he care?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s just doing his job trying to see who’s in the city? You know, cases like these tend to attract all sorts of people…”
Emily didn’t answer for a minute, hoping the anger would subside. It didn’t. Regardless of what had happened to her in Chicago, she knew she was a good cop, probably better than Cash, even though he’d earned an FBI badge. The fact that he was interested in her enough to pull a background check told her more about him than she needed to know. He was paranoid and suspicious. Maybe he had every right to be, Emily thought. Working a case like the Tifton killer could make anyone second-guess their career direction. “How long until he gets the information back?” she asked.
“Probably sometime today.”
“So, we have a little time.”
“Not much. What are you thinking?”
Emily continued pacing back and forth in her room at the bed-and-breakfast, next to the side of the bed. “Well, there are a couple of options. Number one, I can pack up my roadshow and head back. If I’m not here, the worse he can accuse me of is lying to him about who I am. The FBI has better things to do than worry about me in that context, though. The second option is that I stay.”
“But he’s going to know exactly who you are in the next few hours,” Mike stammered. “He’s going to be watching for you.”
“I’m not sure he’s going to be watching so much for me or my truck.” An idea popped into Emily’s head as the words came out of her mouth. “I gotta go. Keep me updated about things.” She hung up on Mike before he had a chance to respond.
Emily grabbed her car keys and the key card to the room and ran down the back steps of the bed-and-breakfast, heading out the same way she’d come in just a few minutes before. She took a deep breath of the hot humid air and checked left and right. No FBI agents anywhere in sight. They were probably still at the Cooper’s house. In reality, Emily didn’t care who caught the killer, but something had to be done. She was of more use to Cash chasing down leads than running scared away from the city. That wasn’t her style anyway.
Getting in her truck, Emily headed back out to Bradley Barker’s house. It was early, but not too early for a visit. On the way, she weighed in her mind what she’d seen the day before, the tools and the murder boards. Based on what Mike and Flynn had found, there was nothing in Bradley’s background that made him a suspect, other than Emily’s gut. Usually, her gut was right, but she wasn’t so sure it was right this time. This case had her out of sorts. Emily fiddled with the radio, finding a station where they were talking about sports, the upcoming football season for the New Orleans Saints, the start just over a month away. Her thoughts drifted. She forced them to refocus on Bradley Barker. She needed to know if he was a legitimate suspect before she turned in his driveway. By the looks of where she was on the road, she had about five minutes to figure that out. What did she really know about him? She ticked off the information in her mind — he was married to Carla and had been for thirty years, he had a significant, documented injury from falling off a tractor that gave him a pronounced limp, and most importantly, he had murder boards and tools in his garage. Emily also knew that he posted on the unsolved forum which was where Flynn had found him. So, based on the information she had, Emily wondered why she thought he could be the killer. It was the tools. She picked up her phone and called Mike, “Quick question,” she asked as soon as he picked up, “Did you run financials on Bradley Barker?”
“Of course. That’s standard.”
The way Mike said it almost made Emily laugh. Nothing was standard about the work they did. “Okay, what did you find in terms of income?”
Mike sighed, “Well, he gets disability because of the injury to his leg.”
“Anything else?” The answer to
the second part of the question was what Emily needed to know to decide on Bradley.
“It looks like he has some sorta little side business where he does tool repair. He files it as an LLC. Hold on for a sec, pulling up the tax records.”
Emily was quickly approaching Bradley’s house. She pulled off the side of the road, the truck dipping to the right a little bit as she did. She waited, resting the palms of her hands on the steering wheel, feeling calmer and more focused than she had since she got to Tifton. Something had shifted, she just didn’t know what.
“Here we go,” Mike muttered. “Yeah, I remembered correctly. He has a little side business. Only makes about twenty thousand a year doing it, but it looks like he fixes tractors and other machinery for the locals. The company is called Barker Fixes. Not that original of a name, I’d say.”
“Can you take a look and see who paid him? Does it look legit?”
There was more typing on the other end of the line while Emily waited. “Yeah, there are a bunch of deposits from companies in agriculture, like Tifton Agricultural, Louisiana Ag, Clement County Tool Works. They look legit. They all have EIN’s to them.”
Emily knew an EIN was an employer identification number, the social security number for businesses given by the IRS. “Anything else in Bradley’s financials that looks sketchy?”
“Nothing that I can see. Doesn’t look like he travels. There’s more money in his bank account than just from the disability and the Bradley Fixes business, but I’d guess he gets paid on the side to do some cash jobs. There is little additional spending around Christmas every year, but that seems normal to me.”
