A race to keep someone else from getting chopped into pieces.
Which reminded him. Looking down at his pants, Had sighed. It was time to shred his favorite pair of jeans. There was no way they were coming off of him any other way. He already had some mild concerns about the blood flow that may or may not be getting down to his feet. Maybe if he was careful, he could save a couple of large scraps for the next time his mama made a quilt.
He began the search for a pair of scissors.
* * *
Sariah scanned ahead of herself as she moved down the hallway of the hotel. The weight of her realization pushed down on her, slowing her mind, her steps, even her breathing. It almost felt like she was moving through molasses.
Somehow, up to this point, it had all been an intellectual exercise for her: get everyone to believe that Humpty was back, push to get the case, make her team the best it could be. Even the victim wasn’t really a victim in her mind. They hadn’t been able to match the DNA to anyone specific, so there was no face to the crime.
But now that they were nearing the end of this body, another was on its way. Another father, mother, sister, brother. Even the homeless person out panhandling for money for the next fix was connected somewhere, in spite of how many of those ties had been severed through deliberate distancing or accidental loss. Joshua was the perfect example of that premise.
Speaking of Joshua… Sariah looked to the door, checking her makeshift escape alert. The pieces of tape had all been broken.
Dammit.
It wasn’t a sure thing that Joshua had flown the coop. He could have just popped down the hall to grab some ice. Another second and she rejected that idea out of hand. The thought that Joshua would ever water down his alcohol, just to have it be more palatable going down, was as ludicrous a premise as she’d come up with yet.
But still… you never knew for sure until you verified.
Coming closer to the door, Sariah spotted a man in a hotel uniform heading down the hall. Acting on an impulse, she called out to him.
“Excuse me.”
The man turned around, his expression inquisitive. “Can I help you?”
“I… ah…” She realized that the question she was about to ask might seem more than a little strange. “Did you just come from that room?”
His face shifted, his demeanor becoming more suspicious. “I’m not sure—”
Sariah pulled out her badge and identification. “I’m Special Agent Sariah Cooper.” Let the guy take from that what he would. Joshua was sort of in her custody, right? This situation was a bit outside the official playbook.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the man backtracked. His nametag identified him as Blake Kendrick. “Yes, I was just talking to the man there.”
“And…?”
“It was kinda weird. He wanted me to take these.” Blake lifted up his hands, several small bottles of alcohol clutched in each fist. Sariah hadn’t noticed them when he’d first turned around.
“Was that all of it?” she asked, doing what she could to keep the surprise out of her tone. This was not normal.
“No, that was the strange thing,” he confessed. “I’ve had people… you know, alcoholics and stuff… ask me to take alcohol out of the minibar before, but never only part of it.”
“Okay, thanks.” Sariah turned to head back, but then asked a final question. “And he’s still in there?”
“Yep. Almost shut the door in my face.”
That sounded more like the Joshua she knew. “Thank you for your help.”
“No problem.”
She walked back down to Joshua’s door and pulled down the remnants of the tape. No need to have Had come knocking on her door at one o’clock in the morning, freaked out that Joshua had bolted on his watch. She slapped new tape over where the old had been.
The situation with Joshua and the alcohol could wait until the morning. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be a bad thing that he had gotten rid of part of his stash, right?
But if there was one thing Sariah was sure of, it was not to believe for one single moment that she had the former agent figured out.
* * *
The old man’s rancid breath invaded Joshua’s nostrils.
“You’re an agent with the BAU. You bring killers to justice, find some measure of peace for the families of the victims, wrap things up with a pretty little bow.” His father-in-law’s voice was raspy with age and the cigars he liked to smoke. “But when it comes to your own family? You’re a cripple. A half-man. You might as well be a eunuch as far as they’re concerned.”
Joshua wanted to respond, to defend himself, to push back against this vile creature filled with hate and putrescence. But his voice wouldn’t work. His mouth moved, but no sound emerged.
Besides, even if he could speak, what would he say?
It was true. All true. Truetruetruetruetrue.
His wife joined her father, standing at his right elbow. “He’s right, you know. I can’t believe I ever married such a worthless piece of shit.” She shrugged, wrinkling up her perfect nose. Joshua had always loved that nose, a spray of freckles dotting the bridge, leading down to the cheeks, evidence of the Irish heritage on her mom’s side. “I never loved you. You know that, don’t you, sweetie?”
I do. I know. I’m sorry.
But there was nothing. She was there. He could reach out and touch her. But his hands remained chained at his sides, his tongue trapped inside his mouth. Immobile. Silent. Impotent.
And then his daughters, ranging from seven down to three, filed in and gathered around their mother and grandfather. They all looked up at him, their noses just like their mother’s, their eyes were his own, staring back at him.
“They’re right, Daddy. They’re right. So right. So very, very right.” They all chanted in unison. “You were a terrible daddy, Daddy. Terrible. Daddy. Daddy.”
I know. I know. You’re all so beautiful. I know.
George, the old man, the cancerous soul that called himself Joshua’s father-in-law, leaned in close. So close that Joshua could pick out every one of the large pores on the aging vulture’s face.
And then George licked him. Full on the mouth.
Joshua started awake to Bella’s kisses. She was whimpering and whining, as she appeared to be doing what she could to lick every bit of the distasteful dream away.
The feel of the nightmare lingered, but the warm body beside him soothed some of the ache he felt in his chest, filled the hole that remained in his belly, washed off the lingering scent of failure that clung to him.
Joshua snuggled back down with the puppy and went right to sleep.
CHAPTER 12
Sariah stood in the shower, trying to wash the burdens of the case down the drain alongside the dirt and sweat from the road. Last night had gone better than expected. After the first few forays out to Joshua’s room had proved that he hadn’t left, she’d let Had off the hook. She’d also cut down the visits to once every other hour, then once every three. She almost felt like she’d gotten a full night’s sleep for once.
Almost.
As the near-scalding hot water streamed down her body, she thought through what their next steps should be. It was time to use some of the information that they’d gleaned from Had’s program, working in concert with Joshua’s expertise. Sariah turned the cold water down to where the flow of water was almost pure heat. The near-pain that resulted helped her to attain more clarity in her thought process.
The heat seemed to drag reluctant ideas out of the recesses of her mind. Joshua had been right about her. She couldn’t have handled this case on her own. There were more than a few moments when she looked around and could see nothing that she had contributed to this case other than the bringing together of two brilliant minds. Intellects that she then exploited in order to further her own career.
Was that it? Was that who she was? The middle manager whose only redeeming quality was her drive? A Salieri to Mozart’s genius… able to recognize
and use greatness, while seething in jealousy and impotent rage at both the prodigies she was surrounded by, and the God who had given them what she lacked.
She stepped out of the shower, grabbing towels from the rack to scrub herself dry. The television played in the background. When she was up and alone, there was always something on. Some kind of noise to keep her from being alone with her thoughts. The only exception was the shower. Maybe that’s why she kept the water so hot, to drown out the incessant whisperings of the voices inside her head. The ones that were so convinced that she was incompetent. Useless. A complete and utter fraud.
Dressing in haste, Sariah did what she could to get out of the room as fast as possible. Time to get things moving. The only way to keep the voices at bay was to show them progress. And right now, the clock was ticking down fast; the white sands of the hourglass piling up as a witness against her abilities. Someone new was going to die, and it would be her fault.
She knocked on Had’s door. “Hey! Meeting down at the breakfast buffet in five.”
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll be there.” Had’s raised voice was followed by an intense muttering. Sariah was pretty sure she caught the word Mama. Sounded like another less-than-satisfactory conversation with his mother. Chuckling to herself, she shook her head. Sariah had enough experience with the woman to know that she’d much rather it be him than her taking that call. She had her internal voices, but maybe she was getting off easy. Had only had the one external source, but Sariah had no desire to trade places with him.
And then she neared Joshua’s room. As always, there was a moment of panic that preceded her first view of the former agent. What surprise would he have in store for her today? So far, each new experience with him had done nothing to alleviate her growing concerns for his wellbeing.
The tape was still intact. Joshua hadn’t left his room all night. A wash of relief surged through Sariah’s system. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad.
It was now almost seven, so if Joshua hadn’t left, he had to be awake. He never slept past five. More than that, he almost never slept past four. But when she knocked on the door, there was no response. Not even a stir. She knocked harder. Still nothing.
With trembling fingers, Sariah pulled the tape off the doorframe and pulled out the extra key card. She had to swipe four times before the light turned green for her to be able to open the door.
Bursting into the room, she scanned for Joshua, expecting to see his inert, possibly dead, body surrounded by empty bottles of liquor he’d somehow managed to procure for himself. Poisoned by the very drink that sustained him. But instead what she saw were four of the tiny bottles from the fridge stacked in a row on the counter.
Only four drinks. That couldn’t be right.
A further scan found Joshua on the bed, curled into a ball. A light snore resonated, his breath even and deep. In the center of the circle he’d made of his body rested the tiny form of Bella, who perked up at Sariah’s approach and started wagging her tail.
Joshua remained asleep.
If she hadn’t seen it, she wouldn’t have believed it. He never slept this late. Seeing him vulnerable, Sariah thought back to that first morning with him. Now was the perfect time to get him back for the ice water dousing she’d received at his hands, but seeing him like that, gentle in repose, stayed her hand. It was the closest she’d seen him to attaining any form of peace. The lines in his forehead and around his eyes had softened, and Sariah saw what she’d never noticed in him before.
She saw the dad in him. The father that loved his children and laughed at their quirks. The loving husband who adored his wife beyond all reason. The serious agent who wouldn’t allow the sick and damaged to take away someone else’s joy.
There, etched on his face, was the agent that everyone who had known Joshua before spoke of. The man that Sariah kept hoping would show up.
And here he was, cuddling with a puppy.
Sariah backed away, doing what she could to quiet her step. There was no need to have Joshua at the meeting this morning. She and Had could work out what they needed to. If they needed the former agent’s input, they could get it later.
For now, it was time for him to sleep.
* * *
Had bubbled with enthusiasm that he couldn’t quite contain. He’d already done his happy dance three times in his room before he was dressed, and even his talk with his mama hadn’t managed to quell his excitement. His laptop bumped against his leg, hitting one of the many bruises he now sported as a result of his raw denim fiasco. As much as he liked the look of shrink-to-fit jeans, he was now rethinking that whole idea. At least in any area with an annual rainfall of over three inches.
Down the hallway, he heard the ding of an arriving elevator and put on a burst of speed. He called out for whoever it was to hold the door as he scooted to the elevator and squeezed through the entrance before it closed.
The family’s eyes bored into him; they looked to be heading down for some breakfast before getting back on the road. A balding middle-aged man with tired eyes, a woman with sleep knots in her hair, and two tow-headed devils with more mischief radiating out of them than the parents clearly had any idea what to do with. Had gave the older of the two boys a wink. He knew that searching look well. He’d worn it too many times himself as a young child.
Most mornings, he would’ve started chatting with them, finding out where they were coming from and where they were headed. But not today.
Today there was a glowing bit of happiness that was highlighted in red in the center of his computer screen. A scrap of information that could help them to crack the case open, like one of the crawdads his mama always talked about eating back in Mississippi. There were crayfish up in Michigan, but she insisted that there was no comparison to the ones you found down south.
Sometimes Had thought his mama was full of crap.
He trotted into the breakfast room. Even with his limited travel experience, Had was starting to realize that these kinds of buffets looked the same throughout the U.S. Same smallish room with crappy décor. Same waffle maker surrounded by impatient hotel guests. Same dried out pastries and containers of sugar cereals. Even the television mounted up on the wall seemed to have the same news program on.
And there at one of the tables, was Agent Cooper, her neck craned to watch the news as she sucked down a glass of watered-down orange juice. One more thing that seemed to be consistent from hotel to hotel, as far as Had could tell. Whether it was concentrated to the point of being sludge or diluted past recognition, he had yet to encounter a good glass of juice.
Had caught Coop’s eye, and she waved him over to sit down across from her. “If the canary hasn’t been eaten yet, it needs to watch its back with you around. What’s got you so perky this morning?” She held up her hand to stave off his answer. “Never mind. Food first. Then talk.” She pointed over to the buffet, waving at him when he started to speak in spite of her admonition. “I’m serious. Breakfast. Most important meal of the day.”
Moving to the table, Had snagged a Danish that didn’t look too crusty and poured some java into a mug that was resting upside down on a tray right next to the coffee maker. Decaf. Because his news had him zinging more than caffeine ever could.
As he jetted back to the table, his leg grazed the top of one of the chairs that was sticking out, and he couldn’t keep from wincing. Agent Cooper caught the expression.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Fine,” he responded, hoping that would be the end of it. She sat there, an expectant look on her face. He sighed. “There is some… bruising.”
“Bruising? From what?”
“Um,” Had murmured. “From the… ah… incident… yesterday.”
“Incident?” Her face wrinkled up, then cleared all of the sudden. She lifted up her hand to cover her mouth. “The sprinkler thing. With the jeans. Got it.” Her brow creased. “That caused bruising?”
“Can we not talk about it?” Had’s information high w
as starting to leave, and he wanted to share what he’d found before he lost all credibility whatsoever.
Coop nodded, apparently working hard to keep a straight face. “Sure thing. What’ve you got?”
Whipping out his laptop, Had opened it up and turned it to face his partner, his shame forgotten. “Only our next destination. Check it out!”
Her eyes getting bigger, Coop darted her eyes up to meet Had’s, then back to the screen. “Is this accurate?”
“As accurate as the data. I would say within a percent or two of error.”
“And every one of the trucking routes we’re looking at leads—”
“Right into the middle of that truck stop,” Had finished for her, unable to resist stepping in. “It connects every single one of the dots for us. Our guy had to have gone through this area. I’m telling you, this is the place.”
After his conversation with Joshua, Had’d pulled all the routes that fit the crime scenes and linked them to a listing of all of the major truck stops and weigh stations. One stood out more than a huge zit on the nose of a prom queen.
Iowa 80.
“It’s the biggest truck stop in the world,” he gushed, pulling up some stats that he’d found the night before, once he’d found the link to the famous layover. “It’s got like four places to eat, a movie theater, a dentist, a chiropractor.” He pointed to the screen. “There’s even a trucking museum!”
“That’s… great,” Coop responded. She didn’t seem quite as thrilled about the amenities of the truck stop, but her eyes gleamed all the same.
“They’ve got a showroom and a custom shop; there’s wireless everywhere. They’ve even got a barber shop.”
“I’m getting the picture. It’s huge,” she answered, grinning at him. Had wasn’t sure, but it may have had something to do with his intimate knowledge of a truck stop, even it if was the biggest one on the planet. “And you’re sure this place links to every single one of the sites?”
“Not just the ones now, but also the scenes from 13 years ago.”
She pulled her eyes away from the screen. Had could see that, much as she was trying to keep it from showing, she was almost as excited as he was.
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