by Joanna Wayne
That was the last thing he remembered.
She lay back down, her hands cradling her head as she stared at the ceiling. “It’s fine. Again, not your fault. I could have sent you away at any time, but I just crawled into bed with you.”
She rolled over to face him. “You’re safe. I was too tired to jump your bones.”
Moonlight and shadows played on her face, just enough light to see the fear that still gripped her, the fear she was trying to cover up with a light banter he wasn’t buying.
“Must have been a tough nightmare,” he said. “Want to talk about it?”
“It was bizarre,” she said. “Things were twisted. The Swamp Strangler was chasing me through the swamp but Rachel was with him and I didn’t know if she was trying to help me or kill me. There were dead bodies all around us. Only their eyes were open and they were looking at me.”
The nightmare still held sway over her emotions. He could hear the torment in her voice. He ached to hold her tight and comfort her, but that could be the worst move he could make. He basically understood nothing about women.
“I’m fighting the Swamp Strangler all over again,” she murmured. “I think that’s all in the past, and then he invades my thoughts and dreams. What if he’s affecting my ability to do my job?”
He remembered hearing about the Swamp Strangler, a south Louisiana serial killer who raped his victims and then left their bodies in murky waters of a bayou to be eaten by the alligators. He didn’t remember exactly how he was captured.
“Were you in on that case?” he asked.
“Yes. I profiled him, and then realized who his next victim would be and where he would be taking her. When I couldn’t reach her by phone, I knew if someone didn’t stop him immediately, it would be too late.”
He could see where this was going and sense how upset she was getting just talking about it. “You don’t have to go there now, Sydney. He’s dead. He’s done with.”
“I was too late,” she said. “Minutes too late. I saw the body facedown in the water and knew it was too late. I went after him, chasing him through bog so damp and spongy I was afraid I’d get sucked into it too deep to ever escape.”
Her body trembled and he could stand it no longer. Tucker pulled her back into his arms. “It’s over, baby.”
“But it wasn’t over. This was his world and he used his mastery of the environment to capture me. I felt his fingers tightening on my throat. I felt life ebbing away. And I knew I wasn’t ready to die.
“Somehow I got to the tiny gun hidden inside my wristband and put six bullets into his body before he lost his grip on my throat.”
He held her, not saying a word while the strain and tension slowly let go of her body. He knew the grief and mental upheaval of watching a close friend die. It might totally destroy Sydney to find that she’d failed in saving her sister’s life.
Yet all he could think of was keeping Sydney safe.
“Don’t take chances this time, Sydney. Promise me you won’t go after this lunatic alone.”
“I promise.”
He wasn’t convinced. She burrowed her head under his chin and scrunched against him.
Damn. The urges hit again, his whole body aching to make love with her.
“I need to go back to my room and let you get some sleep,” he whispered.
“You can stay,” she whispered.
The invitation was clear. He wanted to accept so badly that walking away would just about kill him. But sometimes a man just had to do what a man had to do.
“Not tonight, Sydney. I can’t stay and not make love with you, and I don’t want our first time to be tainted by anguish. I want it to be a night you remember forever because I know I will.”
He kissed her lightly and then got up quickly. He had to get the hell out of here while he still could.
* * *
SYDNEY OPENED HER EYES. Sunshine flooded the bedroom. She rolled over quickly and checked her phone. Eight o’clock. She never slept this late when she was working. How had she let this happen? Exhaustion was no excuse.
She kicked off the sheet but made the mistake of glancing across the bed to the spot where she’d lain in Tucker’s arms during the wee hours of the morning.
She let her hand slide to the pillow, still wrinkled from the weight of his head. His musky scent filled her senses.
At this moment she felt closer to him than she’d ever felt to any other man. She’d shared more of her fears, let him see deep inside the part of herself she normally kept secret, and she’d only known him since Monday.
Enough. She’d have to figure out any relationship that might or might not happen when her mind was clear and her emotions weren’t in free fall. When the current madness was over and the relentless abductor was behind bars.
She dressed hurriedly, slipping into a pair of white capris and a pale blue pullover shirt. She didn’t bother with makeup but calmed her mussed hair with a brush before heading toward the kitchen.
The house was unusually quiet, though odors of bacon, cinnamon and coffee hung heavy in the air. When she reached the kitchen, it was clear that breakfast was over and done with. The table had been cleared. The dishwasher was running.
She lifted the coffeepot. It was full. Evidently Esther had made a fresh pot before they’d all left to go about their lives. As it should be. Her life had been consuming theirs.
She poured a cup of coffee and was about to call and check in with Jackson when she heard the back door open. Esther was singing an old Frank Sinatra standard when she stepped into the kitchen with a basket of fresh hen’s eggs over one arm and a basket of yellow squash over the other.
“Good morning,” Esther said. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you got up, but I have to get outside and do a little gathering and harvesting before it gets too hot. If we don’t get a break in this heat soon, I may have to go on one of those Alaskan cruises my friends keep talking about.”
“You should,” Sydney said.
“Have you ever been there?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted to. Maybe next summer the two of us can go up there and explore the glaciers.”
“I’d like that.”
As strange as it was to admit it, Sydney would like that, too. Three days and she was already feeling part of the family. There was probably a hidden meaning there that she wasn’t going to get caught up in this morning.
“The guys finished up breakfast early today,” Esther said. “Price of beef is up right now and they’re helping Pierce check his livestock, deciding which ones to take to market this month and how many to feed and fatten awhile longer.”
“Before this week, I had no idea how complicated or how time-consuming ranching is. Nor would I have guessed how dedicated these Texas cowboys are to their lifestyles.”
“Cowgirls, too,” Esther said. “Once it gets in your blood, there’s no getting it out.”
“What about your friend Millie Miles? Is she one of those rancher’s wives who would hate living anywhere except on the ranch?”
Esther shook her head and started putting away the eggs. “That Millie is a horse of a different color. She’s one of those heiresses, spoiled by all that fancy stuff from the day she was born. Her father died in his fifties and all the money from his software fortune fell into her bank account like manna from heaven.”
“Really. She seems quite a bit younger than Dudley. I assumed she’d married him for his money.”
“Nope. Not that Dudley was poor, mind you. His daddy left him that huge stretch of land he lives on and one of the most prosperous cattle operations in this part of Texas. I reckon they fell in love either with each other or the idea of being in love. I was never sure which.”
“Then you don’t think they’re happily married now?”
“I t
hink she went off the deep end the day her grandson’s body was found, and then fell to rock bottom when her daughter went to prison. Looks worse every time I see her, like a woman on her way to meet the devil who knows there’s no turning back.”
An odd analogy. Esther, with all her Texas roots, had a way of saying things that cut right through to the truth.
Sydney’s cell phone rang. It was Jackson.
She excused herself and walked into the hall to take the call in private.
“Did you get a chance to look at the film that Cavazos dropped off?”
“I did. It led nowhere.”
“Then let’s move on. Lane just sent me a digital composition that combines and frames photos from seven different security cameras around Winding Creek. We can analyze who was in what store at what time on what day and compare it with what we know about where the victims were last seen.”
“God bless Lane and his willingness to give up sleep for work.”
“You must be doing some of the same,” Jackson said. “The file you sent with the design for the award poster was dated in the wee hours.”
“When I was brain-dead,” she said. “I hope it makes sense.”
“Looked good to me. I’ve passed it on to the sheriff. His people will post it immediately on a Winding Creek website and also post paper copies of it all over town.”
“That’s a start. When do I get Lane’s file?”
“That’s why I’m calling. Head over this way now. The rest of the team is on the way. Let’s brainstorm our way through this and figure it out. I have a strong hunch that our depraved perp is about to make his next move.”
Jackson was known for the accuracy of his hunches.
Chapter Sixteen
Sydney pulled into the drive at Jackson’s temporary office setup as Rene, Allan and Tim were climbing out of Rene’s personal SUV. Tim carried a large white bag with the top folded over several times. Allan carried a box of doughnuts.
Tim waited until she caught up with them and held the door for her.
“I hope there’s something healthy to eat in the bag,” she said.
“Delicioso tacos,” Tim said. “With jalapeños and extra hot sauce. You’re gonna love them.”
“And for your information, these doughnuts are super nutritious,” Allan informed her. “Grease, flour, sugar. All the main food groups.”
“Not to worry,” Rene said. “The boss specifically ordered a non-spicy breakfast taco for you. He has high hopes for you breaking the secret code to help find the Lone Star Snatcher.”
Sydney hurried to catch up with Rene. “What did you call him?”
“Damn it. Sorry, Sydney. I didn’t mean to let that slip in front of you.”
“Let that slip? Does that mean you guys have been referring to the perp that way all week and keeping it from me?”
“It just slipped out of my mouth one day when we were talking,” Tim said. “You know it’s not that we’re not taking this case dead serious. It’s just force of habit to give worthless scum like our perp a nickname.”
“Never meant to offend you,” Rene added as they walked back toward the kitchen.
Another of the problems with her being personally involved in the case. They were worried about her sensitivities when they needed to all be talking freely.
“I’m not offended,” she assured them. “I know how serious you all are about apprehending the perp and saving Rachel and the others. Rest assured, that is nowhere near as repulsive as what I’ve been calling him in my mind.”
“You’re seriously okay with it?” Allan asked.
“Seriously. I don’t care what you call him. Let’s just bring him down.”
They were all in favor of that.
Eager to get started, they passed out the food and poured the coffee in no time flat. After a few more minutes to adjust the equipment delivered from Jackson’s Dallas office that morning, the spliced and edited version of the film was showing on a large portable screen.
“If you see anything you want to comment on, let me know and I’ll pause the frame,” Tim said.
The film started on March 9 at 2:45 p.m. and had been taken from the Chic Cowgirl Boutique, where Alice Baker from Shreveport, Louisiana, charged a pair of expensive boots at 3:30 p.m.
“She looks relaxed,” Tim commented.
“Definitely alone.”
“Pause,” Allan said. “Not a clear image, but check out the tall cowboy with the sexy young blonde. I’m almost sure I saw him in the drugstore last night with a different blonde, also very attractive. He was picking up a prescription while I was buying shaving cream.”
“Probably just a playboy but keep an eye out for him moving forward,” Jackson said.
“Notice the older guy looking at the boots on the sale rack,” Tim said. “He keeps turning around to look at Alice while she’s admiring her boots in the mirror.”
From the boot shop the film composite progressed to other Winding Creek locations, same day, both before and after her trip to the boutique. Alice wasn’t seen again.
Shopping for boots might have been her fatal mistake.
This continued for what seemed like forever until they finally hit a speck of pay dirt. The last record for Michelle Dickens was a charge at an Exxon station just out of San Antonio. Nothing had placed her in or within forty miles of Winding Creek.
But there she was, perusing the local candle shop on August 20, the day she disappeared.
The shop was almost empty and the only person in there who looked even vaguely familiar to Sydney was the woman in charge of the shop.
And Millie Miles. For a woman who didn’t even have the energy to drive anymore, she sure made it into town often enough.
“Whoa. Hold it right there,” Sydney said. “The woman in the white pantsuit is Millie Miles. It probably means nothing but I also saw her leaving Dani’s Delights just as Rachel was walking in.”
“We may see several people more than once,” Jackson said, “but still worth noting. It definitely appears that all roads lead to and leave from Winding Creek.”
They finished the morning with the tape at Dani’s Delights that Sydney had looked at over and over last night. She wasn’t up to seeing it again.
She slipped out of the kitchen and onto the back porch. The day was already sweltering. Her spirits were scraping bottom. She checked her phone for missed messages and found one from Tucker.
She called him back immediately. His voice didn’t cheer her, but all the same it felt good to hear him say hello.
“Sorry I missed you this morning,” he said. “Pierce wanted some other opinions and I didn’t want to wake you.”
“That’s fine. Jackson wouldn’t have approved your attending this meeting anyway.”
“You sound down,” he said. “I hope it’s not from bad news.”
“No. It’s from having no news. Nothing to jump-start the search or even nudge it forward.”
“Hate to hear that. I’m back at Esther’s. Do you want to meet for lunch? All I have to do is grab a quick shower.”
“I’ll need to call you back and let you know. This is Jackson’s meeting and I’m not sure what he has in mind next.”
“No worries. Just give me a call. I’m easy.”
“The faces are all starting to run together,” Rene was saying as she rejoined them in the kitchen. “It’s nearly one. I say we break for lunch.”
“Just one quick follow-up question before we scatter,” Tim said. “You may be the one to answer this one, Sydney. Are the Houston detectives still questioning your sister’s ex-boyfriend?”
“He’s been cleared,” Jackson said. “Airtight alibi. Water-skiing up at Lake Conroe with friends from work all afternoon that Saturday.”
“I
never really considered him a suspect,” Sydney said, “but glad they checked him out.”
“I’ll bet ninety to nothing the Snatcher drives a pickup truck,” Tim said. “I’ve never seen so many in one small town. I’m starting to feel like a wimp in my sedan.”
“And most of them black,” Rene said.
“Agreed,” Tim added. “With numerous scratches to the paint and a few layers of red Texas clay splattered around the tires to prove they don’t belong to sissy city dwellers.”
Sydney excused herself and went to the bathroom for relief and to freshen up. When she returned to the kitchen, Jackson was the only one in sight and he was on the phone.
“Whatever you do, don’t let her out of your sight. I’ll be right there.
“Grab your handbag, Sydney. The perp has struck again. Only this time the victim got away.”
* * *
SHERIFF CAVAZOS MET them at the door to the County Sheriff’s Office. “She’s not hurt physically but she’s an emotional wreck. She gave us a little information but then clammed up. Says she only wants to talk to a woman. I figure you’re the best one for the job, Sydney.”
“What’s her name?”
“Joy White. She fits the same pattern as the other victims. Attractive. Brunette. Thirty-one years old. She’s not from Winding Creek.”
“Where is she from?” Sydney asked.
“I don’t know. She teared up and started crying before we could find out where she was from or why she was here in Winding Creek today.”
“Where was she when she was attacked?” Jackson asked.
“About ten miles out of town on the blacktop, what we natives refer to as the scenic drive back to the main highway. I’ve got a crime-scene team out there now, but feel free to send your guys out there, too, if it would make you feel better. I can give them directions.”
“Thanks. I’ll get hold of Allan and Rene and have them call you. I’ll wait here to see what Sydney learns.”
“Lead the way,” Sydney said.
“Joy’s in my office. I figured it would be less frightening for her than the cold, sterile interrogation areas.”
