Devil's Rock

by Gerri Hill

  Thankfully, the rest of the hike was made in blessed silence, most likely because of the fast pace Andrea set. She spotted Joey sitting on a rock under one of the cypress trees, taking advantage of the limited shade.

  “How much farther?” she asked.

  “Just around the next bend,” he said.

  She touched his shoulder and squeezed, noting his pale skin and the dread in his eyes. “You okay?”

  “I just have never...never seen anything like that,” he said, his voice quiet and faraway.

  “You didn’t disturb anything, did you?” Cameron asked.

  “No. No, I didn’t,” he said. “You want me to wait here?”

  “Yeah. Randy’s coming with the trailer. I asked him to bring a mule. We’ll need to get her out of here, and I didn’t think anyone would be up to carrying her that far.”

  “Okay, yeah, I’ll wait for him here.”

  Andrea glanced at Cameron, motioning with her head up the trail. Joey was obviously shook up and she was afraid Cameron would make mention of it.

  “So what happened to your no horses rule,” Cameron asked.

  “I knew this would be quicker,” she said. “Besides, we had such a pleasant hike in, didn’t we?”

  Cameron stopped her with a light touch on her arm. The body lay up ahead, only a few feet from the trail.

  “She appears to be laid out like the others,” Andrea said.

  “Walk a wide berth,” Cameron instructed. “See if there are any tracks. I know this is a relatively flat trail, I just have a hard time thinking someone carried a body in.”

  Andrea nodded, going to the left of the body while Cameron moved to the right. She found nothing out of the ordinary. She stopped, her gaze finally moving to the victim.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered. It was just a young girl, her throat slashed open just like the others. She watched as Cameron walked carefully toward the body, squatting down beside it.

  “Son of a bitch. She’s a child. She’s just a goddamn kid,” Cameron said. She stood quickly, moving away. “Not a college student. Just a kid,” she said again.

  “The other killings, they were never all college students,” Andrea reminded her as she moved closer. She, too, squatted down beside the body, trying to keep her emotions under control as her trained eye took over. Cameron had also slipped into her professional mode, taking her camera and notebook from her bag.

  “Maybe not just a kid,” Andrea said after studying the girl.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I don’t think this is someone’s baby girl.” She stood up. “Cheap makeup. Bright nail polish. Costume jewelry.” She pointed at the scuffed shoes. “High heels.”

  Cameron lowered her camera. “Hooker?”

  Andrea nodded. “Possibly a runaway. She’s young.”

  “So maybe he used her services before he killed her.”

  “And left DNA? He’s been so careful not to leave any trace evidence behind. Why would he make things easy by leaving DNA now?”

  “Let’s assume Patrick doesn’t know we’ve linked these killings to Dallas.”

  “And he wants to make sure he gets credit for them,” Andrea said, following Cameron’s train of thought.

  “Exactly.”

  “But why? If he’s killed before, if the other cases from years ago turn out to be linked, why does he want credit for it now?”

  “I don’t know. As far as we know, the Dallas cases were the only time DNA was left behind. We don’t know why that differed either. But think about it. Dallas was the first time he was close to getting caught.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  “Right. So now it’s a game. It’s much more fun than just killing and moving on. He staged the crime scene in Tucson. It’s a game to him.”

  “And he’s winning.”

  “Sure he is. We don’t have a clue as to where he is or when he’ll strike next. It’s genius,” she said. “When the news is filled with warnings to college girls, he shifts gears. He takes out a hooker. We don’t know where she’s from, what her name is. By the time we find out, he may already have another victim.”

  “Let’s release a sketch of him,” Andrea suggested. “We’ve got pictures of John, his brother. We can just tweak it a bit, based on what the Dallas detectives said.”

  “It’s been my experience that releasing a sketch, rather than an actual photo, causes the opposite reaction than what you hope for.”

  Andrea nodded. “Neighbor accusing neighbor.”

  “Right. We’ll get thousands of possible sightings and end up chasing our tail as we try to track them down.”

  “Do you think his MO is still the same? Sleeps during the day, out at night? Changes hair color? Wears a dress?”

  “Probably. I think the detectives in Dallas were right on. It’s much easier to get close to your victims if you appear to be a harmless woman yourself. In fact, that may have been his MO all along.”

  Andrea raised her hands in frustration. “I just feel like we’re not doing enough. I mean, maybe if we got more information out to the public, more details about the killings then—”

  “He’ll stop?”

  Andrea sighed. “Yeah. He’ll stop for a few months, then move on and start all over again.”

  Cameron came nearer, gently squeezing her hand. “As far away as we are to catching him, we’re still closer than anyone’s ever been.”

  Andrea surprised herself—and Cameron too—by letting their fingers link together. “I know.” They stood there, their eyes never straying from the other. Andrea felt the gentle pressure of Cameron’s fingers, and she returned it. She struggled to get her thoughts in order, struggled to think of something witty to say.

  “When we find him, can we throw all professionalism aside and shoot the bastard between the eyes?”

  Cameron laughed and stepped away, breaking the tension that was surrounding them. “I think that’s an excellent idea. But maybe we should just keep that to ourselves.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Andrea wished she’d insisted on having this working dinner out at a restaurant instead of her house, but she knew what they needed to discuss was best said in private. At least Jim would be there. Not, of course, that she was afraid to be alone with Cameron. She would like to think that their relationship would remain professional, although that line had already been crossed. And she wasn’t talking about the little hand-holding incident either. It was just, well, there was nothing professional about the way they talked to each other. There never had been.

  The hand-holding was a completely different matter altogether. In fact, it was the first time she’d been touched—or touched someone—since Erin died. Not that there was anything intimate about it. It was just...

  “It felt nice,” she said to her empty room. She glanced at herself in the mirror then quickly looked away. No. Not nice. Strange. It felt strange. She didn’t even like Cameron Ross. She found her to be annoying and obnoxious. She smiled. Annoying, yes. Obnoxious? Not really.

  “Borderline,” she finally conceded as she shed her clothes and stepped into the shower.

  Holding hands with an annoying, borderline obnoxious, arrogant and conceited woman...and liking it. She stuck her face into the water.

  No, it felt strange, remember?

  Cameron knocked on the door with her foot, her hands holding the three pizza boxes and the bag with wine and beer.

  “Coming,” Andrea called.

  “Come faster,” she called back.

  The door opened and Andrea stood there, eyebrows raised. “Come faster?”

  Cameron was thoroughly embarrassed by the flush she felt on her face. “I assure you, there was nothing sexual about that. I just didn’t want to drop dinner,” she said, moving past Andrea. “Kitchen?”

  “To the left.”

  “You know, when I said I’d pick something up for dinner, I had no idea how hard that would be.”

  “Small town.”


  “I refused to settle on burgers or fast food,” she said. “But there’s only one Chinese restaurant and they don’t do takeout. Whoever heard of that? It’s probably the only one in the country who doesn’t do takeout.”

  “They have a buffet. Besides, Jim hates Chinese food.”

  “Well, I didn’t know what kind of pizza he liked. I know you like everything on yours. So do I. I got Jim the meat-lovers thing. He looked the type.” She handed Andrea a bottle of wine. “I got him a couple of beers.”

  Andrea laughed. “Jim will love you. I should have warned you he doesn’t do wine.”

  “Where is he, anyway? I thought I was late.”

  “He’ll be along,” she said as she turned the corkscrew.

  Cameron looked around the kitchen, quickly noting the absence of anything personal. Temporary housing, that’s all. She recognized the look. Toward the end, that’s how their home always looked. Temporary. Just waiting on the call, telling them they’d be moving to a new base.

  “You rent?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Yeah, it is.” Cameron went into the living room, the walls bare. “Are you afraid to put down roots?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t certain how long I’d be here,” Andrea said, handing her a glass of wine. “Now, well, it’s home, I guess.”

  “So when you left LA, you left all of your stuff behind?”

  “I sold as much as I could, gave the rest away. I didn’t want any reminders. I thought it would be easier.”

  “Was it?”

  Andrea tilted her head. “Why is it, Cameron, that you get to ask questions, but I never can?”

  “Oh? You think we should share? Give and take? Quid pro quo?”

  “It seems only fair.”

  Yes, it did. And that’s what scared her. But she nodded. “Okay. Ask.”

  “You went to high school in Washington. When did you join the military?”

  “When I turned eighteen.”

  “And were your parents for or against that decision? I mean, I hear it gets in your blood when you’re raised around it.”

  Cameron turned away and sipped her wine, stalling. Of all the questions Andrea could have asked, she didn’t think it would go this way. She wasn’t at all ready to answer questions about her parents. But when she looked back at Andrea, there was such an expectant look in her eyes, Cameron surprised herself by her truthful answer.

  “Indifferent. Not for or against,” she said. “My mother was dead and my father was in a military prison.” She shrugged. “Indifferent.”

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  Cameron held up her hand. “Don’t apologize. Please.”

  A knocking on the door ended the questions and Andrea nodded, turning away. But she paused before opening the door.

  “I don’t know if it was easier or not,” she said, answering Cameron’s earlier question. “I think maybe there are some memories you’re supposed to keep and not leave behind.”

  “This is my kind of working dinner,” Jim said. “Pizza and beer.”

  “It’s pretty good pizza for a local joint,” Cameron said.

  Andrea rested her chin in her palm, watching them as they both started on their fourth slice. There was not one ounce of awkwardness between them. In fact, their words and gestures indicated a familiarity that Andrea knew shouldn’t exist so soon. She envied people like that—those who could make friends so easily. She had always been more guarded, more reserved. More careful.

  Cameron looked over at her. “You done?”

  “For now. I’m pacing myself,” she said.

  Cameron put her slice down and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I heard from Collie. Surprisingly, he concurred with our hooker assumption. Sent her picture to the local police in Phoenix, Tucson and Flagstaff. Got a hit in Phoenix. Street name is Cherry. That’s all they got.”

  “He’s going to run her through the database?” she asked.

  “Missing persons, yeah,” Cameron said.

  “So this makes two now from Phoenix?” Jim asked.

  “Technically, Maggie O’Brien, the first victim, was a student in Tempe,” Andrea said. “But we can call it Phoenix if you want,” she added. She hated to correct Jim, especially in front of someone, but he took it as good-naturedly as he always did.

  “No, you’re right. I doubt the good people of Tempe want to be referred to as Phoenix.”

  “My equations require precise data,” Cameron said. “I’ve been able to get coordinates of where they were last seen, their home address, their work, where they usually parked, that sort of thing.”

  “And that’s going to tell you something? Using that...that algorithm thing?” Jim asked.

  “Yes. The more data we have, the more likely we are to establish a pattern. Whether it’s where he abducts them or where he dumps them, we’ll get a better idea of his movements.”

  “Our last victim probably won’t help much,” Andrea said. “I doubt we’ll be able to get much more information than her name.”

  “Most likely, yes,” Cameron agreed. “But we now have four dump sites. Two in Sycamore Canyon and two in Oak Creek Canyon.”

  “Twenty, thirty miles apart. Not counting the hike up Rim Trail, of course.”

  “I think it’s safe to assume he used a four-wheeler to transport Maggie O’Brien.” Cameron turned to Jim. “Don’t know if Andi told you or not, but we found an impression of tire tread up there.”

  Andrea shook her head, wondering why Cameron’s casual use of her name didn’t annoy her. “No, I forgot.” She met Cameron’s curious gaze. “That was the day—”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said. She smiled quickly at Jim. “Long-ass day,” she said as way of explanation.

  Andrea nodded, giving her a silent thank you. Jim didn’t need to know of their argument.

  “Anyway,” Cameron continued. “We’ve been to all four sites. No way a four-wheeler gets up Oak Creek Canyon. Now Sycamore Canyon, yes. Where we found Cherry, it was a pretty level, easy trail,” she said.

  “But we didn’t find anything disturbed. Four-wheelers are destructive to vegetation. Up on the rim, it’s mostly rock. But down in the canyon, there’s enough plant life—saplings, brush—that we would have seen evidence if a four-wheeler plowed through there.”

  “I just—” Cameron raised her hands. “I just can’t picture a man carrying a body on these trails. Cherry couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds, but ninety pounds is ninety pounds, especially on a hike. I just don’t see it.”

  “So back to one of our earlier questions,” Andrea said. “Does he have help?”

  Cameron shook her head. “Research shows that serial killers, for the most part, work alone. I know that’s not always the case, but the vast majority of them work alone. The more people who know, the greater the chance for getting caught.”

  “And Patrick has been doing this for a long time.”

  “But what about his brother?” Jim asked. “Didn’t he help?”

  “He may have unwittingly found the victims for Patrick, but I don’t think John ever knew what Patrick did,” Andrea said. “The Dallas report indicated that he was mentally slow.”

  Cameron stood, pacing behind them. “But he knew enough to slice Detective Sikes’ throat,” she said, staring at Andrea. “Son of a bitch.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket as she walked into the other room.

  “What’d I miss?” Jim asked quietly.

  “I’m not sure,” she said.

  Cameron helped Andrea clean up the kitchen, putting the leftover pizza in the plastic bags she’d handed her. She had intended on leaving with Jim but found she wasn’t quite ready for the evening to end.

  “Will you let me listen in when you call Dallas tomorrow?” Andrea asked.

  “Sure. I was going to do it from the rig, but I can come to your office.”

  “No. I can come over there. I’m sure you have data and equations to play with.”

  “Yeah. It’s
funny, really. I was never very good in math or science,” she admitted. “But I found I had an aptitude for computer programs. Not that I used it all that much in my early career. I was out in the field for the most part.” As soon as she made the statement, she knew she’d opened herself up for questions.

  “Tell me what you did. And don’t you dare say it’s classified,” Andrea said.

  Cameron took a deep breath, surprised that she wasn’t running and hiding from the question.

  “I was a sniper. Mostly.”

  She was startled by the look Andrea gave her. It wasn’t one of condemnation or disbelief. Rather, it was sympathetic.

  “I would imagine that’s one of the more difficult jobs,” she said, her voice soft.

  Cameron nodded. “Killing someone in a gun battle is an act of war. But targeting someone and pulling the trigger, that amounts to nothing more than murder,” she said.

  “I hope you don’t really believe that, Cameron. It’s all an act of war. Our country has enemies. You signed up to fight the enemy, by whatever means.”

  “Yes. I keep telling myself that. The alternative makes me a monster.”

  Andrea watched her for a moment. “Tell me about your parents.”

  But Cameron shook her head. “No. My turn. Tell me about yours.”

  “Nothing to say, really.”

  “You said you had to grieve alone, that you had no one to comfort you. You never mentioned a parent.”

  Andrea reached for a glass and filled it with ice, taking her time as she added water from the tap.

  “My father was a cop. A sergeant. I grew up around cops. It was the life I knew.” She paused to take a sip of water. “He was killed. He was at the point in his career where he wasn’t out on the streets anymore. Desk duty. But he stopped at a convenience store to pick up cat food because Mom forgot to buy it.”

  She paused again and Cameron saw the faraway look in her eyes.

  “There was a robbery. Dad and the clerk were both killed. My mother, well, she just couldn’t deal with it. She blamed herself. She blamed the cat.” She put the water glass on the counter and crossed her arms. “And she couldn’t deal with me being on the force. I was still in the academy when he died. I think she thought I’d get out, but it made me more determined than ever to make good. But she pulled away. She couldn’t handle it.” Andrea ran a hand through her hair several times. “She moved to San Diego. We don’t really have a relationship anymore.” She met Cameron’s eyes. “So no, I didn’t call her after I got shot.”