Alex nodded. “I also looked into Bella’s and Patty’s, but couldn’t get my superiors or the FBI to see there was a connection between the three beyond the color of their hair and their ages.”
“But you’ve got someone in the bureau believing you now.” Drake’s words were more statement than question.
This time, Alex shook her head. “I wasn’t the one who put the latest murders together with these three. Adam Cooper called me in on this case because he knew of my investigation into the others before I left New Orleans. He’s the one who thinks there may be a connection.”
Drake raked a hand down his handsome face. “So you’re saying this guy killed three women in three different states, two neighboring and one three states away, over the span of a year and a couple of months and then stopped for five years before he struck again?” He didn’t sound convinced.
“Four,” Alex corrected him, and pointed to the photo of the fourth victim. “Kelli Darcy was found in Gulf Shores, Alabama last year.”
Rhett set his mug on the table and hefted himself to sit on the top, his expression one of a man in obvious deep thought. “Which brings us to Lynette Cross.”
“And still nothing to tie them together except their ages and hair color,” Drake added.
“And the fact that each woman’s body was found near the water.” Alex sighed as she looked at the dry-erase board, her gaze scanning each woman’s face for the hundredth time since Cooper had turned them over to her that morning. “Here’s another thing, the first three were killed in ways that didn’t leave a mark on the body or a trace in the autopsies. Patty was drowned, Bella died of insulin poisoning, and Abigale was suffocated.” She moved closer to the board and pointed at the photos of the two newest victims. “Kelli and Lynette’s throats were slit.”
“Okay, let me get this straight.” Rhett paused to sip his coffee, his gaze locked on the dry-erase board. “You’re saying this guy goes from Gulf bordering state to Gulf bordering state, finds a woman in her early twenties, kills her in a way that doesn’t leave a trace, and then dumps her in the Gulf before moving to the next state. He does this three times and then disappears for four years. When he comes back, he’s goes after the same type of woman with the same MO, only he no longer cares about marring their flesh.”
“In summary, yes.” Alexandria started to pace. “Here’s the biggie, gentlemen. There are only five states that border the Gulf of Mexico.” She set her coffee mug on the table as she passed it and counted them off on her fingers. “Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida. If all of these girls are connected, we have a victim from each state.”
“But we only have two recent murders,” Drake pointed out. “If this guy was getting his jollies by making his mark in each bordering state, he wouldn’t have stopped for four years between the killings.”
“If anything, he would’ve hit all five, hid out the four years, and then started all over again,” Rhett added.
“I think, if it’s the same guy, the first three victims did it for him for a while. I think his jollies, as you put it,” she said, glancing at Drake, “were sated until something set him off. That’s why he’s gotten more brutal and less careful with the killings. He’s pissed, maybe he even snapped, and he’s unable to exhibit the control with these new women the way he did with the first three.”
“He’s still got enough control not to leave behind any fingerprints or other evidence,” Drake pointed out.
“Which is enabling him to stay hidden,” Alex agreed.
“Yeah, but where?” Rhett asked. “He killed three the first time. He’s got two now, but he’s out of Gulf-bordering states. Will he hit a second state twice, stop at two, or find a new place to dump the bodies?”
“He’s not finished.” Alex had studied enough about serial killers in her career both as a homicide detective and an agent to be ninety percent certain of that. “A man like this may change his MO to throw off investigators. He may change locations where he kills and or disposes of the bodies. But there’s always something significant about the way he does things, something that doesn’t change, and something that creates a pattern.”
“Like the fact that all the women have been strawberry blondes?” Drake asked dryly.
“Precisely.”
“You’re the last agent that should’ve been assigned to this case, Sykes.”
Alex leveled a hard glare on him. “I told Rhett it would only be a matter of time before one of you tried to get me off this case.”
“I’m not trying—”
“I also told Rhett,” she bulldozed over Drake when he tried to interrupt, “that I am not backing down. I will catch this guy with or without the assistance of the Silver Island Sheriff’s Department if necessary.”
“Even if it means putting yourself out there as bait?” Drake didn’t raise his voice, but the tightness in his tone told her he was fighting to stay calm.
She forced herself to ignore the slivers of icy fear that raced down her spine. “If that’s what it takes, though I fully intend on catching this bastard before it comes to that. I’ve been instructed to treat Kelli Darcy’s and Lynette Cross’s murders as separate occurrences from the first three victims on the possibility that they aren’t connected due to the brutality of the way they were killed as opposed to the others. However, I will be checking anything we discover in our investigation with what little we know about the murders from four years ago on the chance that they are all connected. For a moment, let’s assume they are. We have five victims with strawberry-blonde hair, therefore creating a pattern. The locations the bodies were found, the different states, and the fact that there were three murders before he stopped may also be significant connections. He could be changing his MO to throw us off.”
“The lapse in time between the murders might hold meaning, too.” Rhett hopped off the table, moved to the dry-erase board, and pointed to the pictures of Bella McDonald and Abigale Brigdon. “Six months between the first two. Eight months between victims two and three.” He tapped the photo of Kelli Darcy. “Years go by before he strikes again and then still another year before he kills Lynette Cross.”
“Travel time,” Drake suggested. “He’s itinerant. He needs the gap in time to pick up stakes, settle into another area, and scope out his next victim. He waited a full eight months after Abigale Brigdon was found in New Orleans before he killed Patty Smart in Pensacola.”
Rhett returned to his place on top of the table. “And six months between Bella McDonald and Abigale Brigdon even though Texas and Louisiana are neighboring states.”
Drake lifted a shoulder. “Not just travel time, but emotional cool-off period, too. Serial killers require a temporal separation between murders.”
Rhett shook his head. “And the separation between Kelli and Lynette? He waited even longer between victims four and five when they were found in neighboring states, the same as victims one and two were?”
“There’s two possible explanations for that.” Alex had been pondering that very question in the back of her mind all day. “Either he used those extra months thinking he could get control of himself again like he did in the years between victims three and four or there is another victim we don’t know about yet. Given his pattern and the way he moves, I’m going with the first explanation until I know otherwise.”
“Which would mean we could have another six months or more before he goes for victim number six,” Drake said.
“We could,” Alex said slowly. “But do we really want to take that long to find this guy and give him the opportunity to kill another girl before we do?”
“Fuck no. He should have been found years ago.”
Alex smiled. “Well, it seems we’ve finally agreed on something.” She tipped her chin toward the files on the opposite end of the conference table. “There are witness statements, reports, and documents on the first four murders in those files. Help yourselves and I’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have.
I’ll tell you there isn’t much to go on. Law enforcement and other agents are working in the four states where the previous victims were found. Hopefully, they will come up with some new leads, but frankly, Lynette Cross is our hottest chance at finding this guy, which is why I’ve been instructed to focus on her.”
Drake raked his fingers through his hair and exhaled a hard breath. “And even that lead is coming up cold. The logs kept at the island Welcome Center show she’s been on the island twice, though neither visit coincides with the discovery of her body. She came with a small group of friends we tracked down on the mainland. She lived alone in a run-down apartment on the wrong side of the tracks in Silver Springs, frequented a club known as Castaways, and dabbled with the various club drugs that make the rounds.”
“Silver Lining.” Alex nodded. “Cooper said Lynette crossed paths with the DEA a few months ago because of the drug.”
“Among others,” Rhett confirmed. “But yeah, that’s the latest candy, in any case.”
“Was she attending college?” Alex asked. “Did she have a job? What about her family?”
“College dropout in the first semester, worked at the movie theater inside the mall in Billings, and she was the only child of Benjamin and Connie Cross who live in Kingsford, Alabama.”
“That’s close to Gulf Shores where Kelli Dracy’s body was found. Nothing has been found to say any of the other girls knew one another, but maybe Lynette and Kelli did.”
“Doubtful.” Drake crushed her hopes before they got a chance to fully build. “According to Lynette’s parents, they hadn’t heard from her in months other than a text message here and there asking them to transfer money into her bank account.”
“It’s still another avenue to follow.” She refused to give up so easily. Every thread, no matter how thin, had to be traced, even if she didn’t know how the two girls being friends would help them find their killer.
“Follow it tomorrow.” All three heads turned at the sound of the new voice in the room. John Cabelly leaned in the doorway and smacked a hand on the door frame. “It’s getting late. Why don’t the three of you take a breather, get a drink, show Agent Sykes around the island, and start fresh in the morning?”
“The sheriff is right,” Rhett said as John Cabelly disappeared from the doorway. “It’s been a long day. Let’s head to Ménage à Drink, have a few, and then call it a night.”
“I’m good with the beers we have in the fridge.” Drake walked to the end of the conference table, gathered the files Alex had brought, and shot her a look as he headed for the door. “I’m going to take these with me. I’d like to go over them tonight.”
She’d intended on doing the same herself along with what he and Rhett had collected on Lynette Cross. She started to say so when Rhett reached out and nudged her arm.
“Have a drink with me, Alex. I’ll take you on a quick tour of the island and escort you to your cottage.”
Drake’s step faltered on his way to the door, but he didn’t look back. He shook his head, bowing it briefly, and continued into the hallway.
It was the mother of all bad ideas, doing something with either of them that came even remotely close to resembling a date. Still, when she looked at Rhett, she couldn’t find the words to refuse.
“One drink and you can point out some sights on the way to the rental cottage.”
The boyish grin that had stolen her heart so long ago stretched his lips as he hopped off the table and gestured toward the door with a dramatic flourish of his arm. “After you, my lady.”
For the first time in a very long while, Alexandria laughed.
* * * *
Rhett saw pleasure brighten Alex’s expression as she gazed from beneath the thatch-covered roof of Ménage à Drink at the slowly setting sun over the water and wished he’d been the one to put it there. He supposed in a way he had been, since he’d persuaded her to join him for a drink. He’d seen the hesitation in her posture back in the conference room and had understood it. She’d come to the island to do a job, not to pick up where they’d left off five years ago. Considering he didn’t see how they could do that anyway when so much had changed between them, he figured getting to know one another again was a better first step.
“It’s a lot different than watching the sun set in the city, huh?”
Alex smiled at him. “It’s breathtaking.”
“You’re breathtaking.” The radiant smile slowly faded from her lips and her arresting hazel eyes filled with emotion. He hadn’t meant to say the words, even if they were the truth. She was even more beautiful than he’d remembered, so incredibly feminine, and sinfully sexy.
She dragged a fingertip along the hairline on the side of her face, pushing long strawberry-blonde strands behind her ear. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Rhett.”
Rhett gave a half laugh as the waitress approached their table with the drinks he’d ordered.
“You must be a new visitor to the island.” Cerridwen beamed a bright, welcoming smile at Alex as she offloaded the tray in her hand and offered her other hand for a shake. “I’m Cerridwen, the owner of Ménage à Drink.”
Alex politely took Cerridwen’s hand. “Alex Sykes.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy your stay.” Cerridwen shifted her attention to Rhett, a swirl of mischievous questions in her eyes. Neither he nor Drake had been seen at Ménage à Drink with a woman since they’d stepped foot on the island. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Will do, Cerri. Thanks.” Rhett waited for her to walk away before he picked up the pitcher of beer and slowly poured the draught into a glass for Alex. He saw her eyes narrow slightly, her brows drawing together in obvious puzzlement as her gaze danced from the pitcher of beer to each of the three shot glasses Cerridwen had set on the table between them. “Is something wrong?”
“Are you expecting Drake to change his mind?”
Rhett slid the draught mug across the table toward her hand and poured one for himself. “Everything at Ménage à Drink comes in threes. I asked Cerri to put the beers in the pitcher so it would be easier to share. I figure we’ll split the extra shot.”
She reached for one of the shots, angled her head as she studied the whisky in the glass, and then flicked her gaze to him. “What are we drinking to?”
Rhett picked up his shot, propped his elbow on the table, and held the glass close to hers. “How about getting reacquainted with an old friend?”
She grimaced and then shrugged. “An odd toast given our history, but okay.” She clanked her shot glass against his, tipped her head back slightly, and drank the shot.
Rhett’s attention locked on the slender column of her throat as she swallowed and he momentarily forgot to drink his shot. He’d rather lick it off her smooth flesh and chase it down with a taste of her magnificent breasts.
“What made you to move to the island?”
Rhett snapped out of the personal porno forming in his head, the one where he would continue tasting her sultry flesh one slow inch at a time until he reached her pussy, where he would lose himself in the delicacy of her flavor for hours. He knocked back his shot, reached for his mug, and chased the whisky down with a swig of the draught before answering. “Do you want the honest answer?”
“Of course.”
“You.”
Her hand froze with her mug in front of her mouth and she stared at him over the rim for a long, meaningful moment before taking a sip. “So you, what, had this premonition that you would see me again if you came to this island?”
Rhett chuckled, set his mug on the table, and leaned back in his chair. “Not quite. We leave the premonitions on the island to Arianrhod, Cerridwen’s sister.”
“Is she the island psychic or something?”
Rhett considered his answer. “Not many of us think of her that way. I see her more as a woman who is in tune with herself, her beliefs, and the world around her. She’s Pagan, as is her mother Elen, who runs the bookstore
on the main drag, and Cerridwen, whom you met a few minutes ago. She has visions sometimes, knows things about some of the people on the island before they happen…That sort of thing.” He lifted a shoulder and took another swig of his beer. “I don’t see that as magical or supernatural or paranormal or whatever else people tend to call it. I just see it as a gift.”
Alex chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully and his cock stiffened to stone behind the zipper of his pants. Christ, he remembered all too well what it felt like to have her luscious lips wrapped around his cock. The way her tongue would glide over his shaft like a thin piece of satin, torturing every inch until he was begging her to suck him harder.
“If you didn’t know we were going to run into one another again on this island someday, then how can you say I’m the reason you came here?”
“New Orleans held too many memories of you.” He’d expected it to get easier in time, thought that he’d eventually stop seeing her everywhere he went. After two years and some odd months, he’d finally come to the realization that it wasn’t going to happen. “You were everywhere, the French Quarter, the movie theater, the restaurants, the apartment building, the precinct…I couldn’t get away from the memories there, so I started looking for some place else to go. When I heard about Silver Island, the premise on which it was founded, the fact that a former SEAL was the acting Sheriff, and the openings for a couple of experienced deputies, I decided to make the island my new home.”
“And Drake?” Her gaze dropped to her mug, though she didn’t lift it for another sip. Her hand was closed around the glass and her thumb drew lazy circles in the condensation. “I never thought he’d move so far from his sister and his mother.”
“You should ask Drake about his own motivations for coming with me.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, like he’ll tell me. He’s made it clear he doesn’t have any intentions of talking to me about anything other than the case.”
“I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to clear the air with me now.” She’d wanted to do it back in the conference room. She’d tried to explain her actions to Drake and Rhett knew he would’ve been involved in the conversation if Drake hadn’t been such a pompous ass about the whole thing. “Why did you leave like you did, Alex?”
Safe and Deputized with Ecstasy [The Heroes of Silver Island 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 7
