Jamison kissed Lee on the forehead and then released her. Lee walked with her to the truck. They shared another embrace before Jamison slid into the Chevy. She drove back to the park feeling alert. At one in the morning, she should have been exhausted. Instead she felt wide-awake, hopeful they would fine something at the crime scene to help bring the killer to justice. Her concern for Lee kept nagging at her and Jamison was determined to finish up at the park as quickly as possible so she could return home. Regardless of the responsible party, someone had tried to kill Lee, and Jamison didn’t want to be away from her for very long.
Thinking about the car crash that later proved to be no accident, Jamison felt even worse about her previous reaction at the hospital. Lee’s fear was perfectly understandable.
Jamison drove into the park, struck by how dark it was tonight. Glancing overhead, she noticed the heavy cloud cover. The absence of ambient light caused the crime scene technicians’ work lights to stand out brilliantly against the darkness. It was almost like someone had bottled a bit of sunshine and contained it to within a small area. Jamison squinted against the glare. She pulled over and parked a distance from where they worked to avoid contaminating the scene.
Ranger Roy Latimer met her before she crossed half the distance. He scratched absently at the perpetual dark stubble on his jaw. No matter how freshly shaved, he sported what appeared a full day’s growth. He started talking as soon as he was within range.
“There wasn’t much to find out here, Captain Kessler. Most of the scene was compromised by environmental factors and scavengers. The techs will be lucky to get anything out of this.”
Jamison pulled a wadded sterile, blue glove from her shirt pocket. She unfolded it to show him the cigarette butt. “Maybe they’ll have better luck with this. I need an evidence bag.”
They walked to the edge of the crime scene where four technicians worked. Jamison took a small evidence bag, sealed it and filled in the information on the tag. She passed it off to Latimer and signed a chain of custody form to that effect. Once finished, Jamison kept watch over the proceedings, but there was little for her to do. Shortly after two-thirty, the crew started packing things up. The lead tech, Jamison had to admit she didn’t know her name, spoke briefly with Ranger Latimer. She glanced cautiously toward Jamison and then walked away.
“That doesn’t look good.”
“It’s not,” he confirmed. “There wasn’t much to find, but of course I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you. The snow melt contaminated the scene. It’s also been almost two weeks since the attack, assuming of course that this is related to the killings.”
“It is. You better stop the techs before they get away, Roy. I know it’s been a long night for them, but they need to head over to Harmon Lumber. There’s another scene to process.”
“The place where the Drake and Pye kids were found?” At Jamison’s nod he said, “No disrespect, Captain, but these folks are tired. They might miss something.”
Jamison was sympathetic, but her hands were tied. “It can’t be helped. This isn’t the big city and we don’t have unlimited resources. I’d like to say it can wait a few hours but it just can’t. We need them.”
Roy nodded, but he clearly wasn’t happy. “I’ll let them know.”
He walked away and Jamison pulled out her phone to call Sheriff Macke. She let Sam know the techs were headed her way and hung up after Macke’s curt “it’s about time”. Jamison shook her head and climbed back into the pickup. She took another quick glance around and made a silent wish that the techs would find something leading to the arrest of a suspect. Then she started the truck and headed straight home.
For a long while after turning off the ignition, Jamison sat staring at the house. She could sense Lee’s exhausted slumber and hesitated to wake her. Cleo exited the house from the kitchen dog door, the flap clicking sharply back into place. The beagle sat in the grass near the steps, watching her curiously. Jamison smiled and relented. Cleo’s tail wagged a couple of times when Jamison scooped her up and carried her back inside.
Stay quiet, Jamison commanded. She needs sleep.
Jamison stifled a yawn as she placed Cleo on the floor. She took a quick shower in the guest bath so she wouldn’t wake Lee. After toweling off, Jamison creeped into the bedroom and silently stood guard over her lover for a moment. The sound of Lee’s gentle respirations quieted Jamison’s restless beast, just as it always did. Finally relaxed after the days harrowing events, Jamison slid naked beneath the sheets.
Lee turned toward her as soon as Jamison stretched out. Jamison smiled and wrapped her arms around Lee’s shoulders. Tenderness surged through her when Lee’s cheek rested against her chest. Even in sleep, Lee snuggled against her. Jamison kissed her temple and inhaled her partner’s scent. Arousal washed over her. Her heartbeat accelerated. It seemed like a lifetime since they’d last touched in a loving manner. She tried to still her passion, wanting Lee to rest but Lee must have felt her need.
Pulling away slightly, Lee’s eyes opened. Gazes met and briefly locked. Words proved unnecessary. Jamison eliminated the small distance between them. What began as a simple press of lips quickly flared out of control. She rolled Lee beneath her. Strong arms held her near as legs encircled Jamison’s hips.
Words alone hadn’t been able to mend the small hurts between them. The physical reunion breached the remaining gulf. Jamison’s cat calmed from their connection. Lee whimpered, a soft sound in the back of her throat and Jamison gentled her kiss. She tasted blood from a split lip.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t. You never could.”
Fingers in her hair pulled her back down. Jamison eagerly complied. Sounds of passion filled the manor. Jamison lost herself in the sensations of moist flesh, heated kisses and caresses that were sometimes rough but never harsh. She belonged here, in Lee’s embrace. Jamison hadn’t realized how adrift she’d felt lately until now. Their union gave her strength. Roaring out her satisfaction, Jamison gave voice to the joy Lee gave her.
Somewhere in the house, Cleo barked, startled by the roar. Jamison smiled. Lee chuckled and they settled down to sleep, wrapped in warm embrace.
Chapter Twelve
SAM PINCHED THE bridge of her nose in an attempt to stave off a headache. It was almost four in the morning and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a full night of sleep. Unfortunately, there was still too much to do. Between processing the evidence at the river’s edge where the kidnapper dumped Mira Pye and anything collected in the lumber mill itself, it didn’t look like rest was in the forecast anytime soon. She resented the fact that Kessler was at home sleeping. She resented that Kessler had a partner. Hell, she resented Kessler’s very existence.
Since finding out about the Panthera they’d been nothing but a thorn in her side. When Nicky still lived, Sam thought they had no secrets between them. Not for the first time, she wished the Panthera was one Nicky had kept. Realizing the truth of her nature left Sam with mixed emotions about their relationship. Most of the time, she cherished every moment of their lives together. On the rare occasion, like now, Sam considered Nicky’s alter ego. She thought about how Nicky changed into a four-legged creature. No matter what she did Sam couldn’t change the fact that she’d slept with an animal. What did that make her? Sam felt sick.
“Here, you look like you could use this.”
Sam turned in surprise, automatically pressing her forearm to her pistol. She acknowledged the comfort she drew from its presence even as she realized it wasn’t necessary. Shooting the cup from Detective Patricia Hex’s hand wouldn’t make her feel any better and might even be considered an overreaction. Scratch that, she thought. Definitely an overreaction.
“Sorry about that,” Pat offered. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Sam grunted in response but took the hot paper cup. From the gleam in Pat’s eyes, she thought that was precisely her intent. Still, s
he felt grateful for the coffee. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“You’re welcome.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. What secrets did Pat keep? Were they anything like Nicky’s? Suddenly ashamed, she attempted to cover it by taking a quick sip of the scalding brew. Pat wasn’t Nicky and Sam wasn’t being fair. She shook off her suspicions. “Thanks for the coffee. I just meant why aren’t you getting some sleep? It’s still early.”
“I guess I couldn’t sleep, too keyed up wondering what you might have found.”
“Nothing,” Sam offered. “At least nothing that particularly stands out.”
“What time did the techs get here?”
“Around three. At least Kessler didn’t keep me waiting too long. I barely had time to collect Lindsay and Mira’s clothing before she let me know they were finished out at the park.”
Hex nodded. “You think the lab will find any trace on their clothing?”
“I sure as hell hope so,” Sam answered gruffly. “We have a better shot at it than finding some random fingerprint. Every schmuck with a television set these days knows to wear gloves. Hair and fibers are a whole lot harder to avoid leaving behind.”
“Unless you’re living in a plastic bubble.”
Sam frowned, reminded of an old movie with a weak plot. “Uh huh.”
“You know, you seem even crankier than usual. Why don’t you go get some sleep? I can finish up here.”
“Can’t,” Sam said. “Chain of custody.”
Pat rolled her eyes. “So fill out a voucher. I am a federal agent, you know.”
Why can’t you just drop it? Sam wondered. This was her job and she wasn’t leaving until the technicians completed their work. Fortunately, Grace Beaumont headed their way before Sam became rude. Handsome, middle-aged and extremely intelligent, the African American crime scene tech ran her team like a military command. Under her watch, Sam felt confident they wouldn’t miss a thing.
Sam noticed Grace’s bloodshot eyes and realized she wasn’t the only one operating on little rest. Grace’s team had investigated four separate scenes in less than twenty-four hours, beginning with Mira Pye’s Buick. Sam chose not to insult the woman by pointing out how exhausted she looked.
“Grace Beaumont, this is Detective Patricia Hex from the U.S. Park Police.”
Pat shook hands with Grace and offered a friendly smile. Sam wasn’t surprised when she immediately cut to the chase. “Please tell me you found something.”
“We did locate another tranquilizer dart down by the riverbank. It resembles the one Ranger Kessler found by the old train station. We’ll run tests on the contents as soon as we get everything back to the lab.”
“I imagine they’ll contain some kind of sedative.” Pat shrugged like it was a foregone conclusion.
“Maybe,” Grace allowed, “but I don’t like to speculate. Other drugs besides sedatives can induce the symptoms the girls described. At any rate, we collected the chain used to restrain Lindsay Drake and canvassed the mill and riverbank. Together with everything we’ve gathered tonight, we’ll try to put some of the pieces together.”
“You mean from the park and the train station, too?” Sam asked.
Grace nodded. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up about anything from the park though, Sheriff. That area’s been exposed long enough that any evidence is surely compromised.”
“What about the rest?”
“If it’s there, we’ll find it,” Grace assured her. “No one does these kinds of things without leaving something behind. The trick is being able to interpret the minutia. At any rate, we should be finished soon.”
She was right, Sam thought. Had they been fortunate enough to discover the murder victims shortly after the event, Sam felt confident they’d already have a suspect in custody. The only reason law enforcement had nothing was a case of bad timing. Pauline Nielsen and Lauren Reid died days before hikers found the bodies. Nature obliterated any trace. Because of the community’s heightened awareness and a plucky seven year old, that was no longer true. Rolling out forensics within hours of the kidnapping greatly increased the odds of finding key evidence.
“Thank you, Grace. Please keep me informed.”
After she walked away, Pat changed the subject. “I contacted a reporter from Lake Placid after I left last night. She’s coming up later today to meet with us.”
“I’m surprised you found anyone awake. It was already pretty late when we wrapped up last night.”
“You know reporters. They’re always awake if there’s a story involved.”
“True,” Sam allowed. “Now if things will just settle down enough for us to have a pow-wow with Kessler and get all our facts straight before we talk to the reporter.”
Pat’s expression turned pensive. It was one Sam didn’t think she wore well since it didn’t fit her usual cocky attitude. “Should I have waited to talk with you two before I set up the meeting? I thought we were all on the same page with that.”
“We are. Kessler and I both agreed the media was a good idea. It’s just we haven’t had a lot of rest lately and I don’t want one of us to slip and let out too much information.”
“Right, we need to hold something back. That makes it all the more important for you to take off and get some sleep. I’ll set the appointment up for around four.”
“Speaking of Kessler, you just reminded me. How did things go with Seaver following Lee Grayson around?”
Pat snorted softly. “Not well, Seaver wasn’t on the job more than five hours before Grayson flew away in a helicopter. The next thing we knew, those teenage girls were taken and that was the end of that.”
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Sam offered, hoping Pat would let it go. Following Grayson or Kessler around could result in dangerous repercussions.
“I disagree. There’s something funny going on around here, I can feel it, and I’m not talking about the kidnappings or the murders. Someone targeted Grayson, someone who hated her enough to cut her brakes. I’m not saying they know why, so don’t start with me,” Pat said quickly. “That being said, I’m sure that same person is our killer and that Lee Grayson is the key to this whole thing.”
“What are you going to do about it?” Sam held her breath, fearing the worst.
“Honestly, I’m not sure there’s much I can do. Grayson hasn’t done anything wrong and all I have is a theory. Somehow I don’t think she’ll consent to being under federal protection.”
“I doubt it. Besides, Lee Grayson can take care of herself.”
Pat turned to her with a frown. “What do you mean by that?”
Sam thought quickly. “I just mean that she’s fairly sharp, and now that she knows someone might be after her she’ll be more aware.”
The excuse sounded lame even to her own ears but Pat seemed to accept it. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Seaver and Chase will be combing through evidence and test results just as soon as the lab has anything. Considering that we’re pouring all of our resources into this, I imagine that will start sometime later today.”
Sam listened closely to Pat, but her eyes watched the forensic technicians. From their activities, she assumed they were shutting things down. Grace knelt down in front of a large silver case filled with evidence envelopes. While Sam watched, Grace signed a document, placed it inside the case and secured the lid. She looked up and met Sam’s gaze, giving her a single nod.
“It looks like they’re wrapping it up here. I’ll contact the office and let them know I’m knocking off for the night.” Sam rubbed her eyes briefly. “Four o’clock works fine for me. Do you mind letting Kessler know to meet at my office?”
“Not a problem,” Pat assured her. “Would you like to grab some breakfast with me before you head home?”
Sam suddenly felt like she stood on shifting sand. Her entire body tensed. Since sharing a dinner with Hex that had unexpectedly become more, Sam had avoided spending time alone with her. Pat’s invitation caught her unprepared. For a
long infinitely uncomfortable moment, Sam searched for a way to decline. The fact that her mind went completely blank didn’t help. Finally, she decided on the truth.
“I’m sorry, Detective. I’m just too tired to even think about food.”
“Detective, huh?” Pat looked down, pushing at a loose board with her toe. “So we’re back to that.”
Crime scene techs began filing out of the lumber mill. Grace looked at Sam and smiled in a friendly manner before following her team. Left alone, Sam decided she could speak freely. The words tasted like ash in her mouth, but she needed to say them. “Look, I don’t mean to seem abrupt.”
“And yet...”
“Or self-centered, but I’m just not date material.”
“Who said I was asking you on a date? Maybe I just wanted to get something to eat.” From the sudden high pitch of her voice, Sam didn’t buy it. She thought Pat was trying to save face. That was fine. It was probably better if they pretended there was nothing more than a working relationship between them. It would be less awkward.
“Of course, my mistake. How about a rain check?”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll get hold of Kessler and we’ll meet you at the sheriff’s office this afternoon.”
Sam nodded, but Pat had already turned to go. She frowned and shook her head. This was exactly why she didn’t get involved. Bruised feelings interfered with the job. Spinning on her heel, Sam left the lumber mill. She was more determined than ever to avoid involvement with Patricia Hex. Why couldn’t people be more professional?
Driving across town, Sam noticed how quiet things were. She rarely traveled around Harmon before the sun rose, preferring to work the day shift. Calls for assistance usually came in during daylight hours and Sam liked staying involved with the community. From the way things were going, maybe she needed to switch to nights.
LEE STEPPED OFF the edge of the trail and emerged from the trees. She glanced down at Cleo panting by her side. A bit of grey at the muzzle and a slightly stiff gait were the only outward signs of her advancing age. At the same time the beagle’s ears perked up, Lee heard an approaching vehicle. She didn’t recognize the sound of the engine and Jamison was still at work.
Under Devil's Snare (Under Series Book 2) Page 14
