In the end, though, his conscience wouldn't let him do it. He turned his back on them and given the order to auction them off. It was impossible to return the donations to the actual people who had given them. One of Amos's sidekicks had made sure to destroy a great many files before the offices had been locked down. The best he could do was give the money where it would be used in the best way possible. Amos had scammed his followers to pay for a hospital, now his money would help children in the hospital. Jack was now finished with that part of his life, and he was glad for it.
Jack knew he had to stay busy and couldn't retire completely even though he'd retired from the Navy. He wanted to build a future with Josie and to him that meant he needed to be able to support their future. He was not a man who could live off a woman. His military pension was a nice cushion, but he was also too young to be unproductive. He'd never spent much time in the past thinking about the future, but this was his chance to build something. He was still young enough to resurrect his long-forgotten dream and make it a reality.
Josie dove into her project as she did everything—with gusto and determination. The first order of business was organization and checklists. Her first day back, she talked with Georgina and explained she was only there to get the office ready for inspection. She was not there for consultation on the day-to-day running of the office. All inquiries and decisions were to go through Clay Tucker. Josie knew Georgina would pass that word along to the other deputies. It took two days for the news to filter over to the mayor's office that Josie was back at work. Knee deep in piles of reports and paperwork, she was not happy when Aiden Roland breached her sanctuary.
"Josie, you're back!" the mayor exclaimed. "I'm glad, maybe now something will get done around here."
"I'm only here to help the office get ready for the state inspection, Aiden," Josie said. "Clay Tucker is the sheriff now, and he's doing a fine job of it."
Aiden picked up a stack of files from a chair and looked around for somewhere else to set them. At Josie's frown, he put the files back on the chair and impatiently paced around the room. "Josie, we need you back as sheriff. Clay has been doing an okay job, but we need you. I want you to solve these murders. I'll even appoint you a special task force and let Clay continue being sheriff. We need to solve this crime."
Josie leaned back in her chair. "Aiden, the homicide investigation is being directed by the FBI with a task force of highly specialized investigators, detectives, and forensic specialists. I can't go nosing around their turf."
"Josie, think what it would mean if a small-town sheriff solved a crime the Feds couldn't solve," Aiden exclaimed. "It could put this town on the map!"
"It could mean a charge of obstruction, and possibility some jail time. Solving the murders is a federal case. It's not a good idea to step on Agency or State toes unless you want big trouble. Besides, I don't have any new information or leads, and even if I did, I'd turn them over to Agent Coulter."
"But, Josie!"
"Aiden, this isn't a CSI television show. You can't solve serious crimes in an hour using technology that may look real, but doesn't exist yet. You have to follow the law to the letter. You can't have any shortcuts or screw-ups. Crime solving involves thorough documentation and following processes, using the proper warrants and going through departmental procedures. If you don't, the criminals walk on technicalities. A murder investigation isn't a publicity game to boost your ego or to put this town on the map for heinous crimes. I can think of a lot more positive things to bring people to our town besides murder.
"I came back to do one job and one job only. That is to get this department ready for the state inspection. Sheriff Bowles left these files in a mess. The paperwork is all here—somewhere. I have to find all the parts and pieces, and put them in some semblance of order. I have to enter all this information into a database ready to spit out reports on a second's notice. I have my hands full. I neither have the time nor the authority to go on the hunt for a serial killer simply because you want to play some game of one-up against the Feds."
"That's not what I want, but this crime was done in Rawlings. We should be able to solve it," Aiden protested.
"We," Josie said wearily. "Exactly who is we. We don't have the required authority, manpower, expertise or equipment to pull off such a stunt. The most modern things in this office are our computers, and they are already outdated. You balked at the price of a new printer/scanner machine that we desperately needed. You balk at the costs every time we need repairs over here. Go back to your office, Aiden. Go through this year's recommendations for equipment and program upgrades that are needed to bring this office up-to-date with the rest of the law enforcement world. Make those decisions and keep Sheriff Clay Tucker in the loop.
"If you piss me off Aiden, I will walk. This office won't pass the state inspection and this department, and this town, will be in one hell of a mess. If that happens, I guarantee the blame is going to fall on you this time. Now let me get back to doing something useful."
The mayor left her office, grumbling about his intentions being misunderstood.
Clay Tucker was doing a good job as sheriff and Josie let him do it. It was not always easy, especially when she would have handled something differently. She was finding that it was hard to turn over the duties, but she clamped her jaws shut, and kept her head down and buried in paperwork. If she did not want the job, she had to let Clay do it without her interference.
The only problem was Josie wasn't used to staying in an office all day, and the job she was doing was tedious and boring. She enlisted Georgina for some of the database inputs, which was a help, but the overall job was monotonous. She was stuck in that little office and although it was a self-imposed prison, she didn't like it.
Rawlings settled back into its normal laid-back pace. The last of the reporters left the motel, and no one hung around asking questions. Clay Tucker gradually assumed all the sheriff's duties. He was already well known and respected in town, so it was a smooth transition. Clay was a patient man with a gentle way about him that naturally calmed people.
The biggest crime handled that week by the department was a break in at the elementary school where someone jammed nickels into the lock mechanisms on the lockers. A little detective work and Sheriff Tucker apprehended the offenders. He and the school principal handled their questioning and decided on a suitable punishment in agreement with the culprits parents'. Justice was simple in Rawlings, and the law didn't usually involve itself in family disciplinary actions.
One morning, Josie got a surprise visit from Agent Bill Coulter. He was on his way to Albuquerque and stopped by to give her an update. Except there were no updates. He handed a package off to her and was on his way in a matter of minutes.
Josie opened the package to find profiles of the victims, before and after photographs, a timeline and a preliminary profile of the killer. It was basic to say the least. Any first-year detective could have come up with the textbook psychological profile. There were no leads. Whoever had murdered those women left no clues to follow other than fingerprints and DNA, and without a match in the system, they were worthless. Fingerprints and DNA were valuable tools in crime solving, but there had to be something in the databases to match them. Unless there were some reasonable suspicions, the law couldn't request fingerprints or DNA samples.
The case was out of Josie's jurisdiction and out of her control, but her mind wandered as she worked through the massive yet tedious undertaking of preparing for an inspection. In a moment of exasperation with the endless paperwork, checks and crosschecks, she picked up the package from Agent Coulter and opened it again. She pulled a plastic-coated grid board from behind a filing cabinet and systematically posted the six 3x5 photographs on the board, assembling them in order, writing down the ages, dates of birth, dates reported missing, and estimated dates of death. She noted their professions and any other tidbits of available information. She tacked the board on the back of her door. She would know it wa
s there, but it would remain hidden unless someone closed the door while in her office.
Josie didn't know why she made the chart. She didn't look at the photographs since she knew she couldn't focus on the murdered women themselves. Instead, she focused on the statistics because something about the stats kept tickling at the back of her mind. She could not specifically identify what was bothering her, but she knew it would eventually surface. She'd learned a long time ago to rely on her instincts.
Chapter 9
As Jack pulled into the driveway, he noticed lights on throughout the downstairs of the house and Buck's SUV parked out front. Resolving a lifetime of abandonment issues with her father was not easy. True to her word, Josie was giving Buck a fair shot. He was not around a lot and sometimes she tossed him out on his ear, but the man was as persistent as Josie was stubborn. Jack went with the flow as it was his safest avenue. He listened to Josie's complaints, let her vent and blast at him occasionally. He also let Buck bend his ear sometimes over a beer at Riley's.
He found them in the library boxing up the last of the books. Josie had decided to keep the oldest volumes of the classics, which were in good condition. She was donating the rest to a used bookstore. She was an avid reader, but saw no value in keeping dated encyclopedias, textbooks and the like. The bookstore would sort through them and pullout what they could resell, and send the rest to a paper recycling plant. Josie claimed she could not stand the idea of tossing out the books, but what happened to them after she had given them away did not concern her. In this case, ignorance was bliss.
"Hi," Josie called, greeting Jack with a kiss. "How was class?"
"Grueling," Jack admitted.
Josie gave an excited twirl around the room. "We'll be bringing in the bookshelves this weekend! Maybe we can even get the room painted."
Jack shook his head. "No, Buck and I will bring in the bookshelves. The doctor said no major exertion for four weeks. He does not want you to put any extra strain on that eye. We'll also see to the painting."
Buck was grinning and nodding his head.
Josie squinted at them. "Don't gang up on me!"
Jack pulled her in and kissed her long and hard. "I will if I want to; it's for your own good."
"I'm going," Buck said, with a mock salute and a grin. "What time tomorrow?"
"Eight," Josie said at the same instant Jack said, "Noon."
"Noon it is," Buck agreed and with a wave was gone.
"Two against one won't work," Josie warned.
"Sure, it will, because I don't intend to let you out of bed until noon tomorrow."
"Provided I'm willing," Josie teased, only to gasp as Jack pushed his hands under her shirt, flipped her bra up out of the way, and rubbed his rough thumbs over her nipples.
"Complaints?" Jack asked.
"Only one. What took you so long to get here tonight?"
Jack outlined what remained of Josie's black eye with the tip of his finger. "It still kills me to see you bruised. Please tell me she's going to pay for this."
Josie stirred in his arms, feeling limp with sexual satisfaction. It was well after midnight. They had spent the last several hours making love in the Jacuzzi tub and the shower while slowly working their way to the bed.
"If I have anything to say about it, she will. Did you know Clay solved the case of the elementary school locker jamming," Josie mumbled.
"Yeah?" Jack asked, stretching out and stroking her sleek body.
"Kenny Prescott and Jayden Davis, both are hardened ten-year-old felons. They broke down and confessed after about two minutes of intense grilling. It cost those boys $10.00 in nickels to jam the lockers. Their parents are splitting a $345.00 repair bill to unjam them and replace the locks. The boys' punishment is two hours a day of community service for the rest of the summer at the elementary school under the principal's watchful eye. Mr. Benjamin will have them cleaning, weeding flower gardens, and anything else he wants them to do. Those two little squirts screwed up all their summer plans."
Jack laughed. "I hope you didn't keep a diary of the stunts you pulled when you were a kid."
"Naw, the kids go to the Internet for ideas now. They have no imagination," Josie said and she suddenly jumped out of bed. "Dang his hide!"
"What?" Jack demanded.
Josie walked over to a wooden shelf that was wrapped in grapevine and unwound a thin silver bracelet with tiny colored beads. "It was hidden in plain sight. I've been hunting for this bracelet since the hobbit left for camp. He knows it's my favorite."
Jack shook his head and smiled, but when she returned to the bed, he said, "I was glad it wasn't the TV remote."
Josie rolled her eyes. "Men and their big TVs. Is it compensation for something?" She cocked her head. "Do you hear that?"
"What? My heart racing, because I'm horny again? I don't need to compensate," Jack teased, tackling her and pulling her back into bed with a grin.
"No, that," Josie whispered urgently as they both heard a noise and bolted upright in bed.
"I heard that," Jack said in a low voice. "Stay put, I'll check it out."
Josie looked at him in disbelief. "Hello, I'm the law here."
"No, you're not, not anymore," Jack corrected.
"Maybe not, but I have a gun, and a permit to use it," Josie said, sliding across the bed and pulling out her lockbox. "Go over to Alex's room, he has a baseball bat leaning up against his dresser."
"He took all his equipment with him."
"No, he didn't," Josie whispered. "That bat is aluminum and it's not allowed at camp!"
Jack yanked on a pair of sweatpants.
"Here," Josie handed him a pen-sized flashlight and laid her gun on the mattress long enough to yank on her robe. "Hey," she protested when he picked up the gun.
"You take the bat," Jack whispered, grasping her hand and pulling her across the room. They quietly crossed the hall and found the bat. Jack headed for the front stairs, but she yanked him back and led him to the rear of the house to a narrow closed-in stairwell he had never noticed.
"I found this hidden stairway when I was ripping the kitchen apart," Josie whispered, stealthily going down the steps.
When they opened the door at the bottom of the stairs into the kitchen, they ducked down beneath the windows. The outside motion detector lights were on and whoever was outside was not being particularly quiet. Someone was stumbling about and making noises.
"Stay behind me," Jack ordered, refusing to relinquish his grip on the gun. He put his hand on the doorknob only to have Josie slap it away.
"The intruder alarm is on," she whispered scurrying over to deactivate the system.
Jack was out the door before she could get back across the kitchen. She followed on his heels and quickly caught up, gripping the aluminum baseball bat.
Peering around the corner of the carriage house, Jack lowered the gun. "It's a woman," he whispered.
Josie stepped out to peer around, although Jack kept a firm grip on her, ready to yank her back or down if necessary. Josie pushed his hands off and stepped out in the open.
"That's enough, Marcy!"
The woman spun around, dropped one of two spray-paint cans, stepped backwards tripping over the can she had dropped, and clumsily fell down. She cried out as she fell, and there was the sound of breaking glass. She thrashed around and collapsed on the concrete area beside the trashcans.
Jack went to her, stashing the gun in the back of his waistband. He knelt down beside her and checked for a head wound. "She's drunk and out cold! Did you grab your phone?"
"No, I'll call from the kitchen phone. I think Tyler has dispatch tonight. Don't move her in case she hit her head. I'll get something for her knee. It looks like she fell on that bottle and cut it open," Josie instructed.
Josie quickly made her call and returned to the back yard to see that Jack had moved the woman. She had started throwing up, and he had lifted her and turned her head so she would not choke on her vomit.
"Marcy Carter?" Jack asked, looking down at the thin, hollowed-eyed woman.
Josie nodded as she wrapped a tea towel around the woman's knee to contain the bleeding. "God, I'm glad Alex is in camp. It would be awful for him to see her like this. Give me my gun. I'll put it away and be right back. At least we know now who's responsible for the spray painting. I thought it was Jolene, but I was wrong. The rescue squad will be here in three or four minutes. I'm going to grab some sweats from the laundry room."
Josie came back and handed Jack one of his sweatshirts. She went out front to guide the EMTs around to the back. They came in silently as she had requested and assessed the woman. They hooked her up to an IV of saline solution and strapped her onto a gurney and into the back of the vehicle.
"Do we take her to the clinic or to jail, Josie?" one of the EMTs asked, recognizing Marcy Carter as an alcoholic they had transported on several previous occasions.
"Neither. Take her to Elkview General in Holbart. I'll contact Kiowa County that she's heading there and that there's an open warrant out on her. Ray Leonard will go with you. He should be here any minute. If she wakes up in transit, he'll have the authority to restrain her. Let's see if she drove her car here. The last time I saw her, she was driving an old red van. She might have a purse in it. Identification would help in getting her squared away."
They didn't find a vehicle, but they did find a tote bag leaning against the carriage house, which contained a wallet and two bottles of liquor.
Josie and Jack watched the rescue squad drive off and walked back around to the back of the carriage house to survey the most recent damage.
"This time it will have to be sanded off," Josie moaned. "Too many coats of paint will make it peel come winter."
"I'll take care of it," Jack promised. "At least it won't happen again."
"Yeah, but it's probably going to mean a delay in the termination process," Josie complained.
Full Circle Page 18
