by Lara Lacombe
“Okay,” she said easily. “Let’s get to know each other, shall we? I see your name is Harrison Chambers, but your friends called you Harry. Can I call you Harry?”
He shrugged, the motion jerky.
Rebecca nodded. “Tell me how long you’ve been camping in Big Bend, Harry.”
“Couple months, off and on,” he said grudgingly.
“Do you live nearby?” According to his driver’s license, he was a resident of Marfa, one of the small towns near the park.
“Yeah.” He confirmed his address.
“But you prefer to camp in the park?”
“I live with my parents,” he said. “The house is too small, and all they ever do is bitch at me.”
“So the park is your refuge.”
He frowned, clearly confused by her description. “I guess.”
“And it’s the same for your friends? They like to get out of the house, too?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It’s better out there.”
She imagined it was. None of the young men had a job, and it sounded like their parents were tired of supporting their aimless lifestyles. It made sense they would chafe at the constant reminders of their failures. Camping in the park was their sanctuary, their escape from the reality of their disappointing lives.
“What do you guys like to do while you camp?” Hiking the trails was probably not on their agenda, if Harry’s physical condition was any indication.
He looked at her like she was crazy. “The usual stuff,” he said. “Hanging out.”
“Drinking and smoking?” she offered.
Harry shrugged, as if that should be obvious. She pictured it easily; three young men, drinking and smoking every night until the early hours of the morning, then sleeping late the next day as they tried to recover.
“Tell me about your encounters with Park Ranger Gallagher.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “The guy’s a jerk.” He launched into a tirade against Quinn, his anger building as he spoke. It was clear Harry hated Quinn—unless she missed her guess, Rebecca figured Harry saw Quinn as the embodiment of all that was wrong with his world. What had started out as a chance encounter when Quinn had enforced park rules had turned into a near obsession for the young man. Quinn was the reason he couldn’t get a job. Quinn was the one keeping him from being successful in life. It was Quinn’s fault Harry didn’t have a girlfriend. The list of grievances went on and on, and Harry grew more and more agitated with every word.
She understood his jealousy—Quinn was Harry’s opposite in practically every way. Harry seemed incapable of accepting responsibility for his own poor choices, so he projected blame onto Quinn, building the ranger up in his mind as his enemy.
Rebecca nodded with false sympathy the whole time, listening attentively as Harry spoke. “He sounds pretty awful,” she said. “Do you ever think about getting back at him for all the trouble he’s caused you?”
“Oh, yeah.” Harry’s grin was full of malice. “He needs to be put in his place.”
“What do you want to do to him?”
Harry formed a fist with his left hand and pounded it gently against his right palm. “Let’s just say, if I found him in a dark alley, I’d give him a nice tune-up.”
“Given the way he talks to you, I’m surprised you haven’t done it already.”
“Oh, I want to,” Harry assured her. “But he’s the kind of wimp that would press charges. He’s not worth the jail time.”
So Harry did have a bit of self-control where his anger was concerned. But Rebecca read between the lines; he wasn’t averse to violence, he just didn’t want to get caught and deal with the punishment.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” She already knew the answer, but she wanted to see Harry’s reaction to the question.
“No.” His tone was a bit sullen, as if he was unhappy about his lack of a love life.
“What about your friends? Any of them have someone special?”
Harry shook his head. “We don’t have time for that kind of drama.”
Rebecca nodded, pretending to understand. “Better off single, am I right?”
“Yeah.”
But it was clear Harry wasn’t happy about the status quo. This young man was stewing in a toxic mix of emotions—anger and frustration toward Quinn, longing for women who rejected him and a general dissatisfaction with his life. Had something finally caused him to snap?
Rebecca opened the file she’d brought in with her and carefully withdrew the pictures of the victims. She placed the first one in front of Harry.
“Do you recognize this woman?”
Harry glanced at the photo. “No. But she’s kinda hot.”
Rebecca’s stomach turned, but she kept her reaction hidden as she put the second photo on the table. “What about this one?”
Harry shook his head. Rebecca added the third photo. “I don’t know any of these chicks,” Harry said. He studied the pictures for a moment. “Wait, are they dead?” A strange note entered his voice—part excitement, part revulsion. A chill skittered down Rebecca’s spine at his reaction. Most people were distressed by the sight of a corpse. But Harry seemed to find it titillating...
“How did they die?” He glanced up, his eyes bright. It was exactly the kind of response a killer might have when looking at the evidence of his work. Rebecca’s heart thudded in her chest. Had she found the murderer?
“How do you think they died?” The photos showed only the women’s faces, nothing more. There was no way to tell cause of death from the cropped shots, so Harry’s response would be telling.
He stared at the pictures, his breathing quickening a bit as he glanced from victim to victim. He’s not touching the photos, Rebecca realized with a jolt. Harry was completely absorbed by the pictures, but he was being very careful not to actually touch them as he turned from one to the other. Afraid of leaving fingerprints? she wondered. So far, the forensic evidence at each site had been depressingly lacking. The killer was clearly taking pains to cover his tracks, and Harry’s abnormal display of caution was a red flag.
“I think they were stabbed,” he said finally, smiling a little at the thought.
“What makes you say that?” Either he really wasn’t the killer, or he was pretending he didn’t know anything about the murders to deflect suspicion.
Harry jerked one shoulder up in a careless shrug. “Look at them. All pretty, and you could tell they knew it. Probably teased the wrong guy one too many times.”
“You think he simply snapped?” That didn’t fit the killer’s careful behavior, but she wanted to see where Harry was going with this. How elaborate was his story going to be?
“Probably. Can you blame him? Women like that...” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“Got what they deserved?” she suggested.
Harry shrugged again as if to suggest “what more could you expect?”
“Maybe you’re right.” Rebecca swept up the photos and returned them to the folder.
“I am,” he said confidently. “You’ll see.” He shifted in the chair, then frowned slightly. “Say, why did you show me those pictures anyway?”
About time you asked, Rebecca thought. “The women were all found dead in Big Bend Park. I was wondering if you’d seen them around while you and your buddies were camping.”
“Oh.” He sounded a little disappointed and his expression grew thoughtful. Reliving the event? she wondered.
Truth be told, she wasn’t sure Harry was smart enough to kill three women without leaving evidence behind. Furthermore, his two buddies weren’t exactly criminal masterminds, either. It was possible Harry had acted on his own, but his friends likely would have noticed his absence.
Still, killer or no, this young man was dangerous. Unfortunately, Rebecca couldn’t keep him in custody any longer. There simply wasn’t eno
ugh evidence, and her gut feeling that he was a bad kid wasn’t sufficient justification for detaining him.
She pushed to her feet, file folder in hand. Harry stood when she opened the door, jamming his hands in his pockets.
“Thank you for your time. You’re free to go.”
“That’s it?” Relief tinged his voice and Rebecca clenched her jaw. Was she letting the killer slip through her fingers?
“For now,” she said. “But I might need to talk to you again, so please stay in the area.”
He grinned. “Sure thing. Got a full moon coming up in a few days. Wouldn’t want to miss seeing it.” He looked her up and down with a leer. “You should camp with me some time. It’s amazing what you can see at night away from the city lights.”
Rebecca’s skin crawled and she fought the urge to vomit. “I’m sure it’s quite pretty.”
“Think about it,” Harry said, sauntering past her. He took his hands out of his pockets, and a small white object dropped to the floor. Rebecca opened her mouth to say something out of habit, but snapped it shut again and watched him walk away. After Harry turned the corner, she walked over and kneeled down to study his lost item.
Nothing but a joint, she realized with disappointment. Maybe that was why he’d seemed so nervous upon hearing she worked for the FBI—he probably thought she was going to bust him for possession. It wasn’t the kind of evidence she needed to tie him to three murders. But perhaps still helpful?
She flagged down an officer and instructed him to bag the evidence and send it to the lab. They might be able to retrieve DNA and fingerprints from the crudely rolled cigarette. It would be good to have Harry’s information on file.
Something about his parting remarks rankled her. Why had he mentioned the upcoming full moon? She had caught a few killers who attached special significance to astrological occurrences. Was he taunting her with the promise of another victim soon? It was a possibility she couldn’t ignore. There was no astrological significance attached to the murder dates of the first three victims, but perhaps he was evolving. The third woman had been killed only five days after the second, rather than the expected week. What else was changing?
Ten minutes and two phone calls later, she climbed into her car with a sigh of disgust. She’d asked the police to keep a watchful eye on Harry and his friends, but they’d made it clear they lacked the man power to follow three kids on the off chance they might do something. She’d already requested additional resources to assist in the investigation, but the wheels turned slowly and even a couple of phone calls hadn’t been enough to speed things up. It would be a few days before more officers arrived to help, and in the meantime, the young men could disappear.
Rebecca wasn’t convinced Harry was the killer, but she didn’t think he was entirely innocent, either. She’d just have to dig a little deeper to discover what kind of skeletons he had in his closet.
* * *
Quinn glanced at the door for what had to be the millionth time, hoping to catch sight of Rebecca coming in to the ranger station. He’d been thinking about her all morning, but not just because of last night. She was talking to the three troublemakers this morning, and he was dying to know how the interviews had gone.
Maybe this is the break she needs to crack the case. The thought she might be with the killer now made him want to rush to her side to protect her, even though he knew she was perfectly safe. They were in the local police station, surrounded by officers. What could possibly happen?
Part of him wished desperately the young men were responsible for the murders—if they were in custody, women would stop dying. But if the killer or killers had been apprehended, Rebecca would be leaving soon. A selfish corner of his heart wasn’t ready for that yet.
Last night had been amazing. He hadn’t felt that kind of connection with another person since Ashley’s death. It wasn’t just the sex, although that had been enjoyable in its own right. He’d bared his soul to Rebecca last night, and he knew she’d done the same with him. They’d faced each other, naked in every possible way. It had both humbled and thrilled him to receive the gift of her vulnerability—he knew she didn’t lower her guard for just anyone, and the fact that she’d shown him her heart last night meant she must have feelings for him.
He was certainly falling in love with her.
The knowledge settled over him, spreading across his heart and mind in a slow crawl. He pondered the realization, half-afraid of the emotions that might flare up in response to this development. What about Ashley? he wondered. He had deliberately ignored the memories of his wife last night, but now he had to wonder if he was doing the right thing. It wasn’t the idea of love that scared him—he knew Ashley would have wanted him to move on with his life. But was it all too much, too soon?
Rebecca was a special woman—he’d known that from the start. But was he letting his fascination with her blind him to the risks of falling in love?
He didn’t think she’d deliberately hurt him—she wasn’t cruel. Still, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he lived and worked in Texas, while she called Virginia home. It wasn’t a stretch to imagine the distance of thousands of miles would make a relationship difficult, if not impossible. And she probably wasn’t interested in moving here...
Quinn shook his head, dismissing the thought. Getting ahead of yourself, there. Just because they’d slept together didn’t mean he needed to worry about rearranging his life, or ask her to do the same. Talk about putting the cart before the horse!
He didn’t even know how Rebecca was feeling, now that she’d had time to process things. When he’d driven her back to her car this morning, things had been pleasant and easygoing between them, with no hint of tension or regret. But it was possible she was now having second thoughts, or perhaps their encounter hadn’t affected her the way it had rocked him. There were a lot of unknown variables to consider, and until they spoke again, he was wasting his time and energy worrying about things he couldn’t change.
A chime sounded in the office, indicating a visitor to the center. He leaned back in his chair to get a view of the door, hoping it was her...
It was. Rebecca strode into the lobby and made a beeline for the counter, skirting past the ranger on desk duty with a nod. Quinn studied her face as she approached. She didn’t look particularly happy—there was a small furrow between her eyebrows, and the corners of her mouth were turned down in a frown.
Quinn stood, filled with determination. He didn’t know what had made her upset, but he wanted to fix it.
She gave him a fleeting smile as she approached. “Hey,” she said.
He wanted to reach for her, to draw her close and kiss her. But he wasn’t sure how she’d respond to such a public display in front of everyone, so he settled for a smile. “You don’t look happy.”
She dropped into the chair across from his desk with a sigh. “I talked to Harry and his friends this morning.” She shook her head. “Two of them seem okay, but Harry is dangerous.”
Quinn sat up straight. “Did he try to hurt you?” He’d assumed that because she was talking to him in the police station she’d be safe, but maybe he should have gone with her after all...
Rebecca shook her head. “No. But it’s clear that he’s headed down a bad path.”
“So you don’t think he’s the killer?”
“I’m not sure,” she said thoughtfully. “There are aspects of his behavior that have me worried, but nothing that definitively ties him to the victims. Of course, this was just the initial interview. It’s possible if I spoke to him again, he’d reveal something more conclusive.”
“I take it you had to let him go?”
She nodded, her expression sour. “I couldn’t hold him any longer. And I spoke with the police chief—they don’t have the resources to follow the guys and keep tabs on them. My reinforcements aren’t due to arrive for another couple of days,
so until we get more man power, Harry and his friends are free to roam the park.”
“You think they might disappear?” Quinn wasn’t entirely bothered by the thought, but he knew wherever the group members went, they’d cause trouble. Probably better to deal with them here, rather than pass the buck off to some unsuspecting community.
“It’s possible.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Quinn was suddenly overcome by the sense memory of her hair trailing across his stomach as she moved down his body... Goose bumps broke out along his skin and he shivered a bit, trying to shake off the distraction.
“I’m worried that we tipped our hand,” she continued, apparently oblivious to Quinn’s reaction. “Now that they know we’re interested in them, they’ll either leave or change their behavior so we don’t catch them doing something wrong.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” he pointed out, trying to put his brain back on track. “Not the disappearing part. But if they start behaving themselves, that’s a good outcome, right?”
“To a point,” she conceded. “I’ve worked cases like this before, where the main suspect acted like a pillar of the community once he realized we were watching.”
“What happened?” If Rebecca’s expression was anything to go by, the situation hadn’t ended well.
She glanced down. “He faked being a good guy for so long, the police couldn’t justify keeping him under sustained surveillance. After a few months, he went back to his old ways and killed three more people before he was arrested.”
“Oh.” Quinn’s stomach sank. “So if Harry really is the killer, this could make things worse?”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she confirmed. Her expression turned thoughtful. “I just don’t know if he’s the murderer. He definitely has the capacity for violence, and a disturbing interest in hurting women.”
A wave of revulsion washed over Quinn. “But?” he asked.
Rebecca shook her head slowly. “But...he appears to lack the discipline and impulse control displayed by the Yoga Killer. Harry is a hothead who is ruled by emotion. The Yoga Killer is methodical and cool, not someone who can be provoked into making a mistake.”
