He leaned against the desk again. “I swear to you, if you give me something to indicate a specific locale, like a road sign, mile marker, billboard...I’ll go out and look myself.”
Tears stung her eyes, and she offered him a watery smile. “Thanks. And I know you’re right. I just want the nightmares to stop. I want my normal life back.”
“Don’t you mean boring?” he asked quietly, a small smile lessening the minor insult.
“Boring? I...I’m not boring,” she sputtered, and rose from the chair. She had a good life. Maybe not the most exciting, but she was...content. So what if living in Wissota Falls and running her dad’s diner wasn’t exactly where she’d expected to be at this point in her life. So what if her best friend happened to be a fifty-two-year old sheriff. She still had her brother and her baking.
God, she was boring and...lonely.
She moved to the fern resting on the file cabinet, and plucked a dead strand. “Normal, boring, or whatever you want to call it, beats the hell out of what I’ve been dealing with these past four nights.” She threw the strand in the trash can. “Don’t you water your plants?”
“The plants are Bev’s job. Don’t go changing the subject.” He released a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to say that your life is boring, but you’re young. You should be out there dating, or doing whatever it is young people do for fun.”
She’d had plenty of fun before leaving Madison, where she’d earned her degree at the University of Wisconsin. After college she’d taken a great job at an accounting firm. But family duty had forced her home. While she had no regrets in coming back to help her dad and brother take care of her sick mom, she hadn’t planned on the move becoming permanent.
“Well,” she said with a shrug. “There’s not a whole lot of men to pick from around here. Besides, the diner keeps me busy.”
“And now you have the nightmares to use as an excuse.”
She stared at him, shocked by their entire conversation. He’d never told her how to live her life, and had only offered advice when she’d asked. A little annoyed, more with herself for not following her own dreams when she’d had the chance, she ignored the slight dig. “I better get going.”
“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said—”
“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” She forced a smile when she caught the worry lining his eyes and face again.
He didn’t seem to buy her acquiescence as a frown creased his forehead drawing his bushy eyebrows together. “You gonna be okay? Maybe you should have Will stay with you for a few nights.”
Her brother lived in the apartment above her detached garage. She liked her privacy, and didn’t want Will invading her space, or knowing about the nightmares. He had enough on his mind.
“Sure, I’ll talk to him. But don’t say anything about these visions to him, okay? I don’t want him worrying.” She looked at her watch. “It’s getting late, I’ve really gotta go. I don’t want you to have to send a couple of cruisers down to The Sugar Shack because people are rioting over not getting their breakfast.”
He didn’t smile at her lame joke as he walked with her out of the office. “You call if you need me, okay?”
“I will. But if something does happen, if somebody discovers...” She trailed off, not wanting to say aloud what she knew in her heart. Four women were dead.
He stopped and turned to her before reaching the reception area. “You have my word.”
“Thank you. You’re a good man for believing in a kook like me.”
“Roy, I’ve got Ed on the phone for you,” Bev shouted from around the corner.
“Why didn’t he use his radio?” he asked as he approached the lobby.
Bev shrugged. “Don’t know. But, for whatever reason, he sounds all shook up.”
“He always does lately,” he said with disgust.
Celeste grabbed his arm. “Go easy on him. It’s only been a month since his wife lost the baby.”
Regret creased his face as he rested a big hand on her shoulder. “You’re right. Thank you for reminding me not to be such a bull-headed jackass.”
“I remind you all time, and I never get a thank you,” Bev huffed, and handed him the phone.
His mustache twitched as he hid a smile. “I’ll check up on you later. And you’re not that kooky,” he added before he took the call from Ed.
With a genuine smile, she waved good-bye, then headed out the door. She had hungry customers to feed. She just hoped to God they’d be enough of a distraction from the visions haunting her mind.
*
Ian Scott scanned the files containing the case John Kain had recently closed. He had to hand it to the guy, every last detail had been accounted for, every last “i” dotted and “t” crossed. Not that John’s meticulous eye for detail surprised him. The man was beyond methodical. His precision, discipline, and logical approach to situations were what had drawn Ian to recruit John to CORE, Criminal Observance Resolution and Evidence. His baby. His business. His personal private agency where he could weave his agents into the criminal world and take down the bad guys without being stonewalled by the bullshit red tape that government agencies and local law enforcement had to endure.
“Well done,” he said, and tore his eyes from the report.
John, his top criminalist and a former special agent with the FBI, stood at the window, arms folded across his chest, his body rigid, his face haggard but clear of emotion. The man either had ice running through his veins or a heart of stone. What he’d witnessed during the last month would have had even the most seasoned professional either self-medicating with alcohol or popping prescription drugs courtesy of their shrink.
“Thank you, sir,” John replied, as always, but this time, the tone in his voice lacked the normal respect. This time, there was an edge of sarcasm, so minute, if they weren’t two of a kind, he’d likely have missed it. He didn’t, and realized John needed some time to decompress. Maybe he’d made a mistake lending him to the local FBI office to track down the serial pedophile that had murdered and mutilated fourteen children from the Chicago area. Maybe it had been too soon to allow him to work with his former colleagues. He’d needed John on this case, though. He was the best of the best, and Chicago was Ian’s hometown. He’d grown tired of seeing the victims splashed on the evening news.
“Why don’t you take some time off? I’ll arrange for you to stay at the company condo in Scottsdale. The golf courses are excellent, and the weather is mild this time of the year.”
A brief flicker of interest flashed in John’s eyes, then faded when the phone rang. “Excuse me.” Ian reached for his private line. “Scott,” he answered, clutching the phone against his ear. Five people had this number, and they only called at scheduled times. Now was not one of them.
“It’s Roy, and I’ve got a hell of a situation.”
He glanced to John and covered the phone with his hand, fighting the fear. Which was ridiculous. Ryker was dead and no longer a threat, he’d seen to it. Personally. “John, please step outside. But don’t go far,” he added, because if something bad had happened in Wissota Falls, he needed one of his best agents there. Scottsdale would have to wait.
John nodded and did as he’d requested. Once the door quietly clicked behind him, Ian shoved the phone back to his ear. “Celeste?”
“She’s fine, she’s safe, but she’s involved.”
“Details.”
“I’ve got four dead bodies. My deputy found one when he got out of his car to take a leak in the woods. When we canvassed the area we found three others.”
“Did you call in DCI?” The Wisconsin Department of Criminal Investigation would lend a hand in a crime like this, but he didn’t want a pissing match if CORE became involved. While many state investigation agencies, even the FBI, had enlisted the help of his agency, he hadn’t worked with DCI yet and wasn’t sure if he wanted to, especially if Celeste was somehow involved. He needed one of his men there. They were his eyes and ears, a
nd because they’d been hand-picked by him, he knew they’d do their job without fail.
“No. But CSU from Eau Claire is on its way. My boys aren’t trained or experienced enough to deal with this.”
The rough edge in Roy’s tone made him pause. He’d known the man for over thirty years, and he didn’t like the sound of his voice. “What do you see?”
“Shit that I haven’t since...since Janice.”
Celeste’s mother. Gripping the phone tight, he tried to gather his control. “What exactly do you see?”
Wind whipped over the phone line, and he knew Roy was on the move, could hear the crunching of leaves, the crack of sticks. “Four women, nude, battered...dead. Looks like they’re all decomposing at the same time.”
“At the same time?”
“I can’t be sure, until the ME does an autopsy,” Roy added, “but from the looks of the women, that’s my guess.”
“And Celeste is involved how?” Even as he asked the question, he already knew the answer. He’d known her mother, what she’d been capable of, what she’d been able to see when no one else could.
“For the past four nights she had visions of women being murdered. They were vague, every one of them happening in the woods, and we’ve got acres here. I wouldn’t have even known where to start.”
“I understand.” That was the problem with psychics sometimes. They saw things, things that will happen or actually had happened, but without a surefire locale, it was the clichéd needle in a haystack. “I’ll send one of my agents. Have one of your deputies meet him at the airstrip outside of Eau Claire. He’ll be there in an about an hour.”
“Who am I expecting?”
He stared at his closed office door where just outside John waited. The criminalist had spent a month dealing with the deaths of children at the hands of a sick bastard. He needed to decompress, but Ian had no choice. All of his other agents were on assignment.
Moving his gaze from the door, he said, “John Kain.”
“Got it. I’ll call you tonight. Seven sharp.”
“Seven, it is. And Roy, use Celeste on this. If she’s anything like her mother...”
“Your agent will cooperate with a psychic?”
No, Kain did not believe in psychics. He believed in facts, evidence, hardcore science. In this instance, though, he’d have no choice. Ian would see to it. “Trust me. He’ll cooperate.”
Chapter 2
Less than two hours later, John Kain knelt, resting his forearm on his thigh as he studied one of the four victims. Bruises marred her flesh, her inner thighs, her face and chest, while her mouth gaped open as if she’d died screaming. The thin line of purple running around her neck was telling. She’d been strangled. Beaten, raped, then strangled. Just like the other three.
Roy, the sheriff who’d reminded him of Paul Bunyan, minus the ax and blue ox, came up beside him. “What are you thinking?”
John stood, then scanned the area, the dense woods, the highway where the deputies had set up a road block. The smooth asphalt was littered with police cruisers, several CSU vans, and maybe a half-dozen deputies. “I can’t be sure, but I spoke with...Mitchell?”
“Yeah.” The sheriff nodded. “He’s the lead with Eau Claire’s CSU team.”
“Mitchell tentatively confirmed your suspicions, but will know more during the autopsies.”
“Shit.”
“My exact thought. You’re in a heap of it.” And he’d just plowed through his own pile in Chicago, the stench still lingering, still fresh.
When he’d joined CORE, he’d known he would see just as much as he had when he’d been with the FBI, but Ian had promised downtime in between cases, something he’d never had with the Bureau. Something he needed now. What he’d witnessed while working with the Chicago PD and FBI Field Office would haunt him for a lifetime. And as pissed as he was about having a mini-vacation dangled in front of him, then quickly pulled away with one simple phone call, he still had a job to do.
He would never say no to Ian Scott. Ian had resurrected him from the dead, had given him a job, a lucrative income, and the ability to do the only thing he knew how to—catch killers no one else could.
Mitchell approached. “We covered a fifty-yard radius so far, and didn’t find any of the victims’ clothing, but,” he said and cocked a brow. “We got a footprint about seven yards from where the three bodies were found, along with a button and a lighter scattered on the trail. Not much to go on, but considering how clean the site is...maybe we’ll get lucky and find a print.”
“Thanks, Mitchell,” Roy said.
“After we move the bodies, I’m going to have my guys do another sweep, take the radius out another—”
“I wouldn’t bother,” John interrupted.
Mitchell plucked off his Latex gloves. “Why’s that?”
“You have one body here.” He pointed to the woman he’d just examined, her pale body stark white against the dark earth and brown leaves. “And three clustered together, what, thirty, forty yards away? He kept the clothes. You won’t find anything if you expand your search.”
Mitchell crossed his arms over his chest and sent him a “you’re so full of shit” look. “And you know this how?”
John turned to the sheriff, ignoring Mitchell. “No disrespect, but you’re small time here. I imagine you don’t have the manpower to patrol this area very often. If our guy scoped the area, he’d know his window of opportunity. It took me twelve and a half minutes to walk to where the three women were found. I’d imagine it would take our guy about the same, even if he ran it, because he was carrying dead weight.”
“So, say twelve minutes there, he could sprint back, maybe round trip you’re looking at twenty plus times three,” Roy said, staring in the direction where the three women had been found lying side by side.
Mitchell nodded. “Plus it was dark. He probably couldn’t use a flashlight because his hands were already full.”
“Right. It might have taken him even longer.” John pointed to the woman a few feet from them. “This last victim…he adjusted his plans because he knew he was running out of time.”
Mitchell eyed him for a moment. “Of course this is all based on the assumption that they’re decomposing at the same time.”
“Of course,” John conceded. Although he knew in his gut he was right, he also knew the CSU tech would follow procedure and waste time.
“Good theory, but after the bodies have been removed, I’m still going to have my people do that search. You never know.” He shrugged then walked off toward the embankment to one of the CSU vans parked alongside the road.
Roy motioned him to do the same, but John stopped him, and scanned the highway again. “Sheriff, how many truckers do you get through here?”
“Quite a few, but my deputies, Ed Young and Dan Malvern would be able to tell you more on that. This is the area they’re assigned to patrol.”
“Are they here?”
“Both of ‘em. Ed’s the one who’d found the first body. Hang tight.” Roy pulled out his cell phone, and punched his speed dial. “Ed, grab Dan and meet me at my cruiser.”
John followed Roy up the embankment leading to the sheriff’s car. “Who found the others?”
“That’d be Deputy Lloyd Nelson. He was that big guy working with the CSU techs down by the three vics.”
The Viking. He remembered the man now. As tall as Roy, only trimmer, leaner, and more muscled, with a shock of white blond hair drifting from beneath his department-issued tan hat.
“Do you want me to call him in?”
A deputy, who looked like a mustachioed Howdy Doody on steroids, approached Roy’s county squad car. Another man, big, lean and looking as if he’d just watched someone run over his dog with a tractor trailer, stood next to him.
Tractor trailer.
John viewed the highway as if for the first time, then turned to the sheriff. “I’ll talk to Nelson later. Young and Malvern?” He thumbed to the two deputies.
The sheriff nodded.
“How many truckers do you get through this area?” he asked them.
“Plenty,” Ed Young said, bobbing his head, a bit of color returning to his pale cheeks.
“They like this run because it’s a fast detour to the interstate. Considering how short staffed we are, there aren’t many deputies to patrol the area so they can speed on through,” Dan Malvern said, his red mustache twitching as he curled his lips.
“How often do you pass through here in a night?”
“Every two hours or so,” Dan said. “Sometimes longer if we’re held up by a speeder or maybe a DUI.”
“Hell, John, that would fit right in the time—”
“Thank you. Give us a moment.” John waited until the deputy walked away, then turned to Ed Young. “So you were the one who found the first victim?”
“Yeah, I traded shifts with Dan. He didn’t have anyone to look after his wife last night. I was making my last run, and had to take a leak...” His cheeks reddened. “And that’s when I...I found.” He shut his eyes. “I found the body.”
“You didn’t touch anything?”
“Nothing,” he said with vehemence.
“Thank you, if we need anything else—”
“Roy knows where to find me,” he finished, his blank eyes on the CSU team working the crime scene. “Am I dismissed, Roy? I need...”
“Head home,” Roy told the deputy.
As the deputy walked off, John noticed a rusted, silver minivan pull up behind the road block. “Are you expecting company?”
“Dammit,” the sheriff bitched as a man slid out of the van. “That’s Mathias Boysen. His family owns The Chippewa Gazette. It’s a weekly of no more than a dozen or so pages with nothing but local gossip, garage sale ads, and the occasional police blotter. We’d kept radio silence to avoid the real media, but this is such a small town, Matt probably saw all the cruisers and smelled a story. He’s nothing to worry about.”
CORE Shadow [1] Shadow of Danger Page 2
