by Desiree Holt
When she’d seen Kylie’s body, she’d thrown her head back and screamed so long and hard her throat ended up raw for days. She’d fought to get to her sister, but other hands restrained her, voices tried to soothe her, and finally the sting of a needle had plunged her into blackness.
Now, with each case she examined, she relived it over and over again. Her stomach convulsed, and once more, she felt like throwing up. She was going to need a lot of hot tea and antacids before this was over.
The idea of tea sounded good right now. Something to settle her nerves so she could be objective about all this. Getting up from the table, she headed into the kitchen.
But even as she heated the water, she knew tea wasn’t the solution to what ailed her. She wondered if she’d really be able to go through with this whole project. If she had the stomach and the strength to push forward, searching through all the mental rubble for the tiniest clue that would tell her who the monster was.
Then she realized there was no wavering on this. Armageddon had arrived for her and she couldn’t run away any longer.
****
Cole leaned back in the desk chair in his office and rubbed a hand over his face. It was three in the morning, his eyes felt gritty and a dull ache had invaded the back of his head.
Mickey Garcia and Andi Lowell sat in two chairs facing him, looking just as weary as he did. Murder scenes were never pleasant, but those involving children and teenagers were the worst. Especially like the one they’d had to face tonight.
“This town’s gonna be in an uproar come the morning,” Mickey commented for the second time that night.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” Cole said.
“Sheriff.” Andi cleared her throat, a dry-scratchy sound indicative of fatigue. “Do you think we’re equipped to handle something like what happened tonight?” Andi asked. “And the fallout from it?”
Cole fixed his tired eyes on her, his body tense. “Are you questioning my ability to do the job, Deputy?”
“No, sir.” She shook her head definitively. “I have all the respect in the world for you. And Mickey and I are right there with you. I just don’t know how the rest of the force will do.”
“They’ll do what they have to.” Just what he needed. Deputies who had no confidence in themselves or others to work this case the way they should. “We all will.”
Andi shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
The ringing of the phone on Cole’s desk interrupted her. His gut tightened as he listened to the caller, gripping the pencil he was jotting notes with so hard it snapped in his fingers. When he put the phone down and looked back at his deputies they were staring at him, questions in their eyes.
“That was Nita Sanchez. I asked her to call me when she finished the prelim autopsy.”
“What did she say?” Mickey asked finally, clearly unnerved by the look on his boss’s face.
“Leanne Pritchard was raped multiple times. From what Nita says, it looks as if he raped and sodomized her using some sort of device, possibly made of glass.…”
He could tell from the looks on their faces, they got the message.
“Jesus.” The word popped out of Mickey’s mouth.
“Holy shit, boss.” Andi looked sick.
“There are bruises on her thighs and in various places on her body. He also pulled out clumps of her pubic hair by the roots.”
Andi swallowed and clenched her jaw tight, no doubt to keep from vomiting. Mickey looked green in the light of the desk lamp.
“Nita swabbed for DNA, but she’s not hopeful. The guy apparently used a condom, and possibly even wore latex gloves. But maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“We took statements from the kids,” Andi told him. “How would you like us to proceed from here?”
Again, Cole dry-washed his face. He needed caffeine, badly.
“I say we talk to the kids one on one. We can’t keep their parents out of it since they’re all minors, so let’s try it in their homes.”
Mickey hunched forward. “You know their folks will want to stop us.”
Cole held up a hand. “I woke up the county attorney and requested a blanket warrant. I’ll make sure you each get a copy. Grab a couple hours of sleep before you start setting up your appointments. But do it fast before anyone has time to change their story.”
Andi’s eyebrows lifted to her hairline. “You think one of them may have done this?”
“No, but someone may have seen something and not want to come forward for reasons of their own. Don’t forget, they were having their party in a facility that’s supposed to be locked at night. I want to know whose idea it was and how they got through the gate. Anyone check the gate?”
“I…Sorry.” A red flush crept up Andi’s face. “We didn’t even think to look.”
Cole looked from one to the other. “My guess is this town is so used to people breaking into the park at night no one even thinks twice if the gate is open. Right?” When neither of them answered, he repeated his question. “I said, am I right?”
“Yes, Sheriff,” Mickey finally mumbled. “We’ll be a lot sharper from now on. You can count on it. You have our word.”
Cole rubbed his neck. “You’d think in three years I’d have realized how lax security is at the park. Once the attendant closes the gate at night, no one bothers to check anything.” He grunted. “Shit. You guys don’t need to apologize. I’m probably one of my own worst liabilities. But you can bet starting tomorrow the access won’t be quite so easy.”
“We’ll get on the kids real early,” Andi told him. “And we won’t screw it up.”
After his deputies left, Cole leaned back in his chair again. He needed to go home and catch a couple hours of sleep. Feed the horses and his dog. Shower, put on a fresh uniform. But he couldn’t get the image of Leanne’s body out of his mind.
He hoped this turned out to be a case of misplaced jealousy and teenage desire, although from Nita’s description of the body it didn’t sound like it. He wondered, like Andi had asked, did Dana Moretti’s determination to reopen those old cases have anything to do with this? Could it really be a coincidence that she showed up in town making noises and the first murder in twenty-five years took place? Did that mean she was in danger, too? He didn’t even want to consider the possibilities.
Chapter Thirteen
Without a newspaper to glance over, Dana flicked on the television on the kitchen counter to get her morning news fix. Switching to the local channel, she began to fill the reservoir of the coffee pot with tap water and measure coffee grounds into the basket.
She paid scant attention to what was being said on television until she heard the words High Ridge. When she turned to look at the screen, a reporter was doing a standup next to the entrance to High Ridge Municipal Park.
“…body of the teenager was found by her friends. Little is known at this time, although sources said she had left the park to go on a soft drink run. When she didn’t return, her friends began searching for her. We hope to have more on this later today. For now, this is Jerry Macatee from KSAT 12 in San Antonio.”
Dana’s hands shook as she poured coffee into a mug. She had to sit down at the table before she could lift the mug to her lips without spilling any. She swallowed half of it and tossed the rest. Her appetite had suddenly disappeared.
A body. A female body. She knew from her research High Ridge hadn’t seen a violent death since the pedophile spree. But this victim wasn’t a child. So it surely wasn’t the monster starting up again, right?
Quickly, she closed her laptop and shoved it, along with her files, into her computer case. She’d keep it locked in her trunk while she was out and set the alarm on the car. Considering the reception she’d gotten everywhere yesterday, she wouldn’t put it past someone to break into her house in an effort to send her a message.
Her hands stilled. Send her a message.
Surely, this girl wasn’t killed in some weird way to warn her of
f. Or divert everyone’s attention. That was far too big a stretch of the imagination. Her stomach clenched, and she had to swallow hard to beat back what seemed to be the ever-present nausea. No. That would be just too far-fetched. She was being paranoid.
But she definitely would find out every detail she could.
She showered, dressed in slacks and a blouse and shoved her BlackBerry into her purse. Before she started off to see the parents of the dead children, she planned to stop at Sheriff Cole Landry’s office. He’d said if she wanted to talk, he’d listen. She was sure, though, this wasn’t what he’d meant.
****
He sat in Harry’s Café, enjoying his usual breakfast with his friends and keeping his ears tuned to the conversation around him. People speculated on everything from drug dealers to bikers to kids too high on alcohol. All of them reasonable guesses but enough to make him laugh.
He’d slept well the night before, his lust satisfied and step one of his plan successfully completed. Soon he’d have to identify another victim. And he’d have to do it carefully, so no one would know that Carrie/Dana was his final target. He hoped.
Get busy, he told himself. You want that sheriff so occupied he won’t know which day of the week it is. The good people of High Ridge could blame Dana Moretti for bringing evil with her. No one would shed a tear when it was her turn.
He wondered what people would think if they knew what went on behind the warm, friendly face they saw when they looked at him.
He just loved his delicious little secret.
****
Three hours of sleep hadn’t helped Cole’s fatigue or his disposition. He was at his office early to meet with all his deputies before they headed off with their assignments. But the first thing he fielded was an unpleasant call from John Garrett.
“People want information, Cole,” John said. “When can I give them some?”
Right on the heels of that, the calls had started coming in from the outside media. So much for keeping a lid on things. People talked. You couldn’t shut everyone up. As he headed to the conference room, Grace handed him a pile of pink message slips.
“If you return all these calls, you’ll never get any work done,” she told him.
“Can you keep them off my back for a while?”
“Sure.” She took the slips back. “No problem.”
Now he stood at the head of the table in the conference room, looking at expressions that ranged from puzzled to shocked to angry. Everyone was there except the two deputies guarding the crime scene. Kay Shore, the county attorney, showed up with a signed blanket warrant allowing his people to enter the homes of the kids who’d been with Leanne, to search and ask questions.
“Search?” Andi’s eyebrows lifted as she read her copy. “Search for what?”
“Nita said the perp used different instruments to violate Leanne,” Cole answered. “Maybe whoever it is has a little bag of goodies he keeps tucked away.”
Mickey stared at him. “In High Ridge? Sheriff, you’ve only been here three years. Maybe you don’t know people in High Ridge but they don’t…don’t…”
“Have kinky sex?” Cole finished for him. “I hate to disillusion you, Mick, but even in High Ridge, I’ll bet I’d find a lot of people who like to spice up their sex lives. They just keep it in their own bedrooms. And they aren’t usually brutal about it. Besides, don’t forget. I spent my summers here for a lot of years. And people aren’t often what they seem.”
He let everyone know about the calls from the media and told them he’d be setting up a press conference.
“Grace will set it up, and I’ll have a prepared statement to make,” he said. “You’ve all got your assignments. Let’s get to it.”
He was shuffling through a new batch of messages when a knock sounded at his open door. He looked up to see Tate in the doorway.
He gave his uncle a tired smile. “A sight for sore eyes. Come on in and I’ll try not to poison you with our coffee.”
Tate dropped into the chair opposite him and balanced his hat on his knee. “No coffee, thanks. I about drank the diner dry. I figured you’d need a kind face about now.”
Cole snorted. “No kidding. It hasn’t even been twenty four hours and I think everyone wants a piece of my hide.”
“You know this county is very low key. Malicious mischief and the occasional domestic violence call are about all you’ve had to handle.” Tate shook his head. “Damn nasty business, this.”
“Bad scene, Tate.” Cole shook his head. “What someone did to that sweet girl…”
“You’ll need to assure people you’re on top of this, you know. I’m sure it was just some vagrant wandering through here. Stumbled on her and thought she’d be a nice treat. But people will want answers.”
“I know, I know.” Cole took a swallow of the liquid in his mug and made a face.
“You’re smart and you’ve got a good staff, Cole. If there’s anything to be found, you’ll uncover it. The operative word being ‘if.’” He pushed himself out of the chair and gave Cole a tired smile. “You know you’ve always been more like a son than a nephew to us. Adele and I, we’re here for you.”
“Thanks, Tate. You don’t know what that means to me. Say, listen. I’ve been pushed into making a statement to the press. Can you hang around for that? It would help to have a friendly face in the crowd.”
“Sure. No problem. I’ll just make myself scarce until then so you can get some work done.”
Barely an hour later, he stepped outside the front doors of the building to face the hordes waiting for him. He delivered a short statement, shorter than they would have liked, but he couldn’t tell them what he didn’t know.
“I’ll issue bulletins as more information becomes available,” he said. “If you really want to help, you can put out a plea for anyone who saw Leanne Pritchard last night and noticed her with anyone else outside the park. That’s it. Thank you.”
Tate, hanging out at the back of the crowd, nodded at him before climbing into his truck.
Cole barely sat down behind his desk again when the mayor and the chair of the city council barged in. Margene Hollis, who ran a large ranch with her husband, had been re-elected mayor four times. She managed the council and the town the same way she managed the Hollis cattle operation. At barely five-five, with fiery red curls that seemed to glow with energy, she had a sharp mind and an iron will that usually got things done the way she wanted them.
Max Willis had been chairman of the council almost as long as Margene had been in office. Together they were a one-two punch. When most people saw them coming, they simply threw up their hands and gave them what they wanted. And so far, what they’d wanted was the good life for High Ridge and Salado County.
But violence couldn’t simply be bullied away.
Margene waved away an offer of coffee. “Listen, Cole. You’re new to High Ridge and Salado County so you may not know yet how things are around here.”
Cole carefully arranged a look of patience on his face. “Actually, Margene, if you recall I’ve been sheriff for three years.” He kept his tone mild. “As I’m sure you know, since y’all were the ones who appointed me. Before that, I visited my aunt and uncle here since I was ten.”
“But you weren’t born here,” she insisted.
“Neither were a lot of other people, but they seem to fit in just fine.” He deliberately kept his tone mild. Losing his temper with these people would get him nowhere.
Max popped a piece of his ever-present chewing gum in his mouth, his jaws working in a steady rhythm as he spoke.
“No need to take offense, Cole.” His voice took on a placating note. “We just need you to understand how important it is to clean this up before a full-blown panic takes over.”
Cole leaned forward on his elbows. “I can assure you both that this is the only thing on my agenda. And you can pass that along to the members of the council. In fact, you might want to make an announcement in Harry’s. That’s better
than an article in the newspaper.”
“Don’t get testy,” Margene snapped. “Remember, you’re an appointed official. You can be unappointed, too, you know.”
“That’s enough, Margene.” Max threw his gum wrapper in the wastebasket. “Don’t let your mouth run off with your brain. All we’re doing, Cole, is letting you know people are nervous and jittery. They want to make sure nothing happens to their kids.”
“Me, too, Max. Me, too.”
“Have you thought about calling in some help?” Margene asked. “Maybe from the Department of Public Safety?”
Cole ground his teeth so hard he thought the enamel would crack. He knew DPS was the parent organization not only for the state police and the highly respected forensics lab in Austin but also for the legendary Texas Rangers. They could be a big help if he needed them, but he wasn’t about to yell ‘uncle’ when less than twenty-four hours had passed.
“That’s the first thing I’ll do if I see there’s a need for it,” he assured the woman. “For right now we’ve got things under control.”
“They’ll be under control when you catch whoever did this.” She stuck her purse under her arm. “And just so you know, we expect that to happen soon.”
By the time he got rid of them, Cole thought the acid in his system would burn a hole in his stomach. Or maybe it was Grace Hathaway’s coffee. One of these days, he’d get up the guts to tell her to lighten up on the grounds.
He had just gotten up to refill his mug when Grace herself came barreling through his door, carrying a Styrofoam cup filled with the bilious liquid.
“Grace, I told you. You don’t have to wait on me. And I’ve got my mug, remember?”
“You’ll need this.” Her gravelly voice had dropped to a stage whisper. She set the cup on his desk. “If I had something stronger, I would have added it.”
Cole opened his mouth to ask her what the hell was going on when he looked over her shoulder and saw the answer.
“Don’t blame Grace.” Dana was right behind the dispatcher with a hopeful look on her face. “I was a pushy broad. I snuck by when she wasn’t looking.”
