by Desiree Holt
****
Special Agent in Charge Clark Lorimer of the FBI’s San Antonio field office took Cole’s call and listened to everything he had to say.
“I agree with your assessment, Sheriff,” he said. “It’s good you’re calling us in before things get any worse. You’d be amazed at how many local law enforcement officers wait one body too long.”
“I’m afraid I’ve done that already,” Cole said, so tired he could barely think. “We’ve got a very bad situation here.” He paused. “I could be shooting in the dark but…” He explained about the old pedophile case and Dana’s theory the two killers could somehow be tied together.
“Too bad the sheriff at that time didn’t ask for help.”
“I’ve been telling myself the same thing for the past forty-eight hours.”
“Okay. I’ll send one of our agents, Scott Clayton, first thing in the morning.”
“Appreciate it, Agent Lorimer.”
“It’s Clark. I think under the circumstances, we can dispense with formalities. Scott will need copies of everything. Autopsies. Crime scene reports. Witness interviews. Whatever you’ve got. He’ll let me know if he needs more men after he assesses the situation.”
“I’ll have it ready for him. Hell,” Cole snorted, “he can even have my damn office if he wants. The county commission is probably ready to boot me out of it.”
“Politicians can get rambunctious,” Lorimer agreed. “But when you catch the perp, they’ll forget how mad at you they were. Happens all the time.”
“Should I tell my people that whoever you send is now in charge of the investigation?”
“No, not at all. It’s still your jurisdiction. We’re just providing assistance. And access to all our facilities, like the lab at Quantico if we need it.”
Cole leaned back in his chair, rested his feet on his desk, and rubbed his forehead, hoping the headache would ease. “Well, I appreciate your response. Whatever time your men get here, I’ll be waiting for them. And thanks again.”
He called Dana, just to check on her and make himself feel better. She sounded distracted but who could blame her? Then he checked in with Margene and Max to bring them up to date.
“And the deputies I’ve had looking for anyone who saw Shannon this afternoon haven’t turned anything up. We’ll regroup when the FBI gets here in the morning.”
“I’ll call a special meeting of the commission and bring them up to date,” Margene told him.
His last call was to Tate, just to listen to someone telling him he was handling things okay. His uncle’s opinion always meant a great deal to him and the man was, after all, the one who had recommended him for this job.
“You’re doing the right thing,” Tate assured him. “Not just because you can use their expertise but because you know Margene and Max will roast your balls if you don’t.”
“Yeah.” He dragged his hand over his face. “I love it when politics dictates law enforcement.”
“Just remember I’m here whenever you need me.”
“And I appreciate that.”
As always his uncle’s voice settled him, allowed him to pull himself together and focus on what needed doing. He was tempted to tell him about Dana, maybe ask him to go by and check on her, but decided he’d have too much explaining to do. He wondered what she was doing. If she was able to get a little rest. He’d hated having to leave her, but he had no choice.
He thought back to last night, how easy it was being with her. He didn’t remember relaxing like that with any woman. Of course, before the Marines, he was just a snot-nosed college kid who thought he had the world by the balls. Then he’d put so much of himself into being a Marine, he hadn’t had much left over for anything except just getting laid between missions.
Now Dana was in danger and the chances were equal it was their latest serial killer or some of the angrier residents. To protect her as well as to really know her, he had to find a way to unlock the secret she kept tucked away in the deepest part of her. And that would be easier said than done.
A knock on the door jerked him out of his mental ramblings and brought him back to reality. The door opened and Gaylen stuck his head in.
“Phone’s ringing off the hook again.”
Cole made a face. “Could have figured that. People wanting my head, no doubt. I know Roy being out leaves us a man short.”
Gaylen held up a hand. “We’ll manage. You’re doing the right thing with Dana.”
“Thanks. Hope the others agree. What else?”
“Everyone’s back from questioning people. They got zip. And in case you’ve missed all the noise, the reporters are dogging it out in the parking lot again.”
Cole looked at his watch. “It’s eleven o’clock. Don’t they ever go home?”
“Not when they smell blood.”
He dropped his feet to the floor and stood up. “Okay. I’ll go talk to them. Are Andi and Mickey back yet?”
“Just came in.”
“Get everyone in the conference room. I’ll be there as soon as I get this over with.”
The reporters were clustered at his front door like vultures at road kill. He saw John Garrett standing at the back of the crowd and signaled him to go around to the side. John would keep whatever he was told to himself until Cole gave the go ahead to release it. Meanwhile, the editor was at least in a position to write something that would possibly help settle the county down.
He stuck his head back inside to tell Grace to let Garrett in the side door, then turned to face the yammering flock.
“I don’t have much to tell you at this moment, but here’s what we’ve got. Shannon Fowler disappeared today on her way home after the bus dropped her off at the head of Hancock Road. Her body was found just a little while ago with the help of the Solize Search and Rescue team. The autopsy hasn’t been completed yet, so I don’t have any details for you. I’m not going to speculate, so you’ll just have to wait until I have something concrete to say.”
“This is the same person who abducted and killed the other girl, right?” a tall, lanky man in front asked.
“I have no confirmation of that at this time.”
“Oh, come on, Sheriff,” someone else shouted. “Two killings in a sparsely populated county like Salado in three days? They have to be related.”
Cole gritted his teeth. “As soon as we have evidence linking them I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“We saw Dana Moretti here earlier,” the lanky man said. “Then she was out at Hancock Road with you. What’s the story with her?”
Cole held up his hand. “That’s all I can tell you at this time and all the questions I’m going to answer. I’d really appreciate it if you’d move your vans out of my parking lot before I have to have my deputies move them for you. Thanks.”
“We’re only going as far as the High Ridge Motel,” a woman informed him. “If we don’t hear from you soon, we’ll be back with more questions.”
Wonderful. Just what I need.
“Fine. When I have something to share, you’ll know about it.”
Inside, he poured himself a cup of Grace’s sludge, figuring he needed it to clear his brain, then headed for the conference room.
On the wall was the sketch Mickey had drawn of the scene where the body was found. Red marker outlined where the body was.
“I tell you, Sheriff,” he said, “that was one bad sight. That poor girl.”
“The only consolation,” Cole told him, “is she was dead before any of that was done to her. At least, I hope she was.” He had a hard time getting the details of the autopsy out of his mind.
“Well, Andi and I covered every single inch of the area under and around where she was lying. Not a thing. Nothing.”
“I’ll say this,” Andi chimed in. “I think whoever brought her there was wearing soft moccasins.”
Cole lifted an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”
“I went over my notes from where Leanne’s body was f
ound and tried to figure out how someone could have put her there without leaving a trace. Then I remembered my uncle always wears moccasins when hunts. He doesn’t want to leave tracks for anyone to see where he puts his blinds.”
“Maybe your uncle’s getting in a little extra activity,” someone joked.
“This isn’t an occasion for humor,” Cole snapped. “Andi, that’s a good thought.”
“You want me to check and see who sells those moccasins in the county?” Mickey asked.
“You can, but it’s probably a waste of time. He could have bought them in San Antonio or online. And we don’t know how long he’s had them. Or how many pairs have been sold.”
“And we can’t exactly go around looking in every closet in Salado County without reasonable cause,” Gaylen put it.
“That’s right,” Cole agreed. “We’ll have to try another tack.”
“And what would that be?” Andi asked.
“I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out.” He rubbed his forehead again, wondering if the headache would ever get any better. “Heads up, folks. I’ve called in the FBI, and they’ll have someone here first thing in the morning.” Seeing the frowns on the faces around the table, he added, “We could be looking at a serial killer here, much as I hate to think it. I’d rather call these guys in now, before the bodies really begin stacking up.”
“Aw, sheriff,” Mickey complained. “We can handle this.”
“No, Mickey,” Cole said quietly. “We can’t. We don’t have the first idea where to start. There hasn’t been a murder here in almost three decades. All of you are excellent deputies, but this is way over everyone’s head. Including mine. The FBI has far more experience and much better resources.”
“I suppose they’ll want to take charge of everything,” Andi grumped.
“As a matter of fact, no. This is still our case. SAC Clark Lorimer was very firm about that. His people will provide expertise and assistance. And lord knows we need it.” He looked around the table. “Listen, all of you. This isn’t about us. This is about those two girls. This is about all the other young girls out there that this sick freak can target if we don’t get him first. Keep that in mind when our help arrives tomorrow. I’ll expect everyone’s cooperation. Right?”
Slowly, each of them nodded.
“All right, then. It’s been a long day for everyone. The crime scene is under guard so go home and get some rest. Be back here early so I can introduce you to the new man on the team.”
Gaylen held back until the others had all filed out of the room. “Sheriff, I just want you to know I think you did the smart thing. The younger deputies think they know it all, and they haven’t even scratched the surface. Like you said, they’re good, but this is deeper water than we’re used to swimming in. I respect a man who knows when to ask for help. Whatever you need me to do, just holler.”
Cole felt his throat tighten. Gaylen Kleist was the oldest of all the deputies. He’d been on the force for fifteen years and probably had every right to have expected promotion to the top spot when Nickels retired. But he accepted Cole without a fuss, did his job and watched to see how things shook out. His words meant a great deal to Cole.
“Thanks, Gaylen. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”
“You ought to get out of here, too. It’s late and I think you need to check on your house guest.”
“Oh, yeah. My house guest.”
Gaylen started to say something else but was interrupted by a knock on the doorjamb.
“Got a minute?” John Garrett asked. “I got the idea you wanted to talk to me privately.”
He’d forgotten all about the fact that Garrett was waiting for him.
I really do need to get out of here.
He motioned the man into the conference room. “Yes. I’d like to ask for your help.”
“Don’t tell me you’re giving the hometown paper an exclusive.” Garrett’s voice was laced with grim humor.
“Not exactly. What I’d really like is for you to write something to help keep the county under control. Like I just asked Max and Margene to do.”
“You have to give me something to write, though,” Garrett protested. “Your little press conferences might as well be nonexistent.”
“There’s a lot I don’t want to release yet. The details are pretty gruesome, and the Pritchards and Fowlers don’t need to see it splattered all over the press. But I’ll give you the info and you can figure out how to spin it.”
John sat down in one of the chairs opposite Cole, took his little tape recorder out of his pocket, and set it on the desk. “You okay with this?” he asked, indicating the instrument.
“As long as you shut it off if I tell you to.”
“No problem. Let’s get started.”
It took Cole ten minutes to give the newspaper editor the bare bone details of both crimes. He left out the autopsy details, particularly the horrendous sexual abuse, but he gave the man enough for an informative article.
“Here’s the important part,” he said. “We may have a serial killer here, and I don’t want to wait for more bodies. I’ve called in the FBI for help and someone will be here tomorrow first thing.”
“To take over the case?” John asked.
“Not at all. But the agent will know better what to look for and can get us more resources if we need them.”
“People will be happy to know you aren’t too pigheaded to cry uncle when you have to.” John’s approval was obvious.
Cole held up his hands, palms outward. “I’d be very foolish if I was. This isn’t about me. It’s about catching a killer. Hopefully before he takes another victim.”
Garrett picked up the recorder, put it back in his pocket, and stood up. “I’ll get started on this right away. The paper comes out again tomorrow, and I saved some front-page space, just in case. But if we want the presses to roll on time, I’d better git. As it is, we’ll be working until the sun comes up.”
Cole stood up and the men shook hands. “Thanks again, John. This will be a big help.”
“I’ll do a sidebar, too, kind of like an editorial,” Garrett called over his shoulder as he turned toward the door.
“Everything helps. Everything.”
****
Dana worked on the spreadsheet for more than two hours, but her mind kept wandering, thinking back to Kylie and that scene so many years ago. She didn’t look up until the front door opened and she heard Cole talking to someone, then the door closed. She looked up as he approached the couch.
“Did you sleep at all?”
“Yes. Some.” Her cheeks heated as the images from the dream danced in her head. Then she took a good look at Cole, at the fatigue and worry lining his face, and her heart ached for him.
Her heart? Ached? When had she felt anything for a man? “You look terrible.”
He forced a weak grin. “Nice to see you, too.”
She stared at him. “Oh, my God, Cole. Has something else happened?” She set aside her computer and scrambled to her feet.
“No. Just the same old shit.” He sprawled on the couch and tugged her back down beside him. “I hate to think anyone like that is living in our community. That it’s someone I see every day.”
“Just like no one wanted to think the pedophile lived here,” she reminded him.
“I know.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “But it’s obvious strangers stand out here. Plus neither those little kids nor Leanne or Shannon would be the type to get in a car with a stranger.”
He draped his arm over Dana’s shoulder, and at the moment, she wasn’t inclined to move it. “So you think they could all be related?”
“Let’s say I’m willing to examine the options. I’ve got the FBI coming in the morning. I’ll be anxious to get their take on it. I read the preliminary autopsy report on Shannon a little while ago. I can’t even begin to tell you how awful it was.”
Dana’s stomach clenched. She didn’t know if she could lis
ten to this part. “That had to be hard for you.”
“This whole thing is hard for me. I saw terrible things when I was with the Marines, but this tops anything in my worst nightmares.”
“Oh, Cole.” She wanted to pull his head to his breast. Do something to soothe him. And where had that come from?
He gave her a tired smile. “By the way, thanks for what you did today. I appreciate it.”
She shrugged. “I was glad I could help. I was surprised you even asked me.”
“Hey, I’m not stupid enough to ignore an offer like that. You did good, Dana. It might have taken forever to find her otherwise, especially with her scent masked.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Masked?”
“Damn. Me and my big mouth.” He told her about the condition of the body.
As brief as his description was, Dana could hardly bear to hear it.
“Did you eat?” she asked.
“No. How about you?”
She shook her head. “After…I didn’t have any appetite. But I’ll look for something to fix for you.”
“No, thanks. I don’t think my stomach would welcome anything solid. But I could stand a cold drink. How about you?”
“I’ll get it.”
He held up his hand. “No, I’ll do it. Sit.”
He brought back two glasses filled with ice and soda and drank half of his before sitting down again.
“Thanks.” She smiled at him. “That tastes good.”
“I don’t like the reason that brought you here,” he told her, “but it feels…nice to have you here to talk to. You know, you aren’t exactly the most relaxing person to be with—”
“Gee, thanks,” she interrupted.
He continued as if she hadn’t said anything. “But somehow, with you, I feel I don’t have to pretend anything. I can be whatever I am at the moment. However I feel.”
