by Diane Capri
Rob stayed seated, the cold water pouring over him.
“Good choice, son. Good choice.” Carl stood up and tossed him a towel. “Get cleaned up. I need some coffee.”
Carl had cleaned the kitchen and made a pot of coffee by the time Rob appeared. Rob’s left eye was swelling, and the cut on his lip was still bleeding. “You didn’t have to hit me so damn hard.”
Carl laughed, a deep booming rumble that set off a pounding cadence inside Rob’s head. “Shit, that was just a little love pat. If I’d really wanted to hurt you, you’d still be out.”
Rob knew Carl was telling the truth. Carl Jackson had been the boxing champ at the Bureau for twenty years.
Carl’s voice lowered, turning serious. “Sit down, Rob. I got problems, and I need to know where you stand. If you ain’t got my back, then I need to get a new partner.”
The words cleared the remaining fog from Rob’s brain. Taking the mug of steaming coffee from Carl’s hand, he sat down at the table. His head still pounded, but his eyes were sharp and clear, his voice strong, “I’ve got your back, Carl.”
#
An insistent knocking on the door jarred Gavin from the edge of sleep. A quick glance at his watch told him it was only 6:00 p.m. He considered ignoring the knock, but realized it was becoming more insistent. Raking a hand through his hair, he cursed as he stalked to the door and jerked it open.
“Mr. McAllister?”
Gavin didn’t recognize the woman, but he knew the type. Royalty among commoners. The gleaming amber hair was perfectly coiffed. Makeup a little too perfect, lips a little too red. She didn’t wait for an answer, but pushed her way past him into the apartment.
“I’m Claire Nix.”
Gavin knew the name was supposed to mean something to him, but he had no idea why.
“It’s imperative that I speak with you.”
Gavin raised an eyebrow quizzically. Imperative. Nice word. She probably spent hours looking through the dictionary finding words that made her feel a little superior to the rest of the townspeople.
“Ms. Nix …”
“It’s Mrs.,” she huffed. “My husband is the mayor of Glade Springs.”
That explained it. Putting him politely in his place. Gavin could ask her why she was here, but it would be useless. She would tell him, in her own time and her own flamboyant way. Closing the door, he took a seat in the comfortable old armchair, waving a hand to the couch. “Please, Mrs. Nix, have a seat.”
He wasn’t surprised when she peered at the furniture with disdain. Fifth Avenue silk couldn’t sit on anything so cheap.
“I want you to leave Glade Springs, Mr. McAllister. We don’t need your kind here.”
“My kind, Ms. Nix?” Gavin spoke the Ms. With just the right inflection of insolence. Rage began to build inside him.
“Yes. You’re a troublemaker. Look at what’s already happened since you’ve been here. If you leave now, things will go back to normal.”
Gavin sighed. If only it were that simple. Leaving now wouldn’t change anything. Something was wrong with this picture. Mayor’s wife, late call. He needed to think, but his mind was tired, as well as his body.
“Ms. Nix, even if I wanted to leave, I can’t. Sheriff’s orders.”
She snorted contemptuously. “The sheriff will be handled. You just leave.”
Gavin watched as she flounced from the room, slamming the door behind her. Bitch. Cold, callous, calculating bitch. His hands clenched into fists as the rage that had simmered just below the surface since Cory’s death threatened to boil over. He wanted to hit somebody, and Claire Nix was at the top of the list.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Morning, Sheriff.”
“Good morning, Joshua. What’s going on?”
“Not much. Everything’s quiet. Ran into Edsel last night. Wanted to know about McAllister. I told him McAllister wasn’t really a suspect. He grumbled and left.”
“What do you think?”
Joshua shrugged. Whatever he was thinking, he wasn’t ready to share it. Sarah winced, knowing the distance between them was her fault.
“I sent Thomas out to his place. Told him to keep an eye on things for a while.”
“Thanks,” Sarah whispered. Joshua might not share what he was thinking, but he was on top of what was expected. He could be frustrating, aggravating and damned irritating at times, but Sarah was still glad to have him as her chief deputy. Reaching out, she clasped his shoulder in silent apology. “You’re going to make a good sheriff someday, Joshua.”
“Apology accepted.”
Joshua grinned, that damn know-it-all grin that Sarah had come to anticipate and dread.
“Since things are quiet here, why don’t you run over to Millie’s, have a cup of coffee, spend some time with Nikki?”
Was there anything he didn’t know?
“I think I’ll do just that.” Sarah left, his laughter causing her face to flush.
#
“Mommy!”
Sarah hugged her daughter. Although Nikki had only been gone one night, it seemed much longer. She smiled up at Millie, a silent thank you. Her mind and body had been so tired last night that the thought of taking care of Nikki had overwhelmed her. When Millie had offered to keep her overnight, Sarah had jumped at the chance to get some rest.
“How’s my girl this morning?”
“Millie let me play with the ballerina, and Reverend Cooper brought me a little doll. Want to see?”
Nikki held up a tiny doll with long red hair and soft blue eyes. “It looks like you, Mommy.”
Sarah frowned. The doll did indeed bear a slight resemblance. “Sweetie, why don’t you go play and let Mommy talk to Aunt Millie.”
“Okie, dokie.”
They watched until she was safely out of hearing distance.
“Don’t know, Sarah. He came by early this morning, had a cup of coffee and talked to Nikki for a while. Said he had a present for her, and a few minutes later came in with the doll. Said he’d bought it for his own little girl, but she’d gone away before he had a chance to give it to her.”
Sarah stood open mouthed at Millie’s rambling. She hadn’t asked any questions. Was everyone in Glade Springs psychic?
“Don’t know if I like that man,” Millie continued. “You need a good cup of coffee.”
Sarah nodded. That seemed to be all she could do lately, as words failed her. The doll had upset her more than she wanted to let on. She’d never met the minister or his wife. As far as she knew, he’d never seen her. So how did he come up with a doll with red hair and blue eyes?
Millie returned, interrupting her thoughts.
“Man of God shouldn’t look quite so handsome if you ask me. And he’s got black eyes.” Millie picked up the conversation where she’d left off.
“What? An accident, someone hit him?” Sarah had been trying to follow the conversation but felt lost.
Millie rolled her eyes toward the heavens. “No, not black eyes. Black eyes.”
“Oh.”
“Humph, can’t get through to anybody anymore. Whole world has lost its common sense. You’ve got green eyes, I’ve got gray eyes. His eyes are black.”
“Oh!” This time Sarah understood. Maybe it was time she paid a visit to the new, handsome, black-eyed minister.
“You be careful, Sarah. Something about that man I don’t like.” A delitescent evil, Millie thought.
The door opened, and they both turned as Gavin McAllister stopped just inside the doorway. His eyes darkened and Sarah noted the clench of his jaw muscles. It was apparent he wasn’t any happier to see her than she was to see him. Sarah broke the eye contact first, and with a quick wave to Millie, acknowledging the warning, brushed past Gavin without a word.
#
Sarah rammed the Explorer into gear, her foot heavy on the gas pedal, her thoughts jumbled and confused. She hadn’t even said goodbye to Nikki. The darkening of the whiskey brown eyes had sparked the passion that lurked just
beneath the surface of her calm exterior. Lust. That’s all it was. Pure and simple lust. She ached to reach out and touch the tanned arms, feel the muscles that had rippled underneath the cream shirt when he’d stepped aside and opened the door for her. “Slut,” Sarah muttered.
The church came into view, and Sarah breathed deeply, calming her tattered emotions. She hadn’t been to church in years. She’d missed it at first, but then slowly came to accept it. It would be hard to sit in a pew and pray, knowing her life was a lie. God knew the truth, but still she felt sinful. One day, maybe soon, she could stop lying and start living a normal life.
Parking near the church, Sarah admired the flowers growing along the walkway to the parsonage. Evidently, Mrs. Cooper had a green thumb. Sarah remembered her last conversation with the woman. This time would be different. Exiting the vehicle, Sarah walked the short distance to the parsonage, her stride purposeful, determined. Ignoring the doorbell, she rapped on the door.
“Yes?”
The woman was definitely not what Sarah had expected for a minister’s wife. Bleached, frizzy hair surrounded a timeworn face that echoed long nights, rough living, and alcohol. Her veiled blue eyes revealed nothing, but Sarah noticed the slight tremble of her hand on the door.
“Mrs. Cooper, I’m Sheriff Burns.”
“I know who you are.”
“Could I come in? I’d like to speak with Reverend Cooper for a moment.”
The veil over her eyes lifted slightly, replaced by grim shadows. A glimmer of fear.
“He’s in prayer.”
The door started to close. “I just wanted to thank him.”
Mrs. Cooper hesitated a brief second, the slight tremor of her hand escalating, causing the door to visibly shake. “I’ll tell him,” she hissed, and slammed the door in Sarah’s face.
“Of all the rude …” Sarah sputtered, tempted to kick the door down. The woman was impossible. Sarah raised her hand to knock again, but stopped herself. It was clear Mrs. Cooper was afraid of her husband. And her fear of him was stronger than her fear of the sheriff. Sarah made a mental note to run a background check on the couple as she stalked to the Explorer. It was apparent she wasn’t going to be meeting the handsome, black-eyed minister today. Millie had said she wasn’t sure she liked the man. Sarah didn’t know about the Reverend, but she was developing a strong dislike for Mrs. Cooper. Buckling her seat belt, Sarah sat for a moment, pulling her thoughts together. The radio crackled.
“Sheriff.”
“Sarah, we’ve got another body.” Joshua’s voice was ragged, unspoken emotion crackled across the wires, opening the door Sarah had fought so hard to close. Sarah forgot the Coopers as she sped to town, Joshua’s words echoing in her mind in perfect rhythm with the rapid beating of her heart. We’ve got another body.
#
Rob looked up as the door opened, irritated by the interruption. The chief had saddled him with an inordinate amount of paperwork. Penance.
Carl chuckled, aware of his partner’s irritation. He was glad to have things back to normal.
“Good news and bad news.”
Rob groaned. “Give me the good news first.”
“I got that fingerprint check Gavin asked for.”
“Who is she?” Rob perked up.
“Sarah McKnight. Used to be a DC police officer. Disappeared from the system about six years ago after turning her partner in for rape.”
“Yeah, that could make you want to disappear.” Rob had started out with the police force. The code was you didn’t turn on your own, no matter what.
“There’s more, but I think you better hear the bad news first.” Carl glanced at the no smoking sign on the wall before lighting a cigarette.
“Cory ran those same prints four days before she was killed.”
Rob paled slightly, his jaw tightening. “You ready for a vacation?”
Carl nodded, “Yep, think it’s time we went fishing.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“He’s been dead a while. Couple of months maybe. Won’t know for sure until we get an autopsy on what’s left of him.” Doc Hawthorne dusted the dirt off his hand and stood up.
“Any idea how he died, Doc?” Sarah stood over the shallow grave, her thoughts in chaos. She felt a similar darkness here, similar to what she’d felt at The Lodge. Not quite as strong, not quite as evil. A darkness born of confusion.
“Don’t need an autopsy for that.” Bending down he turned the skull to the left, revealing the fracture. “Gonna be hard to identify him, though. Whoever did it pulled all his teeth and cut off his hands.”
“Damn.” Sarah wanted to scream. It could take months, maybe years for them to identify the body. By then, the killer would be long gone. Or worse yet, have killed again.
“Sheriff?”
“What, Thomas?” Sarah snapped out the words.
“We got company.”
Sarah turned to watch Gavin McAllister make his way up the hill.
“Want me to stop him?”
“No, I’ll take all the help I can get right now.”
Thomas stood quietly, waiting for further orders.
“It’s okay, Thomas. Find Joshua and see if he’s found anything yet.”
“Sheriff.” Gavin stopped a few feet from her.
“If you’ve got any suggestions, McAllister, I could sure use them right about now.”
Gavin examined the open grave. Too shallow. Whoever had dug the grave was in a hurry, but not stupid. The choice of location was good. Time and nature would take care of any trails he might have left, and the odds of someone discovering the body were poor.
“We need to talk.” Gavin turned his attention to Sarah, noting the deep furrows of her frown.
“Let me finish up here. I’ll meet you at the office.”
Gavin hesitated. He knew how local sheriffs reacted to the FBI. Time was running out. “Sarah, my brother is with the FBI in Richmond. I could call him, see if I can get you some help down here. There’s reasons he may be interested.”
Sarah nodded. Her pride was no longer important. People were dying, and she didn’t have a clue which way to look. And if she could trust her emotions, they had more than one killer running loose in Glade Springs. “Come on, you can use my cell phone.”
They walked down the hill together and yet Sarah felt they were a thousand miles apart.
Minutes later Gavin frowned as he closed the phone.
“No luck, huh?”
“Strange. He’s on vacation. They said he left this morning for a fishing trip.”
Sarah laughed hollowly. “Must be nice. But I don’t see anything strange about that.”
Gavin met her gaze, still frowning. “As far as I know, Rob has never been fishing in his life.”
The crackle of the radio stopped any response Sarah might have given.
“Sheriff.”
“We got another one. Up the hill to the left. Better get Doc up here.”
Sarah turned, but Doc Hawthorne had already started moving slowly toward the hill.
Sarah felt Gavin’s hand on her shoulder, offering the comfort she so desperately needed. She longed to sink against him, be held, protected. Protected? The thought infuriated her. “You coming?”
“Right behind you.”
The second grave was a duplicate of the first. Doc Hawthorne looked up and shook his head. “Female, same wounds. Teeth and hands missing.”
Turning to Gavin, Sarah shook her head. “Looks like we’re going to have to put off that conversation a little longer. Tomorrow?”
Gavin nodded, fear clutching at his stomach. He hoped tomorrow wasn’t too late.
Sarah turned back to the scene unfolding before her.
“Sketches and photographs are finished, Sarah,” Joshua stated, his voice flat, emotionless.
Sarah nodded. She knew she should probably wait to move them. Call in forensics. Dammit, they didn’t belong here. They should be laughing, loving, living their life. Sarah turned to Jo
shua, her voice filled with anger seething just below the surface, and barked out orders. “Get the bags. Let’s get them out of here.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Captain Jones swore softly as he watched the two men approach his office. Trouble with a capital T. Their casual dress did little to disguise them. He knew Bureau when he saw it. And Bureau was always trouble.
He stood up to greet them at the door. The best way to deal with trouble was to meet it head-on. No greeting was necessary. They’d been around long enough to know he knew who they were. He waved them to seats and remained standing, setting the boundaries. They were in his territory now.
“Gentlemen, what can I do for you?”
The voice was polite, a thread of steel running just beneath the words. Rob ignored it as he took in the office in one glance. The stack of files on the right, mass of loose paperwork on the left. Understaffed. The captain probably found himself constantly amidst the tower of paperwork required to satisfy the higher-ups. Keep them off his back. Tattered and worn furniture that the city should have replaced years ago. Rob brought his gaze back to the captain. A tough cop, but from everything they’d learned, a good cop. He had to be tough to make it in Washington, D. C. Everyone wanted to blame the cops for everything. Even the Justice Department had made them sign an agreement that limited the use of force by officers. No respect. And crime was now on the rise again, especially murders. Even Richmond was better than this. Carl was senior partner, and Rob waited patiently for him to start the ball rolling.
Carl too had measured the captain, liking what he saw. “Tell us about Sarah McKnight.”
The words were spoken softly, but to Captain Jones it felt as if the old man had screamed them. He hesitated, returned to his desk and fidgeted with the paperwork there. Sarah McKnight. Dear God, would that never go away?
“Not much to tell.”
Carl chuckled. Meaning, not much he was going to tell.
“She in trouble?” Captain Jones was patting down his pockets, a sign of distress Carl knew well.
