by Anne Patrick
"Don't they make a cute couple," Walt said, exchanging glances with Bailey.
Bailey opened her mouth to speak, but it was Austin's words that Jo heard. "If you want to go on that ski trip, I'd be careful of what you say."
"I was only going to agree with the man." Bailey met Jo's gaze and looked as if she was about to burst out laughing.
Feeling like she'd come in on the end of a joke, the punch line making little sense to her, Jo exchanged glances with Walt. He merely shrugged. Figuring it was probably best she didn't know, she let it pass and picked up her menu.
Jo had a chef's salad and half of Austin's French fries that came with his cheeseburger while Bailey and Walt had the chicken fried steak. Bailey held the floor conversation wise, filling them all in on her upcoming ski trip that weekend with Jesse and her family. After the waitress appeared to clear away the dirty dishes, Walt announced he had an errand to run and would meet up with them at the motel. Not long after his departure, Bailey excused herself, informing them she was going over to Jesse's to work on last minute preparations for their big weekend.
"I've got a question about your profile," Austin said once they'd gone.
Jo met his gaze, surprised by its intensity. "What about it?"
"I read somewhere that a profiler doesn't like to know about any suspects the police may have in mind because it may have some kind of influence on their profile."
"That's true. We like to start from scratch with only the facts of the case."
"Is it possible then that outside factors might influence them as well when they're developing the profile?"
"For instance?"
"Say another case they're working on, or, maybe the person doing the profile is upset with someone in their personal life. If so would it be possible that the profile wasn't as accurate as it could have been?"
"I suppose if that person was shuffling several different cases at once, and was under a lot of stress it'd be possible to confuse some of the facts. Why do you ask?"
"No reason. I was just curious."
Jo had a hunch it was more than curiosity that prompted the question. But before she could act on her suspicions, the Harrisons joined them.
"Agent McDaniels, we thought it was you," Mr. Harrison said. "Nice to see you again, too, Sheriff."
Jo remembered the Harrisons had been approaching her last night at the vigil when the reporter distracted her, and offered her apologies. "I didn't mean to duck out on you last night."
"Oh, we know that. We heard you had apprehended a suspect. Is he the guy?"
"No, I'm afraid not," Jo said. The young man and woman that had been with them last night approached the table and Jo stood in greeting, slightly alarmed at how much the young woman resembled her dead sister. "You must be Stephanie's brother and sister?"
"Steven, Sandra, this is the FBI agent I told you about, the one who's going to catch Steph's killer."
"With the help of Sheriff Garrett and his deputies." Jo shook their hands.
"We'd like to thank you and the sheriff for the vigil, it was very thoughtful of you," Sandra Harrison said, glancing at Jo, and then at Austin. "We appreciate it."
Jo merely smiled, feeling somewhat guilty at having them believe they had done it solely for their benefit when in reality it'd been done mainly with the hopes of catching the killer.
"Well, we don't want to disturb you. We just wanted to stop by and say hello."
"We're glad you did." Austin shook Mr. Harrison's hand. "And we'll let you know of any new developments."
"We'd appreciate that."
"Speaking of new developments, has there been any news on those passenger lists or the sketch?" Jo asked Austin soon after the Harrison's departure.
"We got the passenger lists yesterday. I started on them this morning."
"What about the names I gave you to check out?"
"I've got Pendergrass working on it. He also got a list of clients from his brother's gym. No one fit our guy's description." He then stood, offering her his hand. "We better be getting you back to the motel. Slim's probably wondering what's keeping us."
As Jo started to stand she caught sight of the old reporter from the vigil, the same one who'd been staking out her motel room and followed her in his car this morning when she'd gone on her run. She noticed the camera in his hand. No doubt he had been stalking her since she left the motel and had been taking shots of her and her friends ever since they'd left her room. Infuriated by the invasion of privacy she met the man's gaze and he quickly turned away.
"I need to go to the ladies room, I'll meet you out front," she said and walked off without waiting for a reply.
*****
Jo knew the reporter could see the back exit from where he was sitting, so she walked past the restrooms and out the back door, then ducked to her right. It wasn't but a minute until the back door opened and he stepped out into the alley. Jo sprang forward, catching him off guard and grabbed the camera from his hands. Judging from the shocked expression on his face, he was not only embarrassed, but also surprised at being caught.
Jo glared at the man. "Are there pictures of us leaving the motel on here?" she demanded, recalling she and Austin had kissed before getting into his vehicle. When he offered no answer, she snapped the camera open and took out the memory card, slipping it into the pocket of her blazer.
"Hey, you can't do that."
"Oh, but I can. I'm working on a high profile case here, and the way I see it, these photos could be a vital piece of evidence, so it's my duty to confiscate them. Further more, if you continue to stalk me, I'll arrest you for interfering in an ongoing investigation."
"You don't scare me, lady. I know I'm well within my rights."
Jo shoved the camera into his chest and met his stare head on. "Listen to me, this is my private life you're playing around with here. One I don't usually have the luxury of, so don't think for a minute I'm going to let you violate that." She then reached into the pocket of his jacket and removed a tape recorder she knew most reporters carried and glanced down at it. It wasn't on, but just to be safe she removed the small cassette and handed the recorder back. "Don't mess with me, Mr. Wingate, because I have little patience when it comes to people who feed off the misery of others."
"I'm not that kind of a reporter, Agent McDaniels. I do human-interest stories, which explains why I'm still on the streets at fifty-six years old, instead of behind the desk in some plush office at the Post. I've followed your career for the last few years and respect and admire what you do for a living. I'd like to do a story on you."
"I'm no different than any of the other criminal profilers who work with the bureau. I suggest you look one of them up, they might be more receptive to the idea."
"None of them have the track record you do, which leads me to believe that whether you realize it or not, you are different than the rest. Maybe it's your passion or dedication, I'm not sure, but I'd like to find out." He slipped his recorder back into his pocket and then met her stare with narrowed eyes. "Look if it'll help, I can pay you. It probably won't be much, but I've got a magazine that's interested in an article on you as well. Please, Agent McDaniels, at least consider the idea."
She agreed, mainly to get rid of him. "All right, I'll consider it. Until this case is closed, though, I must ask that you keep your distance, and no more photographs."
"Fair enough." He gave her one of his business cards.
"Is everything okay?"
Jo turned and saw Austin standing at the back door of the restaurant. "Everything's fine." She joined him inside and they walked to the front of the restaurant.
"He's tenacious, I have to hand him that."
"Yeah, he is," she agreed. At the same time, she felt somewhat sorry for the guy. "However, he's just trying to make a living like the rest of us."
"Sounds like you're considering giving him his interview?" Austin pushed the door open for her.
"I told him I'd think about it."
&nbs
p; "What'd he say to get you to change your mind?"
"He does human interest stories. He said he's followed my career and is impressed with my work."
Jo had already reached the Jeep Cherokee before she realized Austin wasn't with her. She glanced back and saw he was still standing at the entrance, his eyes glued to her as if in a daze. "What's wrong?"
"Did it ever occur to you he could be the killer?"
"He's too old, and he wears a wedding band. Our man isn't married. If he were, I think his wife would've probably noticed by now the bloodstains in the tub or the heads in the freezer."
"Who's to say he doesn't have a place on the side."
"He could, but I still don't think our man is married. If it'll make you feel better, though, you can check him out." She handed him the card the reporter had given her.
He took it and slipped it into the breast pocket of his uniform. "You know you're really exasperating sometimes."
Jo smiled as she climbed into the Jeep.
*****
Slim drew baby-sitting detail again that night. After working on her field report and a brief call to Agent Washington informing him of the progress on the case, Jo took a shower then settled into a game of gin rummy with him.
"So have you and Austin made any future plans?" Slim asked, soon into the game.
"We haven't really discussed it."
"You love him, though, don't you?"
She smiled. "I wouldn't still be here if I didn't," she admitted. Usually, once her profile was complete, her work was done and she'd move on to another case. Seldom did she stick around until the perpetrator was apprehended.
"You know long distance relationships don't usually work out. Have you considered the possibility of maybe transferring to Portland?"
"I've given it some thought."
"And?"
"I'm considering it."
Though she loved working at Quantico, and she knew she'd never have another S.A.C. as understanding and supportive as Isaac, she'd been thinking of transferring back to the area where she'd grown up for a couple of years now. She'd met S.A.C. Mark Stevens with the Portland field office several months ago on a visit he'd made to Quantico. Unlike most of the guys she worked with he hadn't seemed that intimidated by her and she'd gotten along well with him, so the thought of a transfer was becoming more appealing than ever.
"I don't know about Billy, but I think your mother would be real happy about having you move back to the area."
"I went by and saw her the other day."
His face lit up with a smile. "How did it go?"
"It was uncomfortable at first. We're like strangers, Slim. We know nothing about one another."
"If you were to move back, you could change that."
"Yeah, maybe."
"Life is all about change, Jo. Don't make her and Billy pay for your daddy's stupidity. Let bygones be bygones."
"Are we going to chit chat all night or are we going to play cards?" she asked, smothering a smile.
He shoved the cards toward her. "Fine, it's your deal." An hour later, Jo was preparing to go to bed when Austin called. Slim seemingly sensing their need for privacy, disappeared into the bathroom.
"Anything new?" she was quick to inquire about the case.
"No. Pendergrass didn't have much luck. Though the woman at Hertz had worked both days, she had no recollection of the guy, and the clerk at the Hamlet Inn recognized Harrison, but couldn't offer any other details. She checked in and requested a wakeup call for six a.m. That's it."
Jo could tell from the tone of his voice that he was discouraged with the news. She wished there was something more she could do to help in the investigation. Recalling their conversation earlier, she remembered the passenger lists. "Will you at least let me help you with the passenger lists?" Then sensing he was thinking of refusing her help, she added, "I know you don't want me involved with the victims or dumpsites, but I need to be doing something on the case or I'm liable to be reassigned," she said, using blackmail as her last resort.
"You can come in tomorrow afternoon and give me a hand with them."
"What's wrong with in the morning?"
"Because I won't be around. I've got some business to take care of in Portland and won't be back till late morning. So are you getting ready to turn in for the night?"
"Yeah, I'm gin rummied out, and since there's nothing good on the tube, sleep is the only other alternative."
"I was thinking of turning in myself as soon as Bailey makes it home from Jesse's."
She glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost eleven. "She isn't home yet?"
"No, her, Jesse, and some of their friends took in a late show…I think that's them pulling in now." There was a long pause, followed by muffled voices.
"Hey, Jo," Bailey hollered.
"How was the show?"
"Too late. She's on her way to the kitchen to raid the refrigerator."
Jo laughed. "Well since I can barely keep my eyes open, I'm going to get off here. Have a safe trip tomorrow and I'll see you in the afternoon."
"Okay. Night, Jo."
"Goodnight."
She hung up the phone, and then settled back on the bed. She couldn't help but be disappointed that their lead on the rental car hadn't panned out. The fact that the killer had been audacious enough to take it back meant one of two things. Either subconsciously he wanted to get caught, or he thought he was brilliant enough not to. The latter made him far more dangerous. One thing was certain, he wasn't going to stop killing on his own. Somehow they had to find a way to stop him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
For the first time in months, Jo slept in. Not rising until almost nine-thirty, she awoke to find Walt sitting on the edge of the spare bed watching the cartoon network. Surprised that she'd slept right through their shift change, she rose on one elbow and glanced at the deputy whose eyes were glued to the screen as Wiley Coyote set yet another trap for the evasive Roadrunner.
"Good morning," Walt said just as the Roadrunner barely escaped with his life.
"Morning." She threw back the covers to sit on the side of the bed.
"I brought donuts, if you're hungry, and a thermos of hot coffee."
She lifted the lid on the box of pastries and chose a chocolate one with sprinkles. Taking the cup he offered, she settled on her bed. "I would have never guessed you to be a cartoon man."
"It comes with having grandkids."
"How many do you have now?"
"Five. Cindy's littlest one just started kindergarten, and Brian has two boys, four and eight."
It didn't seem possible. She and Brain had been in the same grade. "What's he up to these days?"
"He just made partnership in the law firm he works for in Seattle."
"The next time you talk to him tell him I said congratulations."
"I will." He took out another donut before offering her the box.
"No thanks. One's my limit."
Jo finished her donut and coffee, then dressed in her sweats and went for her run, Walt tailing her in his patrol car. Thinking of how ridiculous it must have looked to curious tourists, she thought of the cartoon Walt had been watching earlier in her motel room, and how much the cartoon resembled her life sometimes. She could relate to the frustration Wiley Coyote felt sometimes in his attempts to capture the Roadrunner.
A half hour later, Jo returned to the motel and jumped into the shower, allowing the pounding spray to eat away at her anxiety. She thought of Austin and his reluctance to accept her help, knowing he was only trying to protect her. His actions proved the love he'd declared for her. She smiled to herself. For the first time since arriving in Claremont, she looked forward to the future.
She dressed in her usual attire of slacks, a blouse, and a blazer to conceal her weapon, and exited the bathroom to see Walt hanging up the phone.
"That was Pendergrass. He said Austin wants you to come down to the station. They're bringing in a possible suspect."
Austin stood as Jo entered his office. "We need to talk."
"What's wrong?" She took a seat across from his desk. "Walt said you were bringing in a suspect?"
"That's what I need to talk to you about. I wanted to let you know before we bring him in for questioning."
"You want me to help in the interrogation?"
"That won't be necessary."
"Then I don't understand."
Austin reached into a file on his desk and took out what looked to be a sketch. He hesitated momentarily before handing it to her.
She looked at sketch, startled by how much it resembled her brother. "This looks like Billy. Where did you get it?"
"Portland PD. It's the sketch Amy Fugate gave us of the man she saw with Elena Bradshaw."
She almost laughed, but as she glanced up at his tormented expression, she realized he was serious. She tossed him a skeptical smile. "You're joking, right?"
"This is no joke, Jo."
"What in the world makes you think my brother could have anything to do with these murders?"
"He obviously resents you, he works near the airport, he fits the physical description, and we both know he hasn't been himself lately."
"It's just not possible, Austin. Billy couldn't have killed those women." She stood and walked to the window and peered out of the mini blinds to the outer office, numbed by the absurdity of his accusation.
"I hope you're right. I've sent Pendergrass to Portland to get Amy Fugate, and as soon as she arrives, I'm sending Walt to get Billy. If she can't identify him, he'll be free to go, but if she does—"
"You can't be serious." Turning, she met his gaze. "The Portland field office has the killer's prints. All you have to do is take Billy's and compare them and you'll see he isn't the killer."
"I have seventeen years experience as a cop under my belt, Jo. I know how to conduct an investigation." Then in a softer tone, he added, "You know you can really play havoc on a man's ego."
"This is my brother we're talking about here. Worrying about your fragile ego is the farthest thing from my mind right now."
