by Geri Foster
“Yeah, we were pretty rowdy.”
“That’s an understatement.”
Frankie laughed, flashing her a mouth of perfectly straight white teeth. “What brings you back to Rainwater?”
She flashed her badge. “I’m here because we think there’s a chance the Wise County Child Killer is back in action.”
Frankie set down the beer and blinked several times. “No shitting?”
“As far as we can tell.”
“Wasn’t your sister one of his victims?”
The question made her heart skip a beat. “Yes. Anita.”
“I remember that like it was yesterday.” He had a far-off look in his eyes. “My whole family freaked out. My mom wanted to lock us all inside and never let us out. I was three years older than you and got mad because my mom insisted she walked all of us to school until the end of the year.”
“It hit this community very hard.”
“I agree.”
“Now, we fear he might be back.”
“The son of a bitch. I hate hearing that.”
“So do I. But, hopefully, this time we will catch him.”
“From what I heard you were a little late for Linda Miller today.”
She lowered her gaze. “Yes, we were. It’s terrible. Neither Lincoln nor I suspected he’d hit so soon after Nancy, the first victim. Not after twenty years.”
“How can you be so sure it’s him?”
“We have ways.”
Frank’s brows wrinkled.
She took a sip of her beer, knowing it was unwise to disclose too much to a resident. “I’m with the FBI as a profiler. Serial killers leave a calling card.”
“That sounds morbid to me,” Frankie said with a frown. “I mean, who wants to crawl inside a sicko’s head? Too dangerous for a sane person to hang out. Would be for me, anyway.”
“I don’t mind. It’s... interesting.”
“I think they should all be shot. End of story.”
“I feel the same way, but we have laws, and the more we learn from current killers, the easier it is to catch the ones in the future.”
“So, have you figured out this guy?”
She dropped her gaze. “No.”
Frank propped his elbows on the bar then rested his chin on his palms. “What’s this guy like?”
Treading slowly and carefully, Mia said, “Well, he’s older now. When he took Anita, I’m guessing he was between twenty-nine and thirty-five. Now, add twenty years to that and we come to the estimation of his age is today. He might be the same person, but he can’t be the same killer.”
“Why not?”
“Lives change.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“Let’s say he likes to spend days with his victim. If that’s the case, he has to have a safe place to play and not be observed. A place he won’t be disturbed or caught.” She shrugged. “Others like to kill and run away, like Jack the Ripper.”
“Oh, God. Now you’re getting way to gory.”
“I don’t mean to, but as long as there are people out there like that, there must be people like me willing to go after them. The best way for me to do that is to understand how they think.”
“I wouldn’t want to crawl into that brain.”
“They simply lack the ability to feel remorse. They kill without a conscience. That’s the way they look at it.”
“Mia, you’re never going to find a normal boyfriend. You’ll scare them all off.”
She laughed and took another sip of her beer. “We’re all told that during our training. That’s why we don’t discuss much with spouses. They don’t understand.”
“Do other FBI guys?”
“Most do. You have to remember law enforcement sees the worst of humanity.”
“Yeah, so do bar owners,” Frankie joked.
No.” She laughed. “You see the worst of drunks.”
“True, but they are a lot easier to handle.” He picked up his baseball bat from beneath the bar. “You use your gun. I have pretty good results with this.”
“I wouldn’t want to encounter that thing, either.”
“Most times, I just have to bring it out. That’s all it takes for the dumb ones to get the message.”
“I understand that.”
“So, where are you staying?”
She twisted her mouth and lowered her voice. “The Wayward Inn.”
“Oh.” He made the sign of the cross. “I feel your pain.”
“It’s only temporary. As soon as Lincoln and I solve this case, I’m back to Dallas.”
“So, you and Lincoln are working together?”
She hoped it didn’t get back to him that she’d mentioned that to Frankie. Lincoln might not want anyone to know. “Yes.”
“You know his wife was murdered.”
“He told me. And as tragic as those things always are, they are a part of life. I grieve for my sister every day and it keeps me from living live to the fullest, but that’s the hand fate has dealt me.”
“Well, I’ve escaped a lot of heartache because I’ve never gone down that dark alley of love. No wife and kids for me. My job won’t allow it.”
She looked around the place then back at him with questioning eyes. “Why do you say that, Frankie?”
“A man in a bar, surrounded by pretty woman all night isn’t something easily brushed off. I honestly don’t think I could be faithful, and that’s not fair.”
“So, because you like pretty women, you don’t fall in love because you can’t settle for one woman?” She shook her head. “That’s crazy, right there. Anyone can be a good wife or husband. It’s a decision you make.”
“Okay, then why don’t you have a husband? You’re beautiful, smart, and have a friendly personality. And don’t tell me there are no interested guys.”
“Too much baggage. And it’s hard to go home and deal with everything in my head. No one would understand.”
Chapter 5
Lincoln arrived at work the next day to see Mia already at her desk. She wore black pants, a white shirt, and a black jacket with sensible shoes. The normal dress code for most women who worked for the FBI. She wore her hair back and tucked in, a pale lipstick shaded her lips, and a dab of make-up accentuated her eyes. Lincoln had to wear a suit and tie every day.
“How’d you sleep last night?”
She groaned and rubbed her neck. “A couple of latecomers moved in next door for about three hours.” She wiggled her brows. “When I came down this morning, Opal gave me a complete run down on who had done what.” She smiled. “I wanted to go back up to my room and wash out my ears.”
“Good old, Opal. Biggest gossip in town.”
“Some things never change.”
“So, no rest for you?”
“I can’t say that. I went to Frankie’s Bar after we parted. Had a few beers, and when I got back, I was able to go to bed and sleep some.”
“Good. Amelia wants to know if you want to come to her house for dinner tonight. She’s taking pity on you for staying at the Wayward Inn.”
Mia’s face beamed. “In that case, I accept. What time?”
“We’ll just go there from work. I’ll send her a text.”
Austin came out and wanted them in his office. They went in and took a seat. Lincoln knew Austin would be in a bad mood. Knew he expected more from them, and he also knew Austin had been working the phones non-stop. “I don’t like that this guy is accelerating. That means more dead little girls.”
Mia cleared her throat. “Yesterday was a complete surprise. I’d have never guessed him doing that. Not after starting back up after a long absence. Usually, they ease back into things. Get the feel of the water before plunging in.” She shook her head and nibbled her bottom lip. “As far as we know, at no time did he ever kill two girls in one day.”
“So, he’s no longer fitting his profile?”
“Not completely,” she said, wanting to make her point. “But again, we’re dealing
with a different, older guy. We have to compensate for that and so does he.”
“He’s changed his MO by killing more often. That doesn’t make sense to me,” Austin said with authority. “Being older, you’d think he’d slow down.”
“Not if he thinks he’s running out of time.”
Austin leaned back and gave Lincoln a quick glance before coming back to her. “What do you mean?”
“I have no proof and there is nothing in the file to prove my theory,” Mia said quickly. “What if the Wise County Child Killer is dying?”
Lincoln turned to her and frowned. “Why do you think that? The man’s not that old.”
“No, but why else would he come back all of a sudden and start killing again?”
“Maybe he’s missed being away from what he loves to do best?” Lincoln said, leaning forward. “Maybe he’s making up for lost time.”
“Or maybe he knows he only has so much time left, and he wants to make the most of it.”
“I’m not sure I believe either one of you is right,” Austin said sternly, his eyes hard and certain. “First, we don’t know concretely this is the same guy. Yes, evidence points that way, but we’re a long way from a confirmation that this is our guy from twenty years ago.”
“You’re right,” Lincoln said. “But why else would someone come back to the WCCK’s stomping grounds and start killing, using his MO?”
“I don’t know,” Austin said, frustration dripping from his words. “It’s our job to find out.”
Lincoln opened the door and Mia stood. “We have a few things to check out today.”
“I believe, in a way, both of you could be right,” Austin admitted. “Or we’re way off base. But somehow, some way, we have to come up with some evidence that links a man to these murders. This guy isn’t invisible.”
“We’re on it,” Lincoln said, ushering Mia out the door.
“Keep me posted,” Austin yelled.
They left Austin’s office and Lincoln let out a deep sigh. “Damn, that was ugly.”
“It won’t get any easier, either.”
Lincoln’s phone rang. It was Dr. Abbott from Ft. Worth. “What have you found, Doc?”
“The garrote is exactly the same. He’s been using the same device since the first victim.”
“Thanks. Anything else?”
“No signs of any jewelry. Nothing there. However, I think I might have a suggestion about why he started using a condom.”
That caught Lincoln off guard. “Why?”
“What if he has AIDS or a sexually transmitted disease?”
Lincoln leaned back and blew out a frustrating breath. “Why would a killer care if he infects his victim?” His voice rose. “He kills them. That’s not the reason. It has to be something else.”
“I’ll keep working on it and see if I can think of anything else. In my opinion, the use of a condom holds the key,” the ME said.
Lincoln shoved his phone back in his pocket.
“What?” Mia asked.
He shook his head in disgust. “That was Abbott, and she thinks the killer used a condom because he has AIDS or something.”
Mia’s brow almost reached her hairline. “That’s highly unlikely.”
“I told her that. Doesn’t even make sense. But I am curious as to why he changed what he’d been successful at for so long.”
“Nobody knows exactly how these guys think. But I’m confident we’ll get to the bottom of everything and we’ll catch him.”
“I hope you’re right. The ME did say he’s used the same garrote all these years.”
She came to her feet. “Wow. Now that surprises me. I figured it had broken long ago and he was on his third or fourth killing tool. Well, it’s been twenty years. We really have no idea how long he’d killed before we started putting things together.”
Lincoln agreed. “Yeah. That could be forty years or more.”
“How in the world did it last this long with so many victims?”
Lincoln looked at her. “I wonder if it shows any wear and tear. Surely, after all these years, it had to change in some way. It just had to.”
“I think we need to pay the ME another visit. Something isn’t making sense here.”
Lincoln’s phone rang again. It was Lucas. “I have a person in my office who claims she saw something suspicious.”
Lincoln’s heart accelerated. “Really? We’ll be right there.” Lincoln stood. “Who is it?”
“Grandma Faith.”
Lincoln’s hopes dropped down four levels. “Oh, yay.”
They headed for Rainwater and to the police station. Grandma Faith sat in a room with a lone table, her purse in her lap, hands folded neatly as she waited patiently.
“I’m sorry for the wait, Grandma Faith,” Lincoln said, careful to keep his attitude calm and civil. “We got here as soon as possible.”
“When a person does all your work for you, you ought to get a move on,” Grandma Faith said in a sharp, reprimanding tone. “I haven’t got all day to sit here lollygagging around like I got nothing to do. I have to meet the ladies for quilting in less than an hour.”
Mia sat down, a gentle smile on her face. “Please allow me to introduce myself.”
Grandma Faith lifted her nose and scowled. “No need for that. I know who you are. And I know it was your sister that crazy man killed. Now, get on with the questioning.”
Lucas joined them and the three sat in the mostly empty room. “Do you need anything, Grandma Faith?” Lucas asked carefully.
She shook her head.
“What did you see?” Lincoln asked, hoping for a good answer. “Where were you when you saw this suspicious thing?”
She glared at the three of them. “Well, aren’t any of you going to write it down?”
“No. We record things now,” Lucas said calmly. “Makes it easier for us to pay attention to what’s being said.”
“Oh, well that makes sense,” Grandma Faith said, folding her arms politely on the table.
“What happened?” Mia asked.
Lincoln fought the urge to reach across the table and squeeze Grandma Faith by the throat because she drove him crazy, but he didn’t dare. The rougher he’d get, the more stubborn she’d become. Everyone in Rainwater knew to let the grandmas lead the way.
“I was taking a loaf of fresh baked bread to Malcom Stuart when I noticed something strange.”
“Where were you at the time?” Lincoln asked, leaning closer.
She looked at Lincoln like he’d sprouted horns. “I was on my way to Malcom’s, that’s where.”
“I mean in the city. Were you on Main Street?”
“No, for crying out loud. Why in the Lord’s name would I be way over here when he lives at least a mile away in the other direction?”
“Okay, where were you?” Mia asked again.
“On Parkland, one block away from where he lives, silly.”
She sounded like all this should make perfect sense when it didn’t.
“What exactly did you see?” Lincoln dared to ask.
She tightened her wrinkled lips and glared at Lincoln. “You gonna let me tell this or do you want the floor?”
Lincoln and Lucas exchanged a frustrated glance and leaned back, crossing their arms across their chests. They just had to wait her out.
“I was carrying this loaf of homemade bread I’d just baked this morning. He’s been down sick with a cold and I thought a nice jelly sandwich would make him feel better. But he only likes fresh bread, so I took him some.” She talked like they were all hard of hearing.
Silence grew as she stared at them. “Well, aren’t you gonna ask me any questions?”
“Did he like the bread?” Mia chanced. “And did you enjoy your visit?”
“He did, and yes, we had a nice little chat. Then I left, and on my way back to Hope’s house, I saw a van.”
Lincoln sat forward and so did Lucas. “A van?”
“Yes. It looked like a plumbing va
n, but it didn’t have a name on. It just said plumbing.” Grandma Faith stared forward like she was testifying in court.
“Which way was it going?”
“The opposite of me, that’s for sure.”
“Did you see who the driver was?”
Grandma Faith shook her head full of snow white curls. “Never seen the man in my life. Rough, ugly-looking character with a beard and beady little eyes. Looking around the whole time he was driving. I thought maybe he was trying to find a little girl to grab.”
“Anything else?” Lincoln asked carefully.
“Did I say he was ugly?”
“Yes,” Mia announced. “Yes you did.”
“And looked mighty suspicious?”
“We assumed that,” Lucas said. “Can you remember anything else about the van? Was it old or new?”
“It was older than I am.”
Lincoln doubted that anything in the town was older than Grandma Faith, unless it was her sisters.
“Okay, well, thank you very much, Grandma Faith,” Lucas said, helping the woman to stand. Lucas gave her his most charming smile. “Now don’t go skipping town. We might need to talk to you again.”
She smacked him on the arm with her purse. “You stop trying to flirt with me, Lucas Quinn. I know you, young man.” She turned and headed out of the door. “Skip town, my hinny.” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
The three of them laughed.
“What do you think?” Lincoln asked, not sure what to make of what Grandma Faith had said. “Anything to that?”
“It’s not going to hurt to look for the van. It should stick out pretty easily. I’ll put my deputies on it right away.”
“A van doesn’t give us much,” Mia pointed out.
Lincoln came to his feet. “It’s more than we had before. At least we have a lead to follow. Didn’t have that thirty minutes ago.”
Mia agreed. “You’re right, and for all we know, it might be him.”
“I say let’s check it out, and in the meantime, follow up on everything else.” Lincoln said, adjusting his tie. He turned to Lucas. “The ME in Ft. Worth says the killer has used the same garrote from the very first victim. Do you think that’s possible?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? It’s a tool of his trade.”
