One Last Scream (Special Agent Ricki James Book 2)

by C. R. Chandler

  “Of course, Richelle. It’s an insult that you would think I didn’t.” Wanda braced one foot against the floor of the porch and set her chair into motion. “I’ll look it up. You give me a ring tomorrow and I promise I’ll have it for you. But not too early, mind you. I’ve been sleeping in a little later these days.” She smiled. “Now, with that out of the way, how’s your mother?”

  Ricki spent another ten minutes answering Wanda’s questions about her mom, Eddie, how the divorce was going with Bear, and of course her relationship with “that handsome chief.” She blurted out an excuse at her first opportunity and made her escape, feeling she’d gotten off lightly for the information Wanda had promised her. Hopefully by tomorrow.

  She’d just made the turn out of Wanda’s driveway when her cell phone rang. It was her habit to put it on the seat next to her so she could see the caller ID easily. The name that flashed on her screen had her sucking in a startled breath and then letting it out in one rapid whoosh.

  She gingerly picked it up and put the receiver to her ear. “Hi.”

  “Hi, yourself. I’m here in town. At the hotel. I need to see you.”

  “Okay,” Ricki said slowly. “When?”

  “Now is good.”

  “Okay.” Ricki winced. She sounded like a parrot with a one-word vocabulary.

  “I’ll wait for you in the bar.”

  Telling herself she couldn’t duck out on repaying a favor forever, and it would be better to get it over with sooner rather than later, she resigned herself to making the extra stop at the St. Armand.

  It only took her a few minutes to reach the winding road leading up to the luxury hotel. As she made the turn, her uncle’s words flashed through her mind. Her mom had said that Marie was going to send her someone.

  It seemed that her mom had been right.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ricki walked into the St. Armand, pausing just a few feet in to take a look around. She nodded at the desk clerk, a bubbly twenty-year-old who occasionally dropped by the Sunny Side Up for breakfast before starting her workday at the grand hotel. The young woman returned a cheery smile and a wave before scurrying to the far end of the counter to help a waiting customer.

  The lobby boasted wide panels of antique oak and brass accents that gleamed in the soft light of crystal chandeliers. At the far end of the spacious room was a twenty-foot wall of glass that provided a perfect frame for the serene bay stretching out beyond the treetops.

  “Ricki.”

  She turned her head to the familiar voice, smiling as Clay paid for his coffee at the small cart against one wall, then walked over to join her.

  “Looking for me?”

  “Check the ego, Thomas. I’m here to meet a friend.” She glanced at the disposable cup in his hand. “Did you decide you liked the coffee here better than Anchorman’s? He’ll be crushed.”

  He grinned. “Unlike my ego, Anchorman’s is safe enough.” He gestured to the bank of elevators. “I’ve been up checking out Maxwell Hardy’s room.”

  Her mind happily shifted off her impending meeting and back to their case. Or cases. “Did you find anything interesting?”

  “Mostly it’s what I didn’t find,” he said. “No laptop. No little notebook.”

  “No leads,” Ricki said, correctly interpreting the frustrated look on his face. “I might have something.” When the chief quirked an eyebrow, she shrugged. “A small something. I paid a visit to Wanda Simms. She might know who owns that land and the lighthouse. She’s going to look through some notes she made and get back to me tomorrow.”

  Clay’s forehead wrinkled and his eyes narrowed. “Wanda Simms? The local . . .” He paused, obviously struggling to come up with the right description for Wanda.

  “Historian?” Ricki supplied with a grin. “And keeper of all gossip.” She nodded. “Yeah. That Wanda.”

  “And she has notes?” Clay asked.

  Now Ricki laughed. “In Wanda’s case, that wouldn’t be hard to believe, but it turns out she was writing a book about the history of Massey. She said the same people have owned that land since World War II.”

  “Good to know,” Clay said. “I hope your skeleton doesn’t go back that far, because that wouldn’t be a cold case. It would be a frozen-solid one.”

  And most likely the end of my investigation, Ricki thought. Hamilton wouldn’t let her put much time into it if it were that old, especially since there was no record of a missing ranger.

  “What friend are you meeting here?”

  Ricki quickly adjusted to the abrupt change in topics and wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Why the interest?”

  Clay chuckled. “Check your own ego there, James. Just a natural curiosity. But now that you brought it up, is it another guy?”

  “As a matter of fact, it is.” When Clay gave her an expectant look, she sighed and pushed her hands into her jacket pockets. “Josh Crawford.”

  Clay’s eyes opened wider. “Marie’s fiancé?”

  “The one and only.”

  “The guy whose calls you avoided for almost a year until you asked him for profiling help to catch Tatum Quinn?”

  Getting irritated, she shoved her hands even deeper into her pockets. “Yeah. Him.”

  “What does he want?”

  “I don’t know,” Ricki admitted. “I haven’t talked to him yet. He’s waiting in the bar.”

  He glanced in that direction. “Want some company?”

  She felt a small warmth in the pit of her stomach, calming some of the jitters dancing around there. It was nice to have someone watch your back. It was even better if that someone was Clay Thomas. But she shook her head. This was something she needed to do herself. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  He put his free hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be back at headquarters if you need to stop by.”

  “Thanks,” she repeated before taking a small step back and breaking the contact. “You have work, and I need to get this over with.”

  Despite the public setting, Clay leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her mouth. It was over and done before she could manage a protest. “I’ll see you later.” He straightened up and gave her a nod before walking off toward the front doors.

  She watched him for a moment before turning in the opposite direction, not sure what she felt about this one-sided shift in their relationship. Although she wasn’t doing much to stop it either. Sighing in annoyance at herself, she silently ordered her feet to get moving.

  The bar was off to the right of the front desk. Without breaking stride, Ricki turned in that direction and walked through the wrought-iron archway. The same bank of tall windows offering a slightly different, still spectacular view dominated the space with its comfortable chairs and mixture of square and round tables. She’d always thought the atmosphere wasn’t a hotel bar as much as a lounge for the leisurely rich, with drink prices to match. On her current tight budget, she never spent any time up at the St. Armand, much less indulged in its tourist-priced drinks, although she could certainly appreciate the views.

  She spotted Josh among the scattered tables of patrons, and he’d clearly been watching out for her because he immediately got to his feet. They stared at each other for a long moment before she finally moved forward.

  Josh Crawford. Medium height, handsome face with chiseled, masculine features, and dark-brown hair with eyes the same color. She remembered how they used to sparkle with laughter, especially at his own jokes. She hadn’t heard any laughter from him in a long time. Josh. An FBI agent with a bright future, a good athlete, and an all-around nice guy. And Marie’s fiancé. Or he used to be. When her former partner was alive.

  Once she crossed the room, Ricki halted next to the table, looking at him, not sure what to say. She hadn’t seen Josh since the funeral and had only talked to him a handful of times since then. Not from his lack of trying, but hers. Which had seemed like a good idea at the time, but with him standing right in front of her, made her feel p
etty and small.

  She opened her mouth and then closed it again, at a complete loss for words. And could only stand helplessly when Josh stepped around the edge of the table to engulf her in a hug. After a small hesitation, she raised her arms and hugged him back, accepting the comfort he was offering and giving some of it in return. When he stepped back, he held her at arm’s length and studied her face.

  “You look good, James. Better than when I last saw you. I could hear it in your voice, too, when you called.”

  Feeling a spurt of guilt, Ricki stiffened. “Look. I’m really sorry it took me so long.”

  He shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Not a problem. I could wait. And I was happy to help. Thanks for the follow-up and letting me know that you got the guy.” He frowned. “Although I heard through a back door that he almost got you.” Josh’s brown eyes grew a shade darker. “You left out that little detail.”

  “Since he didn’t get me, it wasn’t relevant,” Ricki said.

  His gaze took on a resigned look. “Uh-huh. Rushing in without backup is what I heard.”

  “I didn’t have much choice.”

  “And I wasn’t surprised, James. That’s so you.”

  “It is not.” Ricki glared at him, and then couldn’t help grinning when he broke into a laugh. A hint of that familiar sparkle was back in his eyes.

  “Thirty seconds before we start arguing.” Josh shook his head. “That might be a record.”

  “Not even close,” she declared before pointing at the table. “Want to sit down? Or we can keep arguing. Either way works for me.”

  He laughed again. “Let’s sit. I have something to give you.”

  She glanced at the table and for the first time noticed a thick manila envelope lying on it. She pulled out a chair while he settled into his seat. When she lifted her gaze from the envelope, he was staring at her.

  “You do look good, Ricki.”

  “So do you, Josh.”

  He turned his head and looked out the large bank of windows. “I was nervous about seeing you.” He sighed and shifted his attention back to her. “The two of you were always together. I see you. I see her.”

  “It’s been over a year,” Ricki said softly. “I’m told it will get better.”

  “Has it gotten better for you?” Since his tone was more curious than anything else, she relaxed a little.

  “In some ways, yes. In others, not so much. What about for you?”

  Josh ignored her question as he leaned in a little closer. “What do you mean, ‘in others not so much’?”

  Knowing he probably needed to talk it out with someone who’d known Marie, Ricki braced herself for an uncomfortable discussion. She’d avoided this for over a year, but it was the least she could do after all the help he’d given her.

  “I still have nightmares, Josh,” Ricki admitted. “About that night. For a few months I even saw a shrink about them. Now I take a hard run after I have one.”

  “It helps with the depression?” Josh asked.

  She hesitated. Depression was what the shrink had assumed, probably because she’d never been completely honest with him. But it wasn’t depression.

  “Anger,” she finally said. “I feel anger. It all plays out again, then I’m looking at Marie lying on the ground, and then I wake up angry.” She reached out across the table and laid a hand gently over his. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bring up all that pain again.”

  “No, no,” he quickly denied, flipping his hand over and curling his fingers around hers. “Anger is good. I understand that perfectly. I’m no shrink, but I think I can help.”

  “Help?”

  “I brought something I want you to read.”

  She withdrew her hand from his, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What is it?”

  “You read it. And then you tell me.” He pushed the envelope toward her. “It isn’t a lot to ask, Ricki. Just read it.”

  When she reluctantly reached for the envelope, he looked past her and nodded. “There’s someone who wants to meet you. I promised him an introduction.”

  “What?” Ricki swiveled around, spotting the tall, lean man with heavy-rimmed glasses who stood just inside the archway leading into the bar. She blinked once, and then twice. The last time she’d seen him had been on a Skype call.

  She turned back around. “Is that Dr. Blake?”

  Josh nodded. “Your personal profiler. When he heard you had another case, he wanted to come out and meet you in person.” Josh leaned back in his seat and studied the ceiling. “I’m sure it was the case that had him jumping on a plane from DC.”

  “I see that back door where you always got all your inside information is still fully functional,” Ricki said. “And my case might not be mine for very long. Right now it’s an unknown vic, who was shot, not on park land. If I don’t find a connection soon, I’ll be turning it over to the local police chief. So Dr. Blake made the trip for nothing.”

  “Uh-huh. Like I said, it’s probably the case.” Josh’s gaze turned troubled as he lowered his voice. “I’m hoping this isn’t a mistake.” When Ricki frowned, he shook his head. “Keep an open mind, and remember, you don’t have to agree to anything.”

  Her internal defenses snapped into place as Josh’s sudden intensity disappeared in the blink of an eye, watching silently as he got to his feet. “Jonathan. Perfect timing. We were just finishing up.” He clapped a hand onto his friend’s shoulder while he smiled at Ricki. “This is Dr. Jonathan Blake, FBI profiler.” He looked at Jonathan. “And this is none other than Special Agent Ricki James, expert investigator for the park service.”

  When Josh insisted that the doctor take his seat, Ricki sent a pointed look to the FBI agent. “Where are you going?”

  “To make some phone calls,” he said. His tone was bland, but he gave her a quick, hard stare before walking off.

  Left alone with the profiler, Ricki cast a sideways look at the bartender, who was openly watching them. Wondering how long it would be before Clay heard that she had met not one but two strange men in the bar, she inwardly groaned and settled back in her chair. She had a murder to solve, and a son and a diner to take care of. She didn’t need all these other complications, and especially not those cryptic comments from Josh. And what did he mean she didn’t have to do anything?

  The doctor glanced at the envelope lying in front of her. “I guess you agreed to look that over and get back to Josh?”

  Ricki lifted the envelope and tucked it into her lap underneath the table and out of sight. “More or less.”

  He pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. It was the same gesture that Eddie always made.

  “I guess since we’ve had a formal introduction, it’s time for me to explain why I’m here.”

  Ricki leaned back in her chair. The doctor didn’t look nervous or the least bit contrite for ambushing her this way, but once again, like Josh, he’d been a huge help on her last case. She at least owed him a few minutes to listen to what he’d come to say. “That would be nice.”

  “I wanted to meet you.” He shrugged. “Sometimes it’s just that simple. I’d heard during your first stint with the park service how good you were at solving puzzles and pinpointing killers, which is why I jumped at the chance to watch you in action. You didn’t disappoint, Ricki.”

  She smiled. As compliments went, that one was pretty good. So why did she feel like there was more to it than one professional acknowledging another? “Neither did you, Jonathan. The body count would have been a lot higher without your help.”

  “Then we made a good team.”

  Wondering where this was going, she kept her smile in place. “It would seem so.”

  He let out a big breath, as if he’d been holding it, waiting for her answer. “I hear you have another case?”

  “Are you keeping tabs on me, Dr. Blake?”

  “I’m a fan,” he said easily. “I understand there’s a couple of odd twists in this one?”

  Ricki
relented. She’d rather talk about the case than wander into some other strange territory, which is where the good doctor seemed to have been heading. “I’m not sure it’s the park service’s case. What we have is an old skeleton with a bullet wound along a rib, lying next to a neatly folded ranger’s uniform.”

  Jonathan folded his hands and rested them on the table. “Interesting. Anything else? I hear there was another body, and the location where they were both found was rather unique.”

  She quickly gave him the bare facts, which didn’t take long because there weren’t many, ending with Dan Wilkes’s thoughts about the badge.

  His eyes widened behind the oversized lenses of his glasses. “And the ME thinks the skeleton is at least twenty-five years old?” Jonathan asked.

  “At least,” Ricki confirmed.

  “This killer went to great lengths to conceal the body. From the way you describe it, it couldn’t have been easy to get it up there. Unless he met his victim there?” He kept his gaze locked on hers while she shrugged.

  “I don’t know. He might have, but the lab guys tested the dirt under the body. They didn’t find any traces of blood, so I’m thinking he was transported up there somehow after he bled out,” Ricki said.

  “It’s not unheard of, but still unusual to be that respectful.” Jonathan said, abruptly changing directions. “The body was laid out, the uniform neatly folded. I’d say you’re looking for someone who knew the victim quite well. Maybe a family member, or a friend, or coworker? Doesn’t sound like the actions of a jilted lover, but that can’t be ruled out either.” Jonathan leaned back, his lips pursed, his eyes half-closed behind the lenses of his glasses. “I’d be leaning more toward one of the closer relationships, like family, friend, or maybe a lover, which would explain why the uniform was neatly folded. Your victim might have taken off his own clothes in anticipation of a sexual encounter.”

  “He undressed himself in a meeting with a lover?” Not unless he took them off after he was shot, Ricki thought, but she kept that tidbit to herself. She really didn’t want to prolong this meeting with the doctor, not even to talk over a case. There was something off about the way he was watching her so closely. She felt like a bug under a microscope.