by Carolina Mac
“I’m having it engraved.”
“Ooh, can’t wait.”
He smiled as he took the ramp for route one.
“Why did he change parks?” she asked as they crossed the bridge.
Blaine felt needles in the back of his neck. “How do you know he did?”
“We’re not going to Zilker,” she said, “this isn’t the way.”
“Right.” He let out the breath he was holding. “I thought it was a message you got.”
She reached over the console and rubbed his thigh. “I’m sending you a message. Are you receiving it?”
“Hey, don’t do that. I have to talk to a bunch of guys and I don’t want wood.”
She giggled and winked at him. “I didn’t have time for coffee.”
“Me neither. I’ll do a drive-through.”
“Thanks. You always say the right thing.”
“That’s a stretch.”
Blaine drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited in line at the drive-through. “I should have parked and gone inside. Would have been quicker.”
“We’re next. It’s only been five minutes.”
“I’m always desperate for my first coffee of the day. Do you want a Danish or a muffin?”
“No, just coffee. I’ll eat later.”
BLAINE WHEELED the big diesel down the road leading into the green space.
“Oh, look at all the TV people,” said Misty, “and it’s barely morning.”
“They fuckin never sleep,” barked Blaine. “I’ll kill them all if they get in my way.”
He turned on the siren and drove slowly through the narrow alleyway the media vehicles had left open. They were parked bumper to bumper on both sides of the two-lane road. “I’m gonna make sure they all get tickets.”
“Drink your coffee. You’re kind of a bruin without it.”
He parked behind a line of squad cars and shut off the engine. “I’m taking my caffeine with me.”
“I’ll follow you, but I’ll stop when you tell me.”
“Okay. We’ll find a spot for you. Close, but not too close.” He helped her down from her side of the truck, and glanced at what she was wearing. Jeans and a sweater. No jacket. “You don’t look warm enough. It’s cold and damp this morning.”
“I’m okay. My coffee will keep me warm.”
Blaine rested one hand lightly on her back as they merged between vehicles to walk down the road.
A swarm of reporters and cameramen descended on them like starving bees on the last two flowers. They shouted out questions no one could hear and ran film no one would ever see. Blaine held up a hand and shouted, “Stop right there. I’ve got nothing to say until I look at the scene.”
They didn’t stop. One red-haired reporter pushed past the others with his mic pointing in front of him like a laser. He stepped in front of Misty in his haste to get to Blaine and with his elbow, knocked her into the side of a squad car. She lost her footing and fell, dropping her coffee and squealing as the hot liquid burned her hand.
Blaine turned, threw his container at the herd of reporters, spun around and drove the red-haired guy in the face. The guy hollered, grabbed his bleeding nose and backed off.
Uniforms came running to help and pushed the reporters back. “Close this road,” hollered Blaine, “block it off at the last intersection and make sure every one of these assholes gets a citation for illegal parking. We can’t work like this and we won’t.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. B.” The officer hollered at the throng. “Get in your vehicles and clear the road. You’ll have to park somewhere else.” He motioned to his comrades to come and help him.
Blaine helped Misty to her feet and hugged her. “Do you want to wait in the truck? Where did the coffee burn you?”
There were tears in her eyes as she shook her blonde curls. “I’m okay. I had no idea how hard your job was. I would have been so worried.”
Blaine managed a smile. “We haven’t even got there yet.”
Once the uniforms pushed the media back, Blaine and Misty made their way into the park. They crossed an open field, then picked their way through a long patch of rocky terrain.
“This is just a hiking trail,” said Blaine. “I have to go down into the ravine. Why don’t you sit on this stump and wait here? You can see me down there and maybe something will come to you.”
“Why did he change from the nice smooth bike paths in Zilker to this wild area?”
“We were pushing him.”
“Oh.” Misty nodded and sat down on the tree stump. “I can hear water close by.”
“Down at the bottom. I’ll be back as soon as I can, then we’ll go get breakfast and replace our coffee.”
IT WAS A LONG and arduous trek to the bottom of the hill, and Blaine was winded when he got down there. “Holy fuck, this location is gonna be a nightmare for the techs,” he said to Lopez. “Jesus, did he have to throw her bicycle down the hill after her?”
“She wasn’t riding her bike in this park,” said Nielsen. “Not in this area. This is an untamed area and the only people who use it are hikers, photographers, and nature lovers.”
“He didn’t kill her here?” asked Blaine. “He knelt down on the rocks beside the girl’s body and took a close look at the blue bandana. “We’ve sourced these bandanas, haven’t we?”
“Yep,” said Lopez, “One of the first things we did. Common brand. You can buy them all over Austin and all over Texas. Hundreds of different stores.”
“Bring Ken Schofield in on suspicion of murder and I’ll try for a warrant on his residence,” said Blaine. “Maybe he buys these by the case.”
“You sure about him?” asked Nielsen. “He looks kind of wimpy to me.”
Blaine shook his head. “Not sure at all, but did you get a look at his hands? He’s got the hands for it. Other than that, the asshole doesn’t tick any of my boxes, but there’s something off about him. If he’s not the killer, he’s into something else. We’ll roust him and keep him on edge.” Blaine made a quick call to Travis and woke him up.
There was a rustling in the trees on the other side of the creek, loud enough for all heads to turn that way. “What’s over there? Animal or human?” asked Nielsen.
“Shit,” said Blaine. “Wish I had the dogs here.” He whipped out his cell and called Farrell.
“What time is it?” Farrell sounded bushed.
“Seven-thirty, now. I need the dogs in Barton Wilderness at the bottom of the ravine.”
“What are you saying, boss?”
“Don’t know if he killed her here, but he tossed her body and her bike into the ravine.”
“I’m up,” said Farrell. “I need coffee.”
Blaine turned to Lopez. “I’ll go up and wait for Farrell. Maybe the dogs can get a direction, or pick up something for us.”
“Hope so,” said Lopez. “We’re pretty thin on this one.”
Misty sat with her eyes closed at the top of the hill. “Hey, girl, you getting any vibes or whatever you call them?”
She nodded. “Flashes, I call them. Pictures moving so fast, I can hardly see the people in them.”
“Can you slow them down?”
She smiled. “That would be convenient, wouldn’t it?”
“What does he look like? Could you work with a sketch artist?”
“Possibly.”
“I have another idea, but we can’t act on it until we’re done here, and now we’ll be here longer because I asked Farrell to bring Red.”
She smiled, and Blaine said, “What? Are you reading my mind again?”
“I don’t read minds, but sometimes thoughts come into my head from other people’s heads.”
“That never happens to me, but okay. So what thought did you get from me?”
“We’re going to the evidence locker to touch the bandana from the first murder. The pink one.”
“Wow, that’s accurate.” He leaned on a tree. “I’m impressed.”
Twigs
snapping, and leaves rustling alerted them to movement in the woods. “Here come the troops.” Blaine said good morning to the ME, his assistant, and following behind were three boys from the crime lab, each carrying his kit.
Blaine gave Misty his hand. “Let’s go meet Farrell.”
They were halfway across the rocky section of ground and almost to the field when the Governor called. “Farrell told me what was happening before he left. Are you close to making an arrest?”
“I’m bringing someone in for questioning, but I don’t have a scrap of evidence on him. Travis will help us out. Don’t worry, sir.”
“All I do is worry, son. And now being here with Annie, even though it’s good in a lot of ways, I’m worried about her state of mind. She’s not herself.”
He’s still at the ranch? What’s going on?
“You should be able to make a statement by Monday. Can you give me that long?”
I’m turning into a compulsive liar. Fuck.
“I fear federal involvement if they classify this as a serial. You know what a nightmare that can be.”
“I’m counting on you to talk sense into the Mayor and Chief of Police. They need to give us a fighting chance before they go off half-cocked and bring in unwanted help.”
“I’ll talk to both of them this morning and tell them that’s not going to happen.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t. I have something in mind for this afternoon. I’ll let you know how it pans out.”
“Is it a secret?”
“Sort of. Not something we want in the paper.”
“Annie’s calling me for breakfast. I better go.”
Misty stood beside him in mid-field. She didn’t ask questions about his work and he liked that about her.
Maybe she doesn’t need to ask questions. She already knows.
“That was my boss,” said Blaine.
“Didn’t know you had a boss. You seem to be your own boss.”
“I am, but I work with someone in the Capitol.”
Misty smiled. “A secret boss?”
“Governor Richardson monitors my progress, but I don’t actually work for him. I help him out with a few things.”
“You are so cute, I want to do you in this field.”
Blaine looked down at the shale under their feet. “Not on the rocks, okay?”
“Okay.”
FARRELL ARRIVED WITH RED, and Blaine sent Misty to the truck to keep warm. He got Farrell and Red started at the bottom of the hill where the medical examiner was about to zip up the body. “Start here and work backwards. See where he parked and which direction he came from. If anything turns up along the way, it will be a bonus.” He patted Farrell on the arm. “I know you’re tired, bro. Steaks tonight, I promise.”
“Travis get to sleep in?” asked Farrell with a frown.
Blaine grinned at Farrell’s annoyance. “Nope. I’m having Schofield picked up for another round of questioning. Travis is watching the residence and waiting for that to happen, then he’s going to work his magic. Taking your suggestion on the dog collar.”
“Chalk up one for me,” Farrell mumbled.
BLAINE AND MISTY sat next to the window at I-Hop eating stacks of pancakes saturated with syrup and butter. “Don’t know when I’ve been so hungry,” said Blaine. “Guess I don’t go hiking up and down ravines before breakfast every day.”
“I’ve never been to that park before,” said Misty. “Huge green space.”
Blaine drained his cup and dug money out of his wallet for the check. “Ready to go do your stuff?”
“My stuff only works when it wants to. I can’t turn it off and on like a faucet.”
He grinned at her. “Maybe I can turn your tap on when the time comes.”
She winked at him. “I love it when you talk dirty.”
The evidence locker in the basement at headquarters was all but deserted. A female officer with a too-tight uniform manned the cage. Without glancing up from a paperback she was reading, she said, “enter the case number on the list beside your badge number.”
Blaine complied, and she headed back into the archives to get the box. She hefted it onto a table and pointed. “Not heavy. Not much in there.”
Blaine nodded, and lifted the lid. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves, lifted out the pink bandana and laid it in front of Misty. Then he sat down and waited.
Her blue eyes focused on it for a few seconds, then ever so slowly she moved two fingers closer to the corner and touched it. Tears came to her eyes as soon as she made contact. Blaine jumped when Misty squealed and put her hands over her ears. She shook her blonde curls and began sobbing.
Blaine rounded the table and hugged her. “Okay, that’s enough. Let’s go.” He replaced the bandana and signed out.
When they were in the corridor, he asked, “Do you want to tell me?”
Misty whispered, “She knew him. She was screaming don’t, Ken, don’t while he was raping her.”
Blaine cocked his head to one side. “Ken? She said, Ken?”
Misty nodded. “Does that help?”
“It does, sweetheart, you did great.” He gave her a hug and felt her shivering. “I’ll call a cab and send you home.”
“Not yet. I saw his face. I want to do a sketch.”
Blaine’s eyes widened. “You saw his face?”
She nodded.
“Let’s go upstairs and I’ll set you up with the sketch artist.”
TRAVIS WATCHED the squad car drive down the street with Ken Schofield in the back seat. It was broad daylight and that wasn’t his only problem. He had to get inside and subdue a big dog in order to get a tracker into the dog’s collar.
He moved closer to the house from his parking spot down the street, walked right up to the front door with a bag in his hand and waited. He didn’t expect anyone to answer the door, and if they had, he probably would have shit himself. After an appropriate amount of time in case the neighbors were watching—and they always were—he moseyed around the back, whipped a magic tool out of his back pocket and was inside the house in thirty seconds.
The dog, Max, came bounding towards him, teeth bared and ready for round one. Travis said, “Hey, Max,” and tossed a piece of steak into the air. Max caught it, didn’t bother to chew and swallowed. The dog forgot about growling, moved closer and waited for another piece of meat. Travis threw it, and by the fourth piece, they were buddies. He stroked Max’s ears, removed the collar, slit the leather on the underside and inserted the tag. He was doing up the buckle when the alarm sounded.
“Shit, it must have been on a timer from when the door closed. Should have thought of it, Max. Guess you put me off my game.” He ran out the back, locking the door behind him, and made for his truck. He was rounding the corner when he met a security van with lights flashing.
That was close. I should have been more careful.
KEN SCHOFIELD was in interrogation room number two. Blaine sat down across from him and looked him up and down. Bags under his eyes. Unshaven. Didn’t smell as bad as he had the first time. “We meet again, Ken.”
“I’m waiting for my attorney. I’ll wait alone, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all, Ken. In fact, I’m grateful. Chatting to you would be a waste of my time. You’ll make a mistake one day soon and when you do, I’ll be right there in your face.”
“You’re a whack job, know that? And I’m going to file a complaint against you personally. Right after I sue Austin PD for false arrest.”
“Next time I arrest you, Ken, it won’t be false.” Blaine left the interrogation room laughing.
He called Travis. “Get it done?”
“Yep. Done.”
“Smithville steakhouse at six-thirty.”
“Got it, boss.”
MISTY WORKED with the sketch artist for two solid hours while Blaine sat silently at the other side of the room and drank bad coffee from the vending machine.
A tap came on the door and Blaine opened i
t to Lopez. They stepped into the corridor and Lopez said, “I heard you had called in Celia Winthrop.”
“Yeah, I thought it was worth a shot.”
“You must have a witness that you didn’t think to tell me about,” his voice had an edge to it.
“Nope. Wouldn’t do that to you, Detective. This is another direction I’m following and it’s a little on the hinky side.”
“How hinky? Do I want to know?”
“Probably not. My girlfriend, Misty, is a psychic.”
Lopez made a sound with his tongue. “Jesus, Blacky, you are the last man on earth I’d peg for a believer. You’re all about science.”
Blaine shrugged. “The Governor is pressing me for a speedy wrap up and that’s not going to happen. Let’s give her a chance.”
“Damn it, man, I don’t like it.” Lopez shook his dark head. “This could turn out bad.”
Blaine opened the door and Lopez followed him in.
Celia smiled at Lopez. “I think we’re finished, Detective.” She pushed the sketch towards him.
Lopez and Blaine both stared at the picture and then stared at each other. “Ever seen him before?” asked Lopez.
“Nope. You?”
BLAINE CALLED Mary Polito. “Could you come downtown to my office? I have something to discuss.” He’d taken copies of the sketch and moved to his own office so his going public with the picture would not be connected to Austin PD. He’d take the flak—and there would be plenty—on his own.
“Of course, Mr. Blackmore. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Come alone, Mary. We won’t need a photographer.”
“I’ll be alone.”
Blaine called Scott, told him about Misty, and about the sketch artist and what he was planning.
The Governor was antsy about the third murder hitting the news. “You know what the headline will be, son. And there will be nothing on the news except serial killer loose in Austin.”
Might give the folks a rest from what the President is up to.
“That’s exactly why we need this in the morning paper.”
“Umm… I’m not sure if this is the way to go. What if it’s just this girl’s imagination and it’s the wrong person?”
