Читать книгу To Catch a Killer - Kimberly Meter Van - Страница 8

Matthew caught Kara leaving the morgue. His first instinct was to ignore her and keep walking, but there was something about her drawn expression that slowed his feet before he could form a different directive in his brain.

The minute she realized she was not alone in the hall, her features relaxed into the blank, professional mask that Matthew knew came from training and not from her true feelings. That intimate knowledge of her personally should have given him an edge but it just made him feel as if he’d trespassed somehow.

“Did you get what you needed?” He gestured toward the morgue.

“Yes.” As an afterthought, she added, “Thanks.”

“Enough with the ‘thank yous,’” he said, narrowing his gaze. Tiny lines of fatigue bracketed her eyes—he hadn’t noticed them before. Shake it off. If the woman couldn’t sleep, that was her problem. “Listen, you and I both know I was just being courteous. I don’t need thank-yous. You’re here to do a job and I’m here to help on my end. Everyone has the same goal—to catch this freak—and I’m not going to stand in the way of that.”

She regarded him for a long moment and he wondered what was going through that mercurial mind. “Glad to hear it. Did you find anything unusual at the crime scene?” she asked, switching gears.

“Aside from a dead body?”

“Paper, fabric, wood chips that obviously didn’t come from the area … anything like that?”

“No. Why?”

She shook her head. “I’ll need to be apprised of any trace evidence that was collected. I’ll want to send it to our labs for analysis,” she said.

“Just make sure it makes it back when you’re through.”

“Of course. We don’t do things sloppy.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it. And you didn’t answer my question.”

And she clearly didn’t want to. She looked at him as if he were a nuisance with impertinent questions. She was definitely of the “need to know” camp and it was apparent he didn’t share the same clearance. Finally, she answered briefly. “The killer left something behind in the first murders.”

He shifted. The conversation he most wanted to have with her kept moving to the forefront of his mind, but he managed to keep on topic. “I’ve been following this case in the press—” She made an expression that said who hasn’t? “It’s getting quite the coverage but I don’t remember that bit of information. Can’t hardly open a newspaper without seeing something on the case. The press is having a field day with the grisly Babysitter nickname. How’d they come up with that one?”

She spared him a brief look, irritation in full bloom, but he didn’t know if it was directed at him or the media. “Catch phrases and nicknames sell papers and boost ratings,” she said, disdain just under the surface. “And somehow … the press got a hold of information that was sensitive to the case.”

“Such as?”

“In both cases the person watching over the child, a caregiver of some sort, was killed when the victim was taken. So the press dubbed him the Babysitter Killer, which then was shortened to the Babysitter.”

“Catchy,” he murmured, wondering what kind of sick person did these kinds of things to kids and their caregivers. “I knew when I saw the body it was that Linney girl. What made you think it was the Babysitter involved and not some other nut job with a thing for kids?”

“The evidence. The killer likes to tie them up, which leaves distinct ligature marks on the skin.” She sighed. “Hannah had the same marks as the other two. And when we find something left behind with a message, there will be no doubt.”

“No doubt?”

“No, there’s not.” She met his gaze squarely. “Not one.”

Her confidence was both impressive and bordering on smug. He found both irritating.

“I read that one of the victims, Drake Nobles, was the son of Senator Nobles?” When she jerked a short nod in the affirmative, he shook his head. He wouldn’t want to be in her shoes. “Getting pressure yet?”

She stiffened. “No more than any other case. We don’t place priority that way. Someone’s out there, killing kids. That makes this case move to the top.”

He smiled, knowing full well she was probably getting squeezed by her superior who was no doubt taking it from the senator, but he was amused by her attempt to appear otherwise. “Well, I’m sure it can’t be easy being in your place. Head of the CARD Team assigned to this case. Kids dying on your watch. Must suck. Especially for someone who’s as ambitious as you.”

She swallowed and her eyes registered the veiled reference to her past, even if she didn’t immediately jump back with an acidic retort as he’d hoped. Kara readjusted her camera bag and simply offered a perfunctory smile, one that she might give an annoying reporter, and said, “Well, you know, that’s why they pay me the big bucks. Good night, Matthew.” And then she stalked past him, taking great care not to make contact with him in any way—as if he had the plague or something.

He should’ve followed her lead and continued to his office but his gaze lingered as she walked the long hallway, past rows of plaques and pictures of past chiefs hung on the walls, her shiny black boots clicking softly on the old tiled and dingy floor. Shoulders stiff as hardened plastic, she gave little indication of her mood except for the subtle yet angry twitch and sway of her hips. He suppressed a chuckle for no other reason than he recognized he’d delivered a low blow for selfish reasons and it didn’t feel right to enjoy it so much. But it felt good. Bad as it was. After what she did to Neal … well, it’s a damn miracle he didn’t toss her from the Widow’s Bridge and be done with it.

One could dream … he sighed and walked to his office to finish his paperwork for the night.

Kara got back to the motel, still fuming. What a passive-aggressive prick. Why didn’t he just come out and say what was on his mind? Obviously, it was killing him to hold it back, and instead of getting it off his chest so they could all focus on the job, he kept slipping in little jabs at her expense.

“Must suck,” she mimicked under her breath as she unlocked the motel room door and slammed it behind her. And how did he know all that about her? She placed her camera on the bed and jerked off her overcoat. A light blinked on the phone indicating she had a message waiting. She lifted the receiver and retrieved the message, sighing when it was Colfax again. He’d already left two voice mails on her cell.

A soft knock at the front door and Dillon walked in a second later. She replaced the receiver. “I could’ve been naked,” she said, pulling her cell phone free from its holster at her hip. “Try waiting until I answer, will you?”

“And miss a chance to catch you in your birthday suit? Never.” He gestured toward the phone. “That Colfax?”

“Yeah. He call you?”

“Yes. I told him you were too busy fighting with the local chief to take his calls but you’d get back to him as soon as you were able.”

She glared, even though she knew he would never say such a thing to their director. “You’re lucky I know you’re kidding. You know that British humor … it’s a hit and miss thing with Americans. Most of the time we just don’t get it.”

“No, you don’t get it because you don’t have a sense of humor.”

“Ha-ha. Are you here to bust my balls or do you have something useful to share?”

“Actually, I do. The fax came from Dr. Benton, that geologist from Davis University we sent the mineral sample to.”

That got her attention. “And?”

“And it seems maybe our killer is from your own backyard. The mineral found on the body of the Garvin boy is called orickite. It’s a sulphide and it’s only found around these parts. Do you know of any active mines close by?”

“No, but we can certainly find out.” She started for the phone but then remembered Lantern Cove pretty much shut down after five. “Are the rest of the team settled in?”

Dillon nodded. “Four rooms booked down the hall, all federal agents. You want me to get them rounded up for a meeting? I thought we’d meet first thing in the morning over a spot of breakfast, preferably something hot to keep the hypothermia at bay.”

“Smart-ass. And, no. Go ahead and bring them over now. You and I are going for a hike tomorrow.”

“A hike?” Dillon’s brow arched. “What kind of hike? I don’t know if I brought the right wardrobe for that sort of excursion.”

“We’re going back to the crime scene. In the first two murders, the killer left something behind. Matthew’s team didn’t find anything but I know the killer left his signature calling card. We have to find it.”

“We haven’t concluded that what you’re thinking of as clues were actually left behind by the killer. There was no DNA on the paper found near the Garvin boy and it was printed on a computer so we can’t even get a handwriting analysis.”

Kara shook her head. “It wasn’t random. He wants us to think that it is but there’s no reason a child would carry around something like that.” She met his dubious stare. “I’m right about this. I can feel it.”

“You’re the boss,” Dillon said with a sigh. “What time tomorrow?”

“At 7:00 a.m.”

He groaned. “Just because you’re an insomniac doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”

“At 7:00 a.m.,” she repeated. “Not a minute later.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “Now, go call the team. I want to get this briefing underway before everyone starts trying to claim overtime.”

By the time the briefing was over and everyone had returned to their rooms for the night, Kara felt an all-over body fatigue and actually welcomed the thought of sinking into the motel bed.

She rose on legs stiff from sitting in one position too long. After washing her face and throwing on some pajamas, she climbed into the bed and gratefully closed her eyes. Perhaps tonight she’d be able to sleep without the details of the case she was working scrolling across her brain in rapid succession, screaming for closure, demanding everything she had and then some.

But even as she started to drift into slumber, a memory, buried deep, surfaced and she rolled onto her side as if to escape it.

Summer, 1990. She, Neal and Matthew were driving to the beach … the smell of her coconut suntan lotion filled the truck’s cabin … the sound of their laughter mingled with the music of Aerosmith … she felt safe, flanked by the two boys.

Then, as dreams often do, the scene changed without warning to the night before she left. The fight. The words that were said that couldn’t be taken back. The heavy weight of regret and guilt that she carried each time she looked into her daughter’s eyes.

Matthew’s eyes.

Kara tossed. The dream faded but the feeling that she’d lost something precious remained. Just as it always did.

Her eyes cracked open a slit but slid closed again. For once sheer exhaustion overruled everything else. And she was grateful.

The next morning was much like the day Hannah’s body was found, only bleaker as dark storm clouds gathered on the horizon and headed straight for Lantern Cove. Angry waves crashed against the inland rocky shores as the wind picked up and howled through the trees.

If Kara were the superstitious sort, she’d say there was an uneasy energy coursing through the air. But she certainly didn’t believe in that crap, nor would she admit to the shiver that ricocheted down her spine as she waited for Dillon.

“Picked a cherry of a day to go hiking,” he said, locking his door and pocketing his key. “If it rains, we’ll lose whatever trace you’re hoping to find.”

Kara looked to the sky and nodded grimly. “I know. We should get a move on. Maybe we can beat the rain.”

Dillon shook his head. “I don’t know, but we can try. Oh, by the way, I left a voice mail for Beauchamp to let him know we were going out there,” he said as they climbed into Kara’s Range Rover.

She looked at him sharply. “Why’d you do that? We don’t need his permission.”

“No, but it’s a professional courtesy and you know it. Why are you so set on making an enemy of this guy?”

Too late for that. Kara opened her mouth but snapped it shut, knowing that if she let fly what had popped into her head it would only open the door for more discussion about her past. She wasn’t interested in doing that. “You’re right. Sorry. I need coffee.”

“No problem. There’s a coffee shop along the way.”

“Good.” She looked to Dillon. “I didn’t mean to snap. This place combined with the case … it’s got me on edge.”

He accepted her answer but then said with a cheerfulness that was unnatural that early in the morning, “Well, since you’re already grouchy, I should let you know that Beauchamp called me back after I left a voice mail. Seems he keeps the same late hours as you, fancy that. He said he’d meet us out there.”

She jerked to face Dillon. “What?”

Dillon shrugged. “Figured another pair of eyes wouldn’t hurt. Besides, he knows the area.”

“I know the area,” Kara said, trying not to grit her teeth. “We don’t need Beauchamp.”

“You used to know the area. You’ve been gone a long time. A lot can change. Honestly, Thistle, what the hell is wrong with you? You’ve never gotten so bent about working with the locals before. Besides, it only makes sense to add him to the task force. What’s wrong?”

Kara shoved the gearshift into Drive. “Nothing.”

“There you go lying again. You have the most entertaining tic in your eye—minute, really—when you lie through your teeth. Good fun to watch under most circumstances but this morning I’m not really in the mood—so just get on with it and spill already.”

“We just don’t get along.” That much was obvious. “Why would I want him tagging along?” Kara snapped, then hearing her own shrewish tone, she tried again. “I mean, I don’t want anything to distract me from the job and if I have a surly police chief to deal with, I might miss something crucial.”

“Be that way. There’s more to it. But you’re obviously determined to be a horse’s ass about the whole thing. So piss off with you, then.”

Thank goodness for small favors. The ensuing silence allowed her to shake loose the tight feeling in her chest that constricted her lungs the minute Dillon mentioned Matthew. She worried her bottom lip until she realized she was doing it and quickly stopped. She glanced at Dillon. “I was engaged to his best friend, Neal,” she said, breaking the silence reluctantly.

“You, engaged? Pardon me for a minute while I suspend my disbelief.” He paused a minute as if mentally switching gears and just as she was tempted to throw him out of her car while driving at a high rate of speed, he continued. “So what happened?”

“He died.”

“Before or after you broke off the engagement?”

She startled. “How’d you know it was me that broke it off?”

Dillon’s smile was slow and just smug enough to ride the edge of annoying. “I know you. You’re a heartbreaker, not the heartbroken.”

That’s where Dillon was wrong. Her heart had been broken, she was just adept at shoving the shattered pieces into a dusty corner. “He died after.”

“How’d he die?”

Kara pursed her lips, not quite sure she wanted to share the rest. She worked very hard to keep those details from crowding her on a daily basis. Dillon was prodding her relentlessly, so she relented but kept to the barest of facts, as if she were relating details of a case instead of pieces of her past.

“He wanted me to stay in Lantern Cove. I’d just been accepted into the bureau. I had to go. He didn’t agree. We parted ways and unfortunately, a month later he died in a car accident. Can we drop it now? The memories aren’t pleasant and I try not to go there anymore.”

“Fair enough.”

She focused on the drive to Wolf’s Tooth and soon they were there.

Matthew was waiting. He stood casually against his Jeep Cherokee, his expression inscrutable, his breath curling in the cold.

They exited the car. Kara nodded to Matthew. “Thanks for meeting us,” she offered, even if she didn’t mean it.

“So what do you think my team missed?”

“Like I mentioned earlier, with both of the past victims, the killer left behind a small clue. Something that in overgrown, wooded terrain might easily get missed if the investigator didn’t know what to look for.”

“Such as?” His expression darkened even as she knew his mind was working quickly.

“Something with a message. With the Garvin boy, it was a slip of paper tucked into a pocket. On Drake Nobles, it was one of those candy hearts with a printed message. At first we thought it was random, some weird little quirk, but I soon realized he was baiting us. Mocking us. He doesn’t think he’s going to get caught.”

Matthew pushed off the vehicle, his tone all business. “Let’s do it. The rain is coming and that bastard is getting caught.”

The three started the climb down into Wolf’s Tooth, for the second time in as many days, the cold biting into her skin while brambles scratched and grabbed, and Kara remembered why she’d never enjoyed hiking.

Kara slid the final few feet and if Matthew hadn’t caught her, his strong grip closing around her waist, she would’ve fallen flat on her butt, or worse, gone tumbling head over heels.

“Watch your step,” he said. Electricity sparked between them with the accidental contact and Kara stopped the immediate gasp that nearly flew from her mouth.

“Thanks,” she muttered, stepping away from him.

His gaze swept over her but he didn’t say anything else, just turned and kept walking. “This way.”

They walked twenty more feet before they reached the area where Hannah’s body was found and Dillon said he was going to canvas the perimeter, leaving Kara and Matthew to search the underbrush.

The foliage, dense and varied shades of green, was damp from the misty weather. A distant crack of thunder heralded the coming storm.

“He kept her alive for a few days,” Matthew said, without breaking his careful search. He looked up. “Did he do that with his other victims?”

It was one of the details that bothered Kara the most. Each time a child went missing, that short window of time seemed to taunt them for they knew it wasn’t long enough to find them. The killer knew it, too. “Yes. He’s a sadist. He wants to enjoy their pain.”

“You keep referring to the killer as a he. Is there something you know that you’re not saying?”

“No. Statistically, serial killers are men. I don’t care if it’s a man or a woman. Either way, he or she is going down. I think it’s just easier sometimes for me to think of him as a man.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips but it was gone in a heartbeat. “Why? Because it’s hard to believe a woman would do something so awful to a child?”

She met his gaze and answered truthfully. “Yes.”

“Who knew … Kara Thistle has a soft spot after all.”

She scowled, realizing her mistake. “I’m going to check over there. Holler if you find something.”

Kara made her way carefully through the underbrush, noting every detail of the terrain, looking for some kind of sign that the killer had screwed up and left behind more than just a discarded body. She glanced back at Matthew, his solid form moving through the dense forest ground cover, and wondered if there’d ever come a day when those blue eyes didn’t smolder with hatred when they focused on her.

Not likely. An unexpected burn behind her eyes caught her off guard. She wiped at them with an impatient motion, irritation blooming at her own lack of control just because she was around Matthew again. What was wrong with her?

“Hey, I think I found something.”

Moving briskly, she pulled a glove from her pocket and slipped it on as she went. “What have you got?”

Matthew pointed at a tiny slip of paper, barely noticeable under the wide green fern fronds, as a corner stuck out from under the earth.

“Dillon,” she called out. “Over here!”

Bending down, she gently moved the dirt so she could pull the paper free. Her heartbeat slowed to a painful thud as she scanned the damp slip.

“Mulberry bush,” Kara read, her brow furrowing as she handed it over to Dillon to put into an evidence bag.

“Isn’t that part of a nursery rhyme?” Dillon asked.

“All around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel,” she answered softly, then looked at Matthew. “What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know but I don’t like it. I’ve always thought there was a certain creep factor to most of the old nursery rhymes,” Matthew said, frowning.

“Why?”

Matthew looked at her. “Because they never mean what they say. They’re too cloak and dagger for my tastes. Besides, haven’t you ever noticed that a lot of those rhymes are kind of violent toward kids?”

Dillon agreed. “I think the chief is right. Perhaps the bastard is using the rhyme as a metaphor.”

“A metaphor for what?” Matthew asked.

“I haven’t a clue,” Dillon answered, shrugging. “But it can’t be literal, now can it? I don’t suspect the killer keeps a pet monkey or weasel for kicks. I suppose we’ll have to do some research on the blasted nursery rhyme.”

“Great. Someone who fancies himself clever. Just what we need,” Kara said, rubbing her temple. “All right, Dillon, see if anything turns up in the origin of the rhyme.”

Matthew’s jaw hardened and Kara knew he was fighting against his urge to grind his teeth. When he spoke again, his tone was ominous. “We haven’t seen the last of this guy. My gut tells me he’s on the prowl for his next victim.”

Kara agreed, shivering and blaming the cold, which was already causing her teeth to chatter. As if on cue, the rain started and Kara was only too happy to get out of that ravine. There was a sadness that clung to the area, as if Hannah’s spirit was lingering, waiting for someone to solve her murder and prevent more from meeting the same fate.

She looked back as they climbed up the steep grade and for a split second she could’ve sworn she’d actually seen someone standing there. Kara blinked. Nothing but hundred-year-old trees and undergrowth remained.

Tricks of the mind, she thought shakily. Tricks of the mind.