Deadly Fear

Page 32

Why wasn’t that surprising?
“I called him at home. He’s goin’ in, and he said he’d personally fax the logs to us.”
“Excellent.” Once they got a look at the names on that list, they might just get a handle on the bastard.
Would Jake Martin’s name be on that list? She was already planning another call to his office. She had questions that the sheriff would answer for her.
“There’s something you should know.” Davis’s shoulders straightened, and he met her stare directly. “My name’s gonna be on that log.”
What? But she didn’t say that. Instead she asked, “Why?”
“You know what he did, don’t you?” Not an answer. “To those girls, you know.”
“I do.” She knew better than anyone else.
“I had him in my town. I looked at him, and I swear…” He licked his lips. “I saw the evil in him. Just a kid, but I saw it.”
She pressed her hands flat against the desk top. “You had no idea what he’d grow up and become.”
A fast glance over his shoulder at the still closed door. “I’ve read all those fancy studies, too, you know. Animal mutilations in childhood—that’s how it always starts, right?”
Not always.
“The boy sliced his cat open. I knew he did it, but when the sheriff told me the case was over, I just let it go.” His jaw tightened. “The boy needed help then. Help I didn’t get him. If someone had just stepped in, if I had just stepped in, those girls might be alive today. They might have families.”
Her breath came a little too fast. “And what about Romeo? You think he would’ve had a family, too?” Can’t see him that way. Only see him covered in blood.
“Too late to know now. When I saw the pictures of those girls and I found out what he’d done, it made me sick. And trust me, ma’am, I’ve seen a lot of bad things in my life, but Romeo was in a class by himself.”
Yes. “Why did you go see him?” she asked again.
Another slow step toward her. “Because I had to know why. Why he did it. Why he took those girls. Was he crazy? Did he just not know what he was doing? Was he so far gone he didn’t understand it was wrong?”
Or had he done it just because he liked the sound of screams? She forced her hands to lift when her nails bit too deeply into the desk. “And what did he say?”
He inhaled on a hard rasp. “ ‘Because the bitches begged for it.’ ”
No, they begged him to stop, begged to go back home, but he just laughed. “He is sick, Sheriff. He’s a psychopath. He cares nothing for anyone else. He can’t care. He’s never felt guilt over his actions, and he won’t.” The words were clipped, cold, but the fury in her heart burned red hot. “He’s incapable of feeling guilt, just as he’s incapable of feeling empathy. When his victims screamed and pleaded with him, it did nothing. He just didn’t care.” She suspected that seeing the pain had been as close as he’d ever gotten to feeling anything.
Davis turned back toward the door. “Just wanted you to know. I needed to explain before you saw the file.”
“Sheriff!”
He froze with his hand on the door.
“You didn’t hurt those girls.” Me. “He did.”
He didn’t look back at her. “You ever wish you could change the past?”
“No point in it.” Why waste the time? “But I make sure I don’t repeat my mistakes. I make sure the future’s different.”
Davis looked over his shoulder.
“That’s all we can do,” she told him, and knew it was the truth.
The end game was coming. He paced around the cabin, the scent of pine filling his nose. It had been such a fun match, but the end was coming.
The end always had to come.
Romeo had told him that. In the end, the prey dies. Never leave a survivor, never.
Romeo’s mistake. He’d been weak. Left little Mary Jane because he’d thought she was special. Thought she was like him.
But Mary Jane couldn’t even come close to touching Romeo’s greatness. A pretender, that’s what she was. And he’d prove it. He’d finish what Romeo started.
He’d break the bitch.
His steps were silent as he left the cabin. He had the perfect place in mind for his next attack. So perfect.
Mary Jane would appreciate it, he was sure. He’d talked with Romeo, spent hours getting the information so he could make everything just right.
A fitting ending. A final end.
Break her, then kill her. That had been the plan from the beginning. The moment Romeo had learned of the SSD and seen a picture of Mary Jane in the paper, he’d given the kill order.
Lure her to you. She was Hyde’s right hand at the SSD—it had been a safe bet that she’d come to profile the serial in Jasper. And if she hadn’t come, he would have just kept killing until she did show.
But she’d been the one to come first. Getting her into the game and out of her safe, D.C. office had been so easy.
Prove that you’re smarter than she is.
He had. He’d killed, he’d taken her agent, and, soon, he’d be taking Monica.
In the end, she wouldn’t be able to save herself.
Time to make her worst fears come true.
CHAPTER Sixteen
Romeo gets regular visits from his lawyer, a guy named Bryan Tate who lives in Gatlin,” Luke said, the faxed log in his hands.
Monica’s eyes narrowed at that. Gatlin? We keep going back there. “Run a check on him. Get Kenton to rip the guy’s life apart.” She wasn’t taking any chances.
“Romeo had a few sporadic visitors, too. A woman named Kristy Lee. She… ah…”
Monica glanced back at him.
“The warden said she was one of those women who get off on being with serials.”
The taste in her mouth just got worse. “Who else?”
His gaze darted to Davis. “Guess he already told you.”
“How many visits?”
“Just one.”
Can’t take chances. “Anyone else that sticks out?”
“Yeah. Jake Martin. He’s been to visit Romeo three times in the last year.”
Dammit. Martin’s voice drifted through her mind, that slight hesitation the first time they’d met. “I… know you.”
Sure looked like he did.
“I don’t usually forget faces….” The Watchman knew all about her past. What a coincidence; it was a past she shared with Jake Martin. “I’ll call Martin.” She’d rather talk to him in person, and she’d be doing that real soon. But she wasn’t going to let another minute pass without questioning him.
But she also wasn’t going to blindly focus on just one suspect, even though right then, Martin was looking suspicious as hell. Why’d he lie about West? The only answer that sprang to mind was a damning one. To throw suspicion onto someone else. Martin would know that she’d followed up on West, but maybe he’d just been hoping to buy a few days’ time. Killing time.
“Those were all the visitors he had in the last two years.” His lips tightened. “While you run down Martin, I’ll get started checking everyone at the station.”
Because they wouldn’t overlook the obvious signs. A deputy’s uniform. Someone who knew the area. Someone who knew the case.
“Do it,” she told him, and knew they’d make some enemies real soon. Too bad. They had a killer to catch. “And you need to start with Lee. He’s got a history in Gatlin.” The sheriff’s words were locked in her mind. He worked over in Gatlin County for a few years. Word was that he’d had him a bad break-up so he got out of Jasper.
Then he’d come back home, and people had started dying.
Luke walked away from her and cleared his throat as he approached the sheriff. “Davis, I’m gonna need to ask you a few questions about your staff here at the station.”
And Davis wasn’t slow on the draw; he knew this had been coming. “What do you need?” His shoulders stooped a bit.
Monica went back into her makeshift office and closed the door. A few moments later, she had the phone pressed against her ear and a slow ring drifted across the line as she waited to connect with the Gatlin County Sheriff’s office. One more ring. Another. Come on—
“Sheriff’s office.” The woman’s voice was slow, a bit sluggish. Seven a.m. must be too early in Gatlin.
“This is FBI Special Agent Monica Davenport. I need you to connect me with Jake Martin immediately.” If he was at home, sleeping in his bed, they could just drag his ass out.
“Sp-special agent—”
“Agent Davenport, FBI,” she said again and knew the words were clipped. “I need him on the phone, now. If he’s not there, then give me his home number because I need to talk to him ASAP.”
“H-he’s out of the office today… family emergency…”
Out of the office again? Big coincidence. Hyde had taught her not to believe in coincidences.
An image of Martin’s shiny star and perfectly pressed brown uniform flashed before her eyes.
The same uniform that Sheriff Davis wore. Standard issue—dark brown pants and shirt. Wide-brimmed brown hat. Yellow emblem high on the left arm.
I need to see that surveillance video. Kenton said Hyde had gotten a copy transferred over on his laptop. It was with him at the hospital.
“What’s your name?” She demanded and realized the silence on the phone had hummed too long.
“K-Kathy. Kathy Grant.”
“Kathy, give me his cell.” Did her voice tremble? Because she was trying real hard to hold back the rage.
The now-awake clerk rattled off the number, and Monica scribbled it down even as Kathy said, “H-he ain’t gonna answer. I told you, it’s a family emergency.”
Sometimes the job trumped family. If he was a good sheriff, Martin knew that. “Tell me, Kathy, did your office get a report of Kyle West’s death a few months back?”
“What? Kyle’s dead?”
Okay. Guess that answered one question, but it just raised more. “You’re telling me you never received official notification of his death?” Didn’t make sense. Someone from highway patrol had gone and seen May Walker. That person would have stopped by the sheriff’s office, too. Procedure would have dictated notification there.
For Jon to find the death notice in the system, someone had filed the paperwork. If not the Gatlin office, then who’d done it?
“No! I never—Kyle’s dead?”
“You really don’t know?” If only she could see her face. Sounded like truth, but some lies did.
“I swear, ma’am, no.”
So maybe someone had screwed up the notification. Or maybe someone hadn’t wanted the folks at the Gatlin County Sheriff’s office to know that West had died.
“Thanks for the info, Kathy.” She disconnected the call. In seconds, she’d punched in Martin’s cell phone number, but when the call connected, it just went straight to voicemail. Damn. “Martin, this is Monica Davenport. I need to speak with you immediately. And guess what? I’ve remembered where we met.” She rattled off her number.
She’d get a trace on his phone. If he turned the phone on, the SSD would find him. She put in a call to the main office, giving them instructions to monitor Martin’s cell. If he turned his phone on, if he used it to make one call, the SSD could use the FBI’s satellite technology to pinpoint his location.
It was the same technique they were using to find the Watchman. If he used another victim’s phone… if he so much as turned on Patty’s cell…
Monica sucked in a hard breath and hurried out of the office. She almost slammed into Luke and the Sheriff. “I need those personnel files.” Monica met the Sheriff’s glinting stare head on. “We’re also going to need to talk to every deputy you have on staff—immediately.”
The sheriff shook his head even as he sagged back against the wall. “My men.” Not a question, not anymore. The red heat had faded from his cheeks, leaving him looking pale.
“Every possibility has to be explored right now.” But it was time for her to lay her cards on the table. “And the signs here are pointing to a law enforcement connection.” She’d called Hyde right after seeing the bodies of the victims in the morgue. No DNA evidence had been left behind at all—nothing. “Everything’s been too neat, Sheriff. Too tidy. No fingerprints. No hair. Nothing is left behind.” The guy had too much crime scene knowledge.
Davis ran a hand over his face and didn’t speak.
Luke stood at her side, aligning himself with her. Backing her up as she told the sheriff more news he wouldn’t want to hear.
“This person has far more than a civilian’s knowledge of crime scenes,” she said, “and he knows your area, knows all the back roads and the empty houses. He knows how to use a gun.” And how to keep it locked on prey from a perfect shooting distance.
“You tell us,” Luke invited softly. “Wouldn’t one of your deputies have all this knowledge?”
He flinched. “I work with them every damn day.”
“And it might not even be one of them,” she said. Because her other suspect was in the wind somewhere. “But we have to start ruling them out and narrowing down the field. Our killer’s upping the stakes, making it personal by going after one of our own. We’ve got to stop him before we have another body on our hands. He knows Sam’s alive. This guy—he doesn’t like for his prey to live. He’s going to attack again, soon.” He’d have to. His strikes were coming far too frequently. He’d taken Sam less than thirty-six hours after Jeremy Jones’s death. That kind of escalation… No, there was no way he’d just back off for a long cooling down period. He’d strike again, soon. Who would be his target this time? Another civilian? A deputy? An agent?