Last Words (18 page)

She paused, then looked at Beck and said, “You really think I’m going off the deep end, don’t you? I’m not, and I’m sorry if I’ve given you that impression. I just have trouble sleeping, that’s all.”

“I think you have a lot on your plate,” he said softly. “And I also think you might want to talk to someone professional, because if you keep doing that”—he pointed to the glass in her hand—“you’re going to have a bigger problem than not being able to sleep.”

“I know you’re right,” she said, but did not put the glass down. “And for the record, I tried sleeping pills, but they made me too groggy in the morning. I’ve tried meditation, hypnosis, acupuncture, and exercising until I can barely walk. Nothing seems to relax me except a few glasses of wine at night. I know it isn’t smart, but…” She shrugged.

“Don’t you have a headache when you get up?”

“Sometimes, but I don’t really drink that much. I mean, I don’t pass out or anything. I just drink until the voices stop and I can sleep.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, now I’ve really done it, haven’t I? Now you think I hear voices.”

She set the glass down on the grass at her feet. “The voices I hear are those of my brother Grady, my cousin Dylan. Grady’s dead wife Melissa. And when I say I hear them, it’s because I talk to them sometimes. I ask Brendan why, though he doesn’t really have an answer. I tell Dylan how much I miss him, and I tell him about Annie and he tells me it’s okay where he is. I tell Melissa how sorry I am that she and Grady didn’t get to live their life, and she tells me to take care of him and not to let him waste his life mourning for her. Does that sound crazy?”

“Actually, no, it doesn’t.”

“Did you ever talk to someone who was gone?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I have.”

“Family?”

Another nod.

“See? No one can mess you up like your family.”

“You have no idea…”

She waited to see if he’d elaborate, but he did not, and she let it pass. She started to reach for the glass again, then changed her mind and drew her hand back.

“Mia, why did you challenge him like that?”

She knew exactly which
he
Beck was referring to. Personal time was over. It was back to business.

“I looked around that room, at all those people, and I knew he was there. I could feel him. I could almost smell that superior attitude of his, sense the challenge he was sending out, and I had to toss it back at him.

“I knew he was in that room, and he knew I knew it,” she continued. “And he also knew I had no idea who he was and he was enjoying that a little too much. It pissed me off. The longer it takes us to figure out who he is, the more likely it is that another young woman will die. I can more than take care of myself if he comes after me. You think most of the young women in this town can say the same?”

“So you put a big target on your back?”

“We have nothing, Beck. We don’t know why he picked the women he picked, or where he met them or how he convinced them to come with him or where he keeps them. There are three crime scenes for each of these killings, and the only one we can explore is the last one, the place where he disposes of the bodies. And those scenes have yielded us exactly one big fat zero’s worth of trace. This guy is so good. He doesn’t leave a crumb.”

“So we know he wears a condom when he’s assaulting the girls and wears gloves while he’s wrapping them up.”

“Which leads us nowhere.” She sighed deeply. “He’s going to take another victim again, very soon. He’s due for another fix, that high he gets from living out his fantasy.”

“Aren’t you afraid of being part of that fantasy?” Beck lowered himself to the grass and sat down.

“No. I’m more afraid for someone else. That pretty girl who works at the ice cream place, or that cute little waitress in the sandwich shop or even Vanessa, maybe.” She pulled one leg up onto the seat and leaned forward on it. “You think your sister would hold up under that type of torture for very long?”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, she wouldn’t hold up at all. Vanessa just doesn’t get that anyone would want to hurt her.”

“After two bad marriages?” Mia raised an eyebrow. “She is trusting.”

She hesitated, then added, “Would she be trusting of, oh, say, someone like Mickey Forbes?”

Beck looked up sharply. “Why Forbes?”

“He fits the profile, don’t you think? His mother is domineering and most likely has been all his life. Hal told me that Christina’s been focused more on building up the community than either of her marriages. Maybe that extended to her child as well. Was he neglected, do you know? Did Christina bully her husband, demean him in front of their son?” She started to refill her glass, but under Beck’s scrutiny only poured half a glass. “What do you really know about him, anyway?”

“I know he’s a jerk, but that doesn’t make him a murderer.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” She put both feet on the ground and rested her forearms on her thighs, holding the glass between her knees. “Right now, we need to look at everyone as a possible killer. That’s my point. We haven’t been able to narrow the field at all, so we can’t eliminate anyone. Whoever this guy is, he’s flown under the radar for a long time.” She held up a hand to silence the protest he was about to launch. “Yes, I realize he may not have gone to this extreme in the past, but I think that when we find him, we’ll find that he’s raped before. He’s simply carrying that fantasy several steps forward.”

“If that’s true, why now?”

“Something’s set him off. Something’s changed in his life. Maybe he’s been passed over for a promotion. Maybe for someone like Mickey Forbes, for the sake of argument, it was the breakup of his marriage. I know everyone who is passed over for a promotion or who gets divorced doesn’t turn into a serial killer. I’m just saying, these can be life-changing situations.”

“So how do we smoke him out?”

“I’m still working on that.”

“Well, don’t try to fly solo on this one, okay?” He reached out and touched her arm. “I’d hate to see you become his victim.”

“Oh, trust me, so would I.” She shook her head slowly. “I have no intentions of ending up in one of his cocoons.”

Beck looked at his watch. It was after midnight already.

“It’s late. I need to get home and get some sleep so I can do it all again tomorrow.” He stood and extended a hand to her. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your cabin.”

“That’s okay. I can walk twenty-five feet by myself.”

“I don’t doubt it. But I want to be able to leave here and know for certain that I’ll be seeing you in the morning.”

She held up the bottle.

“You afraid I’ll polish this off by myself, wake up with a hangover, and be unfit to report in tomorrow?”

“No. I’m afraid I might not be the only person who knows where you’re staying tonight.”

“You mean the killer—”

“You stirred him up, Mia. He may not be able to resist.”

She gathered her things and stood.

“I admit I’m tired. I might as well turn in.”

They walked across the grass to her cabin.

“Did you lock it?” he asked when they reached the door.

“Of course.” She hoisted her bag up higher on her shoulder and dug in her pocket for the key, then unlocked the door. The lights were all still on, just as she had left them. “See? All’s well.”

“Good. Lock the door behind me, then get some sleep. We have miles to go with this case.”

“Agreed. I’ll see you in the morning.” She closed the door halfway. “Thanks, Beck.”

“Any time.”

Mia closed the door and turned off the outside light, then went into the bathroom and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and her eyes were slightly rimmed in red. She stared at herself for a long time before going into the sitting room to find the bottle and the glass.

Returning to the bathroom, she rinsed out the glass, poured what remained of the bottle into the sink, and turned off the light.

Beck stood in the shadows until the only light still visible in the cabin was in the small back room. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked across the grass to the chair in which she’d been sitting and turned it around to face her cabin.

Mia would have a fit if she knew he was there, but he couldn’t walk away knowing she might have set herself up. He knew she was strong and he knew she was capable—and armed. But there was also a chance her reflexes were impaired, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d painted a target on her back. He wasn’t about to let anyone take aim on his watch.

He stretched his long legs out in front of him and eased back into the chair. Overhead the moon was full, and off in the distance a dog barked. He made himself as comfortable as he could in the wooden chair and waited for the sun to rise.

18

Mia poked her head into Beck’s office at eight the next morning.

“Hey, I have some good news,” she told him excitedly. “There was a message on my phone from JoJo.”

“JoJo?” He frowned. Who the hell was JoJo?

“FBI JoJo who works magic with damaged tapes?” Mia sat in the chair closest to the door. “We sent her the tape that was found with the body we believe belongs to Holly Sheridan?”

“Right. JoJo.” He suppressed a yawn. “Got a thing for one of your brothers.”

“Andy, yeah. Anyway, JoJo couldn’t restore all of it, but she’s made a copy of what she has, and overnighted it to us. We should have it in a few hours.” Mia leaned forward. “Beck, she said he called the woman
Holly
on the tape.”

“Pretty much what we expected.”

“She said it was really gruesome, what she could hear.”

“I’m sure it was. The whole damned thing has been gruesome.” He snapped. “It isn’t likely to get any better.”

“Sounds like someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“You could say that.” He rested an elbow on the edge of the desk.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Let me know when you get that tape.”

“Sure.” Feeling as if she’d been dismissed, Mia gave Beck a mock salute and went into the conference room where she’d set up a temporary office.

She’d just hung up the phone from a conference call with the agents who were tracking down the 2000 and 2001 victims when Lisa Singer stuck her head through the doorway. She wore what was apparently her summer uniform: khaki walking shorts accessorized by a holster attached to the front of her belt, and a short-sleeved shirt. Large round tortoise shell sunglasses sat atop her head.

“Morning, Agent Shields,” she said.

“Hi, Lisa. Please, call me Mia. How was your weekend?” Mia asked, then laughed. “Oh. Right. What weekend?”

“Probably as much of one as we’re likely to get until this is over.” Apparently encouraged by Mia’s friendliness, the sergeant came into the room carrying her coffee and a fistful of pink phone messages. “Have you handled a lot of cases like this before?”

“You mean serial killers?”

Lisa nodded.

“More than my share.”

“It’s so hard to understand how someone could be so horrible. So without a soul.” Lisa shivered. “Do you ever get used to it?”

“If I did, it would be time to retire.”

“Everyone in town is so jumpy about this, especially after last night’s meeting.” Lisa leaned on the back of one of the chairs.

“Everyone should be jumpy. We don’t even have a lead on this guy.”

“Well, I did have a thought. I was just on my way in to talk to Beck about it.” She tucked a stand of hair behind her ear.

“Run it past me, too?”

“All of these victims have been young, you know? So I was trying to think of places around here where young people hang out.” She grinned. “It wasn’t that hard. There aren’t many.”

“But you thought of one.”

“Maybe. There’s a new gym out on the highway, in that shopping center? You don’t have to buy a membership to work out there. You can pay by the visit, if you want. Chief Daley says one of his men spoke with them about Colleen Preston. She was a member. Mindy Kenneher was not and neither was Holly Sheridan—I checked—but they could have worked out there from time to time. I’m going to drive out there with their photos and see if anyone recognizes either of them.”

“Great idea.” Mia nodded. “Just make sure you don’t put Chief Meyer’s nose out of joint while you’re at it.”

“God forbid.” Lisa rolled her eyes. “A couple of store fronts down from the gym, there’s one of those gourmet coffee places. It seems to be a pretty popular place. I’m going to run in there, too, see if anyone remembers any one of the victims coming in, and if so, if they were with anyone.”

“You ever think about the FBI, Lisa?” Mia leaned back in her chair and smiled. “We could use a few more like you.”

“To tell you the truth, I used to dream about being in the FBI,” Lisa admitted.

“What stopped you?”

“Oh, life. You know how things go.” Lisa shrugged. “After college, I went through the police academy and did pretty well, got a job here, that was when Hal was still chief. I actually did apply to the FBI, though, back in the nineties. But then I met Todd, and, well, you know how it is. He was my dream man. I fell—he fell—we got married three months later.”

“You met him here in St. Dennis?”

“No, we met in Chestertown. He had a fraternity brother who lived there. We ended up in St. Dennis because he used to summer here as a little boy and inherited some property from a relative. But don’t think I’m complaining, I have no regrets. I’ve been happy here, I love my job. Loved working for Hal, and I love working for Beck. Love my family.”

“That’s great.” Mia smiled again. “Great that you’re happy with the choices you made.”

Lisa smiled back. “I definitely am. I have a great husband, great kids, a great job. When I wanted to come back to work after the kids were born, Hal let me start back part-time on dispatch. When I was ready to go back out on the street, they hired Garland. Hal was great to work for, Beck is, too. He keeps pushing me ahead, you know? Encourages me to take courses, and any time there’s some special extra class, he sends me. Someday, St. Dennis will be in a position to hire it’s first detective, and I want it to be me.”

“There’s no reason why it can’t be.”

“I hope my boss thinks so, too.”

“How does your husband feel about you being a cop?”

“I think secretly he’d be happier if I stayed home all the time and catered to him and the kids.” She lowered her voice and added, “But what man doesn’t, right? Todd’s pretty cool about me being with the department, though he’d probably rather I had a nine to five. I think he liked it better when I was on the dispatcher’s desk. The hours were more regular, but all in all, he’s fine with it. We’ve adjusted.”

“You are one lucky woman, you know that?”

“Luckier than anyone deserves to be.”

Mia’s phone rang and she reached for it.

“And one of these days you’ll have to share with me the secret of how to get and keep it all.”

“Anytime.” Lisa waved and left Mia to take her call.

An hour later, Mia was back in Beck’s office with a stack of faxed reports from Miranda Cahill, one of the agents assigned to track the 2000 and 2001 victims.

“Miranda says she can’t find a listing for the victim in the city or any of the suburbs but she’s still looking. She did speak with the investigating officer who sent her a copy of their electronic file. According to the statement the vic gave at the time, she and her friends were in the bar, there was a large group there and they were all milling around, dancing with some of the guys, that sort of thing. The guy she’d been dancing with—said his name was Jake—bought her a beer. Said the guy was really nice, polite, not pushy or anything, so when he suggested they take the beers outside so they could cool off, she didn’t think twice. They left the bar through the rear door, opens onto the back of the parking lot. Said it was almost two, almost closing time, so there were fewer cars in the lot. Said one minute they were talking, the next minute, he had a knife to her throat and was shoving her into a car.”

“So much for Mr. Nice Guy,” Beck muttered.

“No fooling. Kept the knife to her throat the entire time he was raping her. The cop said she was real reluctant to go into detail about everything he’d done to her, so it must have been really bad.”

“He get a description?”

“Late twenties, dark hair. Average height and weight. The cops said if they picked up every guy who fit that description, there’d be no one left on the beach.” She shrugged. “Not much to go on. We’re hoping Miranda can track down the victim and get a little more than that.”

“And the other ones?”

“The victim from Columbus was contacted and she refused to discuss it. Said she spent a long time in therapy to put it behind her and absolutely was not going there again. Threatened legal action if anyone else called her. The third woman recently moved to Atlanta. Miranda is supposed to be meeting with her tomorrow. If her memory’s good, we’ll get a sketch artist out there as soon as we can.”

“Great. Let me know what you hear.”

“Will do.”

“What do you think he’ll do next?” Beck asked.

“Something to shake us up, turn up the heat,” she replied without thinking. “Something to remind us that he’s in control here, not us.”

“Another ballsy statement.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Shit.” He rubbed a hand over his chin.

“My thoughts exactly…”

She turned to leave and saw Garland walking toward her with a package.

“Agent Shields, this was just delivered for you.”

“Terrific, thanks, Garland.” She took the package and held it up to Beck. “This must be the tape from JoJo.”

He took a tape player out of his desk drawer and handed it to her.

“Let’s see what’s on it.”

Mia plugged in the machine and slipped the tape inside, then pushed
play
. The static was thick initially, then some background noise could be heard. Then, a voice, pleading.

“Please don’t hurt me anymore. Please don’t…”

“It’s almost over, Holly.” The distorted voice said in a soothing tone. “Just a…”

The tape went silent, then they heard, “…don’t want to die…”

“We don’t…” silent…“we want, Hol…”

Another silent stretch, then, “Say good-bye, Holly. Tell them good-bye…”

“Mommy…Daddy…Eric…” the voice began to sob. “I love you…”

“Very nice, Hol…” The next section was garbled, then the static returned. Mia let the tape run out.

“Well, we know for sure it was Holly Sheridan,” Mia told Beck after she turned off the machine.

“We already knew that.” He stared out the window for a long time. Without turning around, he said, “Do we have to let them hear the tape? The Sheridans?”

“No. I don’t know if it wouldn’t hurt more.” She thought it over. “Then again, if we catch him and he goes to trial, they’ll hear it.”

“
If
we catch him?” He turned back to her, his blue eyes narrowed and darkened. “Are you losing faith, Agent Shields?”

“My mistake.
When
we catch him…” She rose from her chair. “Let’s just hope that happens before he makes that next bold move. Otherwise, we both know that someone else is likely to die…”