Out Of Control (26 page)

Inside,
he poured himself a cup of Grace’s sludge, figuring he needed it to clear his
brain, then headed for the conference room.

On
the wall was the sketch Mickey had drawn of the scene where the body was found.
Red marker outlined where the body was.

“I
tell you, Sheriff,” he said, “that was one bad sight. That poor girl.”

“The
only consolation,” Cole told him, “is she was dead before any of that was done
to her. At least, I hope she was.” He had a hard time getting the details of
the autopsy out of his mind.

“Well,
Andi and I covered every single inch of the area under and around where she was
lying. Not a thing. Nothing.”

“I’ll
say this,” Andi chimed in. “I think whoever brought her there was wearing soft
moccasins.”

Cole
lifted an eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”

“I
went over my notes from where Leanne’s body was found and tried to figure out
how someone could have put her there without leaving a trace. Then I remembered
my uncle always wears moccasins when hunts. He doesn’t want to leave tracks for
anyone to see where he puts his blinds.”

“Maybe
your uncle’s getting in a little extra activity,” someone joked.

“This
isn’t an occasion for humor,” Cole snapped. “Andi, that’s a good thought.”

“You
want me to check and see who sells those moccasins in the county?” Mickey
asked.

“You
can, but it’s probably a waste of time. He could have bought them in San
Antonio or online. And we don’t know how long he’s had them. Or how many pairs
have been sold.”

“And
we can’t exactly go around looking in every closet in Salado County without
reasonable cause,” Gaylen put it.

“That’s
right,” Cole agreed. “We’ll have to try another tack.”

“And
what would that be?” Andi asked.

“I’ll
let you know as soon as I figure it out.” He rubbed his forehead again,
wondering if the headache would ever get any better. “Heads up, folks. I’ve
called in the FBI, and they’ll have someone here first thing in the morning.”
Seeing the frowns on the faces around the table, he added, “We could be looking
at a serial killer here, much as I hate to think it. I’d rather call these guys
in now, before the bodies really begin stacking up.”

“Aw,
sheriff,” Mickey complained. “We can handle this.”

“No,
Mickey,” Cole said quietly. “We can’t. We don’t have the first idea where to
start. There hasn’t been a murder here in almost three decades. All of you are
excellent deputies, but this is way over everyone’s head. Including mine. The
FBI has far more experience and much better resources.”

“I
suppose they’ll want to take charge of everything,” Andi grumped.

“As
a matter of fact, no. This is still our case. SAC Clark Lorimer was very firm about
that. His people will provide expertise and assistance. And lord knows we need
it.” He looked around the table. “Listen, all of you. This isn’t about us. This
is about those two girls. This is about all the other young girls out there
that this sick freak can target if we don’t get him first. Keep that in mind
when our help arrives tomorrow. I’ll expect everyone’s cooperation. Right?”

Slowly,
each of them nodded.

“All
right, then. It’s been a long day for everyone. The crime scene is under guard so
go home and get some rest. Be back here early so I can introduce you to the new
man on the team.”

Gaylen
held back until the others had all filed out of the room. “Sheriff, I just want
you to know I think you did the smart thing. The younger deputies think they
know it all, and they haven’t even scratched the surface. Like you said, they’re
good, but this is deeper water than we’re used to swimming in. I respect a man
who knows when to ask for help. Whatever you need me to do, just holler.”

Cole
felt his throat tighten. Gaylen Kleist was the oldest of all the deputies. He’d
been on the force for fifteen years and probably had every right to have expected
promotion to the top spot when Nickels retired. But he accepted Cole without a
fuss, did his job and watched to see how things shook out. His words meant a
great deal to Cole.

“Thanks,
Gaylen. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

“You
ought to get out of here, too. It’s late and I think you need to check on your
house guest.”

“Oh,
yeah. My house guest.”

Gaylen
started to say something else but was interrupted by a knock on the doorjamb.

“Got
a minute?” John Garrett asked. “I got the idea you wanted to talk to me
privately.”

He’d
forgotten all about the fact that Garrett was waiting for him.

I
really do need to get out of here.

He
motioned the man into the conference room. “Yes. I’d like to ask for your help.”

“Don’t
tell me you’re giving the hometown paper an exclusive.” Garrett’s voice was
laced with grim humor.

“Not
exactly. What I’d really like is for you to write something to help keep the
county under control. Like I just asked Max and Margene to do.”

“You
have to give me something to write, though,” Garrett protested. “Your little
press conferences might as well be nonexistent.”

“There’s
a lot I don’t want to release yet. The details are pretty gruesome, and the
Pritchards and Fowlers don’t need to see it splattered all over the press. But
I’ll give you the info and you can figure out how to spin it.”

John
sat down in one of the chairs opposite Cole, took his little tape recorder out
of his pocket, and set it on the desk. “You okay with this?” he asked,
indicating the instrument.

“As
long as you shut it off if I tell you to.”

“No
problem. Let’s get started.”

It
took Cole ten minutes to give the newspaper editor the bare bone details of
both crimes. He left out the autopsy details, particularly the horrendous
sexual abuse, but he gave the man enough for an informative article.

“Here’s
the important part,” he said. “We may have a serial killer here, and I don’t
want to wait for more bodies. I’ve called in the FBI for help and someone will
be here tomorrow first thing.”

“To
take over the case?” John asked.

“Not
at all. But the agent will know better what to look for and can get us more
resources if we need them.”

“People
will be happy to know you aren’t too pigheaded to cry uncle when you have to.”
John’s approval was obvious.

Cole
held up his hands, palms outward. “I’d be very foolish if I was. This isn’t
about me. It’s about catching a killer. Hopefully before he takes another
victim.”

Garrett
picked up the recorder, put it back in his pocket, and stood up. “I’ll get
started on this right away. The paper comes out again tomorrow, and I saved
some front-page space, just in case. But if we want the presses to roll on time,
I’d better git. As it is, we’ll be working until the sun comes up.”

Cole
stood up and the men shook hands. “Thanks again, John. This will be a big help.”

“I’ll
do a sidebar, too, kind of like an editorial,” Garrett called over his shoulder
as he turned toward the door.

“Everything
helps. Everything.”

****

Dana
worked on the spreadsheet for more than two hours, but her mind kept wandering,
thinking back to Kylie and that scene so many years ago. She didn’t look up
until the front door opened and she heard Cole talking to someone, then the
door closed. She looked up as he approached the couch.

“Did
you sleep at all?”

“Yes.
Some.” Her cheeks heated as the images from the dream danced in her head. Then
she took a good look at Cole, at the fatigue and worry lining his face, and her
heart ached for him.

Her
heart? Ached? When had she felt
anything
for a man? “You look terrible.”

He
forced a weak grin. “Nice to see you, too.”

She
stared at him. “Oh, my God, Cole. Has something else happened?” She set aside
her computer and scrambled to her feet.

“No.
Just the same old shit.” He sprawled on the couch and tugged her back down
beside him. “I hate to think anyone like that is living in our community. That
it’s someone I see every day.”

“Just
like no one wanted to think the pedophile lived here,” she reminded him.

“I
know.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “But it’s obvious strangers stand
out here. Plus neither those little kids nor Leanne or Shannon would be the
type to get in a car with a stranger.”

He
draped his arm over Dana’s shoulder, and at the moment, she wasn’t inclined to
move it. “So you think they could all be related?”

“Let’s
say I’m willing to examine the options. I’ve got the FBI coming in the morning.
I’ll be anxious to get their take on it. I read the preliminary autopsy report
on Shannon a little while ago. I can’t even begin to tell you how awful it was.”

Dana’s
stomach clenched. She didn’t know if she could listen to this part. “That had
to be hard for you.”

“This
whole thing is hard for me. I saw terrible things when I was with the Marines, but
this tops anything in my worst nightmares.”

“Oh,
Cole.” She wanted to pull his head to his breast. Do something to soothe him.
And where had that come from?

He
gave her a tired smile. “By the way, thanks for what you did today. I
appreciate it.”

She
shrugged. “I was glad I could help. I was surprised you even asked me.”

“Hey,
I’m not stupid enough to ignore an offer like that. You did good, Dana. It
might have taken forever to find her otherwise, especially with her scent
masked.”

She
lifted an eyebrow. “Masked?”

“Damn.
Me and my big mouth.” He told her about the condition of the body.

As
brief as his description was, Dana could hardly bear to hear it.

“Did
you eat?” she asked.

“No.
How about you?”

She
shook her head. “After…I didn’t have any appetite. But I’ll look for something
to fix for you.”

“No,
thanks. I don’t think my stomach would welcome anything solid. But I could
stand a cold drink. How about you?”

“I’ll
get it.”

He
held up his hand. “No, I’ll do it. Sit.”

He
brought back two glasses filled with ice and soda and drank half of his before sitting
down again.

“Thanks.”
She smiled at him. “That tastes good.”

“I
don’t like the reason that brought you here,” he told her, “but it feels…nice
to have you here to talk to. You know, you aren’t exactly the most relaxing
person to be with—”

“Gee,
thanks,” she interrupted.

He
continued as if she hadn’t said anything. “But somehow, with you, I feel I don’t
have to pretend anything. I can be whatever I am at the moment. However I feel.”

She
felt her throat tighten. “Thank you. That’s a real compliment. I’ll try to be
deserving of it.”

“Oh,
you may not think it’s such an honor after a while,” he teased. Then sadness
clouded his eyes again. “Jesus, Dana. I can’t imagine there’s somebody out
there, right in this county, capable of doing things like this.” He took
another long swallow of his drink.

Dana
ran her finger around the rim of her glass, trying to decide if she should say
what was on her mind. She could be all wrong—actually hoped she was—but she
needed to know if she was seeing shadows where there weren’t any.

“Let
me give you something different to sink your teeth into.” She stared into her
glass. “I talked to some of the parents of the children who were killed. Ivy
Winslow mentioned something so tonight while I was trying to keep myself from
thinking about today I went back over all my notes. Cole, in all but two of the
cases, clowns were involved.”

He
frowned. “Clowns? Like party clowns?”

Dana
nodded. “Children are drawn to them. They’re familiar. I’m wondering why no one
tied it all together back then?” She paused and asked the question banging
around in the back of her mind. “Was the sheriff covering up for someone else?”

Chapter
Twenty-Three

Cole’s
frown deepened. “I have no idea. It seems to me, if there’s a common thread in
a situation like this, it only makes sense to follow it.” He stared at her. “God,
what a terrible thing if it’s true and they missed it completely.”

“The
only mention I could find was a note that either Jed Nickels or one of his
deputies talked to the chamber and the rodeo association. They were the two
organizations that dealt with the clowns. And that was just because they talked
to everyone at each site. Not because they smelled something fishy.”

“And?”

“And
it’s weird.” Dana wet her lips. “People couldn’t seem to agree if there were
four clowns or five at any given event. Apparently not even the clowns. Most of
them said four but a couple said five. But I guess no one figured clowns were
likely suspects.”