Читать книгу: «Killer Insight», страница 2

Bryce slouched again, and she felt his disappointment and remembered she was here because his brother was the main suspect in this case. He’d probably been hoping she could identify her attacker as someone else.

“Where did this occur?” Detective Ross asked.

“I—I don’t know. I’m not familiar with this town. If I can see a map, I might be able to pick out the area.”

Ross pulled up a map of town on his cell phone and handed it to her, pointing out where Mrs. Ferguson’s B&B, the starting point for her run, was located for her to reference. She outlined the route she’d run, then estimated the place where the man had abducted her. “Right there. I turned around at that old service station. I’d only run a few minutes when the car approached me.”

“I’ll send a team out there to look for evidence. What about the vehicle? Can you describe it?”

“It was a sedan. Four doors. Silver, I think. Other than that, I didn’t see much. It all happened so fast.” She saw the look he gave her as he jotted the information in a notebook, and her face burned with embarrassment. She was an agent from the FBI. She should have had better observational skills. Yes, it had been dark and happened quickly, but she was a trained professional and should have noticed more details. Then she remembered something important. “I scratched him.” Detective Ross glanced up at her, and Bryce stood at attention. “I scratched his arm. I felt my fingernails dig into it.” She raised her hand to look at her fingernails as excitement bubbled through her. “I have his DNA under my fingernails.”

Bryce’s eyes brightened, matching her own excitement. “This is it,” he said. “This is the proof we need to prove my brother’s innocence and finally track down the real killer.”

“I’ll go find a lab tech to collect the samples,” Ross said before walking out.

Bryce ran a hand over his face, beaming. She liked the way it looked. “You did it. When I asked you to come here and help me prove my brother’s innocence, this wasn’t what I had in mind, but you did it.”

“It’s not exactly what I had in mind either when I agreed to come.” But that didn’t matter anymore. While profiling had value and often helped identify suspects, physical evidence of her attacker could not be refuted.

Bryce pulled up a chair, careful not to touch her hands again until the lab technician could scrape beneath her nails. “I never told you how sorry I was about Danny’s death. I had no idea when I contacted you.”

His condolences caught her off guard, and she struggled to respond. She hadn’t handled his death well, and even now, the mention of his name filled her with grief and guilt. “I should have reached out to his friends. I just—I just couldn’t deal with telling people at the time.”

“How did it happen?”

She was always uncomfortable with knowing how much to share about what had happened. “It was a car accident. He hit another car—a van—with a family inside. No one survived.” She didn’t tell him the rest. He deserved to think better of his friend, and what would he think of her profiling skills if he knew Danny had been under the influence of drugs when he hit that van or that she’d had no idea about his addiction to painkillers? It didn’t say much about her profiling skills that he’d fooled her for months.

Ross reentered the room with a lab technician who got busy scraping beneath her nails and collecting the skin samples.

“Send these to the FBI crime lab,” Lucy told him. “I’ll call my boss and have them fast-tracked. But even then, it’ll be weeks before the results are back. In the meantime, I’d like to see the case files so I can work up a profile.”

Ross nodded. “I’ll have them copied and sent to you.”

“When he contacted me, Bryce said the task force is focusing on his brother as their main suspect. How solid is the case against him?”

“It’s mostly circumstantial. That’s why we haven’t been able to make an arrest yet. It’s also the reason I was able to convince my chief to allow you to consult on this case. He’s anxious for some solid leads. I told him you would be able to provide some. He wants to make an arrest before another woman dies.”

“This evidence will prove my brother is innocent,” Bryce insisted. “Your task force needs to turn its focus elsewhere.”

“Right now, we’re focusing on the leads we have. I’m heading out to the scene where you were attacked, Agent Sanderson.” He set his card on the tray in front of her. “Call me if you think of anything else.”

“I will.”

He nodded to them both then headed out. Moments later the lab technician finished collecting her samples and left.

Lucy glanced at Bryce, now so excited for this new development that could prove his brother’s innocence. She’d offered her services, but profiling wasn’t an exact science. She might not be able to completely rule out Clint Tippitt as a suspect. DNA might do that...or it might prove his guilt. She wondered if Bryce was ready for that outcome. Did he believe in Clint, or was he foolishly blind to the truth? She’d been that way with Danny—blinded by love to who he really was—and people had died because of it. She hoped Bryce Tippitt wouldn’t make the same mistake.

“I should go check on Meghan and make sure she gets home safely.”

“Of course. Go. She needs you.” She felt silly for her earlier exclamation asking him to stay. He had a responsibility to his daughter first and foremost. “I’ll be fine.”

“I would normally ask my friend Cassidy to take her. They spend a lot a time together. She’s like a mother to Meghan, but she’s working. I’ll take her to her friend’s house, then I’ll come back afterward and check on you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m fine, Bryce. Really.”

“I’ll be back,” he assured her. “In the meantime, I’m going to ask Cassidy to check up on you. She’s the nurse who took Meghan out of here earlier. She’ll take care of you.”

She assured him again she was fine, and he left. She had to admit she was glad he was coming back. Silly or not, she felt better with him around. She didn’t know if it was because he’d saved her life or because he was her only contact in town—or simply just her last, final connection to Danny. Whatever the reason, Bryce Tippitt and his daughter had made an impact on her. For the first time since Danny’s death, she didn’t feel quite so alone.

The door opened and a nurse entered, pushing a rolling cart loaded with bouquets of flowers. “These arrived for you,” she said happily.

Lucy was confused. “Who are they from? Who even knows I’m here?” She didn’t know anyone in town, and none of her friends or family back in Virginia could have known about the attack already.

“Honey, it’s already all over the news that you were attacked and managed to escape. These are from well-wishers all over town.”

She set a vase with flowers on the table beside the bed, and Lucy felt her eyes starting to water at the aroma of the fresh-cut flowers. “They’re lovely, but I have allergies. Could you set them by the window where I can see them, but they’re not close enough to aggravate my allergies?”

“Of course.” She moved the flowers to the corner of the room, then pulled out the cards and handed them to Lucy so she could look through them. “If the police are done with their questioning, I’ll see about getting you something for the pain so you can rest tonight. With no evidence of anything broken and only a mild concussion, the doctor says you’ll probably be released in the morning.”

Lucy was glad to hear it. She would also be glad to get out of this hospital bed and the gown and into regular clothes. Mostly, she would be glad to stop feeling like a victim and get back to finding the killer. Yes, they had his DNA, but it would take time for the lab results to come back, and until they did, the women of this town were still in danger.

She glanced at the cart of flowers. The scent was still tickling her nose, but they were far enough away to prevent a full-blown flare up. There were at least fifteen bouquets. Fifteen people who didn’t know her but had heard about her predicament on the news and felt compelled to send her get-well flowers. Those small acts of kindness spoke more about this town than the killer on the loose did.

Lucy picked up the stack of note cards that had accompanied the flowers and looked through them. Most of the names she didn’t know, but one stood out. Mrs. Ferguson, the owner of the B&B where she was staying, had sent her an arrangement. That was sweet—Lucy would be sure to thank her.

She flipped to the next card and the warm, comforting feeling she’d been floating on turned to chills. Beneath the buzzing bee symbol of the flower shop was a threat.

Next time you die.

Bryce dropped Meghan off at a friend’s house for the night, then booked it back to the hospital. He knew he didn’t have to stay with Lucy. The nurse had assured him she would rest most of the night. But he wanted to be there, since he was the one who’d brought her to town.

And it had nothing to do with the way her hand had felt so light and delicate in his. Nope. Nothing at all.

He tried to phone his brother again as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. There was still no answer from Clint, no response to his repeated text messages and no return call. He didn’t like it. Another woman had been attacked, and his brother was MIA. It wouldn’t look good if he couldn’t explain where he’d been. The least Bryce could hope for was that his brother was somewhere that ten or twelve witnesses could place him for the whole night.

He hated that his mind went there. A woman was attacked in his town, and he was worried about his brother’s alibi? It wasn’t right, but it was the situation they found themselves in now. But the situation had changed for the better thanks to Lucy. She’d gotten DNA evidence from the man who’d attacked her, evidence that would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that it wasn’t Clint.

He headed to Lucy’s room and found Jim Ross talking to her, along with two members of his forensics team.

“What’s going on?” he asked as they were bagging up bouquets of flowers from a cart in the corner.

He noticed Lucy looked even paler than she had earlier, the bruise on her face darker and more pronounced. She held up an evidence bag with a card inside. “The nurse brought in all these flowers from well-wishers. This note was attached to one of them.”

He didn’t miss the way her hand shook as she held it out to him. He took the bag and looked at it, his blood going cold at the threat. “Do we know who sent this?”

“Not yet,” Ross told him. “The nurse removed all the cards from the bouquets, so we don’t even know which one it was attached to. I’m having my people bag all the flowers in case, and we’ll run the card for fingerprints to see if we get a hit. Right now, that’s all we can do. I’ve got most of my resources tied up at the abduction site gathering evidence. Once we’re done with that, we’ll interview the people at the flower shop.”

“I’ll do it,” Lucy volunteered.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ross countered. “You’re the victim.”

But she wasn’t backing down. She squared her shoulders as she locked eyes with him. “I’m also an FBI agent trained in interview and interrogation. I want to do this.” She pushed back the blankets and tried to stand. Bryce quickly helped her when her knees threatened to buckle. She clearly wasn’t up for this tonight.

“I’ll go with her,” Bryce suggested. “But the shop will already be closed tonight.” He glanced at Ross, who shrugged.

“Fine. Let me know if anything comes of it. Who would have a reason to threaten you?” Ross asked her.

“Besides the man who abducted and tried to murder me, you mean?”

“Yes, besides him.”

Lucy sighed and settled back down on the bed, giving up the pretense of trying to stand. Good. She didn’t need to push herself. “I don’t know anyone in this town and, to my knowledge, the only people who knew I was coming were you and Bryce. Has this perpetrator reached out to the police or media before?”

Ross shook his head. “No. We’ve never received any form of communication from him.”

“Then either learning the FBI was involved bolstered his ego, or else he meant this threat for me personally.”

“The news has been broadcasting that you’re FBI,” Bryce told her. Her attack and escape from the killer were all anyone in town was talking about tonight. He’d even had to spend several minutes at Meghan’s friend’s house chitchatting about it with her mother before he’d been able to leave.

“Still, it’s an unlikely scenario,” Lucy continued. “If he was interested in taunting the police, he would have established contact before now. He likely sees me as a loose end—the one that got away and can give evidence that might lead police to him—or else as a challenge.”

“Either way, you’re a target,” Bryce stated. He didn’t like that scenario. She was still in danger because of him, because he’d asked her to come here. It was his duty, his responsibility to keep her safe. “I’ll stay with you.”

“I can take care of myself,” she assured him, but he waved off her show of strength. She was in this mess because of him, and he had a duty to keep her safe. He owed it to her and to Danny, but most of all, he’d borne the responsibility of placing others in danger before, with terrible results. He wasn’t sure he could go through that again.

“I’m not leaving.”

She stared up at him, her eyes shining with gratitude and acceptance. “Okay, but only until I fall asleep. Then I insist you go home. The doctor will be releasing me in the morning. We’ll go interview the floral shop employees then.”

Ross nodded. “Great. Let me know what you find out.” The forensics team signaled they were done, and Ross turned to leave. “I’m heading back out to the abduction site. I’ll let you know if we find anything. I’ll also have those files we talked about sent to the B&B.”

“Thank you, Detective.”

Bryce extended his hand and shook Ross’s. “I appreciate all you’re doing,” he said, and he meant it. Ross hadn’t had to go to bat for him with the chief and allow him to bring in the FBI, but he had and he was always fair enough to look at all the leads before making any conclusions. Bryce wished all the officers on the force showed the same restraint.

The nurse arrived and gave her something to help her pain, and Lucy seemed to rest better after that. Once she was sleeping soundly, Bryce slipped from the room and took up guard duty outside her door.

He passed the time by continuing to try to reach his brother and looking up the details of Danny’s death. Something about the expression on Lucy’s face when she’d told him about the car crash had left him wondering. He was sure she’d been hesitating, holding something back, and he feared the worst as he scoured the internet for news about the crash that had killed Danny and a family in a van.

He found articles on the crash from the previous year. A family of four, including two children, were killed when another driver had barreled through a traffic light and crashed into them. The driver of the car was also killed, and found to be under the influence of prescription medication at the time of the crash.

So that was what she hadn’t wanted to tell him. Danny had been abusing prescription meds. Bryce sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as weariness weighed heavily on him. He’d known too many men, good men, who’d succumbed to addiction after suffering injuries in the service. As far as he’d known, Danny’s injuries during his last combat mission hadn’t been severe, certainly nothing that would have prevented him from returning after recovery. But he’d decided it was time to leave military life and focus on a career in law. The last time Bryce had spoken to Danny, he’d been excited about graduating law school and being hired by a criminal defense firm. He’d also been excited about planning a life with Lucy.

How easily it had all faded away.

He clicked on an image on his phone of him and Meghan taken only a few days after he’d returned home from his last mission as an SOA operator. It had been a rescue mission at an embassy and people had died, people he’d sent in to help the embassy workers. In an instant, his decision had cost three families their husbands, fathers, sons and brothers. It was a burden he had to live with, and one he didn’t shoulder lightly.

He would look after Lucy because he owed it to her for the danger he’d placed her in. But he had to be careful too. He recalled how enamored Meghan had been with the lovely brunette FBI agent. She’d already texted him twice since he’d left her at her friend’s house to check on her, and that was only after gushing about Lucy to her friend for several minutes after she’d arrived.

Yes, Lucy was turning out to be a fierce, amazingly strong federal agent, but that was all she could ever be in their lives. The press had called his SOA team heroes for acting to save lives, but his own government had labeled him insubordinate for not obeying their command to stand down and ignore the tragedy unfolding at the embassy. Lucy was a government agent, and Bryce had learned the hard way that his government could not be trusted—therefore Lucy could not be trusted.

No matter how her eyes seemed to twinkle at him.

TWO

Bryce arrived at the hospital the next morning carrying a suitcase. “I stopped by the B&B and asked Mrs. Ferguson to pack you some clothes from your room. I hope that’s okay.”

It was more than okay. It was wonderful, and Lucy was grateful he’d thought of it. She slipped from the hospital gown into a pair of jeans and a blouse and was finally starting to feel like a person again. She stared at herself in the mirror and saw a stranger staring back at her. The big ugly bruise took up one side of her face, and a busted lip completed the look.

The beating had been severe, and it was a blessing she hadn’t sustained more than a mild concussion. Thinking about what might have been had been enough to keep her awake all night. Even now it made her stomach roll. She’d come to town to catch a killer, not to become his next victim.

“Thank you for the clothes,” she told Bryce as she emerged from the bathroom where she’d changed. Last night the police had confiscated her running shoes for evidence, but Mrs. Ferguson had remembered to include another pair in the bag. She slipped them on, grimacing at the action. Her entire body ached from her ordeal, and she noticed Bryce didn’t miss her grunts of pain.

“Are you sure you shouldn’t be staying here?” he asked her.

She waved off his concerns. “I’m fine. Just a little sore. Getting out and moving will certainly help.” That and the massive bottle of Tylenol she planned to keep with her at all times. The doctor had prescribed her painkillers, but she was hesitant to use them unless absolutely necessary. She wanted to be as alert as possible, and she’d tried to avoid strong painkillers ever since discovering Danny’s addiction to them.

Bryce helped her slip into her jacket, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his shoulders seemed to take up all her space, yet his hands were gentle as he helped her. It was strange to her that ever since hearing his daughter tell her that she would be okay because her dad was a marine, she had felt safer whenever he was around.

She shook off those feelings. She’d come here for a purpose, and it wasn’t to cozy up to Bryce Tippitt. She couldn’t even think about such things, not after what she’d been through with Danny. She had to keep her head about her and not get lulled into a sense of comfort. For all she knew, Bryce knew his brother was guilty and was grasping at straws to pin his crimes on another man. It was essential that she maintain her objectivity.

“I think we should head to the floral shop first,” she said. She’d jotted down the name of the shop that bore the logo on the threatening note. “It was Busy Bee Flowers. Are you familiar with that shop?”

“Of course. I know right where it is.”

“Good. Let’s go then.”

She was glad to get out of the hospital and ready to stop feeling like such an invalid. Wearing normal clothes certainly helped, but working out the kinks in her joints would make her feel better too.

The hospital insisted on forcing her to use a wheelchair until they reached the front doors. She hated it—one more reason she was glad to get out of there.

“I’ve already driven my pickup to the front doors,” Bryce said as he wheeled her toward them. “A buddy of mine was able to replace the shattered back glass first thing this morning.” He stopped abruptly.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, glancing at the front doors. A group of people stood on the front stoop, blocking the path between the door and his truck. She spotted several cameras and knew they were the press. “What should we do?”

“We can find another way out, but I’ll have to get my truck sometime.”

“I can’t ignore them forever. Let’s just go through them. Let them have their photo op.”

He nodded and pushed her toward the door. Once it slid open, the group turned and started snapping photos. Microphones were pushed into her face, and people shouted questions at her.

She ignored them, keeping her head down as Bryce opened the passenger door to his truck and helped her inside, leaving the wheelchair on the sidewalk. She was grateful for his calm manner and the hand on her back to keep her steady. She’d thought she could handle this, but the flashes of light and the shouting were unbearable. She was thankful when he slammed the door shut. She covered her face as he walked around, climbed into the driver’s seat and took off.

It was all too reminiscent of the days after Danny’s death and the constant harassment by the press for a comment. She didn’t know what they’d expected her to say. Nothing she could have said would have changed anything or brought any of them back to life.

The drive to the flower shop gave her enough time to pull herself together. Once they arrived, Bryce walked around and helped her out. He kept his distance enough to give her some sense of dignity, but he didn’t stay so far away he couldn’t help her if she stumbled. She recognized that and appreciated it.

She stepped into the shop and was immediately hit with the scent of flowers. Her eyes began to water as her allergies kicked in. This was going to be a quick interview, or else they were going to have to go into the back room.

She pulled out her FBI credentials and showed them to the clerk on duty. “I’d like to ask you some questions about a delivery that was made to Whitten Medical Center last night.”

The woman behind the counter was in her forties with short hair and soft eyes. “Of course. I’m the owner, Charlotte Manchester. We had several deliveries there last night for the woman who escaped the serial killer. That was something special. That was you, wasn’t it? Everyone who came in was excited that finally someone can identify him. It’s what we’ve all been waiting for.”

Lucy smiled at her, thankful for her kind sentiments. She hated to tell her that she couldn’t identify him, that it had all happened so fast and that her attacker’s face was nothing more than a blur in her mind. So she wouldn’t tell her that. If the police wanted that information released, they would be the ones to do so. It wasn’t smart to let the killer know she couldn’t identify him, although it might take her out of his sights.

“That was me.” There was no point in denying it. Her face would be all over the news in a matter of hours after the show while leaving the hospital. Plus how many FBI agents would be in town looking like they’d just gone several rounds in the boxing ring? “I received several very nice bouquets. The one I’m interested in came with this note.” She pulled out a copy of the card Detective Ross had given her.

The woman read it and her face paled. “Oh my. That’s terrible.”

“Do you recall who wrote that?”

“No. Most of our orders were placed over the phone or online, but we did have several people walk in yesterday evening to purchase flowers. We were unusually busy last night. The entire town was excited about your escape. It had to be one of them, otherwise someone here would have written the card and I don’t recognize this handwriting.”

“But you don’t know who that person was?”

“No. I wouldn’t have sent it out knowing the note said something like that.”

“Okay, what about receipts. Did anyone who came in pay with a credit card?”

“Yes, I have those records, although we had several people pay in cash. They’re more likely to pay with cash if they come into the store.”

“I’d like to see those receipts. I’d also like to know who else worked last night.”

“I only have two other employees who help me. They both work part-time. I’ll get you their names. And I’ll copy that list for you.” She disappeared into the back room.

“What do you think?” Bryce asked her.

“I think it’s a dead end. I doubt someone who wrote that on a card would pay with a credit card, but we still have to check it out. Maybe Detective Ross will find a fingerprint to identify him.”

“Do you really think the person who attacked you walked in here and purchased flowers for you? Wouldn’t he be worried about being seen?”

Most people would think that, but Lucy knew from her experience that serial killers had a different mind-set than most regular people. “Serial killers are known for being able to blend into society. It’s why so many of them get away with it for so long.”

Mrs. Manchester returned with the list. Lucy thanked her for her help and turned to leave, when the woman stopped her with a question. “You can identify him, can’t you, Agent Sanderson? Please tell me this nightmare is over and you know who the killer is. It will put a lot of people at rest to know.”

She glanced at Bryce, and Lucy knew she was anxious to hear if Clint Tippitt had been the one behind her attack. She saw Bryce flush with embarrassment. “I really can’t say,” Lucy told the woman. “It’s still an ongoing investigation.” She held up the paper. “Thank you for your help though, and have a nice day.”

She and Bryce walked back outside to his truck, and he helped her inside. Despite her blustering to Detective Ross yesterday about her ability to interview and interrogate witnesses, she was glad this venture hadn’t called for that. She was tired and in more pain today than she had been yesterday. Her ankle was already protesting the short walk, and her head was pounding.

Bryce must have noticed because he suggested returning to the B&B. “I saw some boxes when I was there earlier, probably the ones Jim Ross sent over about the case.”

He was giving her a way out of her posturing. Once again, she owed him. “You’re right. I really should focus my attention on the cases. If I’m going to identify this killer, the clues will be in those files.”

Bryce drove Lucy to the B&B where Mrs. Ferguson, an elderly lady with a lot of spunk and a big smile, greeted them at the door and gushed over Lucy.

“I heard what happened. How terrible for you, Lucy. Are you okay, dear?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ferguson. I’m fine. Thank you for packing me some clothes. I also got your flowers last night. Sadly, the police had to confiscate all of them.”

“What on earth for?”

Bryce set down her bag by the staircase. “It was a precaution. Someone sent Lucy a threatening message using flowers.”

“How strange,” the woman stated. “Two police officers brought by some boxes for you. They said they were files you requested. I had them leave them down here in the dining room. You’re welcome to use the table if you need the room to go through them.”

Lucy looked over and saw six boxes sitting in the corner of the dining room. The table would provide her more room, but she didn’t think anyone would care for graphic images of murdered women lying around. “That’s kind of you, Mrs. Ferguson, but some of the images may be disturbing. You don’t want them displayed in here.”

“Well, it’s only you and me here. I don’t have any other guests right now, and I promise not to look. There’s also a den in the back of the house. It has doors so you can close off the room. You’re welcome to use that if you’d rather.”

Lucy thanked her again and finally agreed to use the back room. With Bryce’s help, she unloaded the files from their boxes, stacked them into appropriate piles and taped up photos of the victims, turning nearly one entire wall into an evidence wall.

She stared at the images of the victims. Her body ached from the attack and she wasn’t at her best, but she had work to do and she was anxious to get to it.

She had a killer to catch.

Bryce helped Lucy unload the files, then spent the next several hours going through each case. The photos of the murdered women made his stomach roll. The thought that anyone could inflict such violence on another person angered and disgusted him. Yes, he’d seen violence. He’d even participated in it when necessary, but the face-to-face destruction of another person sickened him.

And to think his brother was being accused of these crimes.

“The last three victims all share the same modus operandi. They were all abducted, missing for several days, then found with their throats slashed.” Lucy picked up the photo of Jessica Nelson, the first victim, and his brother Clint’s girlfriend at the time of her disappearance. “Jessica’s case is different. It took place nearly two years before the next victim, and her body was never found.”

“You don’t think it’s related?”

“Physically, it’s impossible to link it to the other victims because she was never found. Her car is missing while the others were on foot when they were abducted, including myself, or else their car was found abandoned. I’ll have to profile the victims to see if there’s any overlap of their lives. I may be able to link them that way.”