Blackwaters: A Kate Reid Novel (The Kate Reid Series Book 4) (3 page)

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The late lunch with Nick meant Kate didn’t leave the office until after seven o’clock. Now, as she pulled into the driveway of her small rented house, the day had begun to wear on her. She worried about Nick. Worried about how much time he was spending at the bars. Worried about the effects this inquiry was going to have on his career and even worried about whether or not he and Georgia were getting along through all of this. Nick hadn’t said much about it one way or another and Kate didn’t pry. None of this was what she’d expected after graduation. Then again, not much in her life ever really went to plan.

She opened the front door and stepped inside, kicking her shoes off immediately. Once inside her bedroom, she removed her gun from its holster and locked it away as always. A box on top of the closet was where it remained from the time she got home from work until five minutes before she walked out the door in the morning. It wasn’t like she had any kids running around and so it seemed overly cautious to lock it up every night. Living alone, she would have been better off keeping it in her nightstand or something to that effect. But she felt safe here. It took quite a while to get to this point, but she felt safe.

Her appetite hadn’t returned, thanks to the late lunch, so Kate curled up on the couch for some T.V. So far, in the six weeks she’d been assigned at the WFO, not a single case had been tossed her way. They’d had her doing a whole lot of administrative work—paper pushing, which she intensely disliked. But now that it had finally been resolved and she knew the WFO would be her home, now maybe they’d put her onto something with some meat in it.

Dwight would be her mentor as dictated by Bureau policy. The first two years after graduation was a probationary period for a new agent who was learning the ropes. There was a lot to learn and it was mostly bureaucratic political nonsense, but it was all a part of the game. She understood that perhaps now more so than before with everything that had been going on with Nick.

Kate switched on the television, more for white noise than anything else. Living alone was still an adjustment. Loneliness crept in all too often, but she did her best to stay busy and not think about why she was alone. After all, it was coming up on a year now.

“Nope.” Kate jumped off the couch, refusing to acknowledge the inching thoughts and went to the kitchen. A few nibbles, a glass of wine, and a chick flick would keep her occupied for now.

On her return, plate and glass in hand, she glanced at her phone. “Maybe one last check for email.” She still held out hope for a speedy resolution to Nick’s situation and remained vigilant with those who might offer up information.

“Dammit.” No news wasn’t necessarily good news, not in her line of work.

She began to search for a good old-fashioned rom-com and flipped through the channels, stopping briefly on one of the cable news stations. It had been a few days since she’d caught the news.

As she listened to the talking heads, the scrolling headlines at the bottom of the screen caught her eye.
“A body was found in the St. Marys River along the Florida side. The Baker County sheriff’s department has not released the name of the victim or any details pending an investigation.”

She flipped through the stations again and finally landed on something that would occupy her mind for a while. It was one of her favorite movies.

THREE

T
he scent of
fear and death lingered on her shirt as he held it to his face and inhaled the intoxicating odor. A smile spread across his lips as he recalled the precise moment of her passing. The moment the light faded from her eyes and her final breath that hung in the air just long enough for him to take it in—exciting, liberating. But as quickly as the moment had arrived, it vanished. And now he would have to get rid of her just like the others. Saying goodbye to them was his least favorite part. He loved her—loved controlling her, but it was time to let go.

He folded the shirt and laid it gently on the hand-carved wooden breakfast table. A relic from long ago; perfectly preserved as was the rest of the items in his home. Each piece of furniture, each picture frame that hung on the wall, even the bed in his room. All were exact replicas from when he was a child. The exception was that this house was not his childhood home. He had been forced to leave that place many years ago. This was his reminder of days past.

The tattered wood floor bowed under his weight, both from age and moisture that had seeped in from the sodden ground beneath the home. Recent heavy rains combined with the high water table being so close to the swamp made the home reek of must and mold. Most everyone had left this town when the wildfires came, but a few houses were still livable, by his standards anyway. Most had burned up right along with the swamp, but this place suited him just fine. The well still worked, but power came from a diesel generator, not that he used much in the way of electricity. Just enough by which to see at night and to see the look on their beautiful faces before he put them out of their misery.

“It’s all right now.” He stroked her dark, wavy hair, which was thick with sweat—mostly his. “I’m going to send you home soon, but for tonight, you need your rest.”

He pulled a t-shirt over her head with some difficulty as she sat propped up in the dingy green recliner. It was a little small and stretched across her breasts, making the school mascot appear distorted. The letters WJHS just beneath the bird puckered at her waist. She was a slender girl, not skinny like his sister had been, but he stood back and admired his choice of attire. He pushed back his scraggly hair, which was in desperate need of a wash, not that he paid much attention to his appearance, except when he went into town. “You look just like her.” A wink and a nod, and Arlen Tucker made his way along the hall to his bedroom. He would get a few hours of shut-eye before making the trip in the early hours of the morning. Weak eyesight made driving at night difficult, but it had to be done when he was sure not to be seen.

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The old wind-up clock on the nightstand next to his twin bed began to ring. Arlen pulled himself up, groggy from the midnight disruption to his sleep, but ready to face the task ahead. The jeans he wore earlier were crumpled up on the floor. He pulled them back on and buttoned them with ease as they hung low and loose on his waist. The belt was already on its last hole and if he got any thinner, he’d have to punch out a new one to cinch it up tighter.

He reached for the bloodstained undershirt he’d worn during the final phase of his most recent project that awaited him—the highly gratifying part he could only liken to orgasm. In fact, that usually happened afterward. However, it remained damp and he considered that a shirt probably wasn’t necessary given the location he’d be heading for, and the lingering heat made it an easier decision.

The bathroom down the hall was his next stop. The mirror was covered in a hoary film and Arlen glanced at his figure through the haze. A skeletal shape of a man and it was no wonder. His entire family had been tall, boney, and looked like they’d been stretched like the action figure he played with as a kid. The tattoos helped to conceal the ribs that were visible. His most-treasured, a three-headed beast known in Greek mythology as Cerberus, was also the largest. The heads were that of dogs and spread across the middle of his chest while the body of the snake slinked down to his navel. This particular monster was said to guard the gates of Hades. Arlen considered himself a Greek mythology enthusiast, even if his tattoo wasn’t a precise facsimile, which would have included lion’s claws and a few other minor details. Still, he believed he was the gatekeeper and could decide who would enter the underworld.

A splash of water on his face, and a deviously fetching one at that, to help wake him, and he headed to the living room to check up on his guest. Her body had stiffened considerably, which made it difficult for him to lift her off the chair and carry her to his truck parked outside.

The passenger door of his 1975 Chevy Silverado squeaked loudly as Arlen pulled it open. The vinyl bench seat was ripped in several places, exposing the foam beneath. And when he tried to slide her in, her cut-off denim shorts caught on one of the rips.

It took several minutes, but she was in. Arlen jumped in on his side and put the truck into gear, backing out onto the charred blacktop and headed east toward the swamp. He turned the knob for the radio and tapped his fingers to the beat of the music, casting occasional glances at the dead woman and returning his sights to the darkened road ahead.

He’d traveled a long way to find her and she hadn’t been an easy pick. But he waited until she was alone, heading home from the coffee shop where she worked. He’d watched her for days and knew it had to be her. She smiled at everyone who came in to the small shop a few miles out of town—a last stop before weary travelers hit the highway. It was miles from his job and even more from his home, but Arlen never dipped his pen in the company ink. It was much too risky and he needed the job if he wanted to keep himself in the lavish lifestyle to which he had become accustomed.

Trees lined the roadway that eventually turned into nothing more than a gravel path. He was getting closer now and could smell the decay of the black waters. The sweet smell of degeneration made the heat rise between his legs. Another mile and they would arrive.

Logging was a major industry in the swamp not so long ago and rail lines and other remnants were still visible in some areas. Arlen had spent a considerable amount of time searching for just the right spot. A place that still had pedestrian access blocked off and had only been used when the logging operations were underway, but that would ensure the body would remain in the blackness of the water, beneath the swamp grasses and trees and fallen debris.

Confident that the gators would find them before anyone else did, Arlen believed this was the perfect place in which to dump his used-up projects. He lugged her out of the truck and pulled her along the path. Her heels dragged along the dirt. She’d been wearing flip-flops on the night she met Arlen, but now remained barefooted, wearing a too-small Westmont Jr. High School t-shirt and denim shorts. Her appearance was dramatically altered from that fateful night Arlen Tucker crossed her path. She bore the markings of a killer who had squeezed the life from her before doing unspeakable acts to her body, leaving it almost unrecognizable. She’d put up a struggle, but he’d come to expect that. The resulting cuts and bruises on the rest of her were, he believed, of her own doing. All she needed to do was keep quiet and do as she was told.

The edge of the swamp was just beyond the barricade. A couple of steel posts on an A- frame was supposed to keep him out? He pushed through it with ease and continued dragging her down the slope that had turned sticky with black mud. Trudging through, he suddenly regretted not folding up the legs of his jeans. If for nothing else than to make it easier to slog through.

He pulled the small flashlight from his pocket and shined its LED bulb that illuminated the area well enough for him to find the right spot to drop her. He turned the light on the girl. Her shirt was filthy with mud and her legs were covered in thick strips as he dragged her along. She didn’t look like the girl he saw smiling last week at the coffee shop.

“Goodbye, Sydney.” He picked up a fallen branch and shoved it into her side, rolling her down the small embankment and into the water. The ripples made the swamp floor sway as if it were alive. He stepped closer, careful not to end up in the water himself, and began to ram the jagged end of the branch into her body to shove her beneath the old car rails that carried the logs out of the swamp.

A greenish light rose up from the water, ghostly and ethereal. It was only the swamp gasses that had been released as the water was disrupted, but Arlen smiled at the beautiful sight. He shone the light into the water and watched the remaining bubbles rise to the surface until there were no more.

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Kate peered through the passenger window of Dwight’s car. They’d just left BAU headquarters at Quantico after attending a briefing on a new phase of the NGI database soon to be implemented. Training was an ongoing process and, although she’d graduated from the Academy, there were always new systems and procedures being put into place and it was essential for an agent to understand how to use them. But she had been preoccupied. Two more weeks had gone by and still no word on bringing Nick back to active status. He was sliding down that slope at a much faster pace. Dwight had seen it and Kate was sure Georgia had seen it. How could she not? She was sleeping with the man.

“You okay?” Dwight asked.

She turned to him with the same look on her face she had every time he asked the question, which was quite a bit lately. “I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied. “Listen, you have to stay focused on your job. Nick can take care of himself. I’m sure you’ve figured that out already.”

“Of course he can. I just—I don’t know. He’s always been there for me and I can’t even return the favor. How much longer is this going to take?”

“I wish I knew, Kate.”

“Isn’t there something we can do? It wasn’t like the suspect was some kind of innocent bystander. He was a damn human smuggler.” She stopped. It wasn’t going to do anyone any good for her to unleash her frustration onto Dwight. He knew. He understood and if there was anything more to be done, he’d have already done it.

“I’m worried about him too.” Dwight faced her. “I’ve been doing my best to keep an eye on him—keep him in check—but he’s just lost without work. He needs it.”

Kate knew what that was like. She’d been burying herself in work for the past year.

“Georgia’s taking good care of him, Kate. You need to focus on your job right now. These first two years are critical for you and you can’t do anything to jeopardize that. That means keeping your head down and nose to the grindstone. Let Nick take care of Nick.”

Dwight’s cell phone began to buzz inside the console. “Hang on.” He pressed the Bluetooth on the steering wheel. “Jameson here.”

The voice on the other end wasn’t one that Kate recognized as it carried through the radio speakers. “Agent Jameson? This is Agent Lyons out of the Atlanta Field Office.”

“Yes, sir. What can I do for you?” Dwight raised his eyebrows and quickly glanced at Kate.

“I was pointed in your direction by BAU headquarters. Actually, it was SSA Scarborough I was looking for; however, I understand he’s on administrative leave at present.”

“Temporarily, yes.”

“I see. Well, I understand you’re his right hand and have worked closely with him in the past. As such, I figured you might be able to offer some assistance.”

“I’ve got you on speakerphone in my car and Agent Kate Reid is also listening.”

“Agent Reid. I’ve heard your name mentioned in conjunction with Scarborough. Hello.”

“Hello, sir.”

“As I was saying, I’ve been working on a murder investigation that has recently crossed into federal jurisdiction. The body of a missing woman was found in the Saint Marys River a few weeks ago. As the river borders both Georgia and Florida, the local authorities have enlisted our help.”

“Okay,” Dwight began. “I’m guessing the reason for this call is because you believe this isn’t a typical murder investigation.”

“No, sir. I don’t believe it is.”

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Nick sliced into the medium-rare steak he’d ordered and stabbed a morsel with his fork. “You and Dwight are flying to Atlanta tomorrow?” He raised the bite to his lips and it slid easily into his mouth.

“We have a nine a.m. flight, yes.” Kate waited for him to finish chewing.

“So Agent Lyons wants you two to look into this investigation? For what reason? Can’t imagine why BAU needs to be involved.” Before she could answer, Nick continued. “You know, I used to work with Lyons when I first started. Haven’t talked to him in years, though.”

Kate hadn’t wanted to fill him in on the gory details, especially considering his choice of entrees. She’d wished Dwight had joined them, but he had his kids tonight and didn’t want to tell his ex-wife he’d have to pass on spending time with them again because of work. He’d done it too many times, not by choice. It was just the job. But Kate insisted he didn’t need to be at the dinner, and so now she’d have to field Nick’s questions on her own.

“He mentioned he was calling for you, but all I know right now is that a few weeks ago, a woman was found in the river by two boys who were fishing. Anyway, from what I gather, Agent Lyons believes that another body recently found further upstream might be related.”