Dead End (9 page)

“May I go with you?”

“Sure. May not be much to see, but sure.”

“I can call Will from the car. I wanted to check in with him, just in case he’s got something to tell me.”

“I want so badly to solve this one, Annie,” he told her as they walked down to Fourth Street, where he’d parked his car. “Jackie can have the big-profile case, she can have the publicity and all the glory. I’ll be more than happy if I can find out who these girls were and what happened to them.”

“What about the book deal?” she teased.

“She can even have the book deal.” He smiled. “Someone has to make it right for these kids. I’d like it to be me.”

“And the possibility that a cop is involved has nothing to do with your wanting this case all to yourself.”

“It won’t be all to myself. I’ll have help if I ask for it. But yeah, if a cop’s involved, I want to bring him in.”

They turned the corner on Fourth and crossed the street to Evan’s car, which he unlocked with the remote. He opened Annie’s door for her, pausing to nuzzle the side of her face.

“You smell good,” he whispered.

“Now, Detective,” she said sternly. “What would District Attorney Sheridan have to say about such a public display of affection?”

“He wishes he were me, don’t kid yourself.” He kissed her neck.

“Save it.” She smiled as she slid into the front passenger seat. “I’ll be here at least until tomorrow.”

“Yippee.” He slammed the car door and walked around to the driver’s side. By the time he opened the door and got behind the wheel, she was holding the phone to her ear.

“Hey, Will, it’s Annie. Got anything for me on those tattoos yet?”

Evan started up the engine, but she put a hand on his arm, silently asking him to wait. He turned off the engine.

“Can you send me all this via fax to . . . Evan, what’s the number of the new fax machine at your house?”

He told her and she repeated the number for Will.

She listened to Will for a few minutes longer, then said, “Would you repeat that?”

She scribbled quickly on a piece of paper she found in her purse.

“And you’re sure?” She hesitated, then said, “I wish I could remember why that sounds so familiar. I guess it’ll come to me. Give me a call if you find anything else. And thanks, Will. This is great. I owe you. Yeah, another one . . .”

“He’s identified the tattoos?”

“He found several other similar victims in Chicago. Three girls, all Hispanic. Cause of death was different from yours, though. These girls all died from gunshots to the head. All from the same gun.”

“More executions.”

“That’s what I thought, too, when he first said it. I’m wondering if these girls of yours would have been shot had there not been a serial killer in the same general geographic area. Making the kills look the same could have been simply a way to camouflage the hits.”

“What did he have to say about the tattoos?”

“This is really interesting. These girls in Chicago all had those little stars in the same place, top of the hip, left side. None of them had any identification, but one of them had some kind of dried bean seeds in a small vial on a cord around her neck.”

“Dried bean seeds?” Evan frowned.

“Right. The cop handling the investigation found that these beans apparently are grown in Central America.”

“Could he be more specific?”

“He mentioned a small country called Santa Estela as a possible source.”

“Never heard of it.”

“I have. And it took me a minute, but I just remembered where I heard the name.”

“You going to share that with me?”

“Connor was there, a few years ago. I remember overhearing him and Dylan talking about it.”

“Maybe he has a contact there who could help us to identify the tattoo.”

“I’ll ask him. I’ll e-mail him tonight.” She leaned back against the seat. “We can go now.”

“Thank you.” He turned the key in the ignition.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just thinking.”

“You’re thinking that if the kids from Chicago were from Santa Estela, maybe these girls—my girls—are, too.”

She nodded. “And wondering why they’re here, how they got here.”

“Want to skip the tour of the crime scenes for today and go straight to my place so you can use your computer?”

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I’m itching to find something concrete on this case.”

“Will is going to fax over everything he has, including the name and phone number of the cop in Chicago who worked this case.”

“I can’t wait to talk to him.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Once they were back at the townhouse, Evan went directly to the fax machine and Annie to her laptop. She turned it on, and typed her message.

TO: CShields00721

From: AMMccall00913

Re: Santa Estela

Connor, strange development on a case here in PA. Tattoos on the vics found to be identical to those found on three vics in Chicago. Young girls, one of whom appears to have a connection traced back to Central America, possibly Santa Estela. Do I recall correctly that you had spent some time there? Any contacts remain?

A

She hit
send
and waited, but the immediate response she’d hoped for didn’t come. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow.

In the meantime, she wanted to see the fax Will had sent Evan. Maybe the Chicago cop had found answers to the very questions Evan was now asking. Maybe he could give them a lead. Maybe this was the thread that, once pulled, would help Evan to send the girls home.

12

“What’s on your agenda for today?” Evan asked Annie over breakfast early on Monday morning.

“First thing I want to do is try Will again.” She sat across from him at the small table next to the only window in his narrow kitchen.

“Checking to see if he found out anything else about the tattoos?”

“No, he’ll contact me as soon as he has something on that. I want to ask him about Melissa Lowery.” She sipped at her coffee. “Have I mentioned her to you before? She’s a former agent who was on the scene the night Dylan was shot. She wrote an account of the events of that night, but the report isn’t in the file.”

“I think you did mention her. Did you ask around the Bureau?”

“No one seems to know where she went after she left. Which is odd in itself, since she was with the Bureau for seven years. She must have had friends.”

“I guess you didn’t ask the right people. Someone knows where she is. Did you check with HR? Wouldn’t they have a forwarding address?”

“Privacy issues. They don’t give out anyone’s home address.”

“So how would Will be able to find her?”

Annie laughed. “No one really knows how Will finds out anything. He just has a knack with computers and uncanny instincts. If anyone can track her down, it will be him.”

She rested her elbow on the windowsill and gazed out.

“You need a little help finishing that deck?”

“Maybe. Depends on who’s volunteering.”

“I could work on it with you next weekend, if you get the boards that go across the frame.” Her left index finger tapped on the window glass.

“Decking.”

“What?”

“Those boards that go across the frame are called decking.” He downed the last of his coffee and stood. “If you really want to, we can work outside next weekend. If it rains, we can work inside.” He leaned down to kiss her neck.

She smiled and reached up her hand to touch his face.

“Either way, we win.”

“Either way,” he agreed.

“What’s that I see going on out there by the fence?” She tapped on the glass again. “Looks as if someone has been digging.”

“I started to dig up that garden bed for your roses, but I didn’t get around to finishing it.”

“Maybe we could put that on the list for next weekend, too.”

“Hmm. Build the deck. Plant the garden.” He grinned as he walked to the sink to rinse out his cup. “Sounds like what the married guys in the office call a ‘honey-do’ weekend.”

“It’ll be good for both of us to spend some time outside, do a little manual labor. I’m up for it.”

“I’ll make a point next week to pick up the rest of the material for the deck. We’ll start early on Saturday and just work through until it’s finished. Or until one of us falls over.”

“That would have to be you. I’m in great shape.” She tilted her head to one side. “Is that my phone ringing or yours?”

“Mine. And it’s upstairs on the dresser.” He bolted from the room and took the steps to the second floor two at a time.

Annie cleared the table and stacked the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. As small as Evan’s townhouse was, she loved it. It was cozy and homey. With just a little paint on the cabinets, maybe lose that old wallpaper and add some textured paint to the walls, put in a new tile floor, the kitchen could be absolutely charming. She smiled to herself, knowing that such a kitchen would exist only in her mind. Evan would never think to do it on his own, and she’d never suggest it to him. It was, after all, his house.

She went to the back door and looked out onto the small yard. The deck would take up almost all of the space, but there was still room for those roses. She opened the door and stepped out, careful to avoid the box of nails and scraps of wood he’d left on the porch, and walked to the back of the yard where she’d planted the peonies. They hadn’t bloomed this year, might not bloom for a few more years. She’d heard they were temperamental and didn’t like being moved. She was thinking about making a stop at the local nursery to look for something that might bloom now when she heard the back door slam.

“That was Sheridan,” Evan told her as he made his way across the yard to where she stood. “I have to go.”

“Please don’t tell me they found another girl . . .”

“No. But they did get another letter from the killer. Apparently, he’s really pissed.”

“Sheridan or the killer?”

“The killer. He’d expected Sheridan to let the media know that he was not responsible for the deaths of the three unidentified girls. He wants everyone to know there’s a copycat killer out there, and he wants the media to start referring to him as the Schoolgirl Slayer. He thought Malone was going to take care of these issues for him after he’d written that letter, but as you know, we thought we’d sit on that for a few days.”

“What’s he done?”

“He wrote a second letter. Only he sent this one to Fox News. They aired it about ten minutes ago, right at the top of the seven a.m. show.” He gave her a long kiss on the mouth.

“I miss you so much when you’re not here, Annie.”

“I miss you when I’m not here, too.” She leaned her forehead against his.

“Sooner or later, we’re going to have to talk about that.”

“I know.” She nodded. “It’s getting a little crazy, all this back-and-forth.”

“If I didn’t have this case, I’d be able to come to you.”

“You can’t not be here when something like this is going on. You have to be here.”

“Still . . .”

“It’s not something we’re going to resolve right now, Evan. We’ll talk about it. Maybe next weekend.”

“Okay. Gotta go.” He kissed her again before heading toward the door. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“What’s Sheridan going to do?”

“Damage control, he says. Whatever the hell that is at this point.” He waved and went through the garage as a shortcut to his car, which was parked out front.

Annie walked back inside, locked the door, and went upstairs to gather her things. Back downstairs in twenty minutes with her bag and laptop, she decided to check her e-mail before leaving. She set up the computer on Evan’s desk in his study and turned it on. There were e-mails from the office—including one from John asking her to meet with him later that afternoon about the Michigan cases—but nothing from Connor. She turned off the laptop and slipped it into its case, then called the airport to see if there was an earlier flight she could catch back to Virginia. There was one, at 12:45. She booked herself on it and called the office to let John know she’d be there.

She hung up just as her watch beeped the hour. It was nine o’clock. If Will was running true to form today, he’d already been at his desk for several hours. She dialed his cell phone, just in case he’d had a late start and was still in transit or in the field.

“Hey, Annie. Did Evan get my fax?” Will answered, having recognized Annie’s number on the caller ID.

“He did. He’s going to follow up with the investigating officer from Chicago this morning. Thanks so much. That might prove to be the information he needs to crack that case.”

“I hope it helps.” He paused, then asked, “What else is on your mind this morning?”

“You know me all too well.” She sighed, a long deliberately dramatic sigh, and he laughed.

“You just don’t make social calls, Annie. None of us do. Way too busy. So tell, what’s on your mind?”

“Melissa Lowery.”

“What about her?”

“You know her?”

“I did know her. Not well, but I knew her.”

“Everyone says that.” She frowned. “Everyone seems to know who she was, but I can’t seem to find anyone who really knew her. And no one seems to know why she left the Bureau or where she went.”

“Who needs to know?”

“I do. I need to speak with her.” Annie explained about the missing report from Dylan’s file. “I want to ask her if she remembers what she’d observed that night, if she remembers what she wrote.”

“I’m trying to remember if I know anyone who was friends with her.” He was silent for a moment. “I saw her in the lounge once or twice with Mia; maybe she knows something.”

“Mia Shields?”

“Yes. Give her a call. In the meantime, do you want me to see if I can find an address for Melissa?”

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all. I live for these little intrigues. Let me see what I can do. I’ll call you when I have something.”

Annie smiled. Not
if,
but
when.

“Great,” she said. “I’ll give Mia a call now. You wouldn’t happen to have a number for her, would you?”

“Sure. She’s in the directory.” Will read the number off to Annie.

“Great. I love you, Will.”

“Of course you do. Just don’t tell Cahill. She has a nasty temper.”

Annie laughed and hung up. Miranda Cahill, their fellow agent and Will’s live-in love, was as well-known for her even disposition and good humor as she was for her statuesque beauty and her smart-aleck mouth.

Mia Shields answered her phone on the third ring.

“Mia, it’s Annie.” Annie greeted her and made small talk for a few moments, then said, “I’m trying to track down an agent who left the Bureau about two years ago. Someone said they thought you were a friend of hers.”

“Who’s that?”

“Melissa Lowery.”

“Oh, Melissa. Sure, I knew her.”

“Do you know where she is now?”

“No clue. I didn’t know her all that well, I just knew her because of Grady.”

“Grady?”

“He went out with her a couple of times, then when he stopped calling her, she’d corner me and want to know what was up with him, was he seeing someone else, that sort of thing.”

“Grady dated Melissa Lowery?” Annie digested this. “Funny, when I asked your other brothers about her, they claimed not to know her.”

“They may not have. I don’t think they dated for all that long. If neither Brendan nor Andy was around at the time, they may not have been aware Grady’d taken her out. It was never a serious thing, not that I know of anyway, just a few dates. At least, that was my impression.”

“You think Grady knows where I can contact her?”

“You can ask him. I think he’s in his office. Want me to transfer you?”

“That would be great, thanks.”

“Annie, did she do something . . . ?”

“Oh, no, no. I just wanted to ask her about a report she wrote a few years ago, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay. She didn’t seem like the type to be involved in anything shady.”

“I’m sure she wasn’t.”

“I’ll transfer you now. Take care, Annie. I hope to see you soon.”

“Me, too. Thanks, Mia.”

Annie listened to Grady’s phone ring and ring. Finally, his voice mail picked up and she left a message for him to call her about Melissa Lowery. She was on her way to her car when her phone rang.

“Annie, hi.” Grady sounded rushed, as if he was hurrying off someplace. “What’s this about Melissa Lowery?”

“I wanted to talk to her, but no one seems to know where she is.”

“What makes you think I’d know?”

“Mia mentioned you used to date her.”

“I wouldn’t say I used to date her. We grabbed a movie together a time or two, had dinner once or twice, no big deal.” There was a long silence on the phone. “Why do you need to talk to her?”

“Because, as you know, Evan and I were looking over Dylan’s file, and there are several items missing, one of which is a report written by Melissa.”

“Oh, it probably slipped out of the file or got misplaced. It happens all the time.”

“That’s what one of your brothers said.”

“Well, it happens . . . By the time a file is retired, who knows how many times it’s been read through. Things fall out and get tucked back into the wrong file by accident.”

“This isn’t a retired file, Grady.”

“Sorry, Annie. Look, I don’t mean to make light of this. It’s just a fact of life that papers fall out of files. It happens all the time.”

“I guess.” She set her bag on the ground next to her rental car while she unlocked the driver’s door. “So you don’t know where Melissa went after she left Virginia?”

“No, sorry, I don’t.”

“Any idea where she’s from, where her family might be?”

“No, it never came up in conversation.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who might know where Melissa is now, would you?”

“No, sorry. We didn’t keep in touch, and I didn’t go out with her long enough to find out who her friends were. Sorry.”

“Yeah, me, too. Thanks, Grady.” Annie disconnected the call and tossed her purse onto the front passenger seat. The conversation with Grady had left her dissatisfied. It wasn’t that she thought he was lying as much as she felt he’d brushed over certain things. Who dated someone and didn’t ask where they were from? Wasn’t that part of that whole small-talk thing, like where you went to college? When you’re just getting to know someone, wasn’t that just basic?

She tucked the overnight bag behind the driver’s seat along with the case holding her laptop. Her phone rang again just as she turned the key in the ignition.

“Annie, it’s Evan. Would you have time to stop in at Sheridan’s office before you head out?”

“Not really. My flight leaves in two hours. What’s up?”

“All hell’s breaking loose around here. Our killer apparently was very busy last night. Writing letters, including one to the local paper,” he hastened to add. “Which is preferable to some of his other nocturnal activities. Sheridan is calling a press conference at noon and was hoping to have you there.”

“For what purpose?”

“Between you and me, I think he just wanted to parade his bevy of FBI personnel so that county residents could see that all the big guns are out on this one.”

“If he wants me to look over another letter from the killer, I’m happy to do that. He can fax it to my office. But I don’t have time to take part in a dog and pony show today. John wants to meet with me later this afternoon, and since he’s going to be out of the office all of next week, I can’t put him off. There are things he wants to talk about before he leaves tomorrow.”

“Hey, no apologies necessary. I agree with you. I’ll tell him your plane took off already, I couldn’t reach you. No big deal. Frankly, I’d like to take a bye on this myself.”