Don't Look Back (25 page)

Friday Morning

Dakota woke with a jerk. He’d caught himself dozing at his desk around three in the morning and decided to head home. After making Connor promise to call as soon as he could, he’d fought the exhaustion, determined to do more research into the lives of the girls Jamie had ID’d. At 4:30, he gave up knowing that he couldn’t go without sleep indefinitely.

He looked at the clock. 9:07.

Bed covers flew as he scrambled from the bed and into the bathroom.

Five minutes later, he was on his way to Anderson, South Carolina. After Samantha’s relapse last night, he knew he’d be making this trip alone.

Two officers watched Jamie’s parents’ house, two stood guard on Samantha’s room. Which meant Jamie had protection too. His mind slightly at ease, he punched in the speed dial number for Connor’s cell phone.

“Hello?”

“How’s Sam this morning?”

“Sleeping right now. They needed her ICU room for someone more critical, so she’s in a private room with constant supervision. They were going to do the D and C last night . . . er . . . this morning . . . whatever . . . and when they did the ultrasound, the baby still had a heartbeat.”

“Wow. Man, that’s fantastic.”

“I know. The doctors are still saying she’s going to lose it, but we’re putting our faith in the God who heals – and who still performs miracles.”

Dakota felt something shift in his chest. Faith? Hope? The desire to believe what his friends believed? “I’ll . . . uh . . . I’ll be praying too.”

Silence from the other end of the line, then a thick, “Thanks, friend,” came from an obviously moved Connor. “We’re in room 455.”

Change the subject. “I’m on my way to Anderson. I want to talk with Karen’s family and see if they have anything to add to what little we already have.” A spur-of-the-moment thought hit him. “Ask Jamie if she wants to go with me. It might do her some good to get out of this city for a few hours.”

“Hold on.”

Muffled voices in the background, then, “Yeah, swing by here and get her.”

A U-turn had him going in the right direction. The thought of spending the day with Jamie lifted his spirits right through the roof. In spite of the reason for the trip.

While he drove, he called the family, requesting some of their time this morning. To his surprise, he found out Karen’s mother and aunt were on the way to the morgue to take possession of the remains.

He called Lila. “Tell Serena not to let them leave until I get a chance to talk to them, all right?”

“Sure.”

At the hospital, he took the elevator up to Samantha’s room to find her resting comfortably. Jamie and Connor stood by the window talking quietly. Connor shook his hand, then Dakota turned to Jamie. “Karen’s parents are downstairs in the morgue. You still want to join me?”

She winced, but nodded. “Yes, Serena will be there, but I probably know more about the case than she does.”

A knock on the door. They swung as one toward it. Samantha blinked her eyes open. Connor walked over to open it and admit George.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt. I came to see if Samantha felt up to talking. I wanted to try and add as much as I could to the profile I’m building on this guy.”

Sam rolled her head over to look at George. “Hi, George.”

“Hi, Sam. Sorry to see you this way. He must have been a pretty tough character to get the best of you.”

“Not so tough,” she muttered. “If I had been feeling better, he wouldn’t have had a chance.”

A raised eyebrow and skepticism showed for a brief moment before George smoothed his face into impassive lines. “Tell me what you can about him.”

“He knew what he was doing. He had a plan, was organized and carried it out.” She touched her bandaged side. “Well, most of it.”

George settled himself against the sink and folded his arms across his chest. “What was his conversation like?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did he talk to you?”

“Yes, a little. He was very . . . controlled, I guess is the word.” “Anything else?”

“He seemed mad when I didn’t immediately start talking to him. When I didn’t get up and run.”

A brow furrowed. “Who was the first one to speak?”

“He was.”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Hello, Samantha.’”

“That’s it?”

“Then I think I asked him what he wanted.”

“Did you exhibit any kind of revulsion? Disgust?”

“Yeah.” She stared at George. “A lot of it.”

“He was angry because you forced his hand. Altered the way things were supposed to go down. At least in his mind.”

“Tough.”

George turned to the others in the room. “Our guy is a psychopath as opposed to psychotic.”

“What do you mean?”

“Psychopaths are smart, average to above-average intelligence. My guess is he’s near genius-level IQ. Psychotics are disorganized with below-average intelligence. This guy is still exhibiting all the qualities I talked about before. The only interesting thing about him is that he’s stuck around this area for so long. Most psychopathic killers are transient. They may change jobs or leave town abruptly. But all of the other factors . . .”

Dakota narrowed his eyes. “You sound almost like you respect him.”

George lifted a brow. “I respect his intelligence. I suggest you do the same. He’s very smart and you’d be wise not to underestimate him.”

A thoughtful nod, then, “What kind of car would he drive?” “A nice one because he can afford it. And I don’t necessarily mean flashy, just nice and dependable. He fits in with those around him and is socially competent. Most likely no one who knows him would even suspect he does the kinds of things he does. He’s also following this story very closely in the news. It excites him to see the chaos he’s created. He wants to hear about how the police are stumped and have no leads. He thinks the police are stupid and he’s far superior to the authorities.” He looked at Dakota with a small smile. “Hence the need to respect that he is smart. I’m not saying you have to like it, but . . .” He spread his hands and shrugged.

Dakota grunted. “Makes you want to do a background investigation on everyone you come in contact with, doesn’t it?”

Jamie nodded, her eyes still on Samantha. “She’s getting tired.”

George stood. “I’ve got another client coming in. I need to get back. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

Dakota patted the man on the back. “Thanks, George.” He looked at Jamie. “You ready to head downstairs?”

“Let’s go.”

24

Jamie walked into the morgue behind Dakota and nodded to Serena. This part of the job she could do without. She didn’t have to be the one to break the news to the family on a regular basis; however, she was often in the room when family members identified the body. She watched their grief and her own heart broke with theirs.

She’d never been able to develop a layer so tough that she could view someone else’s heart-wrenching pain without empathizing. She supposed that was a good thing.

Dakota approached the two ladies. “Mrs. Fuller?”

“I’m Doreen Fuller.” A heavyset woman in her late forties stepped forward. “This is my sister Clarice Freemont.”

“Ma’am.” Handshakes and greetings concluded there, Jamie introduced herself and explained her position. Serena let Jamie take the lead.

“So, you think the bones belong to my Karen?” The double chin quivered, but she held herself together.

“Yes, ma’am. I did a facial reconstruction that several people called in tips on. The majority of them named her as Karen Fuller. Plus, the DNA samples you provided when she disappeared finally came back as a match with the remains.”

The woman pulled in a deep breath. “All right, let me see this reconstruction.”

Jamie led the two ladies into the viewing room where she kept the reconstructed skull. Lifting the cloth covering it, she turned it to face them.

“Oh my.” Hand to her chest, Mrs. Freemont breathed deep. “That’s almost scary.” She looked up, a mixture of amazement and grief contorting her features.

Silent tears dripped down Karen’s mother’s face. “That’s my baby. Right down to her eyebrows. The left one was higher than the other. Even the hair . . .” She reached out to touch it, fingers lingering, loving. As though it really were her daughter’s hair.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Fuller. I wish it wasn’t her.”

“Well, if it wasn’t, it would be someone else’s grief, wouldn’t it?” Quiet, low words. A mother’s pain for a lost child. “How did she die?”

Jamie cut her eyes to Dakota.

He frowned.

Placing an arm across the woman’s shoulders, Jamie asked, “I’ll tell you if you insist, but I have one question first. Was Karen a Christian?”

“Yes, she loved her Lord. Gave her heart to him when she was nine years old.”

“Then you know where she is now.”

“I figured all along that’s where she was. All parents in my situation want to hold out hope that their child is still alive – even after four years. But,” she patted her ample chest, “somehow you know deep down inside that your baby’s not coming back.” Her voice choked on the last word and she swallowed to regain her composure. “So, what you’re saying is I need to rejoice in where she is, not dwell on how she got there.”

Shrewd dark eyes pierced all the way through to Jamie’s soul. “Yes, ma’am. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“It still hurts.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I know it does.” Jamie squeezed the woman’s shoulders.

“We’re not made to say goodbye. God didn’t make us that way. We’re eternal beings meant to live with him and those we love forever. So when we have to part with a loved one for a while because of death, it hurts.”

Grey hair trembled with her silent sobs. Jamie held her. The aunt looked on, anger glittering. Serena shook her head and pointed to her watch, indicating that she needed to leave. Jamie nodded that she had everything under control.

“Don’t let this make you bitter,” she whispered. “Make something good come from Karen’s death. If she was the kind of girl you say she was, then she wouldn’t want her death to cause any more pain.”

Mrs. Fuller straightened. “You’re right. She wouldn’t. Thank you for that reminder.” She took the tissue from Dakota’s outstretched hand and mopped her face. “All right, tell me what we need to do.”

Once plans for Karen’s remains had been made, Dakota and Jamie escorted the women to a small waiting area.

Dakota began, “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? We still don’t have the man who murdered your daughter.”

“What do you need from me?”

“I’ve read the case file. And I’ve read through all the interviews. But I’m hoping if you tell me about it one more time, maybe you’ll remember something.”

A heavy sigh, a snort from the aunt who, up until this point, had been mostly silent.

Dakota eyed her. “I’m guessing you think we’re all pretty incompetent.”

Mrs. Freemont leaned forward, derision marring her face. “You bet I do.”

“I can understand how you would feel that way, ma’am, and I’m truly sorry nothing has come to light, but to be honest, this guy doesn’t leave any evidence. And Karen’s not his only victim.”

“What do you mean?”

Dakota flicked a glance at Jamie. “I mean, we believe she was one of many that this man has killed.”

Mrs. Fuller fanned herself. “Oh my. Oh my.”

The aunt jumped in. “You mean there’s a serial killer out there? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes, ma’am. Unfortunately. That’s why I need you to put your anger aside and answer my questions. Maybe I’ll ask one that the detective who was on Karen’s case four years ago neglected to ask.”

Another snort from the aunt. “Now that wouldn’t surprise me any. That other man was an incompetent fool.”

“I don’t know about that. I do know he didn’t know what he was up against. We do.”

“Oh you do, do you? And just what makes you think you know any more than the idiot before you?”

Jamie stood and paced to the window. “Because he broke into my sister’s house last night and stabbed her.”

Complete silence. Shocked faces. Subdued attitude.

“What questions do you have?” Mrs. Fuller finally asked.

Jamie turned, wondering what had compelled her to blurt that out. But the look on Mrs. Freemont’s face told her it was something she’d needed to hear. Compassion now softened the features that had been granite only seconds before.

Dakota jumped in. “I know you were visiting relatives when Karen disappeared.”

“Yes, and she’d gone to a party with my nephew. They were at a friend’s birthday party and she – ”

“Sorry to interrupt, but where was the party?”

“Here. In Spartanburg.” Mrs. Fuller snatched another tissue from the box on the table beside her. “I didn’t really want her to go, but she was eighteen. Her cousin was twenty.” She shrugged. “They were grown. What could I say?”

Mrs. Freemont finally spoke once more. “Unfortunately, my son wasn’t nearly as innocent as my niece. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the birthday party was more like a keg and drug party.”

“Ah.”

“Karen wasn’t really into that kind of thing, but my nephew didn’t tell her everything. So, she went, thinking she was going to visit and meet some friends that went to Wofford.”

“She was planning on going to college there. Had already been accepted and had an academic scholarship. It’s where my son went.” This time Mrs. Freemont spoke to the floor. “I’ve felt so guilty . . .” Her lips trembled and she pressed them together, then said, “I don’t understand how he let this happen. He should have protected her. Watched out for her . . .”

Karen’s mother covered her sister’s hand and closed her eyes. “There is no blame placed except on the one who killed Karen. Josiah couldn’t have known. He was young, a little wild. No different than any other young person sowing a few wild oats. He’s a good man now.”

“I know.” Sniffle. “I know.”

“Anyway, apparently the party got out of control. Karen wanted to leave and Josiah didn’t. She called me. I told her to call a cab and I’d pay for it. She went outside to wait for the cab and that’s the last anyone saw of her.”