But Not For Love, page 16
part #9 of Clint Wolf Series
“Do you know them personally?” I asked. “Do any of them look like they resemble the killer?”
“This is a large department, as you know.” Mallory frowned, looking up toward the ceiling. “If I remember right, none of them are young enough to be the killer.”
“What about their fingerprint cards?” I asked. “Can you get your hands on the applicant cards? If it’s not them, the sooner we can clear them the better.”
“Yeah, we do have a copy of their applicant cards in personnel. That’s actually a good idea, because people can change their identities all they want, but their prints will always be the same.” Mallory began scribbling on a notepad, and then looked up at me. “Didn’t y’all hire a new guy not long ago? Wasn’t he from the mountains?”
My stomach suddenly turned sour. When I felt Susan’s eyes on me, I knew she was feeling the same way.
“Not Baylor Rice.” I slowly shook my head. “It can’t be him.”
“He came out to work an extra shift pulling surveillance on the house.” Susan began chewing on her lower lip. “I remember him peeling away from the house to handle a complaint of a drunk driver, and that would’ve been right around the time of the murder.”
“But he’s not from Georgia,” I contended, hoping to God it wasn’t him. “He’s from a small town in North Carolina—Sylva, I think he said—so it can’t be him. If it is, we’re screwed, because I called and gave him Walter’s name so he could check the local motels.”
“I don’t know.” Susan was chewing her lip furiously now. “He’s right around the same age as Walter Garner and he showed up here about two years ago looking for work. And let’s not forget he was pulling surveillance outside the house at the time of the murder.”
Britt, Mallory, and Natasha watched as Susan and I went back and forth for about a minute, me not wanting to believe it, and her raising more doubts. Mallory interjected after a few minutes.
“There’s one way to clear this up,” she said, “get his fingerprint card.”
Susan nodded immediately. “I’ll send Melvin a message and have him pull it for you.”
I didn’t object, because I was interested in having Baylor cleared as a suspect as soon as possible.
What if it is him? I wondered. That would certainly come as a shock and cause me to question my instincts. I’d spent a bit of time with him after the murder and he was as calm as calm could be. Of course, killers do like to return to the scene of the crime, and he certainly came back—
I shook my head to clear it and pulled the photo of Walter Garner from my file. I turned it so Britt and Natasha could see. “This is what Walter Garner looked like four years ago. Just in case he still looks the same, I think we should send detectives out to each victim and show them the picture. They might have already come into contact with him, because it seemed that Cassandra and Allie were familiar with the killer.”
“Can we have a copy?” Britt asked. “He might’ve come into our office, and we like to tape suspect photos to the wall near the front desk so the receptionists can alert our investigators if they walk in.”
“You can have this one.” I slid it across the table. “Mallory printed up more.”
“What about our victims?” Natasha asked. “How are we going to keep them safe? Should we try to get them all into a shelter? If they stay home, they could be murdered. We have to do something to protect them.”
“I’ve already started making arrangements for protection details,” Mallory explained. “We’re going to pair up our snipers and undercover agents and have them run ’round-the-clock surveillance outside of our victims’ homes until the killer is captured. We’re also going to have roving patrols running up and down the parish.” She nodded for emphasis. “The sheriff has already authorized me to call out as many deputies, detectives, SWAT cops, and snipers as needed, and he’s spoken with the sheriff of Magnolia Parish, who said he’ll offer whatever support we need.”
Susan pulled a ring of keys from her pocket and separated a key from the rest. I recognized it as the key to the front door of the women’s shelter she ran.
“The shelter’s empty, so you can put as many women in there as you need to.” Susan handed the key to Mallory. “My mom will be coming by three times a day to check on Achilles, but other than that, there should be no traffic in the area.”
“Okay…I’m feeling much better about this.” Britt nodded thoughtfully, turned toward Susan. “Thank you so much for offering your place. Also, will you two let me know what you learn in Georgia? I’d like to stay on top of this as much as possible.”
“We will.”
Britt shuddered. “I certainly won’t rest easy until this animal is captured.”
I gathered up my copy of the list of victims and shoved it in my file. I nodded in Mallory’s direction. “It’s time for us to hit the road. We’ll keep in touch, and you do the same.”
Mallory told me she would attend the autopsy later in the day, and Susan and I left the building.
CHAPTER 31
Four hours later…
Chateau Parish Sheriff’s Office Detective Bureau
“What do you mean you can’t find it?” Mallory Tuttle asked, the suspicion in her gut growing. “Susan said it was in his personnel file.”
“I looked through all of our other files and they’re all there,” Melvin said from the other end of the phone. “My print card is right here, and so is Clint’s, Takecia’s, Amy’s and the chief’s. I don’t know why Baylor’s card would be missing.”
“Huh…” She was thoughtful. “It might very well be him.”
“You really think Baylor killed these women?” Mallory could hear the skepticism in Melvin’s voice. “He doesn’t seem like the type who would go around murdering women.”
“Do they ever? I was raised a good Catholic girl and never would have imagined our priest could hurt anyone, but then, decades later, we find out different.” Mallory paced back and forth outside the door to the conference room. She had to get in there and address the officers who had gathered at her request. “Look, can you try to get your hand on his prints without sending off any alarm bells? There’s a good chance he’s our guy. If he is, he’ll definitely kill again.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“What will you do?”
“I’ll make him partner-up with me in my truck.”
“But we can’t tell him about the print. He can’t know that we’ve figured it out.”
“He won’t.”
Mallory hesitated before hanging up the phone, remembering a terrifying night six months ago. “Please be careful, Melvin. I hate to admit this, but you made me cry that night—”
“That’s enough,” Melvin said quickly. “I’ll be fine.”
Melvin abruptly ended the call and Mallory stood for a second staring down at her phone. After taking a cleansing breath, she pushed her way into the conference room and quickly scanned the group of men and women crowding the spacious room. They were all clad in black or woodland camouflage BDUs, heavy body armor, and tactical vests, with the exception of one man—London Carter.
London was the leader of the Magnolia Parish Sheriff’s Office sniper team, but, at the moment, he looked like a telephone repairman. Mallory cocked her head to the side, surmising that he might look like a repairman to a casual observer, but not to her trained eye. Although he dressed the part, she could see beyond the fabric he wore and down to the hardened man beneath it. His skin was bronze-colored and weathered from many hours in the sun, but he still appeared youthful—although ruggedly so—and lithe on his feet. The muscles in his arms rippled with each move of his hands and his knuckles appeared calloused and hard.
Thank God he’s on our side, Mallory thought as she moved through the crowd toward him. She’d never seen him shoot, but had heard he was deadly with a rifle. A Chateau Parish sniper once told her London could shoot a tick off a dog from one thousand yards out and not disturb a hair on the dog’s body. She had immediately recognized he was speaking figuratively, but he’d said it with such admiration and conviction that Mallory knew London was damn good.
“I love your outfit,” Mallory said, smiling. “Do you moonlight as a repairman when you’re not protecting the people of Magnolia Parish?”
“You like it?” London lifted his right arm and grinned, his face lighting up. He pointed to a tiny hole in the armpit that was surrounded by a small halo of a stain. “I borrowed it from evidence. A cable man was shot a few years back when knocking on the wrong door. Poor bastard’s gone now, so he doesn’t need the outfit anymore.”
“But why are you wearing it? I thought snipers wore those fluffy leaf suits. At least, that’s what our snipers wear.”
“A sniper’s job is to be invisible, and that means blending into your surroundings.” London shot a thumb over his shoulder toward a group of officers in fatigues with woodland patterns. “Those outfits might blend well in the forest, but they’ll stand out like bright caution lights in a neighborhood. From what I’ve been told, this killer is most likely pulling surveillance on his victims and, since this is supposed to be a covert operation that’s beginning in broad daylight, I need to blend in as I move in and out of the neighborhoods. It would be easier to move around at night, but until then, the sun is our enemy.”
“What are you driving?” Mallory challenged. “A repairman in an unmarked cop car will also stand out like a caution light—”
“I’m driving a white van with Bayou Home Repairs stenciled on the side, and I borrowed a bunch of tools from our Work Release center.” London smiled again. “Do you need any work done on your house? If so, now’s a good time to get it done.”
Impressed, Mallory told him she would like him conducting roving patrols in his van. “You’re too good to leave in one spot. I’d like you to have the flexibility to go where the action is.”
“I’m here to help you catch this killer,” London said solemnly. “Put me wherever you think I’m most useful.”
Mallory nodded and moved toward the front of the room, where Sheriff Buck Turner was standing. He had arrived while Mallory was speaking with London, and he was just now bringing the room to order. After offering some opening remarks and thanking everyone for showing up to assist, he turned it over to her.
Mallory dished out copies of the victims’ list that Natasha had provided earlier and began assigning teams of two officers to each victim, pairing a sniper with an entry team member or a narcotics officer.
“We need the ability to provide long-range protection while also going mobile if the victims leave their residences,” Mallory explained. “We have a dozen potential victims, but four of them have agreed to go into the shelter down in Mechant Loup, so we only have eight target locations to cover.”
After projecting a map of the parish onto the wall behind her, Mallory pointed out the locations of each victim’s home. “As y’all can see, they’re scattered up and down the parish, which will make it difficult to cover all of them effectively. However, the good news is we know who he’s targeting. Based on the evidence from the first two cases we’ve handled, he’s only attacking women who’ve expressed an interest in dropping the charges against their husbands. So far, none of the victims on this list have expressed such a desire. In fact, we verified with each of them that they’ll pursue the charges against their abusers.”
“What if one of the women changes her mind?” someone asked from the back of the room.
“If any of them do,” Mallory said, “Britt Lucas will notify us immediately so we can send more officers to that location.”
After wrapping up the briefing, Mallory asked if any of the officers had a question or comment.
“What about the shelter in Mechant Loup?” London asked from where he sat at the front of the room. “Who’ll be covering that location?”
“I’ll be stationed there with Detective Lou Baker until Susan and Clint return from Georgia,” Mallory said. “We’ll keep the women locked inside an interior room and I’ll pack enough firepower to fight off a North Korean invasion.”
“Do the victims know they’re in danger?” London asked. “Have they all been notified?”
“Good question.” Mallory nodded. “I, along with Britt Lucas, the prosecutor who handles all domestic violence cases, and Natasha Lee, a victim’s advocate, contacted each victim personally and let them know about the danger. I also showed them a picture of our suspect, but no one recognized him.”
“Did y’all tell them to keep their movements to a minimum?” London wanted to know. “Unless it’s an absolute emergency, I’d recommend they stay home until this killer’s in custody.”
“Most of the women didn’t require much convincing, but”—Mallory sighed—“a couple of them said they refused to be intimidated and they vowed to go about their lives as usual.”
“Give me their names and I’ll put my best snipers on them.” London’s voice exuded confidence and Mallory found it comforting. “And if any of the women contact the prosecutor to drop charges, please let me know right away. We’ll need as much advance notice as possible in order to move into position without being seen.”
With that, Mallory ended the meeting and told everyone to be safe. She waved Lou Baker over and they walked outside together, preparing to head for the coroner’s office to attend Cassandra’s autopsy. Afterward, they would head to Susan’s shelter.
As Lou drove, Mallory checked her phone often, wondering what Clint and Susan would learn from the North Georgia detectives. Whatever it was, she hoped it would help them put a lid on this case. She didn’t know how many more of these bloody scenes she could work before it would start taking a toll on her. She usually didn’t mind blood and guts, but there was something especially heinous about these murders, and she knew they were dealing with pure evil.
CHAPTER 32
Friday, November 3
Buckheed County Sheriff’s Department
Susan and I had taken turns driving the ten hours from Chateau Parish to Buckheed County, Georgia, and were just now pulling into the parking lot of the sheriff’s department. I had called Detective Adams an hour earlier to tell him we would be arriving a little after midnight, and he said he’d be waiting for us at the office.
Susan stirred in the seat beside me, rubbed her eyes. “Are we there yet?”
“Yeah, finally.” As I drove the last quarter mile down a narrow street, I noticed a tan building to my left that displayed the words Buckheed County Jail in large brown lettering, but it didn’t look large enough to be a jail. “According to the map, the detective bureau is right past the jail.”
Susan dropped the sun visor on her side and checked her eyes in the mirror. “Damn, my eyes are swollen. I look hung over.”
“You sure slept like you were drunk.” I stifled a chuckle. “You were snoring so loud I thought we were driving through a thunderstorm.”
“I’m sure I did.” Susan pouted. “The fatter I get, the harder it is to breathe when I sleep. I’m really sorry if I keep you up at night with all the—”
“Stop it!” I reached over and brushed my fingers across her hair, silently cursing myself for joking about her snoring. “You haven’t gained an ounce yet—but, when you do, you’ll be as beautiful as ever.”
That didn’t seem to make her feel any better, and she continued pouting. She unfastened her seatbelt and grunted when I parked my Tahoe in front of a small brick building. “I’m even using more seatbelt than I used to!”
“It simply means I’ll have more of you to love.”
Susan glared at me and I gulped, realizing it was probably not the best thing to say. I mumbled an apology and shut off the engine.
There was a white van, three small trucks, and a car in the parking lot. “I’m not sure this is the right building,” I said. “None of these look like units—marked or otherwise—and I don’t see a sign or logo anywhere.”
Susan pointed to a dark brown door at the left corner of the building. There was a tiny rectangular window centered high on the door, and a pale glow shone through. “I saw someone stick their head in the window. It’s probably our guy.”
Before the words finished rolling off of her tongue, the door opened and a heavyset man stepped outside and waved for us to exit our vehicle. I couldn’t hear what he was saying and I couldn’t read his lips in the darkness, but I figured he was telling us we’d reached the right place.
I twisted in my seat and snatched the file from the back floorboard while Susan stepped out of the passenger’s side.
“Damn, it must’ve dropped thirty degrees since leaving Louisiana,” she said, rubbing her exposed arms. “I didn’t even bring a jacket.”
I could feel a gush of cold air whip in through her open door and I shuddered. We had planned on driving straight here, comparing the fingerprints, and then heading home, so we hadn’t packed much of anything. We definitely hadn’t planned on the temperature being in the thirties.
“Hey, y’all, come on in before y’all catch a death of cold,” called the heavyset man. “Being from Louisiana, I imagine y’all ain’t used to this kind of cold snap.”
I hurriedly followed Susan across the parking lot and the large man stood back to allow us inside. I was grateful when a blast of warm air greeted us as we entered. The man, who quickly identified himself as Abel Adams, led us down a narrow hallway with a low ceiling. He was a little shorter than me but twice as wide, and he walked with a limp.
We entered a doorway to the right and found ourselves in a small conference room. A brown file box was resting on a table in the corner of the room and Abel pointed to it.
“I pulled out the case file so we could compare notes,” he explained. “I’m hoping there’s something in there that can help, because I’d love to catch Walter Garner before I retire—at least for the sake of our victims’ families.” He pulled up short and turned toward us. “How about some hot coffee before we get started? Our dispatcher, Missy, just put on a fresh pot.”
