Lone Star Christmas Witness

by Margaret Daley

  Revenge. She couldn’t imagine killing so many for any of the reasons she’d come up with so far.

  “It can be hard to put yourself in another’s mind.” John took the chair Taylor sat in. “Some people flip out over what another would think wasn’t a good reason.”

  “Are Ben and Taylor coming inside?”

  “In a few minutes. I wanted to see you without Ben around.”

  “How did the session go today?”

  “Okay. Ben did draw a picture that he didn’t tear up this time.”

  “What was it of?”

  John withdrew it from his coat pocket and unfolded it. “What do you think?”

  It was a drawing of a man with a backpack. It was hard to tell how tall he was, but his build was thin. He was bald and wearing glasses. “Do you think this is the shooter?”

  “I asked him where the words this is for Charlie came from, and this is what he drew.”

  “This is the shooter!” She felt a mixture of elation and fear shoot through her.

  “Not necessarily. It could be from something totally unrelated.”

  “But you think it isn’t?”

  “There’s a good chance it is because as he drew he frowned and his hand shook the whole time. Whoever this is had a profound effect on Ben.” John stood up. “I have to go. I still have some clients who come to see me after school. Keep the drawing. I didn’t get a chance to show Taylor. If he needs to call me, I’ll be free after six tonight.”

  Sierra walked with the child psychologist to the front door and made sure it was locked after John left. The sound of Ben and Taylor coming inside hurried her to the table. She folded up the drawing and stuck it under another piece of paper.

  As Ben and Taylor came into the room, Sierra asked, “Did y’all have fun?”

  A smile still on his face, Ben nodded.

  Taylor raked his hand through his hair. “Great exercise.”

  Possibly too much, she thought judging from Taylor’s heavy breathing and sweaty forehead, especially after the day they had yesterday.

  Robert walked into the room then. “And now it’s time for your schoolwork.” He approached Ben. “Let’s get something to drink and head to the den.”

  Taylor waited for them to leave the room, then he came up close to Sierra. “What did John say?”

  Sierra slid the drawing out and showed it to Taylor. “He thinks it’s a picture of the shooter. Granted, it isn’t a photo, but it does tell us some things about the man possibly.”

  “He wears glasses. He’s thin and bald. That might help us. Does that fit the description of anyone you remember at the clinic?”

  “Not right off. I’ll have to think about it. So many people come and go.”

  Taylor woke up his computer and pulled up the photo of the guy in the car yesterday. “Let me see if I can enhance this any more. The guy in the car might have on glasses.”

  “If it’s the killer, I guess I should be glad Ben saw him, but I’m not. To think he watched the killer murder his mother... No wonder he can’t say anything. The thought robs me of words, too.”

  “I think the drawing is the killer. Look.” Taylor turned the computer screen toward her to show her the guy in the car had on glasses. “I know it looks like he has dark hair, but that could be a wig.”

  “If that’s the case, that means the killer did it because of Charlie?”

  “Yes. Did Nash call?”

  She nodded. “He’s sending you the video he collected of the street in front of the clinic at the time we were there. He’s gone through the footage and got the license plate number on the black car. It was reported stolen.”

  On his laptop, Taylor pulled up the emails with the security camera footage. “It looks like we both have a lot to do.”

  “I’m getting some more water. Do you want me to get you something to drink?”

  “Yeah. Water is fine.” Taylor’s cell phone buzzed.

  Sierra left as he answered the call. After refilling their glasses, she headed back into the dining room, only to find Taylor’s shoulders hunched forward while he listened to whoever was on the other end of the call. When he disconnected, he looked at her, a pale cast to his tanned features.

  “What happened?” she asked in a soft voice, almost afraid to know.

  EIGHT

  “There’s been another shooting. This time at an insurance office. Nash thinks it’s the same killer,” Taylor said in a whisper, not wanting Ben to overhear.

  Sierra nearly spilled the water as her hands began to shake. She sank into the nearest dining room chair at the opposite end and set the glasses down. She opened her mouth to say something but instead snapped it closed.

  Taylor came to her. “Are you okay?”

  “No.” She looked up at him, her eyes dark and troubled. “Ben can’t know what has happened. He has enough to deal with.” She shook her head. “I seem to be saying that a lot.”

  “Sierra, so far he’s the only one who might have seen the killer. No one at the insurance office survived.”

  “How many were killed?”

  “Four.”

  Sierra closed her eyes and clasped her arms to her chest for a moment. When she opened her eyes, determination hardened them. “Which insurance office? I work with a lot of them.”

  “Ryan Morton Insurance Brokerage.”

  “That’s one I’ve worked with. I’ve dealt a lot with them. When? How? The office is in a shopping center. No one saw anything?”

  “It happened early, right after the staff arrived. The killer was probably watching. The employees came in the back way, and that was how the killer got inside. He most likely followed the last person inside before the back door was secured. Same MO as the clinic and I’m reasonably certain the same gun, although the ballistics report hasn’t confirmed that yet. The front door was locked, and the blinds were pulled.”

  “How were they found?”

  “A friend was meeting the secretary for lunch. When she didn’t show up and she couldn’t get her on the phone, the woman went by the office. She called the police when she couldn’t get into the office nor see in. She knew the office was never locked during business hours and the blinds were always open.”

  “How about security cameras?”

  Taylor frowned. “He avoided them, then shot them out, same as with the clinic.”

  “How about behind the shopping center?”

  “There’s one camera that shows the area behind the stores and offices. It was conveniently shut down right before dawn. The security firm came out to the shopping center about ten and replaced it. No image of who sabotaged it.”

  Sierra dropped her head into her hands. “Is this guy picking businesses randomly or is there a pattern?” She inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled slowly as though she were fighting to keep herself composed.

  “I don’t know for sure, but I still think this is personal and both the clinic and the insurance office are tied to the man. Now we need to concentrate on the patients at the clinic who were connected with Ryan Morton’s insurance agency. Nash called Dallas, and he’s on his way to the crime scene. He’ll take pictures of it and send them to me. Right now, Ben is our best lead besides the video Nash sent me with the guy in the black stolen car.”

  Sierra shot to her feet. “Let’s get to work. What if he’s planning another shooting? He’s got to be caught before more people die.” As she walked to her computer, she halted and whirled around. “Ben does not need to know about this. He can’t even process his mother’s death. I’m not even having her memorial service until this is settled. It would put him in too much danger on top of all the trauma he’s gone through.”

  “I agree. I know what you’re going through.”

  She started to turn, paused and glanced back at him. “I tremble to think of what could have happen
ed to Ben and me if you hadn’t helped us. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “It’s my—”

  “Don’t tell me it’s your job. It’s more than that.”

  The sound of Sierra’s cell phone buzzing echoed through the room. She hurried to answer it.

  Taylor retook the chair in front of his laptop. Sierra was right. His connection to this case was more than his duty. At first it was all about the case, but now there was something about Sierra that kept him at her side. Two days ago, he would have said it was Ben that drew him, but not now. His wife died nine years ago, and in all that time he’d never been interested in another woman. Until Sierra.

  When she finished her call, she said, “That was Mindy’s mom. She wanted me to know about her funeral arrangements. They are Sunday at four at the River Walk Funeral Home. I told her I would be there. We worked closely together. She was a really good friend.”

  He wanted to tell her not to attend, but he knew the importance of saying goodbye to people you were close to. “I understand. I’ll take you. Dallas can stay with Dad and Ben. And I’ll find out if Nash is putting any police officers at the funeral home. When are the other funerals?”

  “The next one is the day after. Maria Cruz. She was one of the nurses.”

  “We’ll see how it goes at Mindy’s. The most important thing is your life.”

  She nodded. “I’ll go along with your judgment.”

  “If I get there and think it’s too dangerous, will you leave right away?”

  “Yes. I’m all Ben has. I’ll do what you say.”

  Taylor shoved to his feet, his muscles cramping. “I’ve got to make the plans for the trip. It’s going to be a long day.”

  “Sunday? The funeral won’t be long, according to Mindy’s mom.”

  “I mean both days. Planning will take hours.”

  “I want to finish going through the files, so I can help you.”

  He smiled at her. “I appreciate the help. Nash has people working on different angles while we work this one.”

  As he paced, he ran through a list of tasks he needed to do before the funeral. First and foremost, he wanted as good a photo of the killer as he could come up with. He didn’t want Sierra to be worried, but he knew of occasions when the killer attended his victim’s funeral.

  * * *

  Hours later, Sierra relaxed back against the dining room chair. “I’m finished. I’ve gone through all the files and have my list of possibilities either because of the name Charlie or concerns with the clinic or an issue there that I know about.”

  “Good. Nash and Dallas will be here soon. I’m going to run off the photo I cleaned up of the guy watching after the bombing and the one in the black car.”

  “Then I need to put Ben to bed. I don’t want him overhearing anything about the funeral on Sunday or strategies for catching the killer.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it herself, but she realized a part of her wanted—actually needed—to be part of the investigation. She was doing what she could to find the murderer before he killed more innocent people.

  Sierra headed for the den, where Ben was watching TV with Robert and Oscar. When she entered, her nephew lay on the couch, his eyelids halfway closed. The day was catching up with him. She sat near him and felt his forehead, in case he was having a relapse from his illness a few days ago. His skin was cool to the touch.

  She shook Ben’s shoulder.

  He groaned.

  “Don’t wake him. I’ll carry him up to his bedroom. For the past half hour he’s been fighting sleep.” Robert stood and scooped her nephew up into his arms.

  Sierra followed the pair up the stairs to Ben’s bedroom. The blow-up mattress she had used last night was still there, and she intended to use it tonight, too. Ben’s emotions were all over the place. If he was kept entertained or active, he relaxed and even smiled a few times. But the second he started retreating into himself, his shoulders hunched and his head dipped forward, a scowl on his face.

  Robert gently placed him onto the bed. “We were watching a comedy earlier, and Ben actually laughed once.” He clasped her shoulder. “You’re doing a great job. The best thing you can do is be here for him, which is what you’re doing.”

  “Thanks, Robert. I needed to hear that today.” She’d spent most of the time sitting in front of the computer. Tomorrow, she wanted to be out in the backyard kicking the soccer ball around with Ben. She needed the exercise.

  As Robert ambled toward the hallway, Sierra pulled the coverlet up to Ben’s shoulders, then leaned down and kissed his forehead. He didn’t move. Oscar settled along Ben’s left side and laid his head near her nephew’s.

  She left the night-light on and the door ajar when she exited the room and descended the staircase with Robert. “I don’t know what we’re going to do without Oscar.”

  Robert nodded. “Taylor became very attached to Oscar after TJ died. He did wonders helping bring Taylor through his grief.”

  “Oscar has a gift. He can sense when someone needs him. Ben will need a special dog to take Oscar’s place.”

  “There are a lot of animals that need a home.” Robert frowned. “I called my friend, but he didn’t have any bull terrier puppies left.”

  “Taylor told me Dallas’s future father-in-law has abandoned dogs at his ranch. One gave birth to some puppies who are ready to be adopted.”

  A knock sounded on the front door as Taylor came into the foyer. “It’s Nash and Dallas. They called me a couple of minutes ago. I didn’t want them to ring the doorbell with Ben going to bed.”

  “Well, this is my time to retire to my bedroom. I’ll relieve you at two, son.” Robert headed back up the stairs.

  Taylor checked to see who it was outside on the porch and then let Nash and Dallas into the house. Exhaustion carved deep lines into their faces. The investigation drove the law enforcement agents involved nearly twenty-four hours a day, especially with the second shooting spree.

  “Let’s go into the dining room.” Taylor gestured in that direction.

  Sierra paused at the entrance into the kitchen. “Does anyone want coffee?”

  Everyone nodded. Sierra quickly filled four mugs with the hot brew, then made another pot of coffee for later.

  When she returned to the “command post,” as she’d come to refer to it in her mind, she sat at the dining room table next to Taylor while Nash and Dallas took the seats across from them.

  “Any additional information on the case?” Taylor asked.

  “We got the ballistics report back. It was the same gun as the clinic shooting.” Dallas sipped his coffee.

  Nash put his mug down on a coaster. “And the car out in front of the clinic yesterday was found not a block from the shooting while another vehicle was reported stolen nearby, possibly the killer’s new getaway car. There’s a statewide BOLO out on it.”

  Taylor wrote on his pad. “Any useful forensics in the car?”

  Dallas frowned. “No, and any cameras nearby didn’t pick up the driver. But a picture was taken of a guy wearing a black hoodie and black pants near the more recently stolen car after the shooting.”

  Taylor grabbed the copies he’d run off of the man sitting in the car yesterday after the bombing. “I managed to get a pretty good photo of the man from your video footage.” He handed everyone a copy.

  Sierra stared at the guy who could possibly be the killer. Dark, short hair. Black glasses. Thin face. Narrow lips. “He does look familiar. Not quite like Ben drew but similar in a few ways.” Where had she seen this person before? “But I don’t know why. Possibly a client at the clinic. There are no pictures in the files to compare this to.”

  “Let put this out all over the news asking if anyone has seen this guy. He’s a person of interest in the shootings. Someone may recognize him.” Nash took a gulp of his drink. “It’s the best lead we
have at this time.”

  “I have made a list from my files of people who weren’t happy with the clinic or someone there. Also, I have put down people who are named Charlie, Charles or any name similar to that like Charlotte. Now I need to get photos of these people and see if one matches the photo of the possible suspect.”

  “Sierra, I can help you with that,” Taylor said. “The person treated at the clinic might not be the killer, but he might be connected to that person, especially if we consider what Ben called out and drew, which is a bald-headed man. The dark hair could really be a beanie he was wearing—or a wig. It’s hard to tell for sure. ‘This is for Charlie,’” he said, echoing what Ben had called out in the night. “It sounds like revenge for Charlie.”

  “Like a person dying? Or the killer didn’t like something concerning a treatment or a diagnosis?” Dallas pushed to his feet. “Is there more coffee?”

  Sierra nodded, and as Dallas went to the kitchen, she asked, “Did the killer say that to each victim or just to my sister? Maybe we should concentrate on her patients first.”

  Taylor turned to her. “Let’s start with putting out the photo I cleaned up and see if we get any tips from the public.” Then he said to Nash, “Meanwhile, Sierra and I are going to the funeral for Mindy Carson Sunday afternoon. Are you going to have police there?”

  “Yes, some in uniform, others in plain clothes. I’ll make them aware you and Sierra will be there. I’ll have a couple of them—ones you know, Taylor—nearby y’all.”

  “Good. It’s been a long day. First thing tomorrow when I’m more refreshed, I’ll go through Sierra’s list. Ben hasn’t said anything since his mother was killed except that one phrase. He didn’t remember doing that when he woke up, but it might be his mind’s way of getting it out.” As Dallas returned from the kitchen, Taylor asked him, “I’ll need you here helping track down the people on the list and also need you with Ben on Sunday when we leave for the funeral.”