“You agree the dam project is the impetus?” Meg asked.
“I would have agreed up to ten minutes ago, but then you told me about Congressman Greyson’s murder. That changes things, but only slightly, and it does, in fact, solidify the motive—the protection of the family home and lands. There isn’t just one threat; there are two—the dam project and what the current occupants of the valley could view as encroachment by the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, who are attempting to stake their claim to land that was once native territory before their removal.”
“Irony, clean-up on aisle four,” McCord murmured too quietly for Rutherford to hear, but earning a flash of a grin from Meg.
“If you look at these killings,” Rutherford continued, “you can see where a female suspect checks the most boxes. Women tend to be the most pragmatic killers, and often their motives revolve around larger stakes than personal lust or revenge, unless it’s revenge against someone who has harmed one of their own. They also tend to be ‘clean’ killers, with poison being their preferred weapon. But in this case, while the deaths are violent, they are at a distance, so there is no mess to her personally or emotionally since she doesn’t have to experience the agony of the victim up close. She doesn’t need to be there to watch life drain away, she just needs to make sure the job gets done.”
“That is pragmatic,” Craig said.
“And she has the skills to accomplish her goal. But what’s interesting is yesterday we saw the first chink in her armor.”
“Why would you say that?” Meg asked. “If you ask me, the shooter was pretty efficient.”
“In the initial kill, yes. But then look at what came after. She waited around for the search teams she knew would come because you’d made local news and you attended the town hall where Mr. Cavett was wounded. But when it came time to take Ms. Jennings, Mr. Foster, or the dogs out of the equation, she failed. Now why is that?”
“You don’t think it’s because we were on the move and too difficult to hit with any accuracy?” Brian asked.
“I don’t,” Rutherford countered. “I think the fact that such a talented archer missed repeatedly showed her reluctance to shoot at all. She was torn. She felt she had to eliminate the threat to herself, but where she felt justified killing for her family, she didn’t for herself.”
“The mother figure always putting herself last,” said Lauren. “It’s classic. It’s exactly the way my mother would reason out the situation. Meg and Brian weren’t directly threatening her home and family. She waited all that time, but when push came to shove, she was second-guessing herself.”
“And that showed in her faulty aim when she was shooting at Meg,” Brian finished.
“That’s my read on it,” Rutherford said. “Her uncertainty these killings were justified manifested in an unsuccessful attack. The others were all clean.”
“An elite hunter only needs one arrow to make a kill. That’s the kind of hunter we’re looking at here,” Meg murmured.
Rutherford leaned into his monitor, his brow crumpled in confusion. “Sorry? I didn’t catch that.”
“I was repeating what Captain Wilcox of the Georgia State Patrol told me when I asked him how many arrows the shooter would be carrying. He said an elite hunter would only need one arrow to make a kill. But she missed with four.” Meg turned to Brian. “I wasn’t sure if she was shooting at both of us or just me.”
“Just you.” Brian’s gaze swung to Craig. “I couldn’t actually see her in the forest. The arrows came out of the trees every few seconds. The first one would have hit you, but you bent over to say something to Hawk and it sailed over your back. And then after that, you were moving and she never had a chance.”
“I disagree,” Rutherford interjected. “This is a hunter who’s used to dealing with unpredictable animals. They don’t stand around waiting to die. She knows how to hit a moving target. And yet she consistently failed.”
Scott tucked his overlong legs under the chair and leaned forward so his voice would carry to the microphone. “What’s your take on how fast these killings are happening?”
“Ah, yes, that angle. You all know how many killers have a cooling-off period. That period can be days, weeks, or sometimes years as the killer is battling his urge to kill, before finally giving in. But that’s not what’s happening here. These killings strike me as being coldly calculating. This suspect isn’t battling an urge to kill. She has it planned out and she’s striking as opportunity, likely both for the victim and her own schedule, permits.”
“Her own schedule.” Scott propped his elbows on his knees, staring thoughtfully at the laptop monitor. “Because she has a family who may have no idea she’s doing this.”
“I suspect they are totally unaware. They’d either try to stop her from any more murders, or if they agree with why she’s killing in the first place, they might actually try to help.”
“If they had the skill,” Brian said.
“If they did, they could help by being backup if the shot missed. If they didn’t, they could help by drawing out the victim or in any other number of ways. But these murders consistently only seem to have one killer.”
“And the dogs are certainly not disagreeing on a single track leading away from the kill sites.” Meg dropped a hand onto Hawk’s head, stroking her fingers over his silky fur. “If they’d disagreed on the scent trail, or found a secondary fresh trail, they would have let us know. No, there’s only been one shooter out there.”
“The bigger question is why have five deaths happened in the past three weeks?” Rutherford posited. “What’s the rush? It’s like she’s racing a ticking clock. Special Agent Torres, is there something that’s forcing her hand right now when it comes to either the dam project or the application by the Cherokee to claim that land?”
“Not the EBCI claim.” Torres flicked through a couple of pages in the pile, pulled one out, and then scanned through it. “But tomorrow they’re doing the official announcement of the dam project.”
Meg and Craig exchanged startled glances. “Why didn’t we know about this before now?” Meg asked. “That’s exactly the kind of situation that would draw out this suspect. Where is it, and who’s going to be there?”
Torres’s lips tightened at the edge in Meg’s tone. “You didn’t hear about it because I only found out about it today and there were a few other things going on.” He stared directly at Meg and Brian.
Brian bristled beside her, so Meg laid her hand on his knee and squeezed. I’ve got this. “Do you have any details about it?”
“Some, but I’ve already asked for more and I hope to hear back from the TVA this afternoon. It’s at the Fontana Dam, and at least one TVA bigwig will be there.” He held up a hand to forestall Meg’s next question. “The identity of the bigwig is part of what I’m waiting for.”
“This is exactly the kind of event at which this suspect would want to make a splash.” Rutherford’s voice brought everyone’s attention back to the laptop. “I’m unfamiliar with that particular dam. Is it in Georgia?”
“North Carolina.” Torres met Meg’s eyes. “About an hour out of Qualla Boundary. We drove past the exit on US-74 on our way there. It’s supposed to begin at four o’clock, so we’d better plan on being there.”
“We’d better plan on a lot more than that,” Craig said. “This could be our chance to wrap up this case, so we need to work out a strategy. But we’re getting off track.” Craig glanced sideways at Torres’s closed expression. “Rutherford, help us narrow it down. Can you give us your specific profile of this killer?”
“I’ll e-mail you my detailed report, but here is what you need to narrow or redefine your lists.” Rutherford glanced down at his desk and what was likely his notes. “You’re looking for a female in her early thirties to midforties, of middle or upper class, with a postsecondary education. She’s fit, and an experienced hiker and hunter. She’s married, or has been, possibly multiple times, and if she’s religious—and since it
’s the South, I’m betting she is—you have a nearly one hundred percent chance she’s Christian. Last point, but you knew this already, there are land and offspring in the mix. She’s not doing this for herself.”
Meg waited two beats for Torres to say something, but he seemed lost in his own discouraged thoughts. She grabbed the laptop and angled it toward her. “Thank you. That gives us something substantial to go on.”
“I’ll e-mail you the details right now. Let me know if you need anything else or if you get more information to add to the profile. As always, I’ll revise as necessary. Good hunting and safe travels home.” Leaning in, Rutherford cut the connection.
Meg closed the laptop lid and then shifted her gaze to Craig, who stared unblinkingly at Torres.
“Something wrong?” Craig asked.
Torres gathered himself to say something and then stopped before trying again. “Was my read on this case so far off?” He looked up, scanning the face of the FBI team members. “Do you trust this profile?”
“Yes.” The answer came in unison from Craig, Meg, Brian, Scott, and Lauren.
Torres sat back abruptly with a little jerk. “So yes . . . my read was off.”
“Yours. Mine. Brian’s,” Meg said. “None of us picked up on the fact it might be a woman. We’ve only been looking at men.”
“To be fair,” McCord interjected, “remember Beverley’s list? They were all men, too.”
“That’s true. But Rutherford is right about the confirmation bias and not just for Sam. Right from the beginning of the case we’ve all been describing the shooter as ‘he.’ But just because five out of six serial killers are male, doesn’t mean the sixth is as well.”
“Don’t beat yourself up, Torres,” Craig said. “This is why we have Rutherford and the BAU. They have skills and knowledge we don’t. But he can’t investigate like you can or search like my teams. When you put us all together, we get the job done. So where are we moving forward?”
“We’re back to the drawing board.” Torres looked down glumly at the papers spread across the table. “Which means all this is useless.”
Meg turned to Torres. “Remember the research list we gave Chief Cobbrey when he said he’d help us. ‘Hunting records. Archery club memberships. Word of mouth.’ We need to go back to basics. But this time we have a leg up because we already know some of the people involved.”
“Who are you thinking of?” Webb asked.
“There are a few women we already know are hunters. Mary Trammell, for instance. Her own husband pointed out that she hunts.”
McCord leaned forward, started to speak, then hesitated. At Meg’s raised eyebrows, he said, “I hate to bring it up because she’s been so helpful, but Beverley at the Department of Natural Resources is also an archer.”
“I think I’d put her lower down the list. I have trouble seeing what her motive might be. Just being an archer isn’t enough. Mary Trammell is going to lose her home and business all at once, and both likely would have gone to her sons unless the dam project is stopped. That gives a powerful motive that’s directly in line with the profile Rutherford just delivered. She also fits for age and marital status, and likely for religion.”
“We don’t know if she hunts with a bow or a gun,” Torres said.
“Very true. That’s the kind of information we need to find out. All I’m saying is we’re not exactly right back at the starting line. This time we understand the players and what they’re fighting for.”
“And this time you’ve got us as well.” Craig tapped on the stack of papers. “Let’s go back to the lists, discuss the townsfolk you’ve met up to now, talk about who else to include. And then start interviewing and collecting alibis again. The answer is here; we just need to find it.” He looked up, his gaze traveling to touch each team member. “Let’s get to work.”
CHAPTER 26
Hunting Blind: A device used by hunters to reduce the chance of being detected.
Thursday, April 18, 7:37 AM
Lake View Cabins
Blue Ridge, Georgia
The first text came through from Craig shortly after Meg got out of the shower.
Torres asked me to go with him to do interviews based on the revised suspect list. We’re heading out now.
She quickly typed in her response: Good. I think he could use your expertise. Heads-up—some of the local residents have a problem with Latinos and may be reticent to talk to him.
Thanks. More when there is more.
Meg went downstairs with Webb to find a kitchen full of dogs and handlers in addition to Ryan and McCord. Scott, Lauren, and Craig had spent the night in a nearby cottage, and Scott and Lauren had returned at Brian and Meg’s urging for meals and to await news. They ate together and then Meg walked Brian and Ryan out to Ryan’s rental car and waved them off as they headed for Chatsworth to see Lacey. Then she headed inside and spent a half hour working her body through careful stretching and yoga to ease some of her soreness.
By shortly after eleven, Meg was impatiently awaiting more information.
“You keep checking your watch,” Scott commented. “Craig is trying to move this along as fast as possible.”
“I know.” Meg forced herself to take a deep breath and try to blow out some of her stress with it. “But the announcement starts at four o’clock. If they don’t nail down a suspect this morning, it’s going to take us almost two hours to drive there, and we need to be there an hour early, if not more, to get the lay of the land and to set up to intercept the shooter. Craig knows that.”
“I don’t think Craig expected to be out pounding the pavement this morning.” Lauren poured herself another cup of coffee. “He hasn’t handled a case like this for a long time, but I think Torres needs a little help at this point.”
“And he doesn’t want it to be you or Brian,” McCord said from behind his laptop, where he sat at the kitchen table.
“What do you mean?” Meg asked.
McCord studied her over the top of his glasses. “He felt backed into a corner last night.”
“What? How?” Meg looked from McCord to Webb, who shrugged. “You think so, too?”
“I think he felt out of place. He’s not wet behind the ears, but he seems to still be learning some of the ropes in a location where sometimes his skills aren’t wanted simply because of the color of his skin. And then there’s all of you, a cohesive unit with your own language and unspoken shortcuts, stepping in to analyze his case.”
“And bringing in the BAU,” McCord continued. “You guys talked to Rutherford like it’s just another case to work together—”
“It is another case to work together.”
“For you, but not for Torres. You suggested Rutherford to Torres and pushed for his contribution.” When Meg opened her mouth to argue, McCord steamrolled over her. “It was the right call, and Rutherford’s contribution will likely break this case open, but all it did was highlight the fact that Torres’s short list of suspects was too narrow.”
“And then when you found out about today’s announcement, you kind of jumped down his throat,” Lauren added. “You didn’t mean to, and it was one hundred percent because you’d had a hell of a day and were short on sleep, but he might have read it as a personal dig.”
“Damn.” Meg sagged back against the counter. “That’s not what I meant to imply at all.”
“Of course you didn’t,” Webb said, “and we wouldn’t have taken it the way I think he did, but he doesn’t know you like we do. That’s probably why he asked Craig for his opinion in the case. Not only because he’s an investigator and not a handler, but also because he’s experienced. It sounds like he’s second-guessing himself and doesn’t feel confident the right doors will open to him personally.”
“And possibly because Craig has a fresh perspective, not colored by what Torres thinks may have been errors on his part in this case,” Scott added.
Meg cast her eyes up at the ceiling and shook her head. “If Brian was h
ere, he’d agree with me that we don’t have any complaints about how the case was handled. We’re equally to blame for not expanding the list.”
“Something maybe to mention to Torres at some point then, because I’m not sure he sees it that way.”
“Yeah, I’ll be sure to.” Meg’s phone rang and she pulled it out of her back pocket, checking the name on the display: Sam Torres. “And now might be a good time.” She accepted the call. “Jennings.”
“It’s Sam. We have a problem. Is everyone there?”
“Except for Brian, who went to see Lacey, we’re all here in the kitchen. What’s going on?”
“Can you put the call on speaker so we only need to go over this once?”
“Sure.” She switched the call over to speaker, laid the phone on the table, and motioned everyone to step closer. “Okay, we’re all here. What do you think is the problem?”
“Beaumont and I have been interviewing new suspects all morning. We started with Mary Trammell. And let me tell you, her husband wasn’t happy to have us there, questioning his wife after I’d already been there to question his sons. Beaumont had to step in. But she does bowhunt.”
“Is she a suspect, then?”
“No, she alibis out for every shooting. She works the front desk at the lodge, so she’s always in sight of her family or staff. There was no way she could have gotten away to do it. So then we moved on to McCord’s contact at the Wildlife Resources Division at the Georgia Department of Natural Resources. We didn’t tell her we were looking specifically at her, so she was very helpful.”
Meg glanced at McCord, who worried a pen back and forth between his fingers, appearing slightly stressed that Beverley-the-peach might be a suspect and he’d missed all the signs.
“She realized she’d made an error in the original list,” Torres said. “The way McCord asked the question about the hunting records, she thought you were only looking for men.”
Leave No Trace Page 25