Caching Out

by Cheatham, Tammy

  “Reminds you of better days, huh?”

  Emma was startled to see Tate standing in the doorway, his shoulder resting against the frame. “Why didn’t we try harder Em?”

  He’d changed from his uniform and the soft t-shirt that he wore clung to the hard muscles of his chest and arms. Sucking in a quick breath, Emma bent and returned the photo to its place. Emma stepped around him into the hallway and said, “Let’s just put everything on hold for one night, okay? No blame, no questions; just two old friends catching up, alright?”

  Tate trailed behind her as they went down the hall, “Sure Em—one night and then you’re going to tell me what the hell you’re really doing in Pine Ridge.”

  Hours later, the sun had given up its last rays to make way for the night and the occasional glow of a firefly flittered in the air, blinking a florescent yellow-green. Puffy trails of smoke escaping the grill snuck skyward in the soft breeze and disappeared into the darkness.

  “The steaks were great,” Emma sighed.

  Tate twisted the top off a bottle of beer and handed it to Emma. “Glad you liked them.”

  Relaxing in the darkness, Emma watched as the sky filled with stars. “It’s so peaceful here. No traffic, no sirens. And the stars! You can see so many more here than I can in the city.” She wanted to talk about the murders, but knew that tomorrow would be soon enough to talk about the case and all the other things she’d tried to forget. But for tonight, she wanted to rest and drink in the peace and comfort she felt just knowing Tate was close by.

  Emma felt the warmth from Tate’s hand on her brow as he pushed a stray hair from her face. He was so close she could feel him breathing. She wanted him to kiss her, but would it be the first step down the same disappointing path they’d already traveled? She felt Tate lean away and took the opportunity to stand, gathering their empty plates. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll turn in now.”

  In the darkness, Tate’s smile faded. He’d almost kissed her, almost crossed that point of no return and it had taken what? A few hours and one steak? Seriously? He had zero self control with that woman around and the fact that she was so close wound him in knots.

  He’d done his best to keep the conversation light, asking about friends and co-workers in the city and she’d done the same. Polite conversation. It was the only safe space they could share at this point. That and business of course, but he’d seen the crack in her armor. She wanted him as bad as he wanted her, but then what? Checkmate.

  Tomorrow Tate was sure Emma’s FBI façade would be back in place again as she became the tough, insightful investigator he knew she was. She’d always been that good; he could just never entertain the thought of losing her and in the end, he’d lost her anyway.

  CHAPTER 22

  Gavin dodged a large grey-white granite boulder, then went up and over the next one in his path. This formation of rocks marked the northern boundary to the Pine Ridge Reservation and although the dirt road leading to the site was rutted and dusty, it was easily accessible.

  Following the directions on his GPS, Gavin whistled under his breath. “This is my kind of place. Serious cachers only, private and four finds in the last two weeks.”

  Just across the road was public land and beyond that the Badlands National Park. Squatting, Gavin felt under a rock ledge until his gloved hand made contact with the cache. Still whistling under his breath he popped the top off a yellow margarine tub.

  Looking into the cache, he frowned, “Same old crap here. Let’s add something interesting to the mix.” Reaching into his jacket pocket Gavin pulled his token out caressing it for a moment before dropping it into the container. “Perfect. Just need to get the show set up and we’re all done here, Gav.”

  He slid the cache back into its hiding spot and pushed some gravel around the ledge making sure the cache was hidden from view. Stepping back, Gavin surveyed the area looking for a good place to set up his camera. “Hmm, no trees.”

  Securing the mini-cam between two boulders, Gavin angled the camera upward, certain that the device could do its job in spite of the bad location. Pulling his jacket off and tying it around his waist he stepped back through the rocks. At the edge of the site he slid down a small incline to the unpaved road below where he stood with his hands on his hips and lifted his face up to catch the fading rays of a South Dakota sun. Soaking up the warmth he whispered, “Won’t be long now, Mama. You’ll see. They’ll come.”

  Still whistling, Gavin crossed the road and slipped into a thicket of pine and cedar growing on the other side. He’d set up camp a few hundred feet into the fragrant woods and thanks to the state contract he was working, he knew that his wi-fi signal at camp would be perfect.

  Earlier in the day he’d entered the Badlands National Park, hidden his car in a remote area and then hiked through the woods to this particular spot. He wouldn’t be missed and presumed lost because he’d registered as a day use guest, meaning that he would leave before the park closed. He’d never understood why the park system thought it was important to register guests coming in but didn’t count them going out. Hell, anyone could be in these woods or in the park after normal hours.

  Gavin knew that it might take a day or two before anyone came looking for the cache, but he didn’t care, time was one of many things that he had. Every year thousands of tourists came to see the Black Hills and to visit either the State Parks or National Parks that were carved into thousands of acres across South Dakota. There had been Indians living in the Dakotas for hundreds of years and the state was rich with history. For the nature lovers the scenery was breathtaking.

  Stepping into the primitive camp and sitting on the pine-padded ground, Gavin opened his laptop to check the view from his camera. As the cache sight popped up on his screen he smiled. “So far so good, Gav, my man. Now you wait.”

  The woods were shadowed and cool under the tall trees and Gavin already noticed a drop in temperature as evening approached. He’d dressed in layers when he’d left this morning, knowing that the extra clothes would assure he could survive a cold night or two in the woods. Untying the lightweight jacket from around his waist Gavin pushed his arms through the sleeves and pulled the zipper up.

  Need to get a fire going; it’s going to be a cold night. He gathered fallen branches and twigs, and then stacked the wood in the middle of a small circle outlined by rocks. Stuffing dried pine needles around the wood, he pulled a box of matches from his pocket. Gavin lit the needles and stood back watching the flames grow.

  Taking a seat near the fire his back resting against a tall pine, Gavin fished a granola bar from his backpack and tore the wrapper open. Loving the anonymity and solitude of being alone in the woods at night he leaned forward and tossed another branch on the small campfire, watching as sparks formed a blinking ribbon of color rising into the darkness. The occasional pop of burning wood providing the night’s only sounds.

  Fantastic night for a campout, Gav. Crossing his legs in front of him, Gavin watched the flames change from red to yellow and the shadows dance on the ground while he finished his granola.

  Gavin pulled his sleeping bag free from his backpack and rolling it out close to the fire, he pushed pine needles into a pile and slid them under one end of the bag. “Ahh, nature’s pillow.”

  Gavin tugged the cover up, zipping it half way and then turned away from the mystical rhythm of the dancing flames and closed his eyes. He willed his body to relax and sleep. Slowing rocking himself, Gavin tried to ignore the gut-deep ache that called to him. He needed someone to take the damned coin or, at the very least, he needed to watch one of his recordings.

  “No movies tonight, Gav, gotta save battery power for now. It won’t be long.” The tension inside him built faster than ever before and he knew only one way to relieve it. Feeling helpless, he thought of his mother and how she’d always read to him until he fell asleep as a child.

  “She’d know how to fix this,” he whispered, remembering how she would hold him and
rock him when he’d been scared.

  Turning to his back, Gavin propped his hands behind his head and stared at the night sky peeking through the trees. Stars twinkled at him from miles above the earth and he cursed the shiny token that he’d placed in the cache hours before. The coin intrigued the cachers, forcing them to take it, but they weren’t the only ones enslaved to the coin. He was a prisoner as well.

  CHAPTER 23

  Emma woke the following morning to the rich smell of coffee followed by the ‘get your butt up’ aroma of frying bacon. Stretching, she burrowed a little deeper into the covers and thought of the mornings when she and Tate were married. Tate was always up before sunrise. He loved the freshness of a new day, when the grass was still damp with the night’s’ dew. He’d sneak out of the house and jog in the park near their apartment, returning to shower and start breakfast before she’d ever opened an eye.

  Her face heating, Emma thought of the mornings when she’d only pretended to be asleep and some of the more creative and down-right erotic ways that Tate employed to wake her up.

  Wrong way to start the day, Emma, she groaned. Tossing the covers aside, she slid from the bed and slipped into the bathroom for a quick shower.

  Tate heard the shower running and frowned. Secretly he’d hoped that Emma would need a little help getting up this morning and he knew just the right way to wake that woman up. He clenched his jaw. Don’t go there, Echo, you know how the story ends so there’s no reason to read the book again.

  His mood soured, thinking of all the things he wanted but couldn’t have. Tate turned back to the waiting pan of scrambled eggs and reached for a spoon. He shoveled eggs onto two plates just as Emma entered the kitchen. God, she looked amazing. Her hair, damp from the shower hung loosely down her back. Emma wasn’t one of those women who took hours to dress, she wore just a touch of make-up and today she had only a shimmer of something creamy peach on her lips making her look young and fresh.

  She smiled, “I see you still like to start your day with a full plate.”

  Nodding, Tate handed her a steaming plate of bacon and eggs and gestured to the table where two glasses of orange juice stood waiting.

  “Mmmm,” Emma closed her eyes, groaning in pleasure as she took a bite of eggs.

  Watching Emma’s face as she ate Tate felt his mood lighten at her pleasure. That was his Emma. She gave herself completely whether making love or, well, eating eggs.

  His Em. Wrong.

  Emma looked at Tate, the smile on his face was teasing. “What? It’s not like I get this kind of breakfast every day. Most of the time it’s a granola bar and some juice. I’m in Utopia right now, so I would appreciate it if you didn’t make fun of me!”

  Tate’s laugh rumbled deep in his chest before erupting in the small room. “Emma Echo, I have missed watching you eat. Among other things,” his voice trailed.

  Her smile was mischievous and infectious so they sat there grinning at each other like kids in a candy store window. A call on Tate’s cell broke the spell. He stepped into the living room to take the call. When Tate returned to the kitchen, Emma had finished her breakfast and was rinsing her plate. The moment was gone.

  She turned and smiled at him, “So what’s on the agenda today, Chief Echo?”

  Leaning on the counter, Tate reached to turn the coffee maker off, “I want to start with a full review of both the Parker and Babcock cases. Chances are you’ll be able to pull out some detail that Martin and I missed. Then we’ll make a run by both the murder sites if you want. I will need to let Martin know that we’re going out to the lake since the Babcock case is officially his.”

  “Give me a sec to grab my computer and my jacket then I’ll be ready to go,” Emma said.

  Arriving at the courthouse, Tate steered Emma into his office without stopping for his usual good morning chat with the desk clerk on duty. He switched the coffee maker on and opened the blinds to allow the morning sun to streak into the room. He wasn’t ready to explain who Emma was or answer any questions about why she was here and he certainly didn’t want to field any questions about their relationship, past or present. What he couldn’t avoid were the curious looks that several members of the force tossed his way.

  “Let them wonder about it for a while,” he muttered.

  Studying a large area map hanging behind Tate’s desk, Emma pointed to the push pins marking the map and asked, “These are the kill sites?”

  Nodding, Tate moved to his desk where he pulled out the folders on both cases, sliding them across the desk to her. Emma already knew about the geographical differences in the two cases, but the map allowed her to see just how far apart the murders had occurred and gave her a good feel for the size of Shannon County. Taking a seat across from Tate, she opened the Parker file and read the reports from the ME’s office and those completed by his own department. Next she moved to the photos in the file laying them out in time-line order on Tate’s desk.

  Filling two mugs with coffee Tate plunked one down on the corner of his desk for Emma before taking his seat. Watching Emma’s face as she read, Tate was reminded of just how beautiful she was. Right now, her face was scrunched up in concentration as her eyes scanned the pictures on his desk. She had pulled her silky hair out of the way and it hung over one shoulder, the dark strands begging him to reach out and touch their softness. Tate wondered how he’d ever had the courage to walk away from her, job or no job, family or no family. Wouldn’t having her in his life any way that he could have been better that what he had now? Sighing, Tate knew the answer to that. He could have stayed, hell, he wanted to stay, but what would the compromise have cost in the long run? Reassuring himself that he’d done the right thing was easy, it was better to walk away while he could still love her than stay and watch their dreams die one day at a time.

  Sitting back in her chair, Emma picked up the waiting cup of coffee and took a sip before she spoke. “Okay, so tell me what you know and then tell me what you think.”

  Tate smiled at her. Emma had always been direct and to the point when she was working and some things didn’t change.

  “Well, so far the geographical profile has been relatively consistent with both murders taking place in Shannon County and both victims were at the lake the day that they were killed.”

  Holding up her hand to stop Tate, Emma asked, “So you think that there are or will be more victims? If that’s the case, then you really should invite the Bureau in since we both know that they have resources that you simply don’t have access to.”

  Shoving a hand through his dark hair, Tate stared at Emma, his jaw twitching in frustration. “Em, you know I can’t do that yet. I have a job to do and the city of Pine Ridge is depending on me to catch this guy. I can’t go crying to the Bureau every time I have a problem that I don’t have the proper resources for, it’s not the way that small towns handle crime.” He sighed, “That’s why I called you. I need your expertise with the profile and then I intend to catch this guy before he has a chance to kill again.”

  “Okay, we’ll table this for now. We’ve established that he likes Shannon County and the lake. So far that’s our only common denominator. What else?”

  Relaxing a little, Tate sat back, “Well the victimology is off. First a woman, then a male child, with no personal or direct links between Parker and Babcock. By the way, we are certain that it’s a he, ME confirms penetration the usual way and they also found traces of pre-ejaculate fluid.” Nodding, Emma reached for her cup again as Tate continued, “The killer’s signature is consistent in both cases. Same markings, rape, kill cuts…” pointing to the photo of Saralyn’s bound hands Tate added, “Same red cording used on both vics and both had Ketamine in their systems. Our working theory is that the killer uses the drug to subdue the victims.”

  “So does the ME think that there was a condom used and that’s why there was no full ejaculate present?”

  Tate loved it when Emma went into research mode. Her tenacious memory coupled with
her unrelenting pursuit of the facts had proven her to be an unstoppable force when working a case. He needed that ability now; he needed Emma. “Nope, there was nothing to indicate that a condom was used. Appears the guy just wouldn’t, or couldn’t, finish what he started.”

  Emma looked thoughtful, “Well, there could be a medical problem causing his inability to ejaculate, you know, like a blocked duct or something. Also there are studies supporting the idea that a known percentage of rapists have an ejaculatory dysfunction. That’s not saying that they are impotent. Most of the case studies present evidence that the perpetrator needed something more before they were able to complete the act.”

  “You mean like torturing their vic while raping them?”

  “Exactly. In some cases they need to torture in order to feel in control or powerful. Other studies cite that a small percentage need help with their fantasy and make the vic dress up or act in a manner that fulfills their need. Any sign of that with these cases?”

  Tate rocked back in his desk chair. “None. And with the Parker kill he had time to do that if he’d wanted to. Another common link with the two cases is that both Parker and Babcock had been geocaching while they were at the lake.”

  “Geocaching?” Emma asked. “I read something about that recently, some kind of treasure hunting right?”