Wind Chill

by Herron, Rita

  Hospital attendees met them at the entrance to the ER.

  “Is there anyone you need me to call?” Murphy asked as they helped Lori into a wheelchair.

  “My sister, Peggy,” Lori said.

  Murphy got the number from her, then called and explained the situation to Peggy while Gia accompanied Lori into the ER. Peggy was frantic and insisted she’d come as soon as she could get out in the weather to make it there.

  Murphy went inside to tell Lori, and saw Gia standing by her bed soothing the woman’s fears. The lights flicked off, then on again, and Murphy’s chest clenched. Soon the entire town might be in the dark.

  In the dark with a serial killer on the loose and panic rising.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  2:00 p.m., December 19, Tinley

  Gia had to step out of the ER room while Lori assured Peggy not to worry. The love in Lori’s voice for her older sister mirrored the sweet adoration she’d always received from Carly.

  Adoration she hadn’t always deserved.

  She splashed cold water on her face in the ladies’ room, blinking to stem the tears, then stared at herself in the mirror.

  If Carly dies, it’s your fault.

  The thought of not seeing her sister again, not decorating the tree and roasting marshmallows and drinking wine while they listened to Christmas carols made tears clog her throat.

  I’ll make it up to you, sis, just hang in there.

  A knock sounded at the door. “Gia, are you okay?”

  No, hell, no she wasn’t. But she dried her face, pasted on her professional mask and stepped outside. She’d never been a quitter. Although she had wrapped herself in her own grief after their mother passed and left Carly alone.

  She didn’t intend to run away again, or to quit on her sister.

  “I’m fine,” she said, grateful Murphy didn’t acknowledge the warble in her voice.

  “Let’s go to the inn before they lose power, too.”

  She buttoned her coat, secured her weapon in her pocket, then followed the sheriff through the ER and outside into the parking lot.

  The sky was darkening now, the thick snow clouds shrouding the light and casting a gray glow across the land. She climbed in the car and buckled her seatbelt, then checked her phone.

  Nothing from Brantley yet.

  High velocity winds and icy roads forced Murphy to crawl toward the B & B. Thankfully, most people were heeding the warnings to stay tucked inside. The decorations on the storefronts were already battered and torn from the wind, the street becoming almost impassable.

  He finally veered into the drive for the Mistletoe Inn. The normally cheerful place looked haunted with gray skies casting shadows all around the property. Lights from the Christmas tree inside fought to be seen through the frosted windowpanes.

  Several cars were parked in the small lot, half buried now in snow and debris blown in by the storm.

  Murphy parked and they hurried up the sidewalk to the front porch. As they entered, the seven-foot Douglas-fir tree was a bright spot in a dismal day. Christmas lights draped the door and holiday artwork adorned the walls of the keeping room/breakfast area to the right. Inez served breakfast and lunch, but dinner was on your own. She even offered wine and cheese and crackers daily at five for social hour, bringing guests together to chat and relax before the evening festivities.

  A fire roared from the brick fireplace where guests had gathered to stay warm. Tables and comfy chairs in the adjoining room offered seating for meals, reading nooks, and also served as space for families to gather for board games. A family was there now intent in a game of Monopoly. A teenage boy and girl sat sullen at another table. “This is the worst Christmas ever,” the boy grumbled.

  “We don’t even have internet here,” the girl complained as she gestured to her phone.

  The mother looked harried. “We can’t help it that the weather canceled the festival.”

  Voices rumbled from two chairs flanking the fireplace and drifted toward Gia, and she spotted two young women hunkered together. “I wish we could get out of town. That crazy serial killer just murdered a local girl.”

  “I know, it’s so scary. She was our age. What if he tries to kidnap us?”

  “I guess we have to stay locked in here just to be safe,” the first girl whispered.

  Gia grimaced. The panic was mounting. It would only grow worse in the next forty-eight hours.

  * * *

  2:25 p.m., December 19, Tinley

  Murphy walked straight to the front desk. “Hey, Inez. Is that Folsom guy still here?”

  Inez glanced over his shoulder as if searching for the man. “I haven’t seen him come down yet. He’s driving a dark green Pathfinder. Did you see it in the lot?”

  Murphy stepped to the side window that overlooked the parking lot. “It’s still there.”

  Gia joined him. “Let’s gather all the guests down here for questioning. That way he won’t feel singled out, get spooked and run.”

  “Good idea,” Murphy agreed. “Inez, do you mind going door to door and asking the guests to meet us in the common room?”

  “Sure.”

  “How many guests are there?” Gia asked.

  “We have twenty rooms and they’re all full.”

  “How many single men?” she asked.

  Inez shook her head. “None.”

  “What about Ray Folsom?”

  She checked the register. “He registered as Mr. and Mrs. Folsom. Although I’ve yet to see the wife.”

  Gia drummed her fingers on the counter. “I’ll accompany you to the rooms in case Folsom reacts.”

  Murphy removed his snow hat and stuffed it into his pocket. “I’ll keep watch in case he comes down the back stairwell and tries to leave.”

  While Gia and Inez disappeared down the hall to find Folsom, a few families wandered in. Murphy quickly questioned and dismissed them, keeping an eye out for Folsom.

  A few minutes later, he thought he spotted him come down the stairs. A barrel-chested guy with wiry hair wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with a hunting logo. The man’s eyes kept darting sideways across the room as if he was scouting out an escape route.

  Concerned voices rumbled through the group. “Is the storm getting worse?” one of the men asked.

  “How long will be snowed in?”

  “Are we losing power?”

  “When will they clear the roads so we can leave?”

  Murphy raised a hand to quiet them. “Holly is bearing down on us now. At the rate it’s passing through, it’ll move on quickly, but who knows how long the airport will be shut down, and it’ll take days to dig ourselves out. But the state is sending help, so try to remain calm.”

  “How can we stay calm when a serial killer is stalking women here?” a young woman in her twenties asked. “When he killed that nice girl who ran the sweet shop?”

  “The owner of the Christmas shop was kidnapped, too,” another girl screeched.

  More voices rumbled, tones panicked and full of fear.

  “What are you doing to find him?” A man with silver hair asked.

  Murphy shifted. “Search crews are looking for the missing woman, and law enforcement is on high alert.” He scanned the room, scrutinizing the group. They had a right to be nervous because of the weather and the serial killer.

  But he was looking for more than a case of nerves.

  His phone buzzed with a text. Dr. Nix from the ME’s office. “Identified man pulled from the barn fire. It’s Harley. Gunshot wound to the chest. He was dead before the fire ever started.”

  Murphy clenched his jaw. Dammit. Tinley had just lost another one of their own. And the fire was definitely set to cover his murder.

  Inez said Folsom had blood on his clothes. The man in the hunting shirt would know how to use a gun.

  That blood could belong to Harley.

  * * *

  2:45 p.m., December 19, Tinley

  Gia introduced herself and explained they we
re simply conducting routine questioning, looking for anyone who might have seen something, that any detail might help. “Get comfortable, folks and be patient. Inez will serve refreshments while you wait.”

  Unease rippled through the group, but the innkeeper brought cookies, coffee, tea and lemonade for the bar area, and the guests accepted the inevitable.

  Murphy started pulling individuals, starting with the females, and talking to them at a table near the front of the room. A strategic move so he could stand guard if someone tried to escape.

  Gia situated herself at a table on the opposite side nearer the rear exit. They spent the next half hour asking guests general questions about when they’d arrived, if they’d seen anyone or anything suspicious, and eliminating families.

  The couples were easy. With the storm forcing them to stay inside, they alibied each other. Most guests had arrived a couple of days earlier and enjoyed gift shopping before the festivities were scheduled to begin. Three of the women remembered meeting Carly in Happy Holidays! and offered Gia their sympathies. Two others had met Sari and were visibly upset over her death.

  With the couples and females eliminated, and no single men registered at the inn, Gia headed toward the coffee bar where she’d seen Ray Folsom. His turn now.

  But he was gone.

  Gritting her jaw, she stepped to the window to look at the parking lot and saw him hurrying through the snow to that green Pathfinder.

  Instincts kicked in, and she gestured to Murphy that Folsom was outside. Yanking on their coats, they headed in opposite directions. Murphy took the front door while she exited the back. Wind hurled debris and leaves across the pristine white, slashing thin limbs and sending them thrashing to the ground.

  She dodged a couple of branches and made it to the man just as he reached his car.

  “Stop, Mr. Folsom. Police.”

  He froze, then angled his big burly body toward her, dark eyes flashing with irritation.

  “We need to talk,” Gia said. “Come back inside.”

  “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he bellowed, then he jerked open the car door.

  Gia grabbed his arm in an attempt to pull him away, but he turned and shoved her as hard as he could. She staggered backward and scrambled to stay on her feet but failed.

  Before she could retrieve her gun, Murphy’s loud voice barked from behind her. “You just assaulted a federal agent, Mr. Folsom. Now, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll put your hands up and step away from the vehicle.”

  Folsom’s big body froze, and he slowly lifted his hands in surrender. Gia silently cursed herself for letting him get the better of her and pushed to her feet.

  Murphy aimed her a sideways look. “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” she muttered, her pride smarting.

  Murphy yanked the man’s hands behind him and handcuffed him.

  “I didn’t do anything, she attacked me!” Folsom shouted.

  Gia took one glance into the interior of his car and spotted blood. A lot of it.

  Anger slammed into her. She closed the distance between them and stared into the man’s dark gray eyes, her hand clenching her gun as she aimed it at his chest.

  “Where’s my sister?” she growled. “Where is she?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  3:00 p.m., December 19, Tinley

  Murphy placed a hand on Gia’s back. “Let’s take him in for questioning. We have to do this by the book.”

  Gia glared at him, but reluctantly stepped away. Murphy gripped Folsom’s arm and shoved him toward his police car. The commotion had drawn several guests, fear and panic on the people’s faces. Then the questions began.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Is he this serial killer?”

  “Are we in danger?”

  Gia quickly hurried over to calm them. “Everything’s fine, folks. And you’re safe. Go back inside and stay there. We’re just taking Mr. Folsom in for questioning. But the weather is growing worse by the minute. Stay tucked in and warm.”

  Inez looked rattled but began consoling the frightened guests. “We’ll have drinks and movie night in a bit. But first maybe we can make Christmas cookies, then I have arts and crafts supplies so we can make Christmas decorations with the children.”

  Her reassurance along with the bitter wind sent the people scurrying back inside. Hopefully Inez could restore some of the Christmas spirit the weather and serial killer were destroying.

  It would definitely be a holiday to remember. But not in a good way.

  Gia joined Murphy at the car, while Folsom protested from the back seat.

  “There’s blood in his vehicle,” Gia said with a dark scowl.

  “I’ll get my kit and take a sample. Stay here with Folsom.”

  Gia murmured she would, and he retrieved his kit from the back of his SUV and carried it over to the Pathfinder. First, he snapped pictures of the interior and exterior, then tested a sample to determine if the stain on the back seat was blood.

  It tested positive.

  Carly had been cut grabbing the ornaments in her shop when she’d been abducted. Was this her blood?

  He shined a light across the interior searching for other forensics and found some short hair fibers. Not Carly’s. Her hair was long and blonde.

  These fibers were coarse, too. Maybe an animal’s?

  He collected and bagged them, then picked up a small button that looked as if it had been ripped from a woman’s blouse.

  Satisfied that he had enough, at least to question Folsom, he walked back to the inn and asked Inez to tell her handyman who stayed on the property to make sure no one touched the vehicle. He considered roping it off with crime tape, but at this point, he had no idea if it was a crime scene or not.

  Then he went to search Folsom’s room. A small suitcase sat on the luggage rack in the corner. Gloves intact, he rifled through the suitcase and found two pairs of jeans, three flannel shirts, underwear, and socks.

  He moved to the dresser and searched it, but the drawers were empty. So was the desk. A pair of khaki slacks and a button-down collared shirt hung in the closet. Not the button he was looking for though.

  Murphy checked the bathroom next. Basic toiletries. And then…bloody clothes on the floor.

  His pulse hammered. Did the blood belong to Folsom? Or to Carly? His theory about her cutting herself on the ornaments fit. Unless Folsom had cut himself on the ornaments?

  He found a plastic laundry bag in the closet and put the bloody clothes inside. Although the bad weather would impede getting the evidence he’d collected to a lab.

  It would also take time to process it when he did get it there.

  Maybe he could use the items to wrangle a confession from the man.

  He scratched his head. Although if Folsom was the CK, where was the box of ornaments?

  He hadn’t found them in Folsom’s car.

  He searched the bathroom cabinet, then checked under the bed and the top shelf of the closet. Nothing. Then the safe.

  Empty.

  Dammit.

  Knowing Gia was waiting, and they needed to question Folsom, Murphy locked the room, went down the steps and gave Inez the key. “Please don’t clean in there. I may want a crime team to process it.”

  “Did you find something?” Inez asked, wide-eyed.

  “Some bloody clothes,” Murphy admitted. “Don’t let anyone in that room except the crime investigators.”

  She fidgeted with the register on the desk. “All right. Are you arresting him?”

  Murphy shrugged. “Yes, for assaulting a federal agent. I also want to hold him for questioning.”

  She lifted a shaky hand to her heart. “Good. That man made me nervous.”

  Grim-faced, Murphy carried the bag of clothes outside. Gia had slipped into his SUV and had the engine running to stay warm. When Murphy climbed in, Folsom sat sullen-faced and silent.

  Gia folded her arms. “He claims the blood in his car was from a deer that he hit it
on his way back to the inn. Said he stained his clothes dragging the deer off the highway.”

  “I didn’t want anyone else to hit it and have an accident,” Folsom snapped.

  “Did you put it in a refrigerator in someone’s house?” Murphy asked.

  Folsom’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “What? No, I told you I dragged it back into the woods.”

  His story could be true. The short coarse hairs could be deer hair.

  But if there was any possibility Folsom had abducted Carly, Murphy couldn’t turn the man loose.

  Besides, they’d caught Folsom running.

  That made him look guilty as sin.

  * * *

  3:10 p.m., December 19, Tinley

  Gia confiscated Folsom’s phone and searched through it, looking at his contacts and phone history.

  She thought he might have phoned her sister at the shop or home but didn’t see either number. She searched for area codes for Delray Beach, Savannah and Gulf Shores. A Florida area code popped up.

  She texted Brantley that Folsom was in custody and to send her anything he’d dug up on the man.

  Waiting was painful though. She flexed her hands in an effort to maintain self-control. She wanted to pound the man until he confessed where he was holding her sister. And if that blood in his car belonged to Carly.

  But her interrogation training kicked in, and she forced herself to remain calm as Murphy maneuvered the vehicle to the police station. Folsom was still grumbling that he hadn’t done anything wrong when Murphy put him in an interrogation room. With a grunt, Folsom dropped into the metal chair that was bolted to the floor.

  Instead of taking the seat across from him, Gia moved a chair directly in front of him, facing him. She was so close their knees almost touched. Creating a more intimate feeling and invading his personal space was a technique she’d learned from an expert FBI interrogator who taught nationwide.