Cavanaugh's Missing Person

by Marie Ferrarella

  Kenzie looked at him, confused. “Peripheral stuff?” she asked.

  “Yeah. The severed heads and the hands, the torsos. Get those images out of your head and just picture taking down this serial killer,” Hunter told her sternly. “Understood?”

  She laughed then. “Understood,” she repeated, then said, “You know, you sound like a drill sergeant.”

  “Good. Because what I want is to drill that advice into your head,” he told her.

  He saw her mouth curve in what he affectionately regarded as her lopsided smile, although he knew better than to tell her that.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You’ve been hanging around my brothers so much, you’re beginning to sound like a Cavanaugh,” she told Hunter.

  He lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “There are worse ways to sound,” he answered with a smile.

  His phone rang just then. But since he was driving, Hunter couldn’t really reach for his cell phone. “Get that, will you?” he asked her.

  “It’s in your pocket,” she said, looking at his right hip.

  “So?” he asked. “What’s the problem? It’s not like that’s unexplored territory for us, is it?” he teased Kenzie.

  He’d succeeded in making her laugh. Kenzie shook her head in utter wonder. They were sharing a very intimate moment while fully clothed and seated upright in a vehicle traveling sixty-five miles an hour.

  The very idea tickled her.

  Chapter 23

  Because the property they were looking into had initially been purchased and its deed registered sometime in the mid-1960s, the information they were trying to find was not available online. Instead, they were told by the woman in the registrar’s office, the paperwork was archived in a warehouse located at another site.

  They drove to the warehouse and were told that the information they were looking for was housed in a box that resided on one of the warehouse’s many, many shelves, along with a ton of dust.

  Arthur Calavetti, the pale, stooped-shouldered clerk who wound up guiding them through the warehouse, gestured toward what appeared to be endless rows of shelves. All the shelves were filled with myriad neatly arranged boxes.

  “What you’re looking for should be here,” he told them.

  Kenzie didn’t find the term “should be” very comforting.

  Hunter surveyed the area. “This place has an awful lot of boxes.”

  “Most of them are labeled,” Arthur said. It was obvious by his expression that he was trying to be encouraging.

  “Just like my tombstone will be when I die here from dust inhalation,” Kenzie commented. Finding one piece of paper amid all this seemed like an unbelievably overwhelming task.

  “She tends to be a little melodramatic,” Hunter told the clerk.

  Arthur nodded his head. “Had a sister just like that,” he told Hunter. He began to shuffle toward the elevator. “If you need anything, I’ll just be one flight up.”

  Kenzie ventured toward a row of shelves. They went from floor to ceiling. “How many people do you suppose died in here, searching for deeds they never wound up finding?”

  Hunter came up behind her. “Probably not as many as you think.”

  “That’s not exactly comforting,” she told him. Turning around to face him, she asked, “How do you suggest we get started?”

  “Well,” Hunter said, looking at the labels on the boxes closest to him, “they seem to be arranged by years. I say let’s start at the end and work our way to the beginning if we have to. You know, like a countdown.”

  “So basically we’re setting up residence in here,” Kenzie said sarcastically.

  “Just for starters,” he answered. “Unless you have a better idea.”

  “Yes,” Kenzie suddenly declared as the idea occurred to her, “I have a better idea. That gremlin upstairs looks like he lives for this job.”

  He couldn’t argue with that, Hunter thought, although he had no idea where she was going with it. “So?”

  The way she saw it, Arthur was their only hope of actually finding the deed before next Christmas. “So we tell him what we’re trying to find—and why. Maybe that’ll spur him on to help. He has to be familiar with what’s in some of these boxes.”

  “Kenzie, it’s an ongoing investigation,” Hunter reminded her. And the rule of thumb was that they couldn’t share any information about an open case.

  “An ongoing investigation that is going to go nowhere if we don’t get any outside help,” she insisted. “This is a clerk who probably lives and breathes these files. He’s not the kind of person who would go running to some online paper to sell his story. Even if he wanted to, he probably has no idea how to go about doing that. There are still people who are technologically illiterate.”

  Hunter sighed, relenting. Kenzie had an offbeat point. And they did need help. “Go get the records gremlin,” he told her.

  She was gone before the words were out of his mouth.

  When Kenzie returned ten minutes later with Arthur in tow, the clerk was completely different from the man who had left them to find their way amid the records. He looked like a livelier version of himself.

  “Really?” Arthur appeared to be hanging on Kenzie’s every word. “A murder?”

  “Murders,” she corrected. “At least several.”

  “How many in a ‘several’?” Arthur asked almost breathlessly.

  “Thirteen,” Hunter answered, coming up to join them. “Perhaps more.”

  Hunter could have sworn that the clerk appeared to be standing a little straighter now and his eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of his head.

  Kenzie built on that. “You’d be doing the community a really great service, helping us catch this killer.”

  “What can I do?” Arthur asked excitedly.

  “We need your help in locating who originally owned that cabin on the mountain and who owns it now.”

  Arthur scrunched up his face. Apparently this is what he did when he was thinking. “And it’s located where?” he asked.

  Hunter gave Arthur the approximate latitude and longitude where they had found the cabin. Kenzie, meanwhile, had taken out her cell phone. She had pulled up a number of photographs of the cabin and the outhouse. All of them were exterior shots. She thought it prudent to spare the clerk from seeing the more gruesome photos that had been taken.

  Even so, the man’s hands trembled as he took the phone from her. There was no hesitation in his voice.

  “I know where that is,” Arthur said in a hushed whisper.

  Yes!

  Kenzie restrained herself from throwing her arms around his neck and hugging the man.

  “We just need to know the name of the person who owns it,” Hunter told the clerk. He glanced toward Kenzie. They were both banking on the fact that the information would lead, however indirectly, to the name of the killer.

  Like a man on a mission, Arthur squared his shoulders and disappeared into the stacks.

  * * *

  Five hours later, with no small sense of relief, they finally left Arthur and the archives behind them.

  Kenzie sat in the passenger seat, feeling like someone in a trance. “I can’t believe we finally have a name to go on,” she said, staring at the copy of the deed that the clerk had made for them.

  “And it only cost us five hours and ten dollars,” Hunter said with a laugh, referring to the fee they’d paid the clerk.

  “Hey, rules are rules,” she reminded him, using a pseudo-stern voice like an old-fashioned professor. “You have to pay a fee if you want to get a copy of the deed,” she said. “If you ask me, that’s a small price to pay if it winds up getting us some answers. Or the answer.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t be sending up fireworks just yet if I were you,” Hunter cautioned. “We need to verify just where th
is Cameron Bishop presently is and what he’s been doing all this time. I can’t believe that he’s been the sole owner all this time,” he marveled.

  Kenzie slanted a look at him. “I guess the killer’s a guy after all.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Hunter cautioned again. “I didn’t say that either. Maybe Mrs. Cameron Bishop is the guilty party. Or it could be that one of their offspring is responsible for the carnage. We don’t know anything for sure yet.”

  Kenzie suppressed a sigh. “I get it. We need the full details,” she replied, too excited to take offense. Any other time, she might have felt that he was lecturing her. “It’s just that, you know when you’re running a marathon and you think you see the finish line, you suddenly just want to pour it on and sprint, to get that feel of the tape against your chest before someone else does.”

  “Well, just hold yourself in check, Desiree Linden,” Hunter told her. “You’ll get to cross that finish line soon enough.”

  She stared at him in confusion. “Who?”

  “Desiree Linden,” Hunter repeated. “She’s the woman who won the 2018 Boston Marathon.”

  Despite her excitement that they had actually located the deed, she stared at him, astonished. “Your head is just this big jumble of information, isn’t it?” Kenzie asked in amazement.

  Hunter flashed her a grin. “I do try my best,” he said.

  Kenzie wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to try. That his “best” was already more than good enough for her. But she didn’t want to say anything that would wind up scaring Hunter off. There was a reason why all the women whom he’d been with had never managed to land him. He wasn’t the type to allow himself to be cornered. So she did what she usually did—she went back to talking about work.

  Kenzie leaned forward and pulled her phone out of her pocket. Holding it in her hand, she said, “I’m going to call Valri and ask her to find everything she possibly can about this Cameron Bishop.”

  Hunter glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “Isn’t it a little late to be calling Valri at this hour? She might have already gone home.”

  “The computer tech department never really goes home,” Kenzie quipped. “They just reset.”

  He laughed. “Cute.” He thought back to the last time they had brought Valri a request. “But I don’t think that Valri will find that very amusing.”

  “Let me worry about my cousin,” Kenzie told him, then added very seriously, “This is why we’re in this game—to get the bad guys off the street and behind bars before they hurt anyone else.”

  “Simplistic,” Hunter commented. “But accurate.”

  Kenzie placed her call. She was just beginning to think that Hunter was right and her cousin had gone home when Valri answered on the fourth ring. Kenzie instantly brightened. “Valri, it’s Kenzie.”

  “Talk fast, Kenzie, I’m on my way out. I’ve been as tense as an ice pick all week and Alex promised me a massage when I got home,” Valri said, talking about her husband.

  Kenzie struggled to speak coherently. “I think we’ve found a person of interest in those murders, Val. Or at least the family of a person of interest,” she qualified for Hunter’s benefit. After all, the players hadn’t been properly identified and labeled yet.

  “Bring it to me tomorrow, Kenz. I’ll get to it as soon as I can.”

  She was disappointed that Valri wasn’t as excited as she was. “No, now. Valri, this is really important,” she stressed. “This killer carves her victims up and she won’t stop until we can get her and haul her away,” Kenzie insisted.

  “Her,” Valri repeated. “Then you’re sure it’s a woman?”

  Kenzie could tell by the lack of background noise over the phone that Valri had stopped moving. She finally had her cousin’s attention.

  “Yes. We found the cabin where the victims were killed and we have the name of the person who bought the cabin. Now we need your help in tracking that person down.” Kenzie was almost pleading now.

  She heard Valri sigh. Her cousin was surrendering! “Give me the name. I’ll see what I can do. Just don’t expect miracles.”

  Kenzie could feel herself grinning like the proverbial Cheshire cat. “I always expect miracles from you, Valri. Just see what you can find out,” she requested eagerly, then gave Valri the name that was on the cabin’s deed.

  “Okay, got it. I’ll give you a call when I have something,” Valri told her. “Just so you understand, this might take some time. Don’t sit waiting by the phone tonight,” she warned.

  Kenzie laughed. “You know I will. Thanks, Val. You’re one in a million,” she told her cousin, then ended the call.

  Curious, Hunter asked her, “You will what?” as she put her phone away.

  “Wait by the phone. Valri told me not to, but...” Kenzie’s voice trailed off as she shrugged her shoulders. “Kind of hard not to, given the circumstances.”

  She expected Hunter to tell her to listen to her cousin. Waiting for a call that most likely wouldn’t come for at least a day was counterproductive and they didn’t have that sort of time to waste. There were details to see to and look into.

  She didn’t expect Hunter to say, “I’ve got an idea how to make the time go by.” And she certainly didn’t expect him to look so damn sexy as he said it or for her heart to practically jump up into her throat, beating like a drum solo.

  “Oh? How?”

  “How do you think?” he asked with a wicked grin.

  She heard herself saying, “I have some thoughts on the matter.”

  “So do I.”

  Hunter’s laugh seemed to curl all around her, embracing Kenzie.

  * * *

  Valri called her in the squad room a little after ten the next morning. Kenzie and Hunter lost no time in getting down to the computer lab.

  “You look as exhausted as I feel,” Valri commented when Kenzie walked in with Hunter behind her. “Didn’t you get any sleep last night?”

  “I was working on the case, trying to put the pieces together,” Kenzie told her cousin.

  It was a lie, really. But she couldn’t very well come out and say that she’d spent the night making love with Hunter. That lovemaking was his way of trying to get her mind off the case for a while. The moment she even hinted at anything like that, she knew it would be over. Admitting that they had spent the night together was tantamount to giving away Superman’s secret identity. Once it was out there, his crime-fighting days, as he knew them, would be over.

  It was official, Kenzie thought the next moment. She was losing her mind.

  “So what do you have for us?” Hunter was saying. “Do you know where we can find Cameron Bishop?” Hunter asked Valri.

  “Haven’t a clue,” Valri admitted.

  There was no way to describe how incredibly let down Kenzie felt.

  However, Hunter was scrutinizing the computer tech’s face. “But you do know something, don’t you, Valri?”

  “I know that this guy disappeared off the face of the earth,” she told them, then added, “And if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t want to find him. I get the feeling that he was a really terrible person.”

  “Define ‘terrible,’” Hunter urged, interested.

  “I managed to put together his background. Cameron Bishop never married. For the most part, he lived in the shadow of his brother, Steve, a self-made millionaire. And then his brother and sister-in-law died under what I can only call suspicious circumstances. When they did, ‘Uncle’ Cameron jumped into action. He took in his niece as well as the trust fund money Steve had left for her care.”

  “I have a feeling we’re not going to hear that they lived happily ever after,” Kenzie said.

  “Well, over the years, child services was called in a number of times, but apparently none of the allegations that were made by the neighbors ever stuck.”


  “So his niece wasn’t taken away?” Hunter questioned.

  “No, each time Cameron managed to charm his way out of the charges. He had child services believing that his niece, Camille, would fall apart if she was removed from his house—actually her parents’ house because Cameron had moved in there to take care of Camille. He had them convinced that Camille needed the stability that he could provide for her. Meanwhile, it seems that he was slowly siphoning away Camille’s trust fund.”

  “Why was child services involved in the first place?” Kenzie asked.

  “There were rumors of child abuse,” Valri told her. She paused for a moment, as if she was steeling herself before saying, “Sexual child abuse.”

  “So what happened?” Hunter asked, although in his mind he was already filling in the blanks. “Did Camille eventually run away?”

  “Not exactly. She didn’t run away. But for all intents and purposes, Cameron did. He disappeared. He supposedly left her the one thing he owned outright—the cabin—to remember him by.

  “It took some doing,” Valri continued, “but I found a picture of Camille Bishop taken by child services from the last time that they had been called in.” She pulled out a rather blurry photograph from the file she’d put together and placed it in front of her cousin and Hunter. She watched their reaction as they looked at the photograph. “Look familiar?”

  Chapter 24

  Kenzie’s eyes widened as she stared at the photograph that Valri had pulled from the file and printed for their benefit.

  “Oh my Lord, she could be the little sister of the woman who stole Kurtz’s money,” Kenzie cried.

  “Or, given when this photo was taken, it could be that same woman as a teenager,” Hunter speculated.

  Kenzie could feel her brain going a mile a minute as the scenario surrounding the serial kills began to fall into place.

  “And you said there were rumors of sexual abuse?” she asked Valri.

  Valri nodded. “According to the records, nothing was ever really substantiated, but yes, there were rumors.”