“This is it, Had. We’re gonna get him.”
He was one hundred percent in agreement. They’d make their way out to the trucking center, set up shop, and have the guy in custody in three days or less. There was no way the killer could worm his way out of this trap. Not a chance.
Agent Cooper rubbed her hands together. “Okay, first thing I’m going to need you to do is to get a hold of local law enforcement. We’re going to need their assistance in pulling suspects in for questioning.”
“Sure thing,” he answered. “Want me to see if I can set up some offices there at the station?”
“Yes, although my guess is that we’ll be spending most of our time at the truck stop. Especially if it’s as big as you say.”
“Oh, it is.”
“Well, let’s see if we can talk to both the truck stop and the police station. Wouldn’t hurt to have a base of operations at both sites.”
“Good call,” Had agreed. They would get a lot more done if they had a place they could work out of while keeping tabs on the drivers coming in and out. “Do you think the stop will be willing to work with us? It’s their customers we’re looking to bring in.”
“It’s your job to convince them.” Coop started to speak, then seemed to hesitate before continuing. “You’ve proven yourself to be much more useful than just this, but you liaising with the locals was why I wanted you on the team.”
“Oh.” Had felt himself deflate. He was just the hired help, the guy that went in front of the big circus posting up fliers. Not the ringmaster, not the lion tamer, not even the guy that swept up the poop behind the elephant. Not an integral part of the magic.
Agent Cooper must have seen the look on his face, because she stepped in with almost no pause. “I was afraid you might take it that way. You’re more than that, but you also need to know how important this part of it is.”
“Yeah. Gotta make sure no one throws Joshua in prison for being a vagrant.”
Coop smiled. “Sort of. But it’s more than that. You know how local law enforcement is when it comes to FBI involvement.”
That was true. The only one who had been excited when the BAU had come to Ann Arbor had been Had. Everyone else spent the entire time grumpy as all hell. Especially Had’s boss. The guy had spent those several days looking like a cross between a wet cat and a charging rhino.
He listened a little bit closer as Coop continued, “Without you, we wouldn’t be able to do much of anything out here. You’re excellent at it.”
“What do you mean?”
“The captain down in South Carolina. What would’ve happened there without you?”
“Yeah, I guess.” He started laughing. “You were so pissed off.”
“I know, and so were you, but you kept it together. I’m telling you, Had,” she continued, “you’ve ended up being more help that I’d imagined you could be, but I would’ve been thrilled with just your people skills.”
It was true. They were turning out to be a pretty amazing team. And with their combined talents, they couldn’t help but succeed in their task.
Humpty Dumpty was theirs.
* * *
Joshua inhaled, taking in the scent and taste of jet fuel, sweat and mold that was the heady bouquet of all the airports he’d ever been outside of. And that was a long list.
His head pounded, his body ached, and it felt like there was sandpaper attached to the backside of his eye sockets, grinding away every time he glanced to the right or the left. He hadn’t felt this bad in a long time. What the hell? He’d had less alcohol last night than he had in years. Wasn’t fair.
Bella scampered about, smelling everything she could get to within the arc made by her leash. She barked and pranced in front of a young girl coming out of the door behind them, who squatted down and started playing with her until her mother yanked her away. Joshua wouldn’t swear to it, but it looked like the mother was much more concerned about him that she was about the puppy. Normally that wouldn’t bother him, but right now he had to take deep breaths to stay calm.
They were standing just outside the Quad City International Airport in Moline, Illinois. From here it was a half-hour cab ride to Iowa 80, just over the border into the state next door.
Had was off to the side, talking with one of the passengers from the flight he’d made friends with. The new contact was a big, burly guy with hipster glasses, a flannel shirt, and jeans that were way too skinny for his frame. They were busy exchanging email addresses or something. Joshua couldn’t fathom the amount of energy that must go in to keeping up with the number of friends that guy seemed to make.
They’d had a layover in Chicago, where Had proceeded to gush to both Joshua and Coop, as well as three other customers at the pizza joint where they’d grabbed lunch, that it was his first time there. The young cop had asked every one of them if the wind they’d heard in the jet-way was typical. If Joshua heard I guess that’s why they call it the Windy City one more time, he would’ve hurt someone. Okay. Not “someone”. That was far too indefinite. Had. He would have hurt Had.
Thinking of the gregarious cop, Joshua looked up to see that he was done with his conversation, and making a beeline over to where Joshua was standing. “So, I just texted Bilal, and he doesn’t know anyone out here,” Had groused as he approached, clearly upset that their cab driver’s connections had run out. He reached down in an absent fashion to scratch Bella behind the ears. She responded with a flurry of licks to his hand.
“Tragic,” Joshua responded, his tone dry. He rubbed at his eyes, wishing he could somehow reach the back of them. Man, this sucked.
“Right? Who knows what kind of crappy driver we’re gonna get now.” The young cop had yet to learn the intricacies of sarcasm, as far as Joshua could tell. But then Had perked back up. “Maybe he’ll be even better.” His face fell once more. “Who am I kidding? Bilal’s guys are the best.”
Joshua, for one, was looking forward to a driver who didn’t listen to some weird mishmash of international music styles or was obsessed with ethnic cuisine. A white bread cabbie who just wanted to drive sounded like the best idea he’d heard in a while.
They stood in the queue for taxis, and it wasn’t long before their turn had come. Joshua was relieved to note that the driver seemed to have no interest in talking with them. He was a short man with a medium build, a shaggy beard and a scar that cut his left eyebrow in half. It gave him the appearance of being surprised or skeptical, and even Had seemed a little intimidated by him.
Their first interaction didn’t go so well.
“No dogs in my cab,” the driver barked, as Joshua started to climb into the backseat.
“She’s a service dog,” Joshua shot back.
“Bullshit. That’s a puppy,” he responded, unconvinced. “’Sides, there’s no vest.”
“She’s in training, and the vest’s on order.” Joshua was fully prepared to dig in his heels on this one. As far as he was concerned, they could all walk to where they needed to go. Coop was being a little bitchy today and could probably use the exercise.
“No dogs.”
Then Agent Cooper stepped forward. Joshua tensed up, ready for the argument he knew was coming. Here was the proof positive she’d been looking for that Bella was a problem. This was a situation tailor made for her.
She flipped out her badge and flashed it at the driver. “The dog comes with us.”
The cabbie glanced at the ID, took one look at Coop’s face, and turned back to the front, grumbling something about pushy cops. It appeared to Joshua that Coop had won this little battle for him.
He didn’t trust it for a second.
“What?” he leaned over and whispered to her. “You planning on a side trip to the pound?”
“No,” she answered. “Bella’s part of the team now.” She reached over and ruffled Bella’s fur, while the puppy went into a wriggling fit of ecstasy. “Did you really put a vest on order for her?”
“Yeah. Had let me use his la
ptop. Which was a lot smaller than the one I had back at the agency. Oh, and Amazon’s changed a lot since then, too. It’s amazing.”
“Great,” she replied, and leaned back against the headrest, clearly done with the conversation.
What the hell was going on?
But Bella was in the cab, Coop was playing nice, and the driver didn’t seem to want anything to do with any of them. It was all shaping up to be a pleasant drive.
Maybe, just maybe, Joshua would have some peace on this trip.
No such luck. Five seconds into the drive, Had was trying to strike up a conversation.
“So, you been a driver for long?”
“No.”
There was a pause as Had appeared to recalibrate. “Oh, you’re new?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like it?”
“No.”
Another pause. Joshua could only guess what was going through the mind of the young cop. Perhaps he was looking for a question that couldn’t be answered with a simple yes or no. Joshua found himself rooting for the driver.
“What’s your favorite thing to do here in Moline?” Had asked, grinning. He seemed to have come up with a good one.
“Nothing. I hate it here.”
“Oh.” This had apparently been a good news/bad news situation. He’d gotten more than a one-word response, but still wasn’t anywhere close to starting up a real dialogue. Must be killing him. Joshua wasn’t too proud to admit that it made him smile.
“Did you know that there’s a building here in Moline that has thirteen-hundred solar panels?” Had asked, a bead of sweat standing out on his brow.
“No.”
“Or that it’s home to the only college campus on the banks of the Mississippi?” Joshua might be imagining it, but it seemed like a note of desperation had crept into Had’s voice.
“No.”
“Well, it is,” he said, his tone weak.
They were now exiting the airport, and their driver peered over his shoulder with some apparent reluctance. “Where to?”
“We’re headed to the Comfort Inn in Walcott,” Coop replied.
“You headed over to Iowa 80?” the driver asked, the first sign of life they’d seen gleaming in his eyes.
“Yeah, you know it?” Had asked.
“I love that place. Get out there as much as I can.” The man shrugged, his expression shy. “Studying to be a truck driver.”
“Really?” Had enthused. “I always thought that if I couldn’t be a cop, I’d want to be a trucker.”
“Wait. You’re a cop?”
“Yeah.”
The driver grinned, showing teeth that had been stained yellow from tobacco smoke. “I always said that if I couldn’t be a trucker, I’d want to be a cop.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
Had stuck his hand over the back seat. “Name’s Had.”
“Darrel. Nice to meet you, man. So, are you a detective or just a beat cop…?”
Joshua groaned and leaned into the window. Maybe Bilal’s suggestions hadn’t been quite as bad as he’d imagined.
For the rest of the trip, the animated conversation between the two trucking and law enforcement enthusiasts continued, waxing and waning with the hum of the wheels on the road. The soothing murmur blended together in a cacophony of harmonious noise that would’ve put Joshua to sleep if he hadn’t felt rested for the first time in thirteen years. He reached down to rub Bella’s belly as she dozed in the well of the car down next to his legs.
Joshua had been right about the flight attendants. They’d squawked when they’d first spotted Bella nestled down in his arms, but one implication that Bella was a K-9 unit in training, and all had been forgiven. They’d even brought Bella her own bottle of water, giving her belly rubs and cooing over her, no more than fifteen minutes into the flight. That little pup was a charmer.
Even as the thought passed through his mind, she stirred and yawned. She did a little dance that made her butt shake until she fell down again. There was something about this little puppy that was stirring things inside of him that hadn’t felt movement for longer than he could remember. Her dependency, which in a person would’ve irritated him, did nothing but endear her to him even more.
And he’d only had four drinks last night.
It had gotten to the point that it took at least six or seven to see him through, or what sleep he did get would be plagued by nightmares. But he only had the one bad dream, and he’d slept until Agent Cooper finally woke him up for the flight out.
Ten hours. He’d slept for ten hours. Joshua couldn’t remember the last time he’d had four. He glanced over at Coop, who turned her head away as soon as she saw him looking. She’d been acting strange toward him all day. Probably as freaked out by his behavior as he was.
There was something about this whole scenario that was rubbing him the wrong way. On an intellectual level, he understood that less alcohol and more sleep was a good thing. It would eventually make him sharper, more able to outthink the killer. Not that any of that felt true right at the moment.
But it also could lead him into dangerous territory. It felt… healthy. Whole. Like there was a light at the end of the tunnel. He couldn’t afford to forget that at the end of this crime-fighting spree, a confrontation with four graves and an old man awaited him.
He would end up getting punished whether or not he wanted it to happen.
Peering down at Agent Cooper’s ankle, Joshua could make out the lump there. She was still wearing the monitor. Taking the heat for his problem, enabling his drinking so he could keep it together long enough to catch a predator. It was completely dysfunctional. In a strange way, he found that comforting. The road to redemption wasn’t paved with co-dependency.
He was still safe from the lure of salvation.
CHAPTER 13
Had surveyed the sprawling mini-metroplex that was Iowa 80. It was a sight to behold, and even more so than normal, at least according to Darrel, their cabdriver. Somehow, they’d had the good fortune to come to Iowa 80 right in the middle of their Truckers’ Jamboree. In addition to the huge building that was built almost like it was a cross between a huge house and a cabin, with multiple gables all across the roofline of the face that looked out onto the freeway, there were more trucks here than Had’d seen in his life. Big huge 18-wheelers, as well as smaller, more local freight. Bright rigs with garish colors and sweeping aerodynamic wind guards stood right alongside their smaller and more conservative brothers-in-wheels.
There were carnival rides, a pork chop cook off and live country music blaring through the hot, humid air of Walcott, Iowa. The smell of funnel cakes and cotton candy cut through the scent of the ever-present diesel fuel. Had was in heaven.
But much as the Siren song of the fairway… and the funnel cakes… was calling to him, Had knew there was work to be done. He pivoted on his heel and went back into the labyrinthine structure that was the hub of Iowa 80.
As he walked, his cell phone blared the theme from Psycho.
“Mama, what is it now?” he asked. “I’ve got to scope out this place.”
“Is that any way to greet your mother?” she answered. The reception was spotty, but not quite enough that Had could fake a disconnect. He immediately felt a stab of guilt for his thought and hoped that it wouldn’t travel through the phone connection. She was uncanny when it came to stuff like that. “I called to tell you that I ran into that redheaded girl again at the pharmacy. I’m tellin’ you Had. She could be the one.”
He sighed. How many times had he heard that one before? This one sounded intriguing, he had to admit, but now was not the time.
“Mama, we’ll talk about it later. I have to go.”
Why didn’t he just let the calls go to voice mail? Because she would know, and then she’d track you down and shoot you, a little voice inside whispered.
Okay, maybe she wouldn’t actually shoot him, but the voices had a point.
Inside th
e structure, Had found himself in the Super Truck Showroom. There in the middle of the floor was a bright yellow rig that was one of the prettiest sights Had’d ever taken in. Off to one side was a service kiosk, with a young man that looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. He was wearing a t-shirt that said Wikipedia is Accurate (citation needed). Had could tell they were going to get along great.
He approached the booth and waved at the attendant. The young man looked over his shoulder, apparently unsure of whether or not Had was waving at him.
“Hey there,” Had called out as he took the last few steps separating him from the stand.
“Uh… hey,” came the response.
“I’m Officer Kyle Hadderly. Do you have a second?”
The attendant pushed a hand through his stringy black hair and licked his lips. “Oh, you’re a cop.”
“Yeah, but I’m way outside my jurisdiction. I’m here helping out the FBI”
“You’re… you’re what?” the young man squeaked, glancing from side to side. “Hey, man… I didn’t know anything about that pot. I totally thought the guy was selling oregano, and my mom was making Italian that night…”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Had soothed. “That’s so not what I’m here about. I don’t think the FBI even looks into that stuff.”
“All right,” he muttered, seeming to calm down a bit. “So what are you here for?”
“We’re tracking down a serial killer.”
“What?” The man’s voice cracked again, sending his pitch up into the stratosphere. “You’re hunting for a serial killer?” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. “That’s cool.”
“I know, right?” Had responded, grinning. “It’s pretty awesome.”
“Yeah, totally,” he agreed, nodding his head. “Wait. Where did you say you were from?”
“Well, the other members of my team are from D.C. Sort of. One’s kinda living in New York right now. Expect that he’s not, because he got his car…” He stopped, confused for a moment. “You know what, it’s kinda complicated.”
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