CHAPTER NINE
“There’s really not much else for you to do here, Sheriff. The forensic team is still sweeping the scene to bag and tag trace evidence for the lab,” Agent Thorne said, stuffing his notepad into the interior pocket of his designer suit jacket. It took every ounce of restraint Mitch had not to yank that pad out of his jacket and rip every page of it into small pieces right in front of him. Hell, he’d been questioned and dismissed by Thorne just as the man had done to every other guest at the inn. Special Agent Jay Thorne had absolutely no interpersonal communication skills whatsoever. “My team and I have this covered.”
Mitch curled his fingers into the palm of his hand, tightening his fist until he’d regained some of his composure. Thorne remained oblivious to his impending doom and carried on as usual. Main Street had practically come to a standstill with every shop owner standing across the street in a tight crowd. Every curious gaze was staring at the B&B as if the large house was going to grow arms and legs. At least, when they weren’t answering the probing questions of the media onsite.
“Those reporters seem to have everything covered, too. Do you want to invite them in to go over the crime scene with you and your guys?” Mitch didn’t bother to hide his disdain at how this investigation was being handled. “Thorne, every single decision you make today is going to be broadcast on the evening news. Patty already released the press statement you wrote up regarding Shelby being discounted as a viable suspect. All eyes are glued to how you feds and my department handle this latest abduction.”
“I’m used to shit like this, Kendall. It’s nothing new to me. Maybe you could move the rest of the reporters back across the street.” Thorne slipped his hands inside the pockets of his pants, casually glancing across the road to study the onlookers. Mitch had already sent a text to Allie, asking her if the unsub was the type to personally visit his crime scenes after the fact. She’d replied with one word—no. If he read between the lines, which were basically nonexistent, she was telling him that the serial killer was too busy preparing his latest family member for internment in whatever new killing ground he’d found. “Special Agent Stringer sent over his adjusted profile this morning. I’ve left a copy of it on your desk, but I’m guessing that you don’t need to read through it seeing as you have your own profiler close at hand.”
Mitch remained silent about the fact that he’d personally brought in Allie on an investigation that she had no business being part of, recognizing Thorne’s jab for what it was.
The question remained—would the unsub have targeted Allie instead of Charlene had Allie been in her room at the inn last night?
The paralyzingly obvious answer made him physically nauseous to think that he could have put her life in danger. He’d asked her here as a professional to profile a sick individual, not to make herself a target. He’d wanted a fresh set of eyes to look at what they’d all been staring at for weeks, but not at this cost.
It was time to send Allie packing.
“You and I both know that it will take another week for Stringer to add his insights about the events of what happened to Charlene Winston last night to the report.” Mitch hated the bureaucracy of these types of investigations, but he’d rather deal with delayed paperwork than risk Allie’s safety. “Regardless, these are still my people. I’m not leaving until you’ve cleared the scene and the townsfolk can go about their business.”
“Have it your way, Kendall.” Thorne looked over Mitch’s shoulder. “Just don’t make this another family reunion, alright?”
Mitch turned to find Noah, Lance, and Irish crossing the street. He met them halfway, heeding Thorne’s warning about their interference. This was no place for family or friends to congregate, no matter how bad they wanted answers.
“Dad called us,” Noah said, glancing back over Mitch’s shoulder at the forensics team who was finishing up their work. “Why would the killer take Charlene Winston?”
“Because she came from a broken family just like the rest of them,” Irish replied quietly, his dark eyes full of concern as he took in the scene before them.
Mitch regarded Irish a little more closely, wondering how he’d known that fact about a complete stranger none of them knew much about. Something else was going on here, and he’d hate for Irish to be on Thorne’s radar. The town’s mechanic had suffered enough already.
To say it had come as a complete surprise to everyone to learn that Irish’s sister had been one of the victims was an understatement. It certainly gave him ammunition to want this son of a bitch captured and put down for good.
“You sound as if you’re personally acquainted with Ms. Winston.” Mitch recalled Lance saying something about Irish being interested in a woman from town, but he never imagined it would have been the reporter who had published such salacious headlines. Her actions had caused more headaches than providing anyone with actual usable information. Mitch had nothing personal against Charlene Winston, but he didn’t appreciate how she’d been so eager to facilitate the killer’s bidding by publishing those letters without first talking to either Mitch or the feds. “Is there something I should know?”
“We’ve been spending time together off the books, if that’s what you’re asking.” Irish still hadn’t taken his eyes off the porch where the letter had been discovered on the worn welcome mat. “I realize that Charlene has caused a few ripples in the community, but she wasn’t related to those victims. The investigation called to her for several reasons, one of which was her career. She had to pull a lot of strings at her network so that she could remain the lead on this story.”
“When was the last time you saw Charlene Winston?”
“Mitch, that’s unfair,” Lance interrupted, shaking his head in disappointment. “Irish is just friends with her, that’s all.”
“I didn’t say I had a problem with his choice of friends.” Mitch and his siblings had been raised to have loyalty, and he didn’t expect Lance to act any other way. “I’d rather cover this ground so that Special Agent Thorne doesn’t have to track you down and haul you in later, if you get my drift. He struggles making friends as it is.”
“I haven’t seen Charlene in a few days with all the excitement regarding Shelby Tilmadge,” Irish responded, and Mitch got the sense that the unusually private man was telling the truth. He inhaled deeply, almost as if he’d made an internal decision. “I’m heading back to the garage. I’ll touch base later to see if you need me to answer any more questions.”
Mitch monitored Irish’s progression through the gathered crowd. Thorne had probably seen the entire exchange, and he would most likely hear about Irish and Charlene’s intimate relationship at some point from the gossip mill. This could very easily turn into a circus. Due to the close nature of their friendship, it made it impossible to guess what Irish would do in order to find his friend. Someone needed to keep an eye on him.
“Lance?”
“On it,” Lance muttered in resignation, not happy to be given the babysitter task. “Does this mean I’m deputized?”
Mitch waited for Lance to be out of earshot before addressing Noah.
“I need your help.”
“You got it.”
Noah hadn’t hesitated, but that would have been the same with any of Mitch’s siblings.
“I want you to check Allie out of the B&B once Thorne gives the all clear for the guests to return to their rooms. She’s with Dad at the moment, shopping for Halloween candy.” Mitch figured he’d be given a shit ton of grief from Allie, but he’d rather deal with her wrath than be standing over her corpse. He planned to see her off first thing tomorrow morning. “You can take her stuff over to my place.”
Allie had opted to take a shower at Mitch’s place this morning, saying she’d use his washer and dryer for her clothes in order to make it through the day. Well, she’d be pleasantly surprised to find out that her belongings had personally been delivered—not. She’d wring his neck and then some.
“Is there any wa
y that I can trade places with Lance?” Noah asked in jest, reaching for his phone to no doubt give Miles Schaeffer a call that he’d be delayed a bit this morning. They were both scheduled to be working up at the lake on the cottages, but that could wait a little longer. “You know, I don’t need your favorite FBI agent to be mad at me, too…and I’m not talking about Thorne. I’m just saying it’s not a good first impression for her to find out I’m the one who rifled through her personal belongings. Is there any chance she didn’t unpack her suitcase yesterday? Would that be asking too much?”
In Mitch’s opinion, at least that first impression would be possible.
Why had Allie made such a dangerous choice in flaunting her suitability as a target?
Sitting at his table in the kitchen across from her fresh from sleeping in his bed had clarified a few things for him—yes, he’d wanted her to come to town to help him solve these murders if she could, but he’d never gotten her completely out of his system.
Twelve months had passed since their night together, though they’d exchanged texts often enough. Neither one of them had brought up what happened after the fact, and it was like it had never transpired.
But it had.
And she would never settle for what he had to offer.
And if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t enough. It had never been enough, and maybe he’d taken advantage of this chance to see if he’d made a mistake by walking away. Now all the consequences of his impetuous actions were coming home to roost. His inability to simply provide her security was resulting in a building anger, because she’d gone and blown any chance of that to hell with her decision to make herself a target.
“Don’t worry about Allie.” Mitch didn’t want to get into the details of his decision or else Noah would make a bigger deal of the situation than was warranted. “I’ll explain everything to her when I have time. She’s off with Dad somewhere right now, and that’s how I want to keep it until I can address this personally.”
Noah feigned taking a step backward, causing Mitch to realize he’d given away more than he’d intended.
“Sheriff,” Byron called out, saving Mitch from having to give Noah a lecture on adulthood. The deputy was weaving his way in and out of the crowd. “Sheriff, the background check you requested on Charlene Winston came over the wire.”
Byron had a folder in his hand, but they were too close to the gathered horde of locals standing across the street. Mitch took the folder and began making his way back to the front yard of the inn. Thorne most likely had already received a SITREP regarding the latest victim in this case, but Mitch wasn’t waiting on the feds to share their information.
“Byron, I’m going to need you to—”
Mitch had been going to give instructions to his deputy about tonight’s Halloween festivities when he’d opened the manila folder.
Something wasn’t right.
“Are you sure this report is accurate? What is our source?”
Mitch thumbed through the next two pages, taking in the highlighted notes that Byron had been keen enough to mark as vital to this investigation.
“It’s mostly details from her employer and a quick internet search. It’s what they had, which is why I figured you’d want to compare notes with Agent Thorne ASAP,” Byron said as he looped his fingers into his belt. Mitch reflected on what was written down in front of him. Allie wasn’t the first one to test their theory of how the suspect selected his victims during his hunt. “Charlene Winston didn’t come from a broken home. She made it all up in hopes the killer would reach out to her.”
“It seems her strategy worked,” Mitch muttered, wondering what the reporter thought of her plan now. “Unfortunately, Charlene Winston might not live to write her own story.”
CHAPTER TEN
“It’s been a while, Jay.” Allie greeted her colleague with a guarded smile. Technically, Special Agent Jay Thorne worked out of the Cleveland office. The two of them rarely crossed paths anymore. They had both gone through the academy together, and she’d lucked out by getting assigned to Quantico in deference to her previous experience in military intelligence. It had been her dream delivered on a silver platter. “How’ve you been?”
Jay was sitting at one of the folding tables that was part of a longer chain of temporary desks. She was glad she’d picked a time when the other two agents assigned to the investigation were out and about scouring the town and running potential leads to ground on Charlene Winston’s whereabouts.
“I’d be a lot better if you weren’t standing in front of me right now, Delaney.” Jay had always spoken his mind, and now was no exception. He was direct and to the point. It was part of what made him damned good at his job. He leaned back against the chair, allowing the wheels to roll him back from the table by a few inches. “I told Kendall to make sure you stayed far away from my investigation. Apparently, he didn’t listen very well.”
“Mitch called in a favor, and I couldn’t say no.” It was the truth, but Allie understood the ramifications of her involvement. It was the reason she was here. “I wanted to run something by you. If you’re not interested, I’ll fly back to D.C. No harm, no foul.”
Jay remained silent as he hedged his bet. He no doubt recognized that she had nothing to lose in this situation and could walk away clean. She could have easily remained on the sidelines, given her two cents to a friend, and then headed back to her busy life on the East Coast.
She was standing in front of Jay because she could help advance the investigation.
“I know Kendall has been feeding you case files. If you have something that can help me, spit it out. Otherwise, Stringer is currently working on adding these latest developments to his ever-evolving profile.” Jay pressed his thumb and index finger against his eyelids in exhaustion. This case had been overwhelming, but it was just one of many he would have to endure during his tenure. This eventuality was par for the course, because humanity didn’t change. “You and I both know that Charlene Winston is most likely already dead.”
“You’re right, but it’s not like you to throw in the towel.” Allie pulled out one of the numerous chairs around the makeshift workspace. Files were stacked everywhere, a whiteboard was positioned in front of the table with a rather extensive timeline beset with hundreds of details and file numbers, and empty Styrofoam cups filled the trashcan. “I know you have something up your sleeve.”
“Tell me what it is you’ve come to say, and then go spend time with your Marine buddy.” Jay leaned forward and grabbed one of those empty Styrofoam cups—this one on the desk—to drain its cold contents before deciding on another. He pushed back his chair as he stood before walking the short distance to the coffee pot positioned on a side table. It was one of those old-fashioned units with two burners, but she doubted the orange glass carafe held the decaf coffee it was set aside for. “I’m not in the mood for any games right now.”
Neither was she.
Allie had spent the majority of the day with Gus, and had found herself enjoying every second of her time with Mitch’s father. He was charming, intelligent, and backcountry wise when it came to life in general. To hear him tell it, people got in their own way too much and made everything way too complicated. She also didn’t believe for half a second that he wasn’t calling Mitch right this minute to rat her out.
The only saving grace she’d been afforded after walking through the station’s doors was that the dispatcher hadn’t been sitting at her desk. Allie wasn’t certain that the woman would have allowed her past the main area of the police station without showing her credentials. She had no idea the disposition of the employee who guarded the gate, and she honestly didn’t want to know.
There was a deputy whom Allie didn’t recognize, but Mitch had mentioned he’d hired two new employees when he’d taken over as sheriff a couple of months ago. Or the man could have been Deputy Foster. She’d seen that name on the roster in one of the many reports she’d looked over since Mitch sent her the original
case file.
The crew who had worked here under the old sheriff hadn’t liked the way the old scheme was deposed, correctly calculating their chances of running their old scams on the new sheriff as next to none. A quick glance at the nameplate told her that the deputy was one of Mitch’s new hires. He’d keep to himself.
Besides, she really wasn’t worried about the deputy overhearing anything, seeing as he was across the room on the phone giving detailed directions to one of the town’s older residents on how to unblock a garbage disposal.
“I figured out a way for you to trap the unsub in action.” Allie let her statement settle over Jay, whose hand hovered over his freshly brewed coffee. “Hear me out, Jay. Let’s not waste time with politics.”
Allie had already accepted that Mitch most likely would have sent her packing before first light tomorrow. It had never been his plan to draw her into the investigation, as much as he’d only intended to utilize her skillset. But he didn’t get one without the other in her book. It wasn’t how she normally operated, and Jay was a smart enough man to use the tools he had in front of him.
“You have one minute.”
Jay picked up his coffee and walked back to his chair.
They both made themselves comfortable, but Allie wasn’t sure she had that much time before Gus’ message got through to Mitch about her current whereabouts. She had best get this party started.
“You’re right that Mitch shouldn’t have gone around you and called me in outside of the chain of command, but we’ve known each other for over sixteen years. He’s actually a close friend. We spent time together under fire in Iraq and Afghanistan. I couldn’t say no, and I had every intention of keeping my distance and only providing Mitch my insight over a couple of beers.”
Unlocking Darkness (Keys to Love Series, Book Five) Page 9