“What did he look like?”
Jennifer concentrated with her eyes still closed. “He wore a leather jacket.”
“Any insignia on it?”
Jennifer shook her head. “I didn't see what was on it.”
“What did he look like?”
“I don't know.” Jennifer opened her eyes. “I can only see his shadow. I'm sorry but that's all I remember”
Karen wrote it all down. Every word. “You did very good, Jennifer. Better than most eye witnesses.” She stood up and Jennifer opened the front door.
“I hope you catch this fucker.”
“Don't worry, I'll get him.”
Karen finally found the break in the case she was looking for. She was finally on the trail of the killer now. It was only a matter of time.
Chapter Eight
Karen parked at the Jimstown sheriff's office. Randall Higsby came running out of the small building, his holstered pistol knocking against his hip. He knocked on her car window. Karen couldn't find the controls to lower the window and finally opened the door instead.
“You told me it was urgent. Is everything all right?” he asked.
Randall held a cup of coffee in one hand. The smell itself woke Karen up a little bit.
“Yes. Everything is fine. I need every file on the motorcycle clubs in town and in the surrounding areas.”
“Every club?”
“Yes every club. And get me a cup of coffee.”
Karen sat down at a desk in an interrogation room. It was the only place quiet enough to get some work done. She blew on the hot coffee and took a sip. It was no Starbucks but it was better than nothing.
Randall brought in stacks of files on a cart. “Here is everything we got on motorcycle clubs.”
Karen stood up as he unloaded stack after stack onto the desk. “This might take a long time.”
“Tell me what we're looking for and I could help.”
Karen flipped open the first file labeled: Dog Soldiers MC “I'm not sure exactly. I questioned Jennifer Skyler and she may have heard a motorcycle flee the scene.”
Higsby sat down at the table and opened another file. “And you think it was someone in one of these motorcycle clubs? Because I can tell you that there are a lot of people that ride motorcycles in this town and not all of them are apart of a club.”
“It's just a hunch I have.” Karen knew it was a long shot but she had to try.
She combed through the files on the Dog Soldiers MC and came across Trevor Kent's file. She almost spit out her coffee when she recognized him as the man she made out with at the bar.
“Did you find something?” Higsby asked.
“Nothing yet.” Karen tried to hide her face as best she could. She had worked on her cold expression while at Quantico to help with interrogations but she was never able to fully master it.
Higsby returned to his work and Karen delved deeper into the file. Trevor Kent was twenty-six years old and had a rap sheet longer than most. The list of misdemeanors was almost impressive. The one that got him was armed robbery of a liquor store. He did five years in the state penitentiary for that one.
Karen always believed she was a good judge of character. A quality she thought would benefit her at the FBI. But here she was sticking her tongue down a convicted criminal's throat. Good thing she was able to resist him.
But she couldn't help thinking about what could've happened if she went home with him. Her feeling his hard muscles over his tight white shirt jumped into her head. She imagined taking off his shirt to reveal a canvas of tattoos. Her heart skipped a beat.
“You all right, Karen? You're just staring off into space.”
Higsby pulled her out of her fantasy. Karen rubbed her eyes and pretended she was tired. She took another sip of coffee. “Sorry, I didn't get much sleep last night.”
“I'm not finding much here.” Higsby closed the last file in his stack. “We know who the major players are but we don't have anything beyond that.”
“That's not unusual for such a small town. You need a lot of money and manpower to put on big investigations.”
“How are you going to spot a serial killer among all these?” Higsby waved his hand across the files.
Karen shuffled papers. “I'm not. We don't have enough information here to even get a list of suspects. I'm going to have to go straight to the source.”
“You think the serial killer is just going to make himself known to you?”
“Of course not,” Karen said. “But some of these rival clubs might just have an idea who's behind these killings.”
Higsby stood up. “You're going to need my help. These guys are dangerous.”
“I can take care of myself. Besides, I need you here combing through files. There may be a diamond in there.”
Higsby deflated back into his chair. Karen knew that this small town cop would only slow her down. And she didn't want him to know that she'd already been in contact with one of the members of the Dog Soldiers MC.
–
Karen pulled up the Eight of Spades. The parking lot was devoid of the mass of trucks and motorcycles. In the light of day, the bar looked even worse than the last time she saw it. Almost like it had been abandoned for years. Vultures circled overhead looking for their next meal.
Karen hoped she wouldn't be it.
She flipped the sunvisor down and checked her makeup in the mirror. Karen put her hair into a tight ponytail and then decided against it, letting her long brown hair flow over her shoulders. She knew these type of men would be more open to talking to a woman who didn't look like an authority.
But she couldn't do anything about her black dress pants and blazer.
She stepped up to the front of the bar and the rotted wood porch creaked under her feet. She tried to open the door but it was locked. She rapped on it lightly and waited in the summer heat.
Footsteps were audible from inside. A latch was undone and the door opened. Karen recognized him immediately. The man from that night. The man from the files.
Trevor Scott.
“We're closed. Come back tonight.”
The door snapped closed in Karen's face before she even had a chance to say a word.
He didn't even remember her.
Chapter Nine
Karen bit her bottom lip and took in a deep breath. He was just like any other man she'd ever been with. One night was good enough and they were done.
She slammed her fist onto the door. “Open up.”
The door opened wider this time and Trevor appeared again. Karen shoved her FBI right in his face. “I need to ask you a few questions, Trevor Scott.”
Trevor smiled. The appearance of a badge did nothing to change his swagger. “Well come on in Agent...”
“Taylor. Agent Taylor,” Karen replied. She brushed past him and caught a scent of his cologne. But she was too angry at the fact he didn't remember her to enjoy it the smell.
The bar was empty and silent. Wooden chairs were turned upside down onto the tables. The pool cues were laid down on the green velvet. Everything looked neat and organized. She wanted to go outside and check the sign again to make sure that she was in the right place.
But the sight of Trevor took away that doubt.
Trevor closed the door and leaned against it with his arms folded. “And what do I owe the pleasure?”
Karen wasn't used to ex-cons acting this way. Most of them were too scared of being sent back to prison to even speak a word to her.
“I need some information on some motorcycle clubs.”
Trevor walked behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. He set them down and poured two shots. “Care for a drink?”
Karen shifted her hips to the side. “It's barely the afternoon.”
“Suit yourself.” Trevor grabbed a shot and downed it. He didn't waste a second, drinking the shot that was meant for Karen.
Karen looked away, unimpressed. Men were always trying to portray
this macho image that they believed made women go weak in the knees. Like being a drunk was every sexy.
As Trevor wiped whiskey from his drooling mouth, Karen wondered what ever attracted her to him in the first place.
“So what can I do for you?” Trevor asked, leaning an elbow on the bar.
Karen took out a photo from her breast pocket and threw it in front of Trevor. He looked down and saw the dead body of Teresa Cullen: the first victim.
Trevor let out a laugh. “Are you really trying to pin this murder on me? I've never even seen this girl before.”
Karen knew this man wasn't the killer. Didn't fit the profile. He was too much like typical biker. They may be criminals but they didn't kill young women for the fun of it. “No I don't think you killed her but you might know who did.”
“Listen, lady. I don't rat out my brothers. Just like I assume you don't rat out your corrupt FBI agents.”
He had a point. Karen had met many FBI agents who did questionable things. She would never in a million years go to the higher ups and rat them out. It would be career suicide. In Trevor's case, it could mean his death.
Karen pulled out three more photos of the victims and placed them one by one in front of Trevor. This was something she'd do in an interrogation room to make the suspect feel guilty and maybe tell her something he didn't want to before.
“What makes you think that it was my club that did this to these girls?”
“It could be your club or any of the others. I don't know.” Karen debated whether to tell him what the eyewitness had said to her. “All I do know is that a motorcycle was heard fleeing one of the murder scenes.”
Karen examined his reaction but Trevor was stone cold.
“Will you help me catch this guy?”
Trevor looked closely at each picture on the bar and pushed them back to Karen. “Sorry I can't help you.”
Karen wasn't in the mood to take no for an answer. “These are only the beginning. These aren't just random killings. This man hunts women. It's all he thinks about. He's got a taste for it now and he won't stop. We have four victims already and that number will only get higher.”
Trevor could see the determination in Karen's eyes. She wasn't going to let this go. “Have we met before?” he asked.
A low guttural growl came from deep down in Karen. The holstered gun on her hip was itching to be fired. She looked around for any witnesses. She could fire a couple shots into his chest and just walk away. Nobody would be the wiser. Hell, they'd probably call in Karen to investigate it.
“Yes we met the other night. Do you remember out front?”
Realization hit Trevor but their was no sense of embarrassment in his face. She had melted in his arms that night and he almost had her. “I remember now. That was really nice.” Trevor leaned over the bar, getting closer to Karen's face. He stared deep into Karen's eyes, searching for something.
Her first instinct was to close her eyes and surrender to his lips. That's what a normal woman would do when faced with such a man. But Karen was unlike most women. It's what got her into the boys club that is the FBI. She was good at resisting temptation. Karen took a step back and left Trevor hanging.
Trevor knew it wouldn't be that easy. He loved the chase. Easy girls weren't his cup of tea. He stood up straight and smiled. “I think I'm going to help you.”
Chapter Ten
Karen brought the files from her car and into the bar. Trevor sat at one of the tables with a half bottle of whiskey and shot glass. She was turned off by the drinking but was fascinated by his physical build. She'd never really cared about that aspect before but now with this perfect specimen in front of her, Karen couldn't help but admire it.
“Let me see what you got.” Trevor poured himself another shot and spilled whiskey all over the table.
Karen had to lift the files until Trevor wiped up his mess. “These are all the files I was able to obtain from the local police.”
Trevor quickly thumbed through them until he found the one marked with his own name. He flipped through it and let out a chuckle. “Pretty much what I thought. The dumb cops over there have nothing on me.”
Karen snatched the file from his hands. “That's not what we're here for. I need you to go through these and help me fill in the blanks.” Karen found the one marked Devil Hearts MC and handed it to Trevor. “What can you tell me about them?”
“They've been our rivals for years. If I had the chance, I'd kill everyone of them.”
Karen couldn't believe how frank he was being in the presence of an FBI agent. He didn't give two shits.
“What else can you tell me? Specifically about each member. Is there anyone you think that would be capable of...”
“Being a serial killer?” Trevor interrupted.
“I was more going to say capable of killing young women.”
Trevor returned his attention to the file and closed it. “Aiden is their president and he's one ugly son of a bitch. But he's no serial killer. Fallon is the vice president. Hair red as fire. Constantly cracking jokes.”
Karen leaned in. “And do you think he would make a good suspect?”
Trevor folded his hands. “What am I going to get out of helping you?”
“You mean other than saving the lives of women?”
Trevor nodded. “Yes, other than that.”
Karen couldn't believe how much of an asshole this guy was. A serial killer was on the loose and he only cared about himself.
“I don't know what to offer you. What do you want?”
His eyes narrowed and focused on Karen. “A date with you,” he replied.
Karen laughed then felt a little nauseous. “You can't be serious.” The thought of this poor excuse for a human being touching her again made her want to vomit.
Trevor downed another shot of whiskey and wiped his mouth. “I'm dead serious, baby.”
Karen sighed. There was no way she was going to solve this case without Trevor's help. “Fine. A date after we solve this case.”
Trevor shook his head. “No way. I'll help you for now but I want a date tonight.”
Karen stared into his eyes, searching for any signs of weakness. But there was none. This guy wasn't going to back down. “A date tonight then.”
Trevor leaned back in his chair and rested his hands behind his head. “Perfect.”
“Now can we get back to the members of the Devil Hearts. What about this Fallon guy you were talking about?”
“He's the guy you're looking for.” Trevor said it so plainly that Karen didn't think he was serious.
“You know that Fallon is the killer?”
Trevor poured another shot of whiskey and knocked it back. He cleared his throat. “I don't have any hard evidence but out of all these bikers, he's the one that's not like the others.”
“What makes him different?”
Trevor thought about it for a moment. “It's his eyes. Even when he makes a joke, there's nothing behind those eyes.”
Karen was shocked by his comment. Not because he described a quality of a serial killer, but how deep it was. She never expected an ex-con like him to be so perceptive.
“We should put him at the top of our list then,” Karen said.
“Good now that we have that out of the way, how about that date?”
“I think we should go question this Fallon first.”
“That can wait. You promised me a date. And how will you even get a meeting with him without my help?”
Trevor had her over a barrel. Karen hated the idea of going out with him but it was the only way. “Where are we going tonight?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“Heard of a place called Thomson's?”
Karen rolled her eyes. It sounded like another biker bar. How many of those had sprung up since she left Jimstown? “Never heard of it.”
Trevor smiled. “Perfect. I'll pick you up at 7:00.”
Karen wanted this biker nowhere near her mother. Trevor sitting down on
her mom's nice couch and the two of them chatting was not going to happen.
“I'll meet you there at 7:00.”
Trevor cracked his knuckles and stood up. “I'll see you then.”
Biker's Heir Series Box Set Page 64