by Cynthia Eden
But Macey wasn’t quite focusing on him. That object out there... Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me, okay?” She turned back and saw the three men staring at her in surprise. “Sorry. There’s just something I need to check.” She hurried out of the conference room and rushed down the small hallway that would take her to the back of the station. Macey threw open the door and was outside in moments. She quickly approached the object she’d seen moments before, and realized she was staring down at a police badge. Crouching, Macey went for a better look at it.
Was that a smear of blood on the badge?
“Macey?” Bowen’s footsteps padded behind her.
Macey looked up at the white Jeep that was right next to her. “Are we sure that Captain Harwell is out running down a lead?” Because she was looking at a captain’s badge. Macey didn’t touch the badge, not yet, but the ice in her gut told her that, yes, that was blood on the badge.
Macey heard Bowen’s low curse and knew that he’d spotted the badge, too. “Let’s make fucking sure.” Then he was pulling her back to her feet and they were running into the station once more. Bowen was shouting for Officer O’Neil at the front desk and everyone in the station seemed to whirl toward them.
Jonah stood in the conference room doorway. “What’s going on?” he asked Macey.
“We need to get inside Captain Harwell’s office,” Macey said, her words directed at Officer O’Neil. “Now.”
He blinked. “It’s... I told you, the door is locked.”
“Then unlock it,” Bowen ordered. “Now.”
More officers came forward, their expressions tense.
“I don’t have the key!” Officer O’Neil said, his eyes wide. “There’s...there’s usually a backup for all of the offices at the front desk, but that key ring wasn’t there this morning when I came in—”
Bowen shoved through the crowd and stopped in front of the locked door.
“Bowen?” Tucker called out. “What are you doing?”
Bowen didn’t reply because he was too busy kicking in the door.
“You can’t do that!” Officer O’Neil yelled. “This is police—”
The door flew inward and Macey saw that Captain Henry Harwell was inside, sitting at his desk. He was in his chair—his body tied to the chair—and blood soaked the front of his shirt. Blood from the giant slash that went from one ear...to the other.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“SO...ARE WE supposed to think that the police captain was some kind of killer?” Jonah asked hours later as they stood inside Harwell’s office. An office that was now an active crime scene.
The body had been taken away. Macey was currently with the ME. Bowen had been left with Jonah and Tucker, and he grimly stared around the room. The crime scene team had come and gone, and they’d found nothing to help their investigation.
Because this bastard knows what he’s doing.
“I mean, that is the MO we’re looking at with this perp, right?” Jonah said as he carefully skirted the desk. “He goes after killers that he’s profiled. And the last guy—Curtis Zale—you hadn’t even realized he was hunting, not until our perp contacted you.” His gaze trekked around the room. “Maybe it’s the same thing with the dead captain. Maybe he was a killer, too. One who hid in plain sight.”
Just like with the other victims, a nail had been found in Harwell’s body—two nails, actually. His hands had been nailed to his desk. Bowen moved behind the desk, trying to figure out just why the killer had set the scene in such a manner.
“Could be possible, I suppose,” Tucker mused from the right, “that Henry Harwell was working with Curtis Zale. I mean, perhaps all those murders occurred in the mountains because Harwell was making sure no one investigated the disappearances?” His voice roughened as he added, “Wouldn’t be the first time a law enforcement officer went bad and, though it’s uncommon, serial killing teams do work together.”
Bowen wasn’t ready to buy that the captain had been a killer. “The perp is ballsy as hell. He’s throwing his crimes in our faces. The guy came into a police station.” The whole fucking place was a crime scene. “Based on the blood spatter we found outside, we can assume that the killer attacked Harwell next to his Jeep, and then the killer brought the captain back in here.” Because the blood had pooled on the chair, on the floor. “The amount of blood here tells us this is where he died. He brought Harwell back in here specifically to set the scene for us. If the perp attacked Harwell outside, in that back parking lot, he could have easily killed him there.” His head lifted from the marks on the desk and he met Tucker’s stare. “But he didn’t. The perp brought Harwell back in here to deliver a message to us.”
“What message is that?” Jonah wanted to know.
“He thought the captain was guilty, all right.” Once more, he stared at the marks left on the desk. “Did you see the files that were beneath Harwell’s hands? The hands that were fucking nailed to the desk? They were the files on Curtis Zale’s victims. Our killer was blaming Harwell for those crimes.”
That was easy enough to see. But when Curtis had been making his grand confession at the end, he’d never implicated anyone else. He’d taken all of the credit himself.
“Because Harwell was guilty?” Jonah said.
Maybe. Or maybe something else was at play. “Dig into his personal life,” Bowen said. He knew Jonah could hack into the guy’s life far too easily. “See if there isn’t something that stands out to you. Missing money. Absences. Property that wasn’t listed on official records. Trouble with a current lover or even an ex. If Henry Harwell had skeletons in his closet, we’ll find them.”
A knock sounded on the open door.
Bowen looked up. Officer O’Neil stood there. His face was pale and the lines near his mouth appeared deeper. His gaze studiously avoided staring at the desk. “Dr. Amelia Lang is in interrogation room one. She’s waiting for you.”
The police station had security cameras in place—cameras that had stopped working right after Amelia Lang left the night before. As far as they knew, she was the last person to speak with Harwell before he’d been murdered.
Other than the killer, of course.
The video footage had showed Dr. Lang walking out of the front door. A few moments later, Captain Harwell had gone out the back.
Then the security feed had just stopped.
“Jonah, let us know what you find,” Tucker ordered as he led the way to the door. He cast a quick glance at Bowen. “You’re standing in for this one, right?”
Standing in, but not leading the investigation. FBI orders. Jaw locking, Bowen snarled, “Yes.”
Tanner hurried out, not looking back, and Bowen knew the guy was glad to get away from that scene. The station had been like a grave site all day long. The officers had been lost to shock, grief...and a growing rage.
“He’s ballsy as fuck,” Tucker groused when they stopped right in front of the interrogation room. “How much more in-your-face can you get than this kill?”
“He didn’t call me,” Bowen said. That nagged at him. “Didn’t challenge me on this one. Didn’t do his routine like he did with Curtis.”
Tucker’s stare turned measured. “You mean he hasn’t called...yet. Because my money says he will. I think the guy was going for shock value. He knew you’d be back at the station today. He locked that door, left his twisted prize inside and he waited for you to find the captain. He was sending a message to you—to the FBI.”
Bowen shoved open the door.
Dr. Lang jumped. Her face was tense and her hands were fisted on the table in front of her. “I—I was told that I needed to come in and speak with you two.” She hurried to her feet and walked toward them. “The captain is really dead?” Her voice was weak.
Bowen nodded. “Yes.”
“I was talking to him last night. He seemed...he seemed like a good guy. He was worried about me getting back to my motel for the night. Tried to get me to take a uniform with me.” Her lips twisted. “I n
ever—not even for a second—worried about his safety. It was nearly three a.m., I was dead on my feet and I—” The phrasing seemed to hit her and a dark flush stained her cheeks. “Oh, God, that’s terrible, isn’t it? I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay,” Tucker said softly. “We know what you meant. Why don’t you just sit back down and we’ll talk? Bowen and I have a few questions for you.”
She seemed to collapse in the chair.
* * *
THE BODY WAS on the exam table. Police Captain Henry Harwell had been given top priority at the ME’s office. One of their own had been taken.
And the mayor, the governor, everyone was demanding immediate action.
“I found a contusion on the back of Henry—the victim’s head,” Shamus McKinley corrected quickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I believe he was struck from behind, and, based on blood recovered in the parking lot, I think he fell forward, his head hitting the side of the driver’s door, and the impact caused this contusion.” His gloved fingers hovered over Harwell’s forehead. “But then...then I think his assailant came at him with another powerful strike here—”
Macey realized his fingers were shaking. “Dr. McKinley.” She spoke his name quietly.
Once more, his Adam’s apple bobbed, and he looked up at her.
“Are you all right doing this investigation?” Because she did not believe that he was. “I think it might be for the best if another ME led this exam.”
Before they went too far.
“You’re too close,” Macey added.
He licked his lips. “I’m the leading ME in Gatlinburg, and I’m the only one who can do this exam the right way—”
“No, you aren’t. Because you’re too close to the victim,” Macey said again. “Look, I get that you’re being pushed by the mayor and the governor and who the hell knows who else, but you need to back away.” She nodded. “I know another ME who can take your place. Dr. Sofia Lopez,” Macey said, throwing out the name quickly. “She’s already familiar with this perp, and she can be here very soon. I spoke with her not five minutes before I walked into this lab, and she volunteered her services.”
He was staring down at the body, as if unable to look away. “I know Sofia’s work. She’s top-notch. We’ve even done some workshops together at conferences. She’s someone I would trust completely.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I think, yes.” He pulled off his gloves and tossed them into the trash. “I think it would be best if Sofia came for the full exam.” He looked up at her. “I’ve done exams on police officers before. Men and women who’ve come into my office as they ran their investigations and I got to know them, but Henry...” Dr. McKinley turned away from the table. “I’ve known him for the last ten years. He was a good man. And I called him a friend. You don’t...you don’t cut into your friend.”
No. “I’ll have Dr. Lopez come immediately.” Because Dr. Lopez had finished her exams in Hiddlewood. If there was any red tape to cut through, Macey was confident that the FBI could do it. She’d leave that matter in Samantha’s capable hands.
Sofia Lopez was familiar with the cases, and she didn’t have any personal ties to the victims. She’d be the ideal ME to have on hand.
“Excuse me,” the ME said. “I need some air.”
He hurried out, and Macey pretended not to see the moisture filling his eyes.
She glanced back at the body—at Henry Harwell. For an instant, she saw him as he’d been in the office last night. The shadows lining beneath his eyes, the haggard tiredness...and the guilt that had shone in his stare.
* * *
“WHAT DID YOU talk about with Henry Harwell last night?” Tucker asked as he took the seat across from Dr. Amelia Lang.
She crossed her hands over her chest and slanted a quick glance at Bowen.
“Sorry,” Bowen said, “should have made the introductions sooner. Dr. Lang, this is Special Agent Tucker Frost. He just needs to ask you a few questions.”
“Just...just Amelia, okay? I kind of think we’re past the formal phase.” Her gaze slid down to Bowen’s side. “You don’t have your weapon.” She bit her lip.
“I won’t have it, not until the official investigation into Curtis Zale’s shooting is over.” He pressed his shoulders to the wall. “I’ve briefed Tucker about your work.”
“You’re the forensic geophysicist,” Tucker added. “And you found the bodies behind the cabin.”
“Thirteen of them,” she said softly. “So far. That’s what I was talking about with Captain Harwell. I was finishing up my notes—he’d let me use an office here at the station. Before I left, I found him in the conference room.” Her lips formed a tight line. “He was staring at all of the photos on the board. The pictures of the victims.”
“Did he say anything to you about those victims?” Tucker questioned.
“He...he wanted to know if I thought there were more out there.” Amelia shook her head. Her hair was in a loose bun. “But I told him I didn’t know yet. That my job was just to find the victims, not to understand the killers. I wouldn’t know more until I’d done more searching with my equipment.” She started to say more, then hesitated.
“Amelia?” Tucker prompted her.
“He...he started talking about Curtis Zale. He said that Curtis had grown up here. That he lived over in Pigeon Forge. He even told me that Curtis had been a normal kid, once upon a time.” She licked her lips. “He almost sounded as if...as if he knew Curtis.”
Tucker slanted a quick glance toward Bowen.
Bowen inclined his head.
“Anything else?” Tucker asked her. His voice was low and easy, a deliberate technique that he utilized when he wanted to keep his witnesses talking without intimidating them.
“Then he just said I could get one of the officers out front to drive me to my motel. That was it. When I left him, he was still in that conference room, staring at the pictures.”
Tucker’s fingers tapped along the table. “And did you see anyone when you went outside?”
“No, the lot was empty.”
Bowen pushed away from the wall. “Why didn’t you get an officer to take you to the motel?”
“I had my own car. A rental. There wasn’t a need for anyone to see me to my motel. I was perfectly safe.” Her shoulder lifted in a shrug.
I’m sure Henry thought he was perfectly safe, too.
“He seemed sad,” Amelia blurted. Then she winced. “Sorry. You probably don’t care about how I think the guy felt—”
“On the contrary.” Tucker’s attention was completely on her. “I’d love to know what you thought about him.”
“He seemed...” Her breath rushed out again. “Guilty, okay? That was my first thought when he turned to me. He was in front of those pictures, asking if I thought there were more victims, and the tone of his voice... I felt as if he were blaming himself. I wanted to say something to make him feel better.” Her shoulders lifted once more. “Only I’m not very good at that sort of thing. I was afraid I’d make things worse, so I left him. I thought he might want to be alone.”
“And who was here when you left?” Bowen asked, though he’d already gotten a list of staff members. Not many at all had been there.
“I don’t know. There was an officer at the front desk. Maybe one...one on his phone in the bull pen? It was empty. So late. And I was just trying to get out.” Her eyes were wide and stark. “I’m sorry that I’m not more help. Do you think the killer was here when I left?” Her hand rose and fluttered near her throat. It was a move he’d seen witnesses and victims make hundreds of times—an absolutely primal response to danger. When threatened, humans always covered their most vulnerable spots...like the jugular.
Tucker smiled at her. Instead of answering, he said, “Thanks for your time, Amelia. I know you have to get back out to the cabin and finish work at the Curtis Zale crime scene, so I don’t want to hold you up any longer.” He rose, and she did, too. “Actually, I’m sure I’ll be s
eeing you out at the cabin. I want to come and take a look around myself.”
She nodded. “Okay, um, thanks. I’ll be heading out there—I actually called in my assistant because there is so much work there. Carlisle is a grad student at the university. Very capable, and I could definitely use him right now.” Her head dropped a bit as she turned for the door. “There are just so many more bodies there than I’ve ever found before.”
Bowen opened the door for her. “Thanks again.”
She stopped and glanced up at him. “Is Agent Night all right?”
Bowen frowned.
“You seemed quite worried about her last night at the cabin.” Her hand lifted and her fingers fluttered near her throat. “She’s not here today and I was concerned about her wound—”
“Agent Night is fine. She’s assisting the ME right now.”
“Oh.” She gave a weak smile. “Glad she’s all right.” Then she slipped through the doorway.
Bowen didn’t speak until the lady had disappeared. “So Captain Harwell had a guilty conscience...” He craned his head to look at Tucker.
“Because he was involved in the crimes?” Tucker asked. “Or because they happened right under his nose and he didn’t see them?”
“Let’s talk to Harwell’s family. Find out if there was any connection between Curtis and the captain.”
Tucker nodded. “I’ll take care of it.” But his gaze was considering as he stared at Bowen.
Bowen frowned at him. “What?”
“I saw it, man.”
Bowen turned to face him fully. “Excuse me?”
“Heard it, too. So you’d better watch it.”
Bowen shut the door to the conference room. “Okay, you need to clue me in on what it is that you’re talking about.”
“I saw the way you looked at Macey this morning.” His lips twisted. “I know the look, man.”
Bowen shook his head. “You’re mistaken.”
“You often stare too long and too hard at Macey, especially when you think she isn’t watching.”
Bowen made sure his expression was schooled to give nothing away. “Tucker, you might know killers, but you have no freaking idea what you’re going on about right now.”