“Uh-huh. Pleasure again tonight?”
Paige smiled at him. She loved confidence in a man. It had the ability to overshadow shortfalls, but she wasn’t about to hand her power over to him. She walked away without giving him an answer.
He followed her. “Paige?”
Her back was to him, so he couldn’t see her wicked grin. By the time she turned to acknowledge him, she managed to eradicate the expression. “We’ll see.” She resumed walking.
Paige hoped he’d see the challenge and rise to it. She loved when a man pursued her…to a point. As long as his attention was welcome. And Sam’s certainly was.
-
Chapter 45
JACK AND I WERE BACK at the station in the room with the case board. He was draining another cup of coffee. If I had anymore to drink, my stomach would revolt. It already felt like a roiling ball of acid.
He caffeinated while I called the other wedding planning company Emily French had specifically noted for us. They hadn’t contracted Gavin directly, but one of the catering companies they hired had him on record.
“The wedding planner Cheryl hired employed Divine Delectables Catering. They keep a small staff of employees, but they contract out for larger events. Gavin has worked with them for the past fifteen years, including during the time he was at Dream Weddings. He hasn’t claimed any of this income, which confirms fraud and tax evasion. The IRS is going to love this.”
“Yes, they are.” Jack had his phone pressed to his ear already, and I heard him giving Nadia directions.
As he spoke with her, I wrote DREAM WEDDINGS on the board and circled it. Then I wrote DIVINE DELECTABLES and circled it. Afterward, I drew a line connecting Cheryl and Tara to both circles. Beneath the two companies I wrote GAVIN BRYANT.
By the time I finished, Jack was tucking his cell back into his pocket. The conversation didn’t last long, the purpose of it succinct. He had Nadia contacting the IRS to bring Gavin Bryant back to American soil.
I continued brainstorming. “We need to figure out how Penny ties in here. There is no record of her being engaged, so how does she fit in with the wedding companies?”
“She doesn’t,” Jack said.
“You’re thinking she met Gavin another way?” I realized the stupidity of the question just as the words left my lips. If he was the killer, they had to have crossed paths at some point. I witnessed the disappointment in Jack’s eyes.
Leave it to me to impress him with one brilliant idea and strip away the progress by saying something asinine.
Forget trying to backpedal, though. I’d only make it worse. It was time to redirect. “Maybe we have to think about this from another angle. Nadia’s looking into Penny’s computer and her online dating history. It’s quite possible the link will be there.”
“A bunch of hypotheticals, kid. We need to question Bryant, but in the meantime, we’ll work with what we have. We’re going to speak with them over at Divine Delectables, see if they can confirm if Gavin Bryant worked in direct contact with the clients, specifically Cheryl Bradley.” He was on the way out of the room.
I followed as my thoughts came together. My strides slowed to a stop. Jack turned around.
“We have discussed the unsub’s past a few times,” I said. “We’ve mentioned the possibility of the trigger being the death of a sister or family friend. We’ve considered it being a lover. But what if it was a client he worked for? He could have gotten close to her beforehand so that the death hit him hard.”
“Hopefully we’ll figure it out after speaking with the people at Divine Delectables.”
-
Chapter 46
STEREOTYPICALLY SPEAKING, parking lot attendants were crass, overweight, and scowling—all three qualities likely caused from the lack of movement and boredom of the job. But none of those descriptions matched Joan, the woman seated in the booth for Lot A. She smiled from the moment she saw Paige and Zach approach until they drove off. She may have weighed all of 125 pounds loaded down by winter clothing. Paige imagined her dancing in the booth when no one was around.
Paige envied the woman’s genuine happiness, but it was contagious in a way. She felt some kind of inner satisfaction all of a sudden. And for the first time that day, she felt awake. Any lingering thoughts about Brandon, relationships, Sam—all of it took on a positive twist. Even looking ahead at the long rows of vehicles, she had an optimistic outlook. Among all these makes, models, and colors would be the one vehicle belonging to Gavin Bryant.
Zachery drove slowly. He was looking to the left, while she looked to the right.
Her eyes were drawn to the darker shades, but all she was seeing from this vantage point were charcoals, blacks, navy blues, and rich maroons. She hadn’t spotted any dark greens yet.
She gave careful attention to each vehicle. Despite the growing number of SUVs, trucks, and crossovers on the roads these days, her gaze wasn’t picking them up. She was on the hunt for a specific vehicle: an older model Pontiac G6. Her mind weeded out the cars that didn’t fit that description, and it helped with speed.
The sun was getting hotter, muting the early-morning humidity and replacing it with an intensifying wave of pure heat. Light refracted off the side mirrors of the parked cars and cut through the windshield and side windows of their own vehicle like laser beams. The air-conditioning helped little to offset the warmth. But she didn’t let it affect her attitude. Gavin’s car was somewhere around this airport, and they’d find it today. In fact, she felt confident they would find it soon.
She glanced at the time on the dash: 10:45 AM.
The sun hadn’t risen to its full splendor yet. This day would get warmer before it cooled off. With her thinking about the heat, her cheeks flushed with recollections of Sam. It wasn’t the daydream attached to the crush of a girl; it was a carnal hunger intrinsic to a woman.
The last man she’d slept with before Sam was Brandon, and that went back to last fall. They had flirted with the possibility of a relationship until Christmas, around which time Brandon had made his decision. How pathetic. She could’ve argued that it was mutual, and in a way it was, but he was the one who voiced the final verdict. No wonder she’d spent the better part of six months brooding. She had let herself become fixated on one man. She had relinquished her power to him. She was certain he hadn’t remained celibate since the start of the year. She wasn’t sure Brandon possessed the ability to do so for any length of time. And surprisingly, this wasn’t what had caused his marriage to fail.
Her eyes caught the front of a dark-green car. “Slow down, Zach.” She pointed to where she was looking.
“Nope, that’s not a Pontiac. I can tell by the bumper,” he said.
Was this a pointless exercise? Was her confidence in finding Bryant’s car the result of a clouded perspective?
Clouded… Her mind tore that word apart. And with it, the guilt set in. Clouded judgment let her attraction to Sam get in the way of going to Shooters & Pints last night. Her conscience condemned her for letting her friend Natasha down by not following through. How many women would Ryan Ingram and his friends rape? She had to get over to the bar tonight and get some answers, poke around enough to put fear into those guys. Enough fear to prevent them from trying anything like that again.
The trill of her phone shattered her concentration. She answered without consulting the caller ID.
“So you never gave me an answer.”
It was Sam. Her instinctual response to hearing his voice had her heart speeding up and heat growing in her belly—or maybe it was lower.
Zach stopped the vehicle and looked over at her. She held up a finger to let him know she’d be a minute and then turned toward the door.
She spoke into the phone. “Oh? I didn’t realize that.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you,” Sam said.
She had tried to keep the smirk out of her tone but had obviously failed with the endeavor. “Well, you hardly know me.”
“I think I know you quite well.”
There was a lull in the conversation, an awkward pause, the kind that taunts both parties to say anything to bring it to an end. But neither of them succumbed to the temptation for a moment. Then they spoke at the same time.
“I don’t—”
“What time—”
Of course the What time came from Sam. She was a foregone conclusion, categorized as his booty call for the length of this investigation. Then what? She’d go back home, and he’d go on with this life. But she supposed that’s what flings were all about—both the attraction and disheartening reality. It was what she wanted, though, wasn’t it? No ties, no commitments? She truly was a conflicted mess. Maybe once she figured out what she wanted, she’d get it, not the other way around.
“Go ahead, Paige.”
She pinched her eyes shut for a second. Zach was going to hear enough to piece everything together, but it was best to get this part over with. “What we had was fun.”
“Oh no. Here comes the speech.”
“The speech?”
“You know the one: We had fun, but it’s over. It’s not you, it’s me. Well, you need to eat dinner, right?”
“Yeah,” she said hesitantly.
“Have dinner with me tonight. If you like, we can sit at different tables.”
She laughed, but it soured as she remembered Natasha. “I already have plans.”
“All right,” he said, sounding wounded.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for him to come along. That was the original plan last night, wasn’t it? She was speaking before she’d thought it all the way through. “I was going to—” She stopped, remembering Zach was beside her.
As if reading her mind, Sam said, “Shooters & Pints? I could meet you there?”
Based on the arch of his voice, he was asking if he could join her in a public place. She didn’t own the establishment. “Sure.”
“Good. Say nine?” His voice took on a lighter tone. It sounded like he was smiling on the other end of the line.
“Sounds good.” Paige ended the call feeling better. She had stood her ground. He hadn’t pushed her into this. He hadn’t pressed the matter of picking her up, either. He’d respected her wishes to meet there. Now she’d just have to retain that strength to make it through the evening and stay focused on her purpose for going to the bar in the first place.
She turned to face forward and then glanced at Zach. “Okay, let’s move.”
“That’s it? You’re not going to tell me what that was all about?”
“No way.”
Zach smiled at her and put the vehicle into drive.
They had searched a few rows with a million to go.
-
Chapter 47
I REALIZED FOLLOWING LEADS WAS part of the process, but I was ready to tie up this case and get home. This was our fourth day in Grand Forks, and I was missing Woodbridge, Virginia. Or maybe it wasn’t so much my hometown I was longing for but the woman I had left behind to pursue this case. Becky hadn’t called, and I wondered if it was because she understood how this worked or if she was somewhat bitter about the job interfering and ruining our plans. I didn’t know her well enough yet to give it an educated guess. Ironic, seeing as I profiled people for a living.
Women in romantic relationships were enigmas at best—any logic or reasoning went to the side. The training I had received as an agent? Forget it. Even physical distance wasn’t enough to establish perspective.
I was about fifteen hundred miles from Dumfries, Virginia where she lived. Not that I gave her extensive thought, but she did come to mind. Like now, for instance. She’d know what to say to encourage me to keep going. She’d praise me for my quick thinking about the fraud and tax evasion. It struck me then that our relationship wasn’t about her. It was about me. A trace of shame laced through me at the thought. About me. The guilt disintegrated with the rationale that was true of all relationships, romantic or otherwise. Whether people were conscious of it or not, relationships were built upon varying levels of personal gain.
Jack parked the rental in the parking lot for Divine Delectables Catering.
“You take the lead on this one,” he said.
“Sure.” The word came out on impulse, a knee-jerk reaction. Hadn’t I taken the lead with most of the questioning for this investigation? If his sullen mood continued on for much longer, I’d have to pound him with inquiries until I had my answer as to what was bothering him so we could sort it out. But it wasn’t the right time. Then again, I didn’t think a perfect moment would ever present itself.
“Jack—”
“No, no, no.” A woman shot out of the front doors, headed straight for us. “I can tell who you are.”
I glanced at Jack. His expression showed he was amused by this woman’s hysteria, but it seemed apparent he had no plans of speaking.
“Are you the woman I spoke to on the phone? Natalie Robbins?” I asked.
Her fervor didn’t cool. “Yes, but you can’t be showing up at my business.”
The parking lot was empty with the exception of our rental car and a Ford Ranger that I guessed belonged to her.
“We’ll need a few minutes of your time. I’m FBI Special Agent Fisher, and this is Supervisory Special Agent Harper.” I pulled out Jack’s official title with this introduction.
Natalie rolled her head—there was no better way to describe it—and she aligned her gaze on Jack. “They pulled out the big boss for this? And this has to do with Gavin Bryant?” The latter question was directed back to me, despite being rhetorical in nature. Our phone conversation would have disclosed our purpose in contacting her.
“Can we go inside and talk?” I gestured to the doors.
“No. No, we can’t go inside. We can talk right here.” She crossed her arms, the defensive posture telling me she was closed to the conversation she was being forced to have.
I mustered the calmest tone I could. “Anything Gavin Bryant may, or may not, have done, doesn’t reflect on Divine Delectables.”
“You’re damn straight it doesn’t.”
So much for that approach. I’d have to be direct. “We believe Gavin may be responsible for the murders of three women.”
Natalie’s knees buckled, and I rushed to buoy her up.
“I…I had no idea.”
“Can we go inside?”
Natalie nodded, and I helped her to the doors.
Inside, she sat on a sofa in the front waiting room. Wedding catalogs were on a sofa-length coffee table. Framed photographs on the wall showcased food, which I’m sure was a sampling of the company’s offerings.
We gave her a minute to gather herself.
She met my gaze, and her eyes were wet and red. “You think he killed three women?” Her inquiry was riddled with disbelief.
“He was more to you than someone you contracted?”
Another nod. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but it did. And it kept happening.”
“When were you in this relationship?”
“Calling it a ‘relationship’ is probably taking it too far. We would get together for sex. Sound slutty?” She paused as if she expected me to respond. I didn’t, and she continued. “Why, I don’t know, but a man can sleep with multiple women and it goes with the territory. A woman shows sexual prowess, and she’s labeled negatively.”
I let her rant. I wasn’t going to get sucked into a debate on the matter. “All right, and when was this?”
“The last time was Friday night.”
“As in six days ago?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Why?”
I didn’t voice this
out loud, but that was roughly forty-eight hours before Tara was killed. “I want to confirm something. Working for you, did Gavin have direct contact with the clients?”
“Every event was organized by me. I basically told him where to go and what to do. If he met them through these events, I would have no way of knowing.” Her face paled. “You think he met the women he killed when working for me? I’m going to be sick.”
“It’s too early to know.” My saying this had no bearing on where I weighed in on Gavin Bryant’s guilt or innocence. His working for Divine Delectables may not be the key to lock this case down. “In the years Gavin worked with you, were there any tragic deaths associated with any of your clients?”
Natalie ran her hand along the length of her throat. “There was a woman about ten years ago.”
“Was she the bride?”
Natalie shook her head. “A bridesmaid.”
“And how did she die?”
“A car accident. It was horrible. It was the day after the wedding. She was from out of town and driving home. A transport truck T-boned her. She didn’t stand a chance.”
I let a few seconds pass before speaking. “Did Gavin work the event?”
Natalie’s eyes were full of tears. A few seeped from the corners and fell down her cheeks. She bit her bottom lip as she hugged herself and rubbed her arms. Then she nodded.
“You don’t need to check the record on this?”
“No.” Her voice gave out on her before she could continue. Her one hand played with the necklace she wore. The fingers pinching and twisting, releasing, pinching, twisting, releasing. “Her name was Ella. Gavin commented on her death. It was a few days after, but he said how sad and tragic it was. He mentioned he got to know her at the wedding. She showed him respect while the rest of the attendees looked down on him as the hired help. The sad part, he seemed to emphasize, was that she was engaged.”
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