Seth stepped in front of her. “We all need to stop wasting time pointing fingers at the wrong person. No matter how you feel about the man, there is not one shred of evidence linking him to the crime.”
A discontented grumble traveled through the townspeople.
Seth held his hands up. “There’s a very sick man out there, and he still has Casey. I need each and every one of your cooperation. I don’t want to hear about any more mud slinging. Now, go back to your business. An officer will be speaking to each one of you personally. You can voice your concerns then.” He waved them back from the steps.
Dianne put a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for stepping in.”
He rubbed her hand. “Anytime.” He tilted his head and stepped up to face her. “Why don’t you pay Mr. Danson a visit and extend our apologies?”
She swallowed. “I just want to make sure the picture got sent off to forensics first.”
“Okay.” He walked briskly over to the door. “I’m going to make sure every inch of this place is gone over with white gloves. We need to find this psycho…and fast.”
Dianne couldn’t agree more. She’d wanted to refuse to go see Taylor, but reminded herself of her promise to keep things professional. I can do this. She pushed her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. Deep in thought, she strolled down the street toward the station.
Casey’s bruised and battered body flashed in her mind and she choked back a rush of tears.
Someone needed to tell Preacher Adams. She couldn’t imagine what he must be going through, not only as a father, but also as a man of God. He had to be questioning his God’s motives. Is this how his God repaid him for all the years he’d spent serving him?
****
These people are unfuckingbelievable. What do I have to do to prove I didn’t have anything to do with her disappearance? She’s just a kid for fuck’s sake.
Taylor came to a sobering stop in his parking lot. Apparently, the group he’d just left behind wasn’t the only ones who believed he had something to do with Casey’s abduction. Scrawled across the picture window of his shop, were bright red letters.
LET CASEY GO!
CHILD ABUSER!
“Holy shit!” He spun his bike around in a blaze of rubber. He raced through the cloud of smoke toward the precinct. You’ve gone too far this time.
Smell of burnt rubber filled the street as he came to a screeching halt out front of the station. He lurched off his bike and noticed Dianne standing behind the driver’s door of the Sedan. Her mouth slightly agape, her eyes filled with concern. I’ll deal with you later, lady.
Taylor dismissed her with a wave of the hand before storming over to the front door. He swung it open it and flew down the short hallway to the office.
“You have to put a stop to all this bullshit, Steve.” Adrenaline coursed through his veins. “I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit back and let a bunch of small town assholes call me a child abuser, and figure it’s okay to fuck with my property.”
“Calm down, Taylor.” Chief rounded his desk and took him by the arm and coaxed him over to a chair. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what’s got you so riled up?”
The front door banged open and Dianne walked in.
“Agent Parker, I’m glad you’re here.” Chief Walker smiled. “Taylor here is having trouble with some people in town.”
“I know. I was at the post office when things got ugly.” She touched his hand before sitting down next to him. “I’m sorry that happened. It was uncalled for.”
He made a point of not looking in her direction. “That’s nothing compared to what they did to my shop.”
“What’d they do?” She moved to the edge of her chair.
“We got ourselves a regular Van Gogh, who feels the need to express himself on my windows.” Taylor jumped up, and leaned across the chief’s desk. “If you don’t make them stop, I will.”
Dianne hurried to his side. “Why don’t you show me what they’ve done? We’ll decide what to do next, after I’ve assessed the damage.”
His gaze narrowed. “And why should I believe a single word that comes out of your mouth?”
No sooner had the words left his lips than he regretted saying them. She stepped back as if he’d smacked her in the face. Taylor dropped his head, defeated. “I’m sorry. I’ll meet you there.”
Her footsteps followed him out to the street.
“Hey, for the record, I think the way they’re all treating you is so very wrong.”
He shrugged and hiked his leg over bike, kicking her to life. He flipped up his kickstand and slipped into gear. Without so much as a glance in her direction, he tore off down the street. Unable to help himself, he looked in his mirrors. Agent Parker leaned against the hood of her car, pressing her fingers to her temples.
Way to go, champ. You made the lady feel bad. Taylor shook his head, disgusted with his behavior. Who am I?
He concentrated on the wind, the way it whispered around him, the morning sun kissing his face. He’d been so wrapped up in dodging threats. His pulse slowed down and he eased into his well-worn seat. Dianne wasn’t behind him in his mirrors, so he passed the shop. Once around the block won’t hurt.
Ten minutes later, he stood in front of his shop with her beside him, as they stared at the ugliness covering his windows.
She stood there shaking her head for a long minute. Her gaze drifted to his. What he saw caused his breath to hitch. Emotion filled her green eyes, threatening to spill over her long lashes to flushed cheeks.
“I am so sorry, Taylor. There’s no excuse for this kind of unwarranted behavior.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about, and I’m the one who’s sorry for lashing out at you.” He matched her gaze, and arched his brows.
She smiled and briefly closed her eyes. “Thank you for that.” Her chest heaved as she tore her gaze from his.
“Now…” She took her cell from its case on her belt and flipped it open. “I’ll take care of this. Why don’t you put on some coffee?”
It was like she had an internal switch. In seconds flat she went from vulnerable, maybe even approachable, to the professional, the don't-fuck-with-me agent from the head office.
Taylor shook his head as he strolled over to the entrance. The angry red letters flashed before him. And they say bikers are trash.
Chapter Six
The full-bodied aroma of fresh brewed coffee swirled around Dianne’s senses as she stepped inside the shop. Guilt squashed the enjoyment of this welcome assault. The shop lay in various stages of disarray. Some things were in the midst of being put together, others lay in scattered piles across the cement floor.
She’d always had a hard time with protocol for carrying out search warrants. The sight before her was just one more mess to add to the never-ending list over the years. This time seemed different, almost personal.
“Why don’t we talk in here?” Taylor stood at the door to his office. “I’ve sort of put everything back together in here.”
She couldn’t bring herself to look at him and kept her eyes downcast as she passed him into the office. He didn’t have to move anything in order for her to sit down this time. In fact, papers were stacked in neat piles along the wall in front of filing cabinets.
Once she was seated, he poured her a coffee.
“I’ve sent for a crew to come clean up the windows. They’ll be here within the hour.” She sipped at her coffee.
“So what happens now? Do I need to camp out here to prevent it from happening again?”
“No.” She matched his serious expression. “I’ll make sure the men include your shop on their watches. If anyone tries anything, we’ll catch them.” She hoped he saw the sincerity intended.
“So, just what happened this morning to get everybody all riled up?” Taylor took a seat behind his desk.
A shiver ran through her body, the photo stamped to her memory. “We found another picture on the bulletin board.”
&nb
sp; “Damn. How’d he get it in the post office again?”
“That’s the million dollar question.” She sighed and leaned back in her seat. “There are guards posted on all exits 24-7. Whoever this guy is, he’s good.”
“I’m not sure if I want to know…what was the picture of this time?”
Her stomach turned. “It’s getting worse. He’s got her tied to a cross.” She stifled the urge to sob for the poor girl. “He carved ‘Jezebel’ across her stomach.”
She watched his hands clench into fists as she talked.
“The fucker’s going to crucify her? We got to find this guy.”
“And fast.”
“How can we get the town to see it’s not me? They’re wasting precious time.”
“I’ve got an idea, but you’re not going to like it.” She drained her cup and set it next to the coffee machine. “I think I’ve come up with a way to convince these people that you want to see Casey found just as much as they do.”
“You do, do you?” Sarcasm laced his remark. “Just what do you have in mind?”
“I think you should head up a Watch Team.” She straightened her stance and held her chin firm.
Taylor burst out laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding.
“I’m dead serious.” She put on her best cop face.
He raised a brow as he studied her. “Come on, Dianne, who’s going to want to be on a team with me?”
She shrugged. “Me, for starters.”
“You’ll get a bad rep hanging out with the likes of me.”
“This isn’t a popularity contest.”
He sat as if pondering her proposition. “Under one condition.”
The mischievous glint to his baby blues piqued her curiosity. “And that would be?”
“We take the bike.”
Her pulse raced, not sure if she could maintain any semblance of professionalism sitting behind him on a motorcycle. “I’m afraid that’s not possible while I’m on duty.”
He rolled his eyes.
“How about we go for a short ride after the Watch?”
He rewarded her with a smile. “You got yourself a deal,” he agreed offering his hand.
She clasped his hand and shook. He tightened his hold and lifted her hand to his mouth. Tiny electric impulses traveled up her arm.
A panel truck passed the office window. Dianne snatched her hand from his. “It’s the cleaning crew.”
She spun on a heel and opened the door. Taylor’s muffled chuckle followed her out of the shop.
After giving the crew instructions, she walked over to where he sat leaned against his bike.
“They should be done in an hour or so.”
“I think I’m going to head out. They don’t need me here, do they?”
“I don’t think so. I guess I’ll meet you at the station around seven?”
He nodded.
Dianne hurried over to her car. She ran her fingers over the top of her hand where she still felt the warmth from his kiss. Behind the wheel, she looked in the mirror. What the hell were you thinking agreeing to go for a ride?
She frowned and turned the key in the ignition, forcing her plans for the evening to the back of her mind. Preacher Adams was expecting her in less than ten minutes. Dianne steered the Sedan through town. She nodded her approval upon seeing two uniformed police officers manning each exit of the post office.
How the hell did the psycho get past the guards? Maybe he wasn’t working alone, maybe he had an accomplice. Although it made for a plausible possibility, her gut instinct told her he worked alone. The boldness of posting the pictures told how proud he was of his handiwork. He wasn’t about to share the spotlight with anyone.
She parked the car next to the rectory, and prayed Casey’s father hadn’t been told about the latest picture. Not that she relished the thought of having to tell him. She just felt he deserved to be told as delicately as possible.
Preacher Adams and Casey’s house sat in the shadow of an old stone Baptist church. Dianne took her time strolling through the lush grounds. Clusters of rose bushes were tamed to a circle in the center of the immaculate lawn.
Flat stone slats served as a walkway intended for visitors to fully enjoy them. She stooped over, holding a particularly red bloom, its sweet perfume a welcome diversion from all the ugliness. The hand carved door to the rectory opened with an ominous creak.
Dianne let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding. She summoned up courage from deep within and made her way over to a very frail Preacher Adams.
“Good day, Reverend.” She offered her hand as she stepped in next to him. “Is there someplace we can sit outside and talk privately?”
“There are benches in the courtyard.”
He closed the door behind him and led her around the side of house. A circular pattern of stepping stones intertwined benches and flowers. Being a true gentleman, he waited until she sat down to follow suit. He seemed so fragile. With each movement she feared he’d shatter.
“You have news, don’t you?” He kept his gaze diverted to the ground. His shoulders started to tremble.
“We got another picture.”
He raised his face, his blood shot eyes searched for a hint of what that meant.
“He’s tied her to a cross.” Dianne gulped down the threat of tears as she watched him shrink before her eyes.
“Crucified,” he said barely above a whisper before he buried his face in his hands. A pathetic whimper escaped.
She inched over to his side and laid an arm across his shoulders. “I promise you. We’re going to find this guy.”
“I’m sorry.” Preacher Adams took a crumpled hanky form his pocket and dabbed at his eyes.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
He sighed. “I am a man of God. I preach about faith, and trusting in our Creator, even when we don’t understand the things that happen in our lives.” He pressed the hanky to his eyes, his body racked in sobs.
Words escaped her. She didn’t have any answers for him. People came to men of God in their darkest times. Who did men like him go to? She never realized what a lonely existence a preacher led. Being separated from his daughter must be like losing a part of himself.
“I promise you, we have every available man looking for Casey. I need you to be strong for me. We need to go over the list of church members.” She patted his hand until his cries changed to heavy breathing.
“Of course.” He stood up and rolled his shoulders back. “Come with me.”
Dianne followed him next door to the church. He led her down a narrow corridor. On one side, ornate windows towered above her, on the other, bright white walls were offset by exposed structural members of gray stone.
She didn’t have the heart to tell him about ‘Jezebel’ being carved across her stomach. It wouldn’t serve any purpose telling him now. She needed his help, and if she told him, it might just be the final push over the emotional edge he teetered on.
Over the next hour, they sat in his musty office and compiled a list of over a hundred members to be questioned. Hopefully the process of elimination would cut this number in half.
“Okay.” She closed her notebook and put the cap back on her pen. “I think this will do for now. I’d better get over to the station and feed these names into the database. You’d be amazed at what can come up.”
Preacher Adams shuffled over to where she stood and clasped her hands. “Thank you.” He looked deep into her eyes. “I’ll be praying for you.”
Dianne blinked, touched by the sincerity in his voice. Not trusting herself to speak, she squeezed his hands and nodded. She removed her hands and made a beeline for the door. “I’ll be in touch.”
His image stayed with her the whole way back to the police station. Dark circles framed bloodshot eyes, as his gaze followed her from his office. His hopes of finding his daughter, placed squarely on her shoulders.
Back at the station, Seth sat behind a makeshift desk
, thick files strewn across it. He looked over the rims of his glasses. “Any luck?”
Dianne tossed the notebook in front of him. “We need to feed these names into the database, there are about a hundred of them.”
He pursed his lips and let out a burst of air, which set his long bangs in motion. “We’ve got four more agents coming in this afternoon. We’ll put them to work trying to eliminate some of them.”
She dropped into the chief’s chair and closed her eyes. She put two fingers to her temples and rubbed. “Time’s ticking. I’ve got a bad feeling about this guy. If we don’t find her fast, it’s going to be too late.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.” He took off his reading glasses. “Why don’t we grab a bite to eat after I get these names in here? We’ll brainstorm and see if we can come up with a plan.”
Dianne sighed wearily. “I’ve got a Watch in an hour or so.”
“Since when?”
“Since I talked Taylor Danson in participating.” She raised a brow, waiting for his response.”
“That’s not such a bad idea. Maybe it’ll get some of the townsfolk off his back.”
Gee thanks. You were supposed to tell me not to do it. “Let’s hope so.” She got up and grabbed a chair from in front of the desk and slid it over to Seth’s station. “Give me half the names.” This could be a long night.
Chapter Seven
His watch read exactly seven bells as he locked up his bike. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her unattended, but if he had to, this was probably the safest place. It wouldn’t surprise him if whoever messed up the shop’s windows would want to have a go at his bike if they had the chance.
Taylor thought of a million reasons why he shouldn’t go out on a Watch while he washed and waxed MJ that afternoon. Bottom line, the redhead was right. He needed to show them he wanted this animal caught just as much as they did. If he was honest with himself, he’d admit spending time with the sexy agent played a big part in his decision to participate.
Crucified Page 4