Lawman-In-Charge

by Laura Scott

  Luke got the court order from Judge Hennepin, who promised to fax it immediately. The moment the fax came through, the DVD with the video recording of the guy walking into the prison, along with a copy of the Willie Johannes signature on the logbook, were handed over.

  “Do you still want to see the prisoner?” Grayson asked.

  “Yes.” Luke didn’t hesitate for a moment. He was anxious to hear the audiotape of the conversation between their suspect and Sherman, but there would be plenty of time for that later.

  Grayson nodded and led them back through the offices to the visitation area. “Okay, have a seat in cubicle number two and we’ll bring the prisoner up to the holding area,” he instructed.

  “Thanks for all your help,” Luke said, holding out his hand.

  Grayson looked surprised and then returned the handshake. “You’re welcome. I only hope it helps.”

  Luke silently agreed as he moved across the room to the visiting area, taking a seat at the table labeled number two, separated by the prisoner’s side with bulletproof glass.

  Their suspect had made one mistake, but he was still puzzled by the timing. How was it that this guy managed to stay one step ahead of them? No one outside the sheriff’s department, not even his son, Sam, had known he and Megan had decided to drive to the prison today.

  And somehow, he couldn’t make himself believe the visits fell so close together by mere coincidence.

  Icy fear slithered from the back of his neck down the center of his spine. Was it possible someone inside the sheriff’s department was involved in this? Maybe one of the deputies who wanted his position?

  No, almost as soon as the suspicion formed, he discarded it. The theory didn’t make sense. Any of the deputies who wanted the job could simply run against him in the election polls in the fall. The townspeople would certainly support one of their own against an outsider like Luke.

  The only other possibility was that both he and Megan were being watched. That theory was only slightly less worrisome.

  “I’m nervous,” Megan whispered, as they waited for Sherman to be brought to the visitor area.

  “Don’t be.” He turned his attention toward Megan, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “We’re perfectly safe surrounded by all the guards.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “It’s not that…” Her voice trailed off when the door opened and a tall, skinny man dressed in orange, his wrists and ankles cuffed, shuffled into the room. He took the seat across from them, his gaze cold.

  Defiant.

  Luke glanced at Megan, noting how she watched Sherman warily. Obviously it wasn’t easy for her to face her sister’s murderer, even knowing justice had been served. He looked at Sherman, forcing a congenial smile. “My name is Sheriff Luke Torretti, and I have a few questions I’d like to ask,” he said, opening up the interview.

  Sherman’s mouth twisted into a smirk. “Ask whatever you want, I got nuthin’ to say to either of you.”

  “That’s too bad, since we came all this way to see you,” Luke said lightly, refusing to show any distress. “Sounds like you’ve been busy, though. You’ve already had one visitor today, haven’t you?” Luke asked. “Willie Johannes?”

  Sherman cocked a brow, but didn’t answer. The way he sat there, glaring at them, didn’t give Luke much hope that they’d get anything out of him.

  But he wasn’t going to give up that easily. Life in prison had to be lonely. Even a cop visiting would be a distraction from the boredom. “Have you heard about the murder of Liza Campbell in Crystal Lake, Wisconsin?” Luke asked idly. “Whoever killed her is using your modus operandi.”

  Sherman opened his mouth as if to respond, but then caught himself and pressed his lips firmly together. It was clear he was fighting to remain silent.

  Luke stared at the man, trying to think of a way to get through to him. In his experience most criminals liked to talk about themselves. How smart they were. How well they were able to elude the authorities.

  Although the fact that Sherman was sitting in prison only proved the guy wasn’t very smart.

  “Come on, Sherman. Are you really going to sit there and tell me it doesn’t bug you that some other guy is copying your crimes?” Luke asked. “Or maybe you and Willie have cooked up this scheme together, huh? Is that it?”

  Again, Sherman looked as if he might answer, catching himself at the last second.

  They were so close. Luke could feel it. He racked his brain for some way to break through Sherman’s wall of self-imposed silence.

  “Paul, why won’t you talk to us?” Megan asked, leaning forward, her gaze intent.

  “Because you don’t listen, no matter what I say,” Sherman answered abruptly. “I tried to tell you I didn’t kill those other girls—but you wouldn’t listen.”

  Luke tried to hide his surprise. “Does that mean you admit to killing Megan’s sister, Katie?”

  Sherman shrugged and looked away. “Guard?” he called out. “This visit is over. I wanna return to my cell.”

  “Wait, don’t go back yet,” Megan said urgently. “I’m sorry if I didn’t listen before, but I promise to listen now.”

  The door opened with a loud buzz as the lock released. A burly overweight guard walked through the doorway.

  “Please,” Megan implored Sherman.

  “Too late,” Sherman hissed as he rose to his feet. “You should have listened to me before the trial. Now it’s just too late.”

  Luke tried to assimilate what Sherman meant by that crack, not that it mattered much, as Sherman made it clear the brief visit was over. He shuffled out of the visiting area without so much as a backward glance at either of them.

  Megan sat looking stunned as she stared after him. Luke put his hand under her elbow, urging her to stand. “Come on, Megan, let’s go.”

  She followed him back to the main desk with obvious reluctance. As Luke signed the logbook, indicating the time he left, he looked again at the bold signature of Willie Johannes.

  Seems like Willie didn’t stay long either, barely six minutes. And some of that time was likely spent waiting for Sherman to be brought out.

  “We need to listen to the audio of the conversation between them,” Luke murmured as he escorted Megan back outside.

  “I know. Too bad we didn’t bring a computer with us.”

  “We’ll find the nearest library,” Luke decided, unable to wait for the couple of hours it would take to get all the way back to Crystal Lake. He plugged in the data on his squad car’s GPS system and discovered the nearest library was ten miles away.

  Luke followed the directions, glancing over at Megan, who seemed withdrawn after seeing Sherman. He reached for her hand. “Hey, are you all right?”

  “Sure.” Her pathetic attempt at a smile only concerned him more. “Do you think what he said is possible?”

  “What?” Luke frowned. “You mean that he didn’t kill those other girls?”

  “Yes.” The expression on her face was one of pure agony. “What if I convicted the wrong man?”

  Luke didn’t want to admit that Sherman’s brief confession had gotten under his skin, too. “Megan, don’t torture yourself. The man murdered your sister. His DNA was found imbedded beneath her fingernails. The jury found him guilty.”

  “I know. But he sounded almost believable.”

  “Don’t fall for his act,” Luke advised. He pulled up in front of the library. “I’m sure once we listen to this audiotape, we’ll know just how innocent Paul Sherman isn’t.”

  They walked into the library and crossed over to the media center. He pulled up two chairs in front of one computer and picked up two sets of headphones. In minutes he had the CD plugged in and running.

  “Who are you?” Luke recognized Sherman’s insolent tone.

  “Willie Johannes,” a second voice answered.

  “I don’t know anyone named Willie Johannes. Why are you here? What do you want?”

  “Some guy paid me a hundred bu
cks to come visit you. He told me I had to come and sign in as Willie Johannes. If you don’t want to talk, I’ll leave. No skin off my back.”

  “Why did someone pay you to visit me?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care. A hundred bucks is a hundred bucks. Easiest money I ever made.”

  “Get lost. I’m not interested in whatever game you’re playing. Guard? Guard! This visit’s over!”

  The audiotape ended as abruptly as it had begun. Luke swallowed a surge of frustration as he ripped off his headphones. “It’s a setup. This guy isn’t the murderer. He was paid to visit Sherman in prison. The entire visit was a setup.”

  Megan gazed up at him, her eyes wide and puzzled. “I heard. But why?”

  “I don’t know,” Luke answered grimly. “But apparently you and I aren’t the only pawns in the game. And that’s exactly what this murder investigation is starting to feel like. Nothing but a ridiculous, deadly game.”

  Megan had agreed to stop for lunch on the way home, but after Luke pulled into a family-style restaurant and they took their seats, she stared at the menu, unable to find anything remotely appealing.

  Listening to the audiotape had ruined her appetite. Or maybe it was their brief interaction with Paul Sherman. Either way, she finally settled on soup and a half sandwich, hoping that she’d be able to eat once the food arrived.

  Bad enough that she’d had to face her sister’s killer again, but the way his words kept echoing in her mind had begun to haunt her.

  I didn’t kill those other two girls.

  During the trial, she’d listened to Sherman claim he was innocent. She didn’t remember him ever claiming that he hadn’t killed the first two victims. They’d found his DNA beneath Katie’s fingernails. And they’d found Rohypnol in his apartment, along with a glass bottle of ether, his fingerprints all over it.

  The ether in his apartment had clinched his involvement in the first two murders. A jury of twelve people had convicted Paul Sherman of all three murders.

  Why would he suddenly claim he was innocent of the first two?

  “Hey, are you okay?” Luke asked, breaking into her troubled thoughts.

  “I don’t know,” she honestly admitted. “I just don’t know what to think.”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Megan. We’ll find the guy who took a hundred dollars to visit Sherman in jail and hopefully he can give us some sort of description. Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”

  Looking up into Luke’s serious dark gaze, she believed him. Luke was a very good cop. Her investigative skills were rusty. She hadn’t even thought about asking for a tape.

  When their meal arrived, she was a little surprised when Luke took a moment to bow his head and pray. As a child she remembered her parents praying before every meal, so she silently murmured the same words her parents had taught her. When she finished, Luke was smiling at her.

  She flushed and tried to ignore the effect his mere smile had on her senses. This wasn’t the time to think about her personal feelings. Not when they had a killer playing games with them, taunting them.

  She did her best to eat, even though the soup tasted like wallpaper paste and the sandwich like sawdust. She could feel Luke’s gaze on her, so she tried to eat enough that he wouldn’t comment.

  Once they finished, Luke paid the bill so they could head back home.

  Home. She surprised herself with the thought. Up until now, she hadn’t really thought of Crystal Lake as home.

  She’d come to the small town to heal. To find herself again. To get away from the media circus surrounding the trial.

  Was she really considering staying?

  Dear Lord, help guide me on the right path. Amen.

  The silent prayer was almost as surprising as thinking of Crystal Lake as home. Luke and his faith were rubbing off on her.

  Or maybe, God was reminding her that He hadn’t given up on her. That He’d always be there, no matter what. All she needed to do was pray.

  The knowledge brought an overwhelming sense of peace.

  “So what are our next steps?” she asked Luke, turning the conversation back to the investigation. “Do we go back to our theory that someone close to Paul is acting out of revenge?”

  “Maybe,” Luke slowly agreed. “Although truthfully, that theory doesn’t feel right.”

  “I know.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I can’t seem to grasp what the killer is searching for. Most serial killers want power or control over their victims. They keep killing because they can’t survive without that feeling of power and control. This crime, with the way he’s taunting us as investigators, doesn’t fit the mold at all.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Which means we have to change the mold.”

  Startled, she glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s taunting us, right?” When she nodded, he continued. “So that means the crimes aren’t so much about killing as they are getting away with the crime.”

  For a split second, the theory made sense. Or at least, she thought it did. “So in other words, he’s trying to show us how smart he is.”

  “He’s trying to prove how much smarter he is compared to us,” Luke corrected. “He’s feeling superior, watching us, laughing at us, as he leads us on a wild-goose chase.”

  She couldn’t suppress a shiver. Nor could she deny that Luke’s theory made sense. “Okay, but how does that help us find him?” she asked, fighting a wave of helplessness.

  “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?”

  “I’d rather have a clue than a million dollars,” she muttered.

  Luke chuckled. “Yeah, me too.”

  She sat back against the seat, watching the scenery whiz by. As they came closer to Crystal Lake, she sat up straighter. “Uh, Luke? Would you mind swinging by my cabin on the way home?”

  “Sure thing,” he agreed readily enough. “Did you forget something?”

  She blushed a bit and shrugged. “I know Sunday is several days away yet, but I thought it would be a good idea to have something nice to wear to church. I felt a bit out of place last weekend.”

  “You looked fine,” he said. The way his gaze lingered warmly on her face made her wonder if Luke was imagining what she’d look like in a dress. Up until now, she’d worn nothing but T-shirts and jeans.

  She secretly admitted she wanted to look nice for Luke as much as she wanted to dress appropriately for church. A dress and sandals weren’t too much to ask, were they? “Still, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to pick up a few things.”

  “It’s no trouble,” he assured her. “Your cabin is on the way into town.”

  The rest of the drive went by in a comfortable silence. She began to yawn, her eyelids drooping with fatigue. As Luke neared her cabin, she forced the exhaustion away.

  She climbed out of the car, taking a moment to stretch her legs gratefully. Luke’s cell phone rang and she waited while he answered it.

  His expression turned serious and she tensed, hoping he wasn’t getting bad news. “Thanks, Frank.”

  “What is it?” she asked with trepidation.

  “They found the dark green car that ran you off the road, it was abandoned in a subdivision of Madison. Apparently they’re dusting it for prints now, but so far haven’t found anything.”

  Another dead end. She nodded, knowing there wasn’t much more they could do.

  Luke headed up to her front door and she quickened her pace to catch up.

  “Do you have your key?” he asked, turning to face her as she joined him on the porch.

  “Yes.” She rolled her eyes when he held out his hand. Rather than argue about how she was perfectly able to unlock the door herself, she handed over the key.

  After unlocking and opening the door, he held her back so he could go inside first. Even though she was right behind him, the rancid stench nearly knocked her off her feet.

  She gasped and halted dead in her tracks, even as Luke clamped a hand on her a
rm to stop her.

  Because she knew, only too well, the source of the horrid smell. Something she’d never gotten used to in all her years of crime scene investigating.

  The unmistakable stench of a dead, decaying body.

  THIRTEEN

  Megan didn’t protest when Luke hustled her back out to the squad car. It was all she could do to stop herself from being violently sick. She listened as he used the radio to call for a team of deputies to secure the scene.

  “Wait here,” he told her, moving to get out of the car.

  She pushed the nausea away and reached out to grab his arm. “No! Don’t go in there alone. Wait for backup.”

  Luke hesitated and then shook his head. “I can’t believe he’s hanging around inside, not with that smell. Besides, waiting inside to jump at me isn’t his style. He’s playing a game, remember?”

  She did remember. She didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend why the killer was intent on playing games.

  “Stay here,” he repeated. “I’ll be fine.”

  She didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, she warily watched him go back inside the house, shivering in spite of the warm temperature. Even inside the squad car, with the doors locked and the windows rolled up, she felt exposed. Vulnerable.

  When the first deputy arrived, she relaxed a little. At least now Luke wasn’t alone. She couldn’t get the horrible smell out of her head, so she opened the passenger-side window, desperate for fresh air.

  Within minutes, the area around her small cabin was swarming with cops. She’d lost count, but it seemed as if every deputy had responded to Luke’s call. One of them stopped at the car and handed her a camera through the open window. She watched as they carefully and deliberately fanned out, making sure they covered the entire area, talking to each other on the radios clipped to their collars.

  In her lap she held the camera, her fingers slick with sweat as she gripped it tightly in her hand.