by Jamie Hill
Both of them shook their heads.
"So you don't have anything on him yet?" Juicy motioned toward the picture of Linda. "The guy who did that. No idea who he is?"
"Not yet," Mel admitted. "But we're working very hard on it. The case is the number one priority for my team."
Juicy scoffed. "We ain't a priority for nobody. Who cares if a few hookers disappear? People prolly think the guy's doing the city a favor."
Nate's gut churned and he took a step forward. "We don't think that. We're going to find the son-of-a-bitch who did that to Linda and the others, and make him pay. I promise you that. I guarantee it."
Mel glanced at him, a look of surprise in her eyes.
He went on, "But the two of you need to face a hard fact. This guy isn't singling out the teeny boppers that were here when we pulled up. He's going after, shall we say, more mature women. Think about it for a minute. All three of the victims have been your ages. Might be a good time for you to find a new line of work."
That idea met with blank stares. "At least take a break from it," he suggested.
Shelia chuckled. "Pipe dreamin', my man."
Frustration welled in his chest. "Then you both need to be extra careful out here. Stay in pairs if you can. Watch each other's backs."
"Guys 'round here don't want to pay for no two-fers. No way we be staying together, it just ain't happening. "
"Make him think it's happening," Nate snapped. "Use the buddy system as long as you can. When one of you has to leave, the other one should notice the man you're going with. Remember his car. Look him in the eye." He pointed two fingers at himself then turned them on Sheila in an 'I'm watching you' manner.
"Yeah, right." Juicy snorted and looked at Sheila. "Let him know you remember his face, so after he kills me he can come back for you."
They erupted in laughter.
Nate shook his head and took a step away. This conversation is going nowhere. "You ready?" he asked Mel.
"Yeah." She tucked a business card into each woman's hand. "If you think of anything, or need anything, call me. I'll do whatever I can."
"You send that hansum Brady Marshall back ova to see me?" Sheila grinned, her gold tooth sparkling in the sunlight.
"I'll mention you asked about him." Mel chuckled, glancing over her shoulder as she walked to her car.
Nate climbed in and buckled his seatbelt. He held in his frustration until she'd pulled away from the curb, then it came bubbling out. "Damn it! It's like a joke to them. Maybe we shouldn't have cropped that picture so nicely. Let them see the slash marks across Linda's neck. Let them see the all the blood."
"Maybe." Mel nodded. "I know it's aggravating, but you can't take this so personally. Those women make their own choices every day. You warned them. It's up to them what they choose to do with your information."
"I'm not taking it personally." His voice sounded petulant, even to his own ears. "I'm simply passionate about what I do."
She glanced at Nate sideways and smiled. "I'll remember that. Sister Catherine's should be just a ways up here." Mel turned onto the next side street and began studying building fronts. She pulled over in front of what appeared to be a shelter and stopped. "Pretty sure this is it." She punched a few buttons on her smartphone and nodded. "Yep, this is it."
Nate unbuckled and got out. They walked side by side to the front door, and Mel rang the bell.
A small, blonde-haired girl threw the door open and stared up at them.
"Hi," Mel offered.
The child just stared.
"Is Sister Catherine here?" Mel asked.
She turned her wide-eyed scrutiny on Nate.
"I love kids," he muttered through his teeth-gritting smile.
"Me too," Mel added. "Isn't she precious?"
"I was being sarcastic," he explained.
"I could tell that," Mel said in a sing-song voice. She leaned forward and got nose to nose with the girl. "You could tell that too, couldn't you sweetheart? Is your mommy here? Is the nice lady who runs the place in there?"
The girl stepped back and closed the door in Mel's face.
Mel straightened and exhaled upwards, the breeze ruffling her hair. "Okay, so we try this again." She pressed the doorbell a second time.
It was answered immediately by a petite woman sporting a closely cropped haircut, wearing jeans and a tank top. "Help you?" she asked pleasantly.
"We were looking for Sister Catherine," Mel replied
"You found her." The woman wiped her hands on a rag. "You'll have to excuse me, we're painting one of the bedrooms."
Nate blinked. She didn't look like any nun he'd ever known. The ones from his short stint in Catholic school probably didn't own jeans and wouldn't be caught dead in skimpy tops. He could visualize them painting a room, still wearing their long black habits with crisp white wimples surrounding their faces.
"No problem." Mel flashed her badge. "I'm Detective Curtis with the WPD, and this is Agent Willis. We're hoping you can help us identify a woman from a photo we have."
"Not Linda!" Sister Catherine clutched the door frame for support.
"Linda?" Mel asked.
She nodded. "Linda Mains. She never came home last night. That's not something she'd do. I've been worried sick all day."
"Are you willing to look at a photo of our victim?" Mel held it upside down. "It's not pleasant."
"Yes, please! I have to know."
Mel turned the photo over and the nun tightened her grasp on the jamb, sobbing. "No! Linda, no!"
"I'm so sorry." Mel clutched the woman's arm. "Can we help you inside?"
"No." The sister heaved a few more deep breaths then attempted to compose herself. "I'd rather not bring this into the house. We've got children staying here."
"I know." Mel smiled. "Cute little blonde thing answered the door."
"Sandy!" She scowled. "Doesn't know a stranger. I'm going to have to talk to her about that."
Mel shrugged. "She wouldn't let us in."
Sister Catherine wiped her nose on the back of her hand. "That's something I guess." She glanced around the still neighborhood. "It's a different world out there now. If someone like Linda wasn't safe…."
Nate had to speak up. "You know what Linda did for money, don't you?"
"Of course I know," the woman snapped. "I'd just about gotten her talked into applying for a secretarial job I'd heard about. We even found a nice, used dress for her interview. But Linda wasn't quite ready. Her husband used to beat the crap out of her, you know. She had zero self-esteem left."
"We didn't know," Mel replied. "But we'd like to. It would really help us to hear anything at all you can remember about Linda. We need to see her things."
The nun glanced over her shoulder at two children racing down the hall.
"We'll keep it low key. They don't even need to know we're cops, if you prefer that."
Sister Catherine chuckled bitterly. "These people will know you're cops, you can believe that." She inspected Nate. "Not you, in your fancy black suit. You're something different. Agent, did she say? Are you FBI?"
He peeled off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie. "Don't say that like it's a bad thing. You of all people should realize that I'm one of the good guys. The more we can learn about our victims, the sooner we can get the killer off the street."
With some reluctance, she stepped aside so they could enter the house. As Nate passed her she muttered, "Then pretty soon, another killer shows up. Maybe you'll catch him too. But none of this is going to help Linda, is it?"
"It won't bring her back," he conceded. "But to honor her memory, don't we at least have to try?"
"Yes, we do," the sister agreed. She inhaled and let out a slow, shuddering breath. "Thank you. Please, come this way."
He followed her down the hall, pausing only for a moment when Mel squeezed his hand.
* * * *
Nate glanced at his watch as they entered the homicide department bullpen later
that afternoon. Almost four-thirty. They'd spent a couple of hours at the shelter looking through Linda's things, before Mel started playing with two of the children. The sister had enlisted his help moving two large pieces of furniture before they left. He didn't mind, as far as he could tell there were only women and children staying there. By the time they left, the residents and Sister Catherine were pleasant and joking with them.
As he followed Mel into the war room, the thought crossed his mind that he'd been trailing her for a good portion of the day and it was actually a pretty nice position to be in. She wasn't bone skinny like most of the women they'd interviewed. Mel had curves in all the right places and standing behind her had its definite good points.
She tacked the picture of Linda up by the others and looked at the white board where Stone had written in bold print Linda Mains.
He joined them in the small room. "I've done as much digging on her as I could since you texted me. Haven't come up with much. Captain gave us Sam to help out. She's been running similarities on the three cases all afternoon."
"Good." Mel nodded and looked at Nate. "Samantha Becker is one of our newer detectives but she's a hard worker and gets things done."
"Fine. I've been feeding info to the FBI technical analysts too. They'll let us know if they get anything."
"Sister Catherine know much?" Stone looked from Mel to Nate.
Mel shrugged. "She was as close to Linda as anyone the past few weeks, yet she really didn't know anything about where the woman went every day. I guess Linda wasn't the kiss and tell type."
"Not to a nun, anyway," Stone mused.
They spent the next hour filling each other in on the afternoon's events. Linda's story of spousal abuse and the methods she chose to overcome it was a dark and gritty tale. Nate was so engrossed in the details he jumped when a tall, dark-haired man stuck his head in the room.
"Quitting time, kiddos. We're all going to Morgan's for some beer and anything-but-shop talk." The man focused on Nate. "You're invited too, of course. Won't kill anyone to drink with the feds for one night."
Nate waggled his brows. "It might."
Everyone chuckled and Mel said, "Thanks for the invite Tanner, but I don't think so. This case is pretty heavy. Not sure I'm in the mood for Morgan's."
"Buzz kill," Tanner made a face at Mel. "It's Friday night. Time to relax and unwind, put all this nastiness behind you. Besides, you know Cappie's expecting you. See you there." He walked out.
Mel groaned and rolled her head from side to side, stretching her neck. "Tanner's in administration. They don't have to work Saturdays."
"Nope," Stone agreed. "Paper clip counting can wait until Monday. But a beer sounds pretty good, Mel. What do you say, Agent Willis?"
"I say you're supposed to be calling me Nate, and who's this Cappie that's expecting you? Boyfriend?"
Stone opened his mouth but Mel answered first. "Good grief, no. He's the bartender there. He's like, what, sixty?" She shot a dirty look at Stone.
Stone shrugged and nodded, but didn't speak.
Nate didn't understand the looks passing between them, but he definitely wanted to know more. "I'm up for a beer. They have food there?"
"Good food," Stone replied enthusiastically.
Nate looked at Mel.
"The food is really good. The place will be crawling with cops, is all. If you really want to go, I guess I could grab a beer and a bite to eat."
A perky brunette with long hair pulled back into a ponytail, much like Mel's, joined them. "Where are we going?" she asked in a high pitched voice. She glanced at Nate and did a double take. "Hello, you must be SSA Willis. I'm Samantha Becker." She offered her hand and they shook.
She was tiny, small-boned, but very pretty. Nate tried not to squeeze too firmly, her hand seemed like it could be crushed by his firm grip. He had several inches on her height-wise, as well. "Pleasure to meet you." He smiled warmly.
Stone moved in closer to her and grinned. "I like working with Sam." Standing next to her made him appear taller.
Sam backhanded his chest gently. "Dork."
"We're going to Morgan's for a beer and some dinner," he told her.
"Great!" She smiled at Nate. "Have you ever been there?"
"Nope. But you all have me intrigued. Shall we go, and pick this up again tomorrow?"
"Why not?" Mel rose, her demeanor less than enthused.
Determined to turn her mood around, Nate snatched his suit coat off the back of a chair. "Since I don't know the town, why don't I ride with you? You can drop me off here later, and point me in the direction of my hotel."
She studied him skeptically for a moment. "I suppose I could do that."
"Great." He motioned for her to go before him. Following her once again, Nate grinned at the view.
Chapter Three
Mel entered Morgan's, the sports bar just down the street from the cop shop, and held the door behind her for Nate.
"Thanks." He stepped in and let the door close, glancing around. "Nice place. Think they have enough TVs?"
She chuckled. There was a flat screen on every wall, though most of them were close-captioned because the sound had been turned down. "Can you ever have too many TVs during baseball season?"
He smiled. "Oh, I love baseball season. Around here, that would mean, what? Cheering for the Kansas City Royals?"
"Of course." She stepped up to the long, gold-trimmed bar and snatched a pretzel from a bowl sitting there. "I suppose you're a Texas Ranger fan?"
"No, no, no." He shook his head and grabbed his own pretzel twist. "Not even at gunpoint. I'm a Democrat, you know."
"Now how would I know that? Besides, I don't think our former Republican president owns the team anymore."
He feigned a shudder. "Once a Republican, always a Republican. Growing up I was subjected to the Minnesota Twins because of the proximity to home. But secretly I've always been a New York Yankee's fan. They have such a great history."
She eyed him thoughtfully. "That suits you. I can see why you'd like the arrogant Yankees and their high-brow owners. Oh, and George Steinbrenner was Republican if I recall."
Shaking his head, Nate waved a pretzel at her. "Ask anyone who knew him, he had the heart of a Democrat."
"And Stephan King has the heart of a small boy. He said he keeps it in a jar on his desk."
Her reply caught him off guard and they both burst into laughter.
Her father approached from behind the bar. He looked as handsome as he had while she was growing up. Tall and muscular, he still sported a thick head of wavy dark hair. It was silver now, and he walked with a pronounced limp from his career-ending injury. But he still cut a sharp figure. Mel smiled. "Hey Cappie. I'd like you to meet the FBI agent sent to help out on the cheerleader case. This is SSA Nate Willis. Nate, this is Cappie, the bartender I told you about. He's retired from the force after thirty years."
"It's a pleasure, sir." Nate extended his hand and the men shook.
"FBI, huh?" Cappie raised a brow. "This case caught somebody's attention. What, the brass didn't think my girl here could figure it out on her own? She has a damned impressive solve rate, I happen to know."
Mel waved him off and caught his eye. "Stop it, you big flirt. I keep telling you, I can't run away with you. I'm forbidden to marry." She munched a pretzel and shrugged off Nate's inquisitive glance. "It's a religious thing."
Cappie snorted. "Yeah, right, whatever." He seemed confused for a second then caught on to her deception. "A guy can dream, though, can't he? And I always say, 'when you dream, dream big'."
Mel grinned. "You and some country singer say that. Hey, I'm going to go look for a table. Keep my FBI friend company until I get back." She strolled to the back of the room, where she spotted Stone and Becker already seated with Tanner and a few other cops.
"Curtis." Stone motioned to the two empty chairs by him.
She meandered that way and nodded. "Hey."
"Where's Willis?" he asked.
"I left him alone with Cappie. We'll see how that goes." She kept her gaze on the two men chatting genially at the bar.
"Does he know Cappie's your father?"
"No! And nobody better tell him, either." She cast her evilest glance around the table.
"Poor dumb son-of-a-bitch." Tanner shook his head woefully. "Hope he's not up there right now asking Cappie the surest way to get into your pants."
Mel laughed and winked at Tanner. "He doesn't need to ask Cappie that, he could just ask me."
While the people around the table snickered, she made her way back to the bar to put her new friend and her father out of their misery. "Found our table," she told them. "How are you boys getting along?"
"Super." Nate nursed a tall beer. "I now know that the Royals suck at about the same level as the Rangers."
"Hey, I never said that!" Cappie protested. "We have a series under our belt."
"Yeah, and the Rangers almost have one. Wait, almost have two. And then there's the Yankees, with twenty-something series wins and twice that in pennants."
Cappie waved a hand. "Yankees, pshaw. Better be careful rooting for the Yankees around here. People either love 'em or they hate 'em, but everybody's got an opinion. Some get passionate about it."
"Right up your alley." Mel looked at Nate, then at her father. "He's a passionate kind of guy."
"Oh yeah?" Cappie scowled. "Well keep your passion in check, boy. You're here to do a job, remember? Damn shame what's been happening to those women."
Nate tossed back the last of his brew and set the glass on the bar with a thud. "All under control my friend. Now, if you'd be so kind as to bring me another, I think I'd like to find that table and order myself a thick steak."
"Right this way." Mel picked up the full beer her father had placed in front of her and winked at him. She pointed to Nate's beer, and once he'd claimed it, she led him to their table.
"Agent Willis!" Samantha Becker stood and offered her chair. "Right here." She maneuvered her position so she sat between him and Mel.