by Jamie Hill
"Yeah, whatever. I wasn't sure I should bother you, but I got worried. Sheila never made it back last night. After you and that FBI guy talked to us, we agreed to check in with each other a few times a day. She always called me when she finished up. She didn't call last night, and she's not answering her phone."
"Damn. Okay Rayelle, you did the right thing. I'm going to send some patrol units looking for her. Listen, I know you don't like to give it out, but this would be a lot easier if I had your phone number."
"Sure."
Mel nudged Nate. "Write this down."
He grabbed his cell and used it to save the number.
"555-2361."
Mel repeated the number and Nate typed it. "We'll be in touch Rayelle. Find someplace safe and sit tight for now, will you? Stay off the streets."
"I will. Thanks." She disconnected the call.
Mel punched her phone off and looked at Nate.
"Who's Rayelle?"
"Juicy. She called to tell me Sheila never made it home last night."
Chapter Seven
Nate threw off the covers and climbed out of bed. "Well, shit. Good thing we showered last night. Wish we'd eaten, though. I'm starved."
Mel smiled. "Me too. I'll make some calls and get the patrol units started. We can grab something on the way in."
"If this is our guy, he's really escalating now. It's only been a day since they found Sissy."
She nodded and spoke to her captain, then Stone. Nate watched her dress and holster her Glock.
"Damn, that's sexy." He secured his own weapon and stepped in front of her. "A woman with a gun as big as mine." He swept her into his arms for a long, breathless kiss. When they separated, he smiled. "Good morning."
"Good morning." Her face flushed and her eyes appeared unfocused.
He grinned again, loving the genuineness of her. She wore her heart on her sleeve and her emotions displayed on her face. I could get used to waking up with this woman.
As if she'd read his mind, she murmured, "You think we'll ever get to wake up leisurely? Lay here smooching for a while, a good morning quickie, maybe breakfast in bed?"
Nate laughed. "Sounds like my idea of the perfect morning. We'll plan on that, okay?"
"It's a deal." Mel rubbed her hands over his scruffy face and kissed him. "I'll get food and meet you at the office."
He rubbed his nose on hers. "See you there." On his way out he called over his shoulder, "Something with bacon, please!"
"You got it." Mel smiled sweetly. The expression on her face made it very hard to leave. Had they not received the call about Sheila, he'd turn around and they'd both have been late to work. But happy, very happy. He smiled.
Nate walked out to his car and realized he was happy. Happier than he'd been in a long time. There was just one thing standing in the way of total joy. The slasher. Hopefully, they'd make some headway on the case today. Regardless, he needed to call his chief tonight. He'd texted back and forth with his team a few times. They'd found the missing boy in Tacoma and had returned to San Antonio. They'd expect him to be back in time to go with them on their next assignment.
Can't go yet. Mel's ambivalence was rubbing off on him. He shook his head. Need to solve this case. Once that was done, he'd give serious thought to some strategies for making things work with Mel.
The thought cheered him, and he drove to the office with a slightly lighter heart.
Reality hit home when he entered the bullpen and saw the anxious faces of the team. "Anything on Sheila?" he asked quickly.
"Nothing yet," Stone replied.
"That's good. If she was dead, someone would probably have found her by now. We're going to proceed under the assumption that she's still alive."
Stone glanced at the door. "Wonder what's keeping Mel?"
Nate thought quickly. "She, uh, texted me that she was grabbing some breakfast. Said she'd be here in a few."
"Good."
Becker made a face. "She'll never keep her figure eating fast food all the time. I eat an egg white omelet every morning, then run for forty-five minutes. It's all about discipline."
"Mel has discipline," Stone defended his partner. "She just likes a good fried roll every now and again."
Nate grinned. "Can't blame her there." He spotted her entering the room and went to help with the food.
"Lattes for everyone," she announced. "And I got some extra bacon and egg biscuits just in case anyone else is hungry."
"I'm practically drooling from the smell." He took the bag and lowered his voice. "Remind me not to skip dinner next time. I mean, skipping dinner was good, but remind me to eat something later."
She laughed. "I'd be happy to do that."
He raised his brows in feigned shock. "You are bad. Very, very bad." He carried the food into the war room where they ate and talked about Sheila.
Nate picked a chunk of bacon out of his biscuit sandwich and savored it before gobbling it down.
Becker shook her head. "Pure poison. Bacon will kill you."
Licking his fingers, Nate grabbed another bite of the savory pork and told it, "If loving you is wrong, I don't want to be right."
"Oh my God!" Mel and Stone erupted in laughter.
Reeder walked in with Marshall on his heels. "Having a party in here? The beat cops are out there looking for the missing woman. What are you all doing?"
"Just finishing breakfast Captain." Mel stood and threw her trash away. "We're ready to get busy now."
"I should hope so. What's next on this thing?"
"Why don't you let us strategize for a few minutes, then I'll come and give you an update." Mel's smile could have melted an ice cube.
"I'll be waiting," Reeder sneered and stomped out of the room.
"Who ate his Post Toasties?" Marshall watched the captain go. "Bet he wasn't up with colicky twins half the night."
"Aw, I'm sorry." Mel teased. "Want to curl up over there and catch a nap?"
"Maybe I do. Actually, I'd like to bust this asshole and get back to something more mundane in my office."
"We're all in agreement there," Nate steered the conversation around to the case. "So where do we start today, that's the question."
Marshall flipped open his notebook. "I did some checking into the Webb school. Burton Webb is the owner. He has three schools in various parts of town. His son Dick is the maintenance man at the Collins Lane location. Would you like to know what I found in Webb's history?"
"Do tell," Mel said.
"Nothing. Nada. Niente. Prior to a year ago, the man and his son didn't exist."
"Do tell more," Nate prodded. "What do you mean, 'didn't exist'?"
"Exactly what I said. They appeared from out of nowhere about a year ago, according to tax records."
"Now that just can't happen," Stone commented. "So who were they before, and where did they come from?"
"I was hoping someone could tell me," Marshall replied.
Nate punched buttons on his phone. "A good question for the FBI analysts. If anyone can track their history, our people can."
"Your people," Mel teased. "Who are you, Moses?"
He feigned an irritated expression and muttered, "Bite me."
Mel leaned back in her chair. "Haul it on over here."
He turned his back to her and gave instructions to Steve. The analyst promised to report in quickly.
Nate was amazed at how quickly, when his phone rang ten minutes later. "Willis," he snapped, figuring it couldn't be good news.
"Nate, you gotta listen, man." Steve sounded excited. "We hit the big time with this Webb fellow."
His heart leaping into his throat, Nate croaked, "I'm going to put you on speaker, Steve." He punched the button and set his phone on the table.
"Roger that. Okay, so Burton Webb has the same fingerprints as a barber from Enid, Oklahoma name of Ted Burton. About three years ago this one and the same Ted Burton meandered into a Stop and Go for a tank of gas and a Slurpee. On his way out, he tosse
d a couple bucks down and bought two quick pick lottery tickets. Low and behold, he won. Dude raked in a hundred and fifty million dollars."
"Holy shit!" Nate spoke for the whole room.
"Oh, to be that lucky." Stone sighed. "How great would that be?"
Steve replied, "Would it be great? Friends and family you never knew you had come crawling out of the woodwork. Strangers try to trip themselves on your property so they can sue you. Some say it's great, others think it's a curse."
Mel said, "So you could see why a person might change his identity. Fresh start and all that."
"Especially if that person was Ted Burton." Steve's voice rose an octave. "Listen closely my friends, this just gets better. Burton had a son, name of Dickie."
"Dick Webb, the maintenance man," Nate confirmed.
"I'd be surprised if he could hold down that job. Dickie, as he was known back then, had—shall we say—issues. His condition was officially termed Antisocial Personality Disorder. It basically meant he had a hard time getting along with people. ASP appears during adolescence, sometimes earlier. Behavior patterns include little concern or indifference toward others, fighting and irresponsibility, none of which he would have cared about."
"Bet he was popular in high school. Not." Mel commented.
Nate nodded at her, his excitement building.
"Wasn't there long," Steve continued. "It seems Ted Burton worked long hours in his barbershop, trying to earn a living for his family. His wife didn't want to work, or so she said, which left Ted to work overtime making ends meet."
"Or so she said?" Marshall inquired.
"She might have taken a job on the side. Details are fuzzy about that. What is known is that one day Dickie came home from school early and found his mom entertaining a male visitor in her room. John or paramour, the world will never know. Dickie slashed both their throats with a carving knife. Butchered the hell out of them. Was sitting there in the blood when Ted got home from work."
The room erupted with amazed comments and chatter. "Shhh!" Nate raised a hand. "Finish the story, Steve. What happened to Dickie?"
"He was sent to a state hospital. They used to call them Asylums for the Criminally Insane, which was a much cooler name. Anyway, Dickie lived there under lock and key until his father struck it rich with the lotto. At some point after that, the kid came up for a hearing and two doctors testified that he'd been fully rehabilitated and was no longer a threat to society. He got out, but of course they couldn't stay in Enid where everyone knew them. The Burtons disappeared at the same time the Webbs appeared in Wichita."
"Lucky us," Stone muttered.
Nate's mind raced. "Are those doctors still practicing?" he asked. "The ones that testified on Dickie's behalf."
"Why, funny you should ask that. Both of them left their jobs soon after. One is now reportedly a Bahamian beach bum. Didn't have time to track the other one down, but I will if you want."
"Unnecessary." Nate shook his head. He glanced at Mel. "This fits."
"It fits so perfectly it's scary," she agreed. "You said the perp would have issues with his mother."
"And that he would have been scorned by others in high school," Becker added. "Cheerleaders would have wanted nothing to do with him."
Nate was so excited he could barely sit still. Another thought occurred to him and he virtually shouted, "Steve! Check out the high school Dickie Burton attended. What was their mascot?"
"Hang on, boss," Steve said. A moment later he came back with, "Okay, it's an oriel."
"An oriel?" Mel screwed up her face.
"Oriels look nothing like cardinals," Stone stated.
Nate shrugged. "Might not be a deal breaker. Worth a shot, though."
"Wait!" Steve called. "It's an oriel now. They changed it a few years ago. Used to be a cardinal."
Nate slammed a hand on the table as he stood. "That's it. We're off to see the wizard, my friends. Everybody suit up, vests and the works. Mel, get Reeder and clue him in. We're going to need SWAT team backup." He picked up his phone. "Steve, next time I see you, man, I'm giving you a big wet kiss."
"Seriously, I'll settle for a 'We're not in Kansas anymore' t-shirt, dude." Steve added, "You all be careful out there."
"Ten-four. Thanks again, buddy." Nate punched off his phone and squeezed it, adrenaline pumping.
Marshall grabbed his bicep. "Listen. The only address we have for this kid is his old man's place. It's not far, but it's big and fancy. He'd have enough room for his games, but would he have the privacy?"
Nate thought about that. "Seems unlikely he'd take the women to his father's house."
"So that's why I think we shouldn't go blazing in with lights and sirens. We'll all be there, but just a couple of you should go in. Feel the old man out, judge his level of cooperation."
"He sprung his kid free once," Nate added. "Doubtful he's going to turn him over to us without a fight."
Reeder and Mel appeared in the doorway. Nate looked at the captain. "We need some alternate addresses for this guy. If he doesn't live with his father, where does he stay? Webb owns three beauty schools in town. Can you find out what other property he might own?"
"I'm on it." Reeder nodded. "I'll call you when I've got information."
"Excellent." Nate watched Reeder retreat, leaving him standing in the doorway with Mel. "You ready for this?"
She grinned. "Our third date."
* * * *
Mel and Nate watched the back door of the Webb School of Beauty. Marshall and Stone were stationed at the front. Becker had slipped a jacket over her bulletproof vest and had gone inside to see if Dick Webb was working that day. When she came out she spoke into her wire, "Negative. Webb is off today."
"Roger that," Nate replied. "We'll go to the father's house next. Remember everyone, no lights or sirens. SWAT and black and whites stay half a block back. We'll call if we need you."
"Ten-four," came several responses.
"Marshall, be ready. When Webb gives us permission to search his house, we're going to want you in there with two uniformed cops. Under no circumstances will we leave Webb alone after that. We can't have him calling his son."
"You got it," Marshall answered.
Mel's gut churned as Nate drove to the Webb home. She'd been in dangerous situation before, but they weren't a daily occurrence in Wichita. Glancing over at Nate, she asked, "How often do you close in on people like this?"
He shrugged. "This is what we do. Depends on how fast we track down the perp. Several times a week, I'd guess."
"Wow." She thought about that, and for just a moment could see why a woman might not want her husband to be an FBI profiler. She studied Nate, so strong and sure of himself, and realized his job didn't bother her. She had no doubts he could take care of business.
She double checked the address and looked at the house numbers. "There it is. Big white house with grey rock trim."
"Got it."
Mel spoke into the wire on her collar. "White house with grey rock trim."
Nate pulled up in front while the other cars hung back. He exited the SUV and as they walked to the front door, Mel noticed he unfastened the snap on his holster.
She did the same.
Nate rang the bell. His breathing was steady, but she could tell he was amped up with adrenaline. Hers was more a case of nerves. Her gut still churned, but she fought the feeling.
A fiftyish man with thick black hair and wire-rimmed glasses opened the door. He took in their vests and for a brief instant, something registered on his face. The look was gone as quickly as it had come. "May I help you?"
"Burton Webb?" Nate asked.
"Yes?"
"I'm Agent Willis with the FBI and this is Detective Curtis with the WPD. We're looking for your son, Mr. Webb. Is Dick at home?"
"Dickie doesn't—" he stopped himself. "No, Dickie isn't home right now. He should be at work."
"We've already been there. He isn't working today."
We
bb's eyes narrowed. "Are you the same two who caused all the commotion at my school yesterday? Everyone was terribly upset. Tony Masters was inconsolable when he called me."
"Were you his one phone call? Interesting."
Mel added, "Tony Masters is a piece of work. Did you know he was exchanging hair services for sexual favors from the local girls? Because if you knew, we really need to take another look at your license."
"Of course not!" Webb fumed. "He filled me in last night. I fired him of course. I've been in the beauty business for thirty years. I'd never abide by such practices."
Nate fanned out the photos of the dead women and waved them in front of the man. "Several of Masters' customers ended up dead. Necks slashed, nearly decapitated. Very gruesome. See?"
Webb's eyes widened before he averted them. "Put those away. I don't want to see them. Of course I've heard about the murders. They have nothing to do with my school."
"Except all of the victims went to Tony Masters for free hair care." Mel held up a mug shot they'd pulled of Sheila. "And today, this woman went missing."
He eyed the photo. "She looks charming."
Nate snarled, "Charming or not, she doesn't deserve to end up like this." He waved the pictures again.
Webb sighed. "That's true. I'm sorry, but I can't help you officers. My son and I know nothing about these crimes. If he's not working today, he's most likely at a friend's house playing cards or video games."
Given his disorder, Mel didn't buy that for a minute. "Dick have a lot of friends, does he?"
"Some." Webb focused his gaze on her. "Strange. You look like my former wife. Something about the hair, or maybe it's the eyes."
Nate held up the victims’ photos again. "I bet these women look more like your former wife. So tell me Mr. Burton, were you surprised to come home and find Dickie in a pool of blood, or was it a relief? It couldn't have been easy living with a cheating spouse."
Webb's face darkened to a deep purple. "How dare you talk about her like that? Get off my property right now. I don't care if you're FBI or not."
Nate stepped closer to the man. "You'd better start caring. Your son is our number one suspect in these murders. My partners and I are going to come in and search your house now."