by C. K. Raggio
Kurt’s voice trembled. “Natural causes. I thought maybe Steven had something to do with it. I asked him if I could have an autopsy done. He didn’t seem the least bit fazed. It came up empty. Jack died of a massive heart attack.”
She brushed hair behind her ears and took a breath. “Is the Bailey house still there?”
“No.” Kurt shifted in his seat. “I had it torn down eight years ago.”
Made sense. Kurt’s guilt probably rose every time he looked at it. “Do you by chance have any pictures of Steven when he was older?”
Kurt held up a finger, stood and walked out of the kitchen.
“Steven’s our guy,” Cassie said. “I can feel it.”
A blue photo album clenched in his wrinkled hands, Kurt limped back through the doorway. He braced against the table as he sat.
“You all right, Kurt?” Rick asked.
“I’m fine. My arthritis acts up in my knees when I sit in one spot too long.” He flipped through photos of birthdays and holidays. He slowed. “Here we go.”
He slipped a picture of two boys clad in graduation attire from the plastic. Gary and another boy who Rick assumed was Kurt’s son, Randy, stood smiling at the camera. A third boy stood off to the side. He stared at the camera, his eyes looked colder than the deepest depths of the ocean.
Kurt handed the photo to Cassie. Her face remained blank. “He doesn’t look familiar to me. Did he have any trouble in school that you know about?”
“No. Kid graduated top of his class. He was a whiz in science. Won prizes with a genetic project he did with his dad’s dogs. Took him years.”
A genetic project?
Cassie beat him to it. “What kind of project?”
“He bred a few different breeds of dogs and created his own breed. Bred that little ratter, Hercules, to a few others. Four generations later, he had a twenty pound pointing-retriever that could clear your barn of rats as well as any terrier.”
Rick shut his eyes for a moment. If there were any doubt in his mind about Steven being their guy it was gone now.
“What did I say?” Kurt asked. “What’s going on?”
Cassie glared at him. “The dog we mentioned involved in the murders… when we sent in the hair, the DNA came up as being a few different breeds. If Steven is alive, he’s our guy. Are you sure there isn’t anything you’re not telling us about Steven’s disappearance?”
The twitch in Kurt’s cheek was small, but it told Rick the man was about to lie straight to their faces. But why? Who was he protecting? Himself or Steven?
“The last time I saw Steven was two days before he went looking for that bear.” He ran a shaky hand through his thinning hair.
He had to be getting the vibe from them that they knew he was holding back on them. “Kurt, there’s nothing else you can think of that would help us find him? Is there anyplace around here you could think of that he would be able to use? We’ve been throwing around the idea that he had a house somewhere remote, a place that he could bring his victims to.”
Kurt put his head in his hands. When he looked up again his tears had returned. “Jack and I built a barn at the edge of his property. Hundred or so feet from an old ranger’s cabin. We used it to skin our kills. The locals stay away cause it’s said to be an old burial ground. They’re superstitious. I haven’t stepped foot near it since Jack died.”
Cassie jumped to her feet, almost knocking the heavy kitchen chair to the floor. “Why didn’t you tell us this sooner? Where the hell is it?”
Kurt’s face dropped. “I didn’t… I didn’t think of it, my memory…”
Rick stood and put a hand on Cassie’s shaking shoulder. She was going to lose it and he couldn’t say he blamed her. “Go outside and call the sheriff. We’ll need his permission to check it out and we’ll need back up.”
She looked from Kurt to Rick. Her fists clenched at her sides
“Please, go outside and call the sheriff.”
She stormed out of the kitchen. The front door slammed. Rick took a breath and sat back down. “Kurt, you can’t blame her for being furious. You should’ve done something.”
Kurt hung his head. “I know. It’s been eating away at me for years.”
“How far is the cabin from here?”
“It’s not close. Jack had over a hundred acres at the edge of town. Past his property line it’s all woods. There’s a trail leading in as well as a road. But nobody’s used the road in years that I know of. It’s probably shot to hell.”
“Yeah, except maybe Steven.” Rick stared at the man a moment. If only he’d done something. It was too late now. He shook his head and went to find Cassie.
CHAPTER 30
Cassie hung up her cell, fighting back the urge to hurl it against Kurt’s livestock trailer. She took deep breaths, but still her body shook. She needed to get a hold of herself. Needed to be able to think clearly.
How could she? That man inside had stolen the lives of innocent women from her town. Had in a way killed her partner. He may as well have been sitting in a rocker watching their guy torture Izzy. And why? Because he was trying to protect his dead friend’s son. What the hell!
She leaned against the trailer. The sweet smell of oats and hay wafted from the large open door. Rick stepped off the porch and came toward her. “Did you talk to the sheriff?”
A ripple of frustration tingled in her muscles. Why was he so calm about everything? “No.” The word came out sharp. “He’s not there. He went a few towns over. A kid went missing in the woods. He’s helping them search. They said it could take some time to get word to him.”
“Of course.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “We just can’t get a break.”
“I don’t think we should wait for him. We can manage this on our own. I can handle Ferraro, he’ll say he gave us permission.”
Rick paused. “Cassie, I want to get this piece of shit as much as you do, but we can’t go without back up. We’ve already concluded that he has more than one dog because of the smaller bite wounds on Peggy’s neck. He could have ten, fifteen of those nasty fuckers. We have to be smart here.”
Kurt came to the porch. Now she wanted to heave her phone at the old man’s head. “He knows the way and I’m sure he has a gun. Why can’t he take us?”
Kurt held onto the banister like it was the only thing supporting him. He seemed like a completely different man than the one they’d first saw when they drove up. Frail and exhausted.
Rick planted his feet in a wide stance, letting her know his words wouldn’t be up for discussion. “We need to wait for the sheriff.”
She clamped her teeth down on her tongue, refusing to lose the single thread of clear thinking she had left. Without a word she marched toward her Jeep and climbed in.
Rick thanked Kurt for his time and let him know they’d be in touch before settling in beside her. She could feel his eyes on her as they pulled away.
For some reason this stoked her anger. “He’s hiding something big. If I could see through him, then you definitely should’ve been able to. You’re the one who studied profiling.”
“I know he’s holding back, but you need to control your emotions.” His tone stayed even. “I’m almost happy that we couldn’t get the sheriff out here right away. You need a break. You’re starting to act like Phil.”
She took a breath, knowing he was right, but not in the least appreciating it. Her heartbeat hammered in her ears. “Gain control! Kurt knew Steven was a killer and now he’s a fucking serial killer. He murdered my partner and tortured who knows how many women. Excuse me if I’m a bit on edge to find the son of a bitch before he kills someone else.”
“Steven may be the killer. We don’t know that for sure.”
Argh. He was right again. She pulled over.
He angled his body toward her. “We both heard all the reasons why he could be the killer, but it’s the facts that are important. Maybe the bear really did take Steven out. Kurt’s guilt over not protecting
Steven when he was a child could’ve corrupted his thinking.”
She narrowed her eyes. “So you’re saying that the whole story could all be in his mind? His way of coping?”
“Yes and no. The point is we need proof. We can’t run on assumptions and an old man’s opinion.”
His words were finally chipping away at her anger, but the gnawing in her gut continued. Her heart rate slowed to a steadier thump. She was being unreasonable. “Fine. What do we do now?”
He grinned at her, leaned in and brushed a stray hair from her face.
She gaped at him? Was he kidding? She pulled back and he laughed.
He put his hand up. “Relax. You have smudges of dirt all over your face. I’m guessing I do too.”
She flipped down the visor. Dust streaked her cheek and forehead. “You could’ve told me about that earlier.”
Rick turned up the heat, blowing on his hands. “We can stop at that motel in town, wash up and get something to eat. Hopefully, Sheriff Ferraro will be back by then.”
Her face flushed. Perfect. Just what she needed, Rick and a motel. The last time she’d let her emotions go haywire, she’d completely embarrassed both of them. She pursed her lips, forcing her mind out of the trenches and pulled her Jeep back onto the lane.
CHAPTER 31
The number six dangled from a single rusted nail on the motel room door. Cassie slipped the key in the lock. It wouldn’t turn. She jiggled it back and forth. It clicked, but the door still wouldn’t budge. Come on! She threw her shoulder into the warped wood and it flung open, taking her with it. The number six fell with a clatter at her feet.
She tapped her fingers on her thigh, took in the stained and worn rust-colored carpet. A counter with cabinets underneath it lined the wall in front of a lone window. Washed out yellowed pictures of monkeys, of all things, covered the walls. The air smelled of cigarette smoke and sweat.
She dropped her overnight bag on the pink and white comforter. The heater clicked on with a clank and rattle. Dry heat pumped from the ceiling vent. Cassie covered her nose. She couldn’t decide what smelled worse, her clothes from the search at the White’s house, or the room.
The locks on the window had been painted over. It took her a minute to get them unlatched. She opened it a crack. Frigid air breezed in, but at least it was fresh. There was no screen, but there wouldn’t be any bugs in the dead of winter.
Behind her the door creaked and blew open. She spun around, saw Rick leaning on the doorframe. “Jesus!” She put a hand over her thudding heart. “Rick. You scared the crap out of me.”
“Sorry.” He winced, stepping inside. “I see your room is as sweet smelling and homey as mine.
“Yeah. Five star accommodations.” She took a tentative seat on the bed. Her phone rang. She dug in her pocket, hoping it was Sheriff Ferraro.
"It's Hank,” she said to Rick then answered the call. She was supposed to call him over an hour ago. “Hey, sorry, we just finished up. You’re on speaker.”
“Did you guys find out anything?”
Cassie took him through the events of the day.
Hank’s breathing quickened as she explained Kurt’s story. “Should we come up there? Call in the FBI?”
“Not yet,” Rick said. “I don’t think we should call in the troops until Cassie and I have checked it out with the sheriff. If there’s any sign that someone has been there recently we’ll let you know.”
“Fair enough.”
“What’s Gary’s status?” Cassie asked.
Hank sighed. “Gary’s still in a coma. They think he’ll come to, but with head injuries you never can tell. Also, no fingerprints but Gary’s were found in the basement of his center.”
Rick frowned. She figured he was thinking the same thing. If Gary didn’t wake up, and they didn’t find anything at the cabin, they’d still be at a loss concerning their killer’s real identity. “All right, keep us updated if there’s any change.”
“Will do. You two be careful.”
She hung up and stifled a yawn. Probably more from stress than lack of sleep. She kicked off her shoes. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“I’ll go back to my room and do the same, then try and find someplace to get some food. You want anything?”
“Whatever you want, grab two.”
Rick walked to the door. “Make sure you lock it behind me.”
She grinned at him. “Yes, Dad.”
She shut the door behind him and turned the latch. A quick search in her bag produced a long sleeved cotton shirt and jeans. Not exactly detective wear, but there was no way she was going to wear the stinky dirt-smudged clothes she had on now.
Izzy used to make fun of her for always having extra clothes in her trunk. That was until the time they spent the day at the town dump, digging for evidence on a body. Even with protective suits on they still stunk to holy hell. When Cassie had pulled the clothes from the trunk that day, Izzy had nearly kissed her.
Cassie fiddled with the knobs in the shower. She leaned against the sink, giving it a few minutes to heat up. “Please, God.” She hung her head. “Help this to be our guy, help us to find him.”
In the mirror’s reflection, she studied the dark circles under her eyes. She wanted this to be over. She’d heard of cases like this taking years, or worse, never being solved. She couldn’t let that happen. They had to find Izzy’s killer.
She took a luke-warm shower and stepped out feeling cleaner. She threw on her clothes, grimacing as she realized she’d brought a lace bra with her. What the hell had she been thinking? A white cotton shirt plus lace and cold weather, equaled her nipples poking through the thin material.
“Crap.” That was stupid. Her subconscious was completely screwing with her. Luckily, she was already starting to warm back up and her nipples shrunk away from the fabric. By the time he got back she’d be fine.
Rubbing her hair with a towel, she stepped out of the bathroom. She should call her father and Sam and let them know she was okay. Something banged from outside and she froze. Maybe it was Rick?
Another bang.
No, there would be no reason for him to be lurking around out there.
She grabbed her gun from the bathroom counter and crept toward the window. The quiet stretched on for a few minutes. She released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. They were surrounded by woods on three sides, it was probably just a raccoon or something in the dumpster.
A branch snapped. Then another, getting closer. She put her back to the wall and strained to see through the dirty pane. A growl erupted from outside. Not a raccoon, she thought as she rushed for the door.
~~~
The smell of grease from the burgers filled the Jeep. It was so strong, Rick could almost feel it coating his skin. He hoped Cassie wasn’t picky when it came to food. He pulled into the half paved lot of the motel. His stomach dropped. The door to Cassie’s room was wide open.
He slammed the truck into park and charged out, his heart racing. He pulled out his gun and peered into the room. It was empty. The dim light in the bathroom glowed over the cracked, tiled sink. He moved forward on the balls of his feet, gun raised.
Water beaded in the bathtub, the smell of lavender filled the air. Where the hell was she? Had someone attacked her while she was in the shower? There was no sign of a struggle, but… Raw panic flooded his body. He spun around and ran for the door. “Cassie!”
He skidded to a stop in front of the Jeep. “Cassie!”
“What the hell are you yelling about?” She tiptoed barefoot around the side of the building. Gun in hand, she crossed her arms over her chest and shivered.
Air blew from between his lips. “What the hell are you doing? You nearly gave me heart failure.”
She shrugged and thumbed over her shoulder. “Sorry, I heard something.”
He gawked at her. “So you ran out barefoot to investigate? You should’ve called me. Why the hell didn’t you at least shut the door? Someone cou
ld’ve gone in while you were out here.”
“Oh, yeah. I should’ve politely asked whatever was making the noise to kindly wait a moment while I put on shoes, a jacket, made a quick call and locked up.”
He took a breath. What was wrong with him? He sounded like an overbearing father… or a boyfriend. He wasn’t used to losing it like that.
She cocked her head at him. “Rick, I’m fine.”
“I know. Forget it.” He holstered his gun. “What did you hear?”
“I heard a dog growl, but it was just a stray or a coyote. It ran off into the woods.” She reached into the Jeep, turned off the ignition and grabbed the greasy bottomed bags. “I’m starving and freezing.” She hurried past him. “You coming?”
His blood finally slowed in his veins. “Yeah.”
She placed the bags on the counter and opened them. Her wet hair hung loose to the middle of her back.
He licked his lips. “Burgers okay with you?”
“Perfect.”
A cool breeze drifted in from the cracked window. He couldn’t help but stare as her nipples hardened. What he’d give to wrap his lips around them. He handed her a soda. Should he close the window? It was winter. Why the hell did she have the window open to begin with? Was she taunting him on purpose? It was freezing, she should be wearing a sweatshirt.
He sat next to her. Focused his attention on the outlines of the trees and hills visible through the dusty panes.
Coyotes howled.
Cassie leaned closer. Her arm brushed his as she stared out. “Guess it was a coyote. They sound so sad. How many do you think? There sounds like a bunch.”
“No, actually, coyotes don’t run in structured packs like wolves do. It’s probably a small family. The parents and whatever litter they have.”
“Really?” She glanced at him, her brows raised.
He gave her a timid grin. “I spent most of my teens studying wolves. Almost became a biologist.”
“Oh.” A hint of jealousy edged her tone as she unwrapped her burger. “Is that how you met that wolf specialist woman you called to run the DNA?”