The Killer in Me

by Winter Austin

  “So,” he said as if unaware of his effect on her. “What is this ‘something’?”

  “I don’t like to speculate until I have some kind of confirmation.”

  “Which makes it harder for us to look for this something if you don’t tell us.”

  She smiled. “Maybe. But what good does it do if we run off half-cocked over a suspicion? Coloring the evidence to match what we could come to believe. Always better to refrain, get all the information, and then piece it together to get the correct evidence.”

  Frowning, Lundquist squinted at her. “Are you always this pragmatic?”

  No. Quite honestly, she had been that half-cocked rookie chasing after the White Rabbit on a trail to danger and death.

  “Ask the doc if we can get a blood sample from the vic so we can run a comparison on the ones we have from our other samples.”

  “Already done,” he said. “And I have the DNA results on the sample you took from the Barrett place.”

  “Do you have them with you?”

  Lundquist shook his head. “After I do the tests from this one, I’ll bring the results to the office later.”

  Nodding, she left him to continue his processing. Lila wandered to the backside of the tree, scanning the ground. Grass covered the entire area, eliminating the chance of tracks. And the road leading to this field was gravel. If this truly had been, or still was, a drop point for drug deals, it was a perfect spot. The only way to get caught was to leave behind evidence or have the misfortune of a cop coming this way, as Fitzgerald had years back.

  A chorus of caws tracked Lila’s movements. She looked up. The dead foliage that hadn’t relinquished its grip on the limbs fluttered around the ten or so crows. What was it they called those opportunistic birds when they gathered?

  “A murder.”

  Jerking, Lila blinked at the sheriff. Benoit was eyeballing the sleek, black birds.

  “Come again?”

  “A congregation of crows is called a murder, not a flock.” Benoit’s gaze swung to Lila. “The irony is not lost on me.”

  “Is there any way we can get them out of here without defiling the scene any more than it has been?” Lila asked, pointing at the white glops.

  “Short of shooting them, we’ll have to let them be. It’s just a shame we don’t know which or how many of these scavengers consumed the eyes. I’d like to trap them and do a necropsy.”

  “Not an effective measure. Like you said, we have no idea who did the deed.”

  “Then we do this old-fashioned way.” Benoit checked her watch. “Since Deputy Fontaine refuses to go home, I’m sending him out on his next assignment.” Benoit looked at Lila. “And you’re going with.”

  “To do what, exactly?”

  “Interview people at the fertilizer plant. We got a tip last night that the first victim might have ties to that place. This one”—she nodded at the second victim—“might as well. Just give her description. I don’t want people seeing her like this.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Do you want us to leave now?”

  Benoit faced Lila. “You read my mind.”

  *

  Supervising the extradition of the unnamed victim left Elizabeth’s nerves frayed. Two bodies within two days. No motives for their deaths. The reasons would remain elusive as long as they were unidentified. And a whole host of characters were dividing her attention. What a mess. How did she ever dream she could manage this position?

  “Sheriff, I’m of the same mindset as Deputy Dayne on the cause of death.”

  Elizabeth pursed her lips and gave Olivia a nod.

  “I’ll begin the autopsy as soon as I get to the hospital. I asked for my appointments to be rescheduled so I can give these two cases my full focus today.”

  “Thank you, Olivia.”

  The ME gripped Elizabeth’s bicep and squeezed. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Wicked people do wicked things, no matter who wears the badge.” Olivia stepped outside the tape. “I’ll give you a call once I have my findings.”

  “Before you go, can you give me an age estimation on this victim?”

  Olivia sighed. “She’s young, Ellie. Too young. But if it’s a number you want, I’d give the range anywhere between sixteen and twenty.”

  “Too young,” Elizabeth repeated.

  After the dark paneled van pulled away and rumbled down the road, leaving a gravel dust cloud in its wake, Elizabeth turned to her men.

  “Fitzgerald, show me the spot.”

  He did not hesitate or give her any grief. Lundquist and Meyer followed on her heels.

  Squatting in front of the old oak, Fitzgerald used a glove to sweep aside the debris at the base of the trunk, in the exact spot the victim had sat. He pushed his hand into the glove and then picked at a particular spot inches from the toes of his boots. A lid sprang up.

  “They have it camouflaged?” Meyer sounded incredulous.

  “What better way to keep people in the dark,” Elizabeth said.

  Reaching inside the shallow burrow, Fitzgerald extracted a metal box and held it aloft. Elizabeth took it, prying open the lid. Inside were three baggies of crystal meth, beneath those an empty envelope.

  “It appears someone missed their drop. Or has not been by to get it yet.” She slapped the lid shut and held it out to Lundquist. “Bag and tag.”

  Fitzgerald rose, dusting off his pant legs.

  “The time you caught Daniel, what was he getting?”

  He squinted. “If I recall right, he wasn’t getting it. I think he was dropping it off. I caught him with heroin.”

  Elizabeth gnawed on her lip. “Dropping it off, you say?”

  Nodding, the deputy removed his gloves. “I have no idea why they’re still using this location after it was discovered.”

  “We have no idea how long that meth has been in there,” Meyer pointed out.

  “Fitzgerald, are you aware of any other locations?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I don’t specifically know of any other locations, but my gut says there are more in this county. This is the only one I’ve found.”

  Tapping a finger alongside her chin, Elizabeth stared at the hole. A caw. A solitary crow ruffled its feathers, the others having vacated the area once the body had been removed. They brought such an ominous vibe to crime scenes.

  Here were two young women so very close in age to Bre when she’d died. And just like then, Sheehan’s name found a way into the conversation. Drugs had been thrown around as a reason behind Bre’s death—an accidental overdose. At the time, Sheehan had been a deputy, and there at the scene, a fact that was left out of all accounts. His predecessor found no fault in his star deputy. The king viper coddling his eventual successor.

  Too bad the old sheriff was moldering in his grave and the truth rotting along with him.

  Elizabeth still lacked the proof to pull the trigger. And these recent deaths demanded her full attention. Bre’s death had waited this long; it would have to wait a bit longer.

  “Sheriff?”

  Deputy Benjamin Fitzgerald. The solitary holdout from Sheehan’s days. A man who, at every turn, tried to be a hard-ass and contrarian to her orders and service. But his admission of Sheehan’s lack of trust in him opened her eyes.

  “Thank you for relaying what you know. I know it’s hard to swallow the fact I’m now the sheriff. It was quite a leap from Sheehan and his policies to me.”

  He gaped.

  “Go home and sleep so you’re ready for your shift tonight.” She moved closer to him. “I do have one request of you. Go through your memories and try to recall times when Sheehan skirted the law with Daniel Kauffmann.”

  Fitzgerald opened his mouth, and she stopped him with an upright finger.

  “Before you protest, let me finish. I’m aware that you feel a sense of loyalty to the former sheriff, and I don’t fault you that. But you must ask yourself, why is that so? If this one example of Sheehan railroading you with Daniel Kauffmann is any indication, I’m sure you
had many situations where he usurped the law and your work to do his own thing. How many times were you told to look the other way or ignore something? And how many times did that bother the heck out of you to do it?”

  Unable to hold her gaze, he stared at the wadded gloves.

  “You’re a good cop, Ben. Don’t let another man’s agenda ruin you.”

  Red brightened his blond beard. Elizabeth wasn’t going to lie; she was proud to see her words had gotten to him.

  “I’ll just head home.” He headed for his squad car.

  “Would you take the car to the shop and get it looked at? I would rather you not get stranded.”

  “Uh, sure thing, Sheriff.”

  Once he was backing out, Elizabeth turned to her youngest deputy. “Deputy Meyer, it hasn’t escaped my notice where we are nor how far we are from the old quarry road and our first victim.”

  “You want to go see her?”

  “I need to speak to her about this. Better it come from me than the rumor mill. Also, we need permission to do further searches of the area. My gut is telling me this isn’t the only place for a drug cache.”

  “He’s not going to like it.”

  She placed her hand on his shoulder. “She’s your mother. If you’re with me, there’s not much he can say against that.”

  “You have high hopes, ma’am.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s not a bad thing. I haven’t seen her since I took this position.”

  “All the more reason to come.”

  If there was one thing Elizabeth knew all too well, it was how dysfunctional families were in this county. She had married into one.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lila parked next to Fontaine’s Dodge Charger. How was it that, out of all the deputies, he got the muscle car? Sheriff playing favorites?

  Terra Firma Inc. loomed before them. A hint of ammonia hung in the air.

  “Holy hell.” And here she’d thought some of the factories in the burbs of Chicago were huge.

  Fontaine rounded the front of his vehicle. “You coming?”

  Dropping her arm, she caught up with him. “This looks new.”

  “It just opened about a week ago. They have a new housing development going up west of Three Points for the workers who moved here from other states.”

  Lila scowled. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wouldn’t they have built this with the intent to use local people already living here?”

  He huffed. “You’d think. Not enough locals, apparently.” Removing his reflective sunglasses, he peered at the sign on the metal door directing visitors to the office around the corner.

  They headed in that direction.

  Lila twitched, glanced over, and discovered the man squinting at her. Was he pitying her? “Something on your mind, Deputy Fontaine?”

  “Nope.”

  Right. She’d press the matter later.

  More of that Iowa chivalry came out as Fontaine grabbed the door before she could and pulled it open, holding it for her to enter first. This would take some getting used to.

  Behind a curved receptionist desk sat a stunning brunette in black-rimmed glasses, wearing a dark blue polo with the Terra Firma company logo on her left shoulder. She gave them a smile, her gaze lingering on the beefy deputy at Lila’s side. This was going to be an issue with this man, no matter where they went.

  “Welcome to Terra Firma, how can I help you . . . deputies?”

  Lila leaned an elbow on the counter and let her impromptu partner take the lead. After all, she wasn’t all too sure what his plan of attack was for this.

  “Could we speak with the manager?” Fontaine asked.

  “Just a minute.” The woman picked up the phone and punched an extension button.

  Lila’s gaze roamed the walls, taking in the framed photos backing the receptionist. The largest one, front and center, showed off the ribbon cutting with a lot of suits. One would surmise that some of those suits were politicos.

  “He’ll be right up.” Blue eyes batted at Fontaine.

  He dipped his chin and put his back to the desk, hooking his thumbs in his duty belt. The receptionist seemed stymied by his lack of interest.

  This amused Lila to no end. Crossing both arms on the counter, she leaned on them. “A fertilizer plant out in the middle of nowhere.”

  The receptionist looked at her. “Yes, it was a condition with the state to not bring complaints from residential areas. The chemicals can get . . . overwhelming.”

  Lila propped her chin on an upraised fist. “Is that so? Hmm.”

  A line lit up and the phone rang. Her attention still on Lila, the receptionist picked up the handset. “Good morning, Terra Firma. How may I direct your call?”

  A light tap to her arm pulled Lila away. Fontaine beckoned her closer to the door.

  Ducking his head, he scrunched his face. “What are you doing?” he rasped.

  “Getting a lay of the land. Is there a problem with that?”

  “It could be. We’re about to ask some sobering questions, and the last thing we need is someone with a bee up their . . . rear.”

  Lila smirked at his adjustment. “Chill out, Fontaine. I’m not here to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

  Sharp clack of leather against polished flooring ended their little confab. A whipcord-thin man wearing snug-fitting dark blue jeans, a tan blazer over a light blue button-down, and square-toed boots rounded the desk.

  “Rafe, how are you?” He thrust out his hand.

  Shaking the offered hand, Fontaine smiled. “Jimmy, I didn’t know you were managing this place.”

  “Putting that ag degree to good use.” Jimmy’s eyes flicked to Lila, his hand following suit. “Jimmy Rhoads.”

  Lila gave him a firm squeeze. “Deputy Lila Dayne.”

  Jimmy’s attention returned to Fontaine. “What brings you clear out here?”

  Her partner looked back at the receptionist. “Is there someplace we could speak in private?”

  “Uh, sure. Let’s head to my office.” As he led them past the desk, Jimmy caught the brunette’s attention. “Send my calls to voice mail.”

  The men adopted a leisure pace, which suited Lila’s aching body just fine, and it gave her time to assess the wall adornments.

  “How long you been back, Jimmy?”

  “Since they poured the concrete.” Jimmy slapped Fontaine’s Kevlar-strapped shoulder. “I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other before now.”

  A throaty grunt was the answer.

  “Hear from your brother much? I heard he and Elizabeth split up and now she’s the sheriff.”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  Lila shivered at Fontaine’s frosty tone. Apparently, conversation about his brother was off-limits.

  “How long did it take to build this place?” she asked.

  “Two and half years. Seems like a long time, but the business plan is to recoup the costs in less time. The owners have a good track record of doing as they promise.” Jimmy paused outside an open door. “Here we are.”

  Once again, Lila was allowed first entry into the immaculate space. The room was painted a dove gray with midnight-blue trim, leather and wood furniture, and above Jimmy’s chair anchored to the wall, a stuffed pheasant midflight.

  “Nice bird.”

  Jimmy grinned, closing the door. “Bagged him last season.” He took position behind his desk but didn’t sit. “Okay, Rafe. We have privacy.”

  Fontaine weaved between the two visitors’ chairs and rooted himself next to the desk. “My visit here isn’t a pleasant one. What I’m about to ask you stays in this office. Do you understand?”

  Blinking, Jimmy grasped the edges of his blazer. “Good God, Rafe, it sounds like you’re about to deliver some bad news.”

  Fontaine met Lila’s gaze. The look in his eyes troubled her. Was he regretting his decision? His focus returned to Jimmy.

  “Is this place running at full capacity?”

  “No. We still need about twen
ty more employees, some of those have yet to arrive. I’m expecting them by the end of the month.”

  Lila shifted to attract Jimmy’s notice. “When this place is fully operational, what is the expected employee population?”

  “Two hundred to two-fifty. Is this going somewhere?”

  Fontaine ripped the Velcro flap from his left side pocket on his pants. Reaching inside, he withdrew his cell phone. “Of the ones working here now, how many are locals?”

  “Barely a third. The rest are from Illinois, Missouri, and I’ve had a few come down from Minnesota. There’s a group from western Iowa.”

  “Of the out-of-staters, what percentage of them are families?” Lila asked.

  “Lower than the singles population. Not many people are willing to uproot their families and move, despite the pay incentives these jobs bring.” Jimmy’s worried look turned skeptical. “I still don’t see what this has to do with your reasons for being here.”

  Setting his phone on the desktop, Fontaine slid it across the calendar, pulling his hand back to reveal a photo of the first victim. “Do you recognize this girl?”

  It took him a moment, but the curious look Jimmy gave the photo turned to shock. “Is she dead?”

  “Yes.”

  Jimmy’s head whiplashed back.

  “Oh my God.” He took a step back from the phone. “I don’t know that girl, and I didn’t have anything to do with her death. Never seen her in my life.”

  Lila moved closer to the desk, holding up her hands. Jimmy looked on the verge of a panic attack. “Mr. Rhoads, look at me.” His gaze snapped to her. “We aren’t insinuating that you had anything to do with her death. We’re just trying to learn who she is.”

  The panic didn’t abate, but Jimmy seemed a little more in a listening mood. “I’m serious. I haven’t seen her before.”

  “Maybe you saw another girl, she’s about five-eight, dark brown hair with purple ends, a nose piercing, wearing braces?” Lila asked.

  Jimmy shook his head. “Hair color like that I would remember, but no. That doesn’t mean they don’t have family here.”

  “That’s why we came,” Fontaine said. “Has anyone not shown up for work for any reason in the last three days?”