“Or as if the license plate had been purposely covered. As if someone was watching.”
“Watching what?”
“Us,” Angela said, pointing at Meg. “Or, more specifically, you.”
CHAPTER 5
When Matt was a college student, he’d worked at a local pub in Richmond. The owner had been an Irishman and Matt—with Irish in his own background—had been certain he’d have a great time working there.
It didn’t happen. He quickly realized that a man’s background didn’t always mean very much. Some people were good and others were jerks—no matter where they came from.
His boss had been one of the latter. The employees had called him Fat Bastard.
Harvey Legend was that kind of guy. Big, beefy and full of self-importance, he yelled at three of the servers while he was on his way to see Matt. His attitude didn’t seem to fit the tone of the place, since the restaurant was elegant—white-clothed tables, wine and water glasses, a selection of flatware at each setting. He recognized public officials at several of the tables, and various people involved with government.
A hostess had gone to get Legend for Matt; he waited in a handsome foyer with a hardwood reception stand and a plush carpeted floor.
Legend arrived, shook hands with Matt and seemed pumped up about the FBI coming to see him. Matt had the feeling that the guy thought Cathy Crighton was finally worth something because she’d brought the FBI to his door.
“When, exactly, did you see her last?” Matt asked.
“Like I told the police, it was about five weeks ago. She showed up late on her last night here and I told her not to come back if she wasn’t on time for her next shift. She didn’t show, and I figured she knew I meant it. I didn’t think about her again,” Legend explained to Matt. “I’ve said all this to the cops who came here, but I don’t mind going through it again.”
“What about her last paycheck?” Matt asked, ignoring the man’s self-righteous manner.
“Still on my desk,” he said with a shrug. He frowned, looking past Matt, and shouted at one of the young women heading toward the kitchen. “Sue! There should be water on that table by now!”
“Yes, Mr. Legend,” she said, flushing and glancing awkwardly at Matt. He offered her an understanding smile as she hurried on.
Fat Bastard, oh, yeah.
“Her paycheck?” he repeated.
Legend sniffed. “It was only for three hours. She got in late, and her last night was the first night of the pay week. Like I said, it’s on my desk.”
“It didn’t occur to check on her when she didn’t come to get it?”
“Hey, I’m not child services for adults,” Legend said defensively. “I left her a message, but she never came in. The check’s not for a lot of money. Our hourly wage is minimum. The tips here are good, though, and the waitstaff does very well.”
“Did you know anything about her personal life?” Matt asked.
“Not me. She wasn’t here that long. She was an okay waitress—not great, but okay. She was bad about showing up on schedule. And I never had her close the place. Wasn’t sure I trusted her with a bank.”
“What about customers? Did you ever see anyone watching her? Did she have any regulars?”
“I don’t encourage the same waiters or waitresses to serve the same people all the time. As you can see, we get an elite clientele here, most of ’em political. Better to keep politics out of the kitchen, I say. So, no special customers.”
“Is there anyone here who could give me some information about her personal life?”
“Sue. Sue Gaffney.” He nodded toward the smiling brunette, who was coming from the kitchen just then.
“Perhaps you’d be so good as to have someone else handle her tables for a few minutes?” Matt asked politely.
“Absolutely.” Legend went on to summon Sue and yell at other members of his staff. Maybe his yelling was considered a mark of affection.
Unlikely.
The brunette came rushing from the dining room, looking a little flustered. He realized that her eyes were moist despite the fact that she was distracted.
She offered him her hand and then drew it back, apologizing. “Hollandaise sauce. I’m sorry. And I’m so sorry about Cathy. She really was a sweetheart.”
Sue obviously meant it.
She shivered suddenly. “And what happened to her—it’s so terrible!”
“Very, and of course we want to put away the person who did this,” Matt assured her. “Listen,” he added, “I need your help. There’s no family to turn to. Was she seeing anyone? Did she say anything to you about anyone bothering her or following her or even looking at her too long?”
Sue shook her head. “Cathy was open and giving and sweet. And yet she was shuffled around like a used sweater when she was a kid. She still had faith in people, and she loved being here. She wasn’t seeing anyone. She hadn’t been here long and was just getting on her feet. She was going to take part-time college classes. She hadn’t decided what she was going to major in, but she was going to learn about government and eventually get involved in some way. She was really wonderful!”
Matt produced a business card and handed it to her. “If you think of anything at all, please call me. You never know what little thing might help. Do you know if there was anyone she waited on exclusively? Did she like any particular customers? Hate any customers?”
“She just loved it that we had lobbyists, senators, campaign heads, congressmen and congresswomen, secret service—you name it!—in here. She liked all of them. I’m telling you, there wasn’t a mean bone in her body,” Sue said. “I miss her so much!”
Her eyes filled with tears she tried to blink back, and Matt knew she couldn’t break down in the restaurant; she wanted to keep her job.
“Please,” he said. “Call me with anything.”
Sue nodded.
He gave her an encouraging smile. About to leave, he paused. “Does Congressman Walker ever dine here?”
“He’s been in once or twice. Oh! Yes! He used to come in with my favorite customer!” She looked around and lowered her voice. “I thought the world of Congressman Garth Hubbard. What a loss, too. Such an intelligent man. And so polite. He could be in the middle of a political argument and yet he never failed to thank his waiter or waitress. First his heart attack, and now Cathy—it’s dreadful. They say the good die young. Well, Hubbard wasn’t exactly young, but you know what I mean, right?”
“Absolutely. Thank you,” Matt told her.
She waved his card in the air. “You should come back here, too. The food is very good. And honestly, it’s not overpriced.”
He smiled and made his way out.
Maybe there was a connection between the murdered women and Lara Mayhew’s disappearance. What it might be he couldn’t begin to fathom.
And maybe there was something to the idea of a conspiracy.
But a conspiracy to do what?
* * *
Leaving her new not-much-of-a-home-yet town house, Meg discovered that Angela was driving them back to the OCME. The remains of their first victim had been brought there, and Wong and Kat were both going to comment on their findings.
“I don’t think there’s anything new,” Angela told her. “But we’ll meet up with Matt and talk to Dr. Wong and Kat.” There wouldn’t be much they didn’t already know, but it was a chance to see the other victim. And to touch her.
And learn if, somehow, Cathy Crighton might still be there, among them.
They didn’t expect to find ghosts, the remnants of the human spirit—whatever word you wanted to use—at the morgue. Nor did it seem that spirits liked to hang around in a cemetery. In a situation like this, they were usually seeking a way to tell others what had happened.
So
me remained where great or traumatic events had taken place, while some weren’t even sure why they lingered. Some merely enjoyed their status. Others were anxious to move on—once justice was done, a loved one helped—or perhaps after seeing a beloved child grow up.
Cathy Crighton wasn’t in the morgue—other than in her raggedly damaged human form.
Water, be it from a river, a lake or an ocean, wasn’t kind. Creatures lived in water of all types and consumed tissue and flesh.
Discoloration occurred.
When life was gone, a body was an empty shell. And in circumstances like this, the body was barely recognizable as the woman she had been.
Meg would’ve had the same fear she’d had earlier—that this young woman might have been Lara, had she not died weeks before Lara had gone missing.
“We still haven’t been able to identify the young woman recovered this week,” Wong said. He glanced over at Kat Sokolov. Apparently, they’d worked together before and Wong got along well with her. “We agree she’s between twenty-five and thirty-five, but there’s one difference—she’s not a natural blonde. As far as we can tell, the murder occurred in exactly the same way. He seems to take them completely unawares. Chloroform—on a handkerchief, napkin, whatever. He knocks them out, and hits them with the stronger drug, strong enough for surgery. Then he slits their throats.”
“Would you compare him to any other well-known serial killer?” Matt asked.
Wong shook his head. “No. At least not in the obvious ways. He’s not taking pleasure in their pain. Most serial killers enjoy the victim’s terror, and sexual killers generally need the power. That’s how they get off. But this guy…he doesn’t rape them. He doesn’t need to see their fear—he almost wants to avoid it.”
“Methodical,” Matt Bosworth said.
Kat nodded. “As for the victims, they were both young. Similar in appearance.”
“When we learn this young woman’s identity, I believe we’ll find that she’s from similar circumstances,” Matt said.
“Meaning?” Kat asked.
“She’ll be someone who could disappear for a day or two without others noticing. She lives alone. She has a job where she wouldn’t necessarily be expected in every day. The killer watches them for a long time before he takes them,” Matt said.
“I think you’re right,” Kat said slowly. “Cathy wasn’t immediately missed because she was so new to the city and had no close friends or family to watch out for her on a daily basis. Our second victim isn’t going to be a homeless drug addict living on the street. But again, she’ll be someone who doesn’t have family nearby. And she’s someone who probably didn’t have a boyfriend.” Meg was silent. That description didn’t fit Lara Mayhew. Lara had an aunt not far away, an aunt who loved her. She had any number of friends.
She’d had Meg, a close friend about to graduate from the FBI.
Meg realized she’d been holding her breath when she was forced to inhale. Despite the cold in which the body had been kept, the smell of decomposition and antibacterial chemicals suddenly seemed overwhelming. She fought hard not to let her near-nausea show.
Matt stepped forward, making a pretense, she thought, of studying the bloated, patchy face. He set a hand on the corpse and looked at her. “Meg, what is this? On her eyes?”
She came closer and touched the corpse and studied the unknown woman’s face. The body was so cold and stiff she didn’t feel she’d touched a human being at all. She looked at Matt and then over at the others. “Permanent makeup,” she said. “It’s like tattoo art. She has lip liner and eyeliner.”
“Yes, we’ve noted it,” Kat agreed. Wong nodded solemnly.
“Possibly done in the area. We can check into that,” Matt said.
Angela stood quietly toward the rear of their group. “I’ll get some of our people on it right away. There’ll be a number of facilities around here doing that kind of work. We’ll also get a good likeness of her on the media. When we ask for help, we’re often surprised by where we get it.”
“Anything else here?” Kat asked.
“No,” Matt said. He gestured at Kat and Angela and then Meg. “Nothing, right?” They shook their heads in unison.
Meg couldn’t have been happier to leave. Outside, the DC sun seemed especially brilliant and the sky was a fresh, bright blue.
The air smelled so clean…
“Are you okay?” Matt asked.
“Of course,” she said. “I did just go—”
“Through the academy. Yes, we all know,” he told her. “I’ll see you at the office. We’ll be driving to Richmond tonight. I’m sure you have places for us to go?”
“Yes,” Meg said, staring back at him. She did have places for them to go, based on her history with Lara and the trail of information detailed in Lara’s journal.
They’d go to the kind of places they used to love visiting. And, of course, if they found nothing, it would be embarrassing—and she was afraid it could be the end for her with the Krewe of Hunters.
Adam believed in her. Was that going to be enough? Was she really ready to find her friend in the same condition as Cathy Crighton and their Jane Doe?
She’d accepted that Lara was dead. She’d seen her.
And yet, despite that, she was living on hope. Maybe, as Matt had suggested, their connection was strong enough that Lara might have somehow reached out to her for help. One mind connecting with another…
She didn’t think that Matt Bosworth, unlike Adam, believed in her. He didn’t say so, and certainly wouldn’t be vocal with his opinion. He’d been skeptical when she’d said she knew Lara was dead. But he was the consummate professional; he’d been told to go with her and he would.
That was all right. She’d do whatever was needed, if she could only find out the truth about Lara.
* * *
Jackson would be attending the main task force meeting later on. That meeting was intended to keep local law enforcement up to date on the information they’d obtained thus far.
They held a small meeting of Krewe agents before Matt and Meg were due to go on the road in pursuit of Lara Mayhew.
They were in one of the two large meeting rooms at Krewe headquarters. She wondered when Angela Hawkins had time to manage everything she did; she was the one who tied all the threads together. She already had a board with pictures—Cathy Crighton was pictured as she’d been alive, via photographs from her friend Sue, and as she was now, dead. Their second victim, still unidentified, also had her place on the board—with only one picture, the way she was now, on the gurney at the ME’s office.
The time patterns they knew regarding the deaths had been noted; pertinent facts about the victims had been noted as well, down to the fact that Cathy had last dined on meat loaf and potatoes, one of the specialties at the Big Fish—and their Jane Doe had consumed sushi, made with high-grade tuna.
While the tuna itself might have been available at the Big Fish, there was an unusual seasoning in it that was only used by specialty sushi restaurants in the city. Angela stated that she and Kat would be tracking those down, along with facilities that offered permanent makeup.
Meg was wondering again how much sense it made for her and Matt to go off on what could be a total waste of time when there were leads to run down. As soon as Matt gave his report about his meeting with Harvey Legend at the Big Fish, however, she understood that while they might be looking at a far-fetched idea—that of a conspiracy—certain circumstances might prove to be more than coincidental.
“The Big Fish caters to the Washington elite,” he told their group. “Our first victim, Cathy Crighton, worked there. Both Congressman Hubbard and Congressman Walker were known to dine there with their retinues. Yes, many restaurants in the area cater to members of government. And the murders of Cathy Crighton and our Jane Doe might have ab
solutely nothing to do with what’s been accepted as the natural death of Congressman Hubbard. But since Lara Mayhew is missing after leaving a strange call, I do think it’s highly important that we find her—whether any of these incidents are related or not.”
“Your plan is Richmond tonight and moving on tomorrow?” Jackson asked.
Matt turned to her.
Meg nodded. “We’ll speak with Lara’s aunt and try some local places she loves and figure out if she’s been seen or not.”
“And then Harpers Ferry?”
“If she left me a message, it’s there,” Meg said. She hesitated. “There was also a small cabin we used to rent up near the Gettysburg Battlefield. It’s unlikely, but the owner is a friend and there wouldn’t be a phone trace or internet tracking of any kind if she did go there.”
She noted that Matt had gone quiet. He was watching her.
“There’s been no movement on her bank account or credit cards,” he said.
She swallowed painfully. That might well mean that the apparition she’d seen in the mirror meant what she’d been afraid it did—that Lara was dead and she’d died in DC.
“If she’s hiding out somewhere, she’d be smart enough to know she could be traced through cards and numbers,” Kat pointed out softly.
Meg didn’t hear a phone buzz but Jackson Crow excused himself and left the room. He walked back in almost immediately.
“There’s been another death,” he said. “And you’re heading in the right direction. This girl was found close to Richmond.”
* * *
Just where was the line between life and death?
Lara realized she could hardly move. Her limbs were heavy and felt stiff. She’d been over every inch of her prison.
She’d sworn that she’d live, that she’d survive. And if she did, there’d be no hesitation. She wouldn’t allow anyone to get away with this or anything else. Slander, unemployment, even jail, whatever the repercussions…
They were all better than death.
She was tired, exhausted, hungry. She drifted in and out of sleep. She suffered moments when she was sure she was dead. Those were followed by moments when she vowed that she’d live.
Krewe of Hunters Series, Volume 5 Page 10