“Is there a suspect?”
“No. The chief just wants to make sure all the information that’s circulating is correct.”
“Oh, right. Squelch any rumors, that sort of thing.”
“Right.”
“Well, I guess I’ll see you then.” He started to leave.
“Mr. Sinclair, any chance I could get a room at your inn tonight? It just occurred to me that the meeting might run late, and I have a distance to drive.”
“I’m sure we can accommodate you. Just come on over after the meeting and go to the front desk inside the lobby of the main house. We’ll have something reserved for you.”
“Great. Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“My pleasure.” He touched a finger to the brim of an invisible cap and started toward the door. A middle-aged woman holding the hand of a small child was coming in just as he reached it, and he paused to hold the door for them before turning and giving Mia a wave.
Well, she thought, at least I won’t have to make that long drive back to Connor’s. Maybe she’d duck into Bling at some point between now and the meeting and pick up something to wear tomorrow, maybe take a look at that cute bag. She always had an emergency bag in her trunk with toiletries and a nightshirt, but she didn’t usually travel with an extra set of work clothes. She’d been wanting to look around in Bling anyway, and this would give her a good excuse. It was as close to downtime as she was going to get this week.
She looked out the window and watched Dan Sinclair walk to his car on the opposite side of the street. He stopped in front of the art gallery and chatted with a young woman with long blond hair and a very short skirt.
A man in his early thirties came out of the gallery and spoke with the pair on the sidewalk. Shortly another man, also in his thirties, walked out of the bookstore with a bag under his arm.
Right there, right before her eyes, could be three viable suspects. Any one of them could be the killer.
Her head began to hurt. There seemed to be no end to the potential suspects in St. Dennis. She watched the men across the street for a few more minutes, then turned her attention back to the room. It seemed half the town was in Lola’s.
Without any physical evidence, there was no way to start eliminating suspects from the pool. Unless, of course, someone did something to distinguish themselves at the meeting tonight. Or unless the lab found something in the folds of plastic.
She’d call the lab for an update on her way back to the police department. As far as culling a credible suspect from the herd, she’d just have to figure out a way to do that between now and seven thirty.
16
Mia watched the crowd trickle into the community room of the St. Dennis municipal building. It was a little after seven and already the room had begun to fill up through the wide double doors. By the time the meeting started, it would be standing room only.
“Some crowd, eh?” Hal Garrity had appeared at her elbow.
“It’s great, don’t you think?” Mia nodded enthusiastically. “Shows that the residents are taking the situation seriously.”
“That, and not wanting to miss out on the chance to be on TV.” He pointed discreetly to the cameras that were being set up to the left of the podium. “And let’s not forget that there isn’t a whole lot going on around here on a weeknight.”
“You have to think the merchants are worried about losing business if this case isn’t solved soon.”
“Thing about St. Dennis”-he leaned closer and lowered his voice-“is that most of the shop owners aren’t worried at all. These past few years have been boom times around here. No one ever really expected the town to take off the way it did. Oh, some gambled on it, like Ham Forbes. Of course, some could say he had the inside track on buying up all the real estate he could down there on Charles Street.”
“That would be the mayor’s ex-husband?” Mia recalled that the mayor’s son’s last name was Forbes.
“Right. Say what you want about Christina Pratt, but she’s been right on target, far as the tourist thing. She pushed for money for renovating the harbor, pushed for grants to restore old buildings, pushed for everything she could get to spiff up the town.” Hal nodded in the direction of the mayor, who’d just entered the room. “Yeah, I’d call her a real visionary. She looked north at Chestertown and south to St. Michael’s and saw no reason why St. Dennis couldn’t offer as much in the way of atmosphere. And of course, shopping.”
“She was the catalyst?”
“Worked relentlessly to get what she wanted, got everyone who was anyone on the bandwagon with her. Paid off, I’d say.”
“Which one is Mr. Pratt?” Mia studied the three men who had accompanied the mayor into the room.
“None of them,” Hal told her. “He’s been gone about five years now, went back to Connecticut, where he came from.”
“Divorced?”
“Yes. Complained to anyone who’d listen that she put all her energy into the town, none into the marriage, and he split.”
The mayor and her companions made their way through the crowd. As they approached the spot where Mia and Hal stood, she touched the man closest to her on the arm and said, “ Hamilton, have you met Agent Shields?”
“I haven’t had the pleasure.” The very handsome silver-haired man dazzled Mia with a smile. “Ham Forbes, Agent Shields. So, you’re here to help Beck catch the bad guy.”
“With any luck.”
“I’d have thought luck wouldn’t be an issue,” he said smoothly. “I would expect the FBI to come in here with a game plan and take care of business.”
“We’re doing our best,” she assured him.
“Yes, well.” He straightened his tie. “Let’s hope that’s enough.”
He nodded to Mia and Hal, then resumed following his former wife through the crowd to the front of the room.
Mia watched him with an amused expression on her face.
“Am I supposed to guess why she divorced him?” she asked.
“You’d be wrong.” Hal chuckled. “He divorced her.”
“Really?” She thought that over for a moment. “A little too much ego under one roof?”
“Yes, and most of it hers.” Hal waved to a neighbor. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s developed a little spine over the past few years-remarried and divorced since they split up-but he was never in charge in that relationship. Christina calls the shots in everything she does.”
“Must make those town council meetings fun.”
“They are, actually,” Hal said with a wicked grin. “The thing is, she’s the best mayor this town ever had. She had the vision, and she had the guts to see it all through. St. Dennis would be just another sleepy bay town without her. The other side of the coin is that she can be the very devil if you don’t see things her way.”
“I think Beck mentioned that she spearheaded the revival of the town.”
“And happily sunk that spear into the back of anyone who stood in her way,” he said. “But she’s made more friends than enemies, because she was dead-on about what St. Dennis could become. A lot of people made a lot of money because they listened to her and invested in the right places at the right time.”
“Including Hamilton Forbes.”
“Especially Ham Forbes. He owns more of St. Dennis than anyone else in town.”
“Does he own beach property? In Dewey or Rehoboth, maybe?”
“Not as far as I know. He’s kept his holdings right here in town. Likes being a big fish in a small pond.” Hal seemed to study her face. “I know what you’re thinking, but no, Ham’s kept it all right here. If he’d bought property over in Rehoboth or Ocean City, we’d have heard about it. He likes to talk about what he has. Compensation, I’m thinking, for what he lacks.”
“Actually, I was thinking about his son.”
“As far as I know, Mickey doesn’t own anything except the two businesses. He did have some interest in a property out along the highway, but he sold that when the new sho
pping center went in. Going to end up paying for his divorce, from what I hear.”
“The center right outside of town? The one with the movie theater and the fancy coffee shop and the gym?” Mia had passed it several times. “That must have been some divorce settlement.”
“Yeah, I heard Callie-the soon to be ex-is making out pretty good. Mickey was lucky to keep the sporting goods store. I’m not sure he minded though. He wants out of the marriage, but he wants his kids taken care of, too. So he’ll give Callie pretty much everything she wants.”
“I’d think sporting goods would do well around here.”
“Very well. He carries a lot of fishing and hunting gear, along with the sports paraphernalia. Runs some soccer clubs, lacrosse, softball.” Hal laughed. “Time was, if you were into sports, all you needed was a pair of sneakers and a ball, maybe a glove and a bat, but that was as complicated as it got.”
“You play a sport back then, Hal?”
“Played some minor league baseball, yes, ma’am.” He nodded. “Some thought I’d make it to the pros, but my number came up in the draft. One day I was on the mound throwing my fastball, the next I was dropping out of a helicopter into a jungle in Vietnam. Spent the next twelve months dodging bullets.”
“One of my uncles was in Vietnam,” she told him. “My dad said he wasn’t the same person when he came back.”
“None of us were,” Hal nodded solemnly. “For any number of reasons…”
Beck walked up behind him and put a hand on Hal’s shoulder.
“We’re just about to start,” Beck said. “Either of you have any last-minute thoughts?”
“Just that you might want to ask the TV cameramen if they’d scan the crowd from time to time.” Mia suggested. “We can borrow the tape later and see if anyone stands out in any way.”
“I thought I’d ask both of you to keep an eye on the crowd. I think you both know what to look for.”
“I’ll take the right side of the room, Agent Shields can take the left,” Hal offered.
“Fine with me,” Mia agreed.
“Let’s get this moving, then.” Beck made his way back to the podium, stopping to talk to each of the cameramen he passed on the way.
By the time he reached the front of the room, Mia had wandered to the front left side where she had a good view of the crowd, as well as the door leading to the hall.
“Good evening, thanks for coming,” Beck was saying. “You all know why we’re here, but for those of you who may not have heard the whole story, or who may have only heard rumors, let me start at the beginning. Last Sunday night, the body of Colleen Preston was found on her parents’ front porch…”
Beck began to recite the saga, from the time Colleen’s body was found. Mia turned her attention to the crowd. She felt certain the killer would be here tonight-no way would he miss out on this-and she knew, too, there was only a fair chance his behavior might call the attention of even a trained eye. She knew the basics-he’d be a white male in his early to mid-thirties. She guessed he’d be well-dressed-he had the means to have a vehicle to transport his victim in, and access to some place secluded enough to keep her for a period of time, where he knew she wouldn’t be discovered. He’s going to be very interested in the proceedings tonight, and he’s going to be hanging on Beck’s every word. But at the same time, he’s going to be feeling very smug. After all, he knows what no one else in the room knew. He knew who he was, what he’d done, and how. She hoped his smugness might manifest itself in some discernible way, but knew better than to bet on that.
Mia’s eyes scanned row to row, front of the room to the back. There were more than enough white males in their mid-thirties, none of whom appeared to be reacting in an untoward manner. She strolled along the side of the room slowly, hoping to get a better look at the small group standing along the wall. She thought there was a good chance that the man they were looking for would select such a vantage point rather than a seat. Standing along the side would offer him the opportunity to watch the faces of the people in the audience. He’d get to see the looks of horror and fear on their faces as Beck laid out everything that had happened over the past week, and their fear would give him power over the entire room.
She smiled at the members of the St. Dennis police department who ringed the room. On her side of the room, Duncan Alcott leaned against the wall, halfway between the first row of chairs and the last, his arms folded. He stole an occasional glance at the crowd, but for the most part paid more attention to Beck than to his surroundings. Mia watched him pull a stick of gum from his pocket, unwrap it, and fold it slowly into his mouth, never taking his eyes off Beck. Behind him stood a group of seven or eight girls who appeared to be of high school age. Behind them, Lisa Singer stood next to a tall, good-looking, dark-haired man-her husband, Todd? Further back, Mia saw Vanessa Keaton standing with Mickey Forbes.
Mickey’s eyes were shining with excitement, and a chill went up Mia’s spine. She realized he wasn’t the only man in the crowd who was tantalized by the whole bondage and rape scenario Beck had laid out, but he was the only man in the crowd who was spending a lot of time with the police chief’s sister. She knew the killer would want to keep his finger on the pulse of the investigation. What better way to do that than to wine and dine Beck’s sister? Then again, he could probably learn all he wanted to know from his mother.
She wondered if Mickey owned any property that neither Hal nor Beck knew about. Did his father own abandoned buildings that his son had access to?
And there was Lisa Singer’s husband. How much closer to the investigation could you get without actually being a part of it?
Then again, as she’d said before, there were a lot of potential suspects here in St. Dennis.
There’s the balding man there in the back of the room, by the door. And that guy standing there at the end of the last row, watching the crowd instead of Beck, his face void of expression.
And who knows how many possible suspects Hal was mentally lining up on the opposite side of the room?
“…and take some questions, if anyone has any,” Mia heard Beck say, as she tuned back in.
There were the usual questions. Did the police have any suspects? Did they think he was going to strike again? What could the people of St. Dennis do to protect themselves? How was this going to affect the tourist business?
“You don’t really think this killer is someone from St. Dennis, do you?” a man in one of the middle rows asked.
“Actually, we do.” Beck nodded. “Everything points to him being local. He knows the area, he-”
“A lot of people know the area.” The man stood, his arms crossed defiantly over his chest. “You’re telling us this killer-this fiend-is one of us? I want to know how you can make a statement like that. Some of us are more than a little upset that you think one of us could be a deranged killer.”
The room went very still.
“Jack, the facts are what they are,” Beck told him.
“So we have to look at everyone with suspicion? Our neighbors, our friends, our sons, our brothers? He was growing increasingly agitated.
“Until we bring him in, yes.” Beck nodded. “Within reason, of course. Jack, no offense, but the killer is probably about twenty years younger than you, and probably in a little better shape. We’re pretty sure he’s in his early to mid-thirties, and he’s strong enough to overpower these women and carry them as dead weight to the places he chooses to dispose of them. Which he’s done with apparent ease, by the way. He didn’t seem to have much trouble carrying a victim through the yards on my street to my driveway.”
“How do you know he carried her through the backyards?” someone asked.
“Because one of my neighbors is an insomniac who was sitting on his front porch all night and never saw or heard a thing. So we know nothing passed by the front of the house,” Beck explained. “Then again, there’s a good chance he could have come in by boat, tied up at the dock at the end of the street, and
walked along in the shadow of the back fence until it ended. From there, he would have been walking behind the garages, so he could be fairly certain he wasn’t going to be seen at that hour of the night.”
“Well, mid-thirties and strong could apply to a hell of a lot of men around here,” another man in the crowd said. “How can you tell who’s a likely suspect and who’s not?”
Beck reiterated Annie’s profile to the crowd.
The group had grown very quiet once again. Beck looked across the room to her and said, “Agent Shields from the FBI is here with us. Agent Shields, is there anything you want to add?”
“There is.” She stepped forward, gathering her thoughts as she walked to the front of the room. Maybe there was a way to get the killer’s attention.
“I agree with Chief Beck that the man we’re looking for is from St. Dennis, as does one of the FBI’s best profilers.” Mia took the microphone from the stand and walked slowly around the room. “But I’d go one step further and say that I believe he’s in this room.”
A loud angry buzz seemed to flow from the front of the room to the back. Mia held up one hand.
“You all watch TV. You know that a serial killer is likely to be drawn to the media coverage of his crimes, right? He wants the attention. He wants to know what’s being said about him.” She strolled down the center aisle, her eyes scanning the crowd on both sides. “He wants to sit here-or stand-and feel superior to everyone in this room, especially the chief and his department. To me. To you. Right now, he’s hanging on my every word. He wants me to tell you how very smart, how very clever he is.”
She stopped in the aisle and looked around. The room had gone silent again.
“Well, he is very smart. Very clever. The profiler and I were saying just this morning that he’s not like anyone we’ve seen before. The way he kills is unique. He really has his act together. He’s highly organized and he very carefully plans every aspect of his crime from the abduction to the torture to the disposal of the bodies. I suspect he’s as organized in every aspect of his life.”
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