Out Of Control

by Desiree Holt

  Scott nodded. “Makes sense. What kid doesn’t love a clown? Great method of enticement.”

  “It seems, in almost every instance, the family was at a community event. Rodeo, picnic, county fair, one of several public events that go on around here all the time. At least two mothers said their daughters were last seen running toward a clown.”

  “But no clowns with these latest killings.”

  “No, but she still thinks the killings could be connected. The difference is those were small children. These victims are teenagers. I wanted to get your take on having Nita look at all the old autopsy reports for similarities.”

  Scott leaned forward in his chair. “Maybe the girls are older because he’s older. Maybe his preference has changed over the years. And we don’t know what he’s been doing all this time, if it is the same perp.”

  “Dana brought that up, too. Suggested he might have moved his activities to another county to keep from being identified here.”

  “Entirely possible,” Scott agreed.

  Nita looked from one to the other. “But that would mean the perp in the old case wasn’t a transient like everyone said. That it’s someone who lives around here. Has for a long time.”

  “That’s right. And we have to accept that possibility.” Cole turned to Scott. “Okay, then. Can you get someone at Quantico to profile this person for us?”

  “As soon as I have more information. I don’t suppose the old files are on computer.”

  “Unfortunately, no. But I can have someone scan them for you.”

  “No, let’s just fax everything. That’ll be quicker.”

  “Okay. As soon as we wrap up, I’ll get someone on it.”

  “Nita and I can start with the new cases until they can bring us the old ones.” Scott snatched a pad of paper and pen from Cole’s desk and began making notes.

  Cole leaned forward. “Okay, next. Can you have your office check NCIC or whatever other databases you think might work to check for similar crimes during the twenty-five year interim? We could find out if this guy’s been killing all this time somewhere else or just in hibernation, brought out by some perceived danger. I don’t want any more bodies turning up.”

  Scott gave him a piercing look. “You really think Dana Moretti’s the trigger for this, don’t you?”

  Cole exhaled slowly. “Yes. I do. I know she’s worried about it, too. He may be creating a situation that will overshadow what she’s trying to do. Keep us all so busy no one has time to talk to her and she’ll give up and leave.”

  “Or he could be working up to her,” Clayton pointed out. “She showed up and now he’s nervous.”

  A sudden chill skittered through Cole’s blood. He’d tried to avoid thinking that very thing, but now it was staring him in the face. He heard Nita’s indrawn breath.

  “I’ve thought of that,” he said, his throat suddenly too tight. “I keep hoping I’m wrong, just connecting too many dots.”

  No one said a thing for a very long minute. Then Scott stood up. “All right. Is there someplace Nita and I can work?”

  “The conference room. We’re wireless, believe it or not, so you’ll be online at once. I’ll put a note on the door and keep everyone out. You’ll have to break to meet with the deputies because it’s the only space we have for that.”

  “No problem. When we’re finished, I’d like you and your senior deputy to join us and we’ll see where we’re at.”

  “Okay. Come on. I’ll get y’all set up.”

  But as he walked toward the door, his cell rang. Looking at the Caller ID, he said, “Nita, why don’t you show Scott where the conference room is and get started. I’ll get someone running the fax in a minute.”

  As soon as they left, he pressed Talk. “Hey, darlin’. What’s up?”

  “Don’t be made at me, but Ivy Winslow called. She’s gotten some of the mothers to meet with me at her place. I’m heading there now.”

  “Dana, listen.” His hand tightened on the phone.

  “I know what you’re going to say, but what can happen to me at the Winslows? And I’ll keep checking in with you. Please, Cole? This is a real breakthrough.”

  “I guess I can’t stop you, right?”

  “I promise to be careful. Really.”

  “You call me when you get ready to leave there. You hear?”

  “Word of honor.” Her voice lowered. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “No doubt about it.”

  When he disconnected the call, he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his mouth. Something good came out of everything.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Dana knew Cole was unhappy and worried for her safety, but she couldn’t let him lock her away until this was over. Especially now, when things were beginning to turn her way.

  The women seated around the table in Ivy’s sunny kitchen wore expressions that were a mixture of fear and defiance. There were five of them, as Ivy had said, and she introduced each one to Dana. Natalie Grimes. Sharon Colton. Letha Milton. Sonja Escobedo. Mila Garza, who was on her list. Two of them, Ivy had told her, never recovered from the crimes, so Dana was surprised they’d agreed to come.

  She slipped into the vacant seat at the head of the table, accepted a cup of coffee from Ivy and smiled softly at everyone. But when she brought out her little tape recorder, the women froze.

  “If you’d rather I didn’t use this, I’ll shut it off. But I find if I’m taking notes, I’m not paying full attention to what everyone’s saying.”

  “We had it on when I talked with Dana yesterday,” Ivy put in. “If there’s something on there you want her to erase or not use, all you have to do is ask.”

  “First of all,” Dana told them, “let me assure you, I’m not looking to sensationalize what happened. If any of you have read my books, you’ll know I turn them into full length books based on truth and I’m very matter of fact about things. I don’t want you to say anything you don’t want to, and I’m not looking to hurt anyone.”

  “I’d like to ask a question.” Natalie’s voice was tentative. “If you don’t mind.”

  Dana nodded. “Anything at all.”

  “Why do you do this? Dig up all this…this,” she opened her hands, “sludge and slime? Make celebrities out of the people who do these awful things?”

  It was a question Dana had often been asked. She looked at each woman as she answered. “I’m not trying to glorify them or give them celebrity status. I’m trying to solve a puzzle, to finally give people answers they’ve never had. And to let them see the rotten underbelly that could easily belong to the person sitting next to them in a restaurant. Maybe help people be more aware of the evil that’s out there and how to avoid it.”

  “It’s a wonder you don’t have nightmares,” Sharon put in.

  You don’t know the half of it.

  “What exactly are you looking for with this book?” Mila asked, slightly defensive. “Haven’t we been through enough?”

  “Answers for everyone. When a crime is never solved, when there’s no resolution, it’s very hard to move past the heartache.” She let her eyes travel from face to face as she spoke. “I’m hoping to either turn up new evidence, as I’ve managed to do many times before, or find a different angle. I’m looking for anything that might make people take a new look at things. Maybe even solve the case.”

  “Do you think this is someone who lived here?” Sonja wanted to know. “Who maybe still lives here?”

  So. Not everyone had bought the party line about an itinerant stranger.

  Dana nodded. “I hate to say this, but it’s entirely possible.”

  “What’s he been doing all this time, then?” Sonja persisted. “Did he just stop? I heard people who do the kind of things he did can’t control themselves.”

  Dana pursed her lips. “That’s not exactly true. They control themselves until the urge builds and builds, then they seek relief again. I have a theory that he’s been active someplace else all this t
ime and we don’t know about it.”

  They peppered her with questions, which she answered the best she could. She didn’t want to cut anyone off because it would be hard to get them talking again. This was almost a gift. Usually, she had to light a stick of dynamite to get her interviews completed.

  Ivy kept everyone’s coffee cups filled and warm cinnamon rolls on the table. The women talked, the recorder hummed, and Dana listened to every word carefully. Some of these women were still holding themselves and their marriages together with frangible glue. Others had managed to center themselves, as Ivy had, for the sake of their other children.

  But as Dana had expected, all the stories had one thread in common.

  Clowns.

  They had all been at events with clowns. The little knot of expectation inside her began to expand.

  “Do you think the Chamber would still have records of who they hired?” she asked, when the conversation began to wind down.

  “I don’t know,” Letha answered. “But I could find out. I volunteered there back then.”

  “I’d really appreciate it.” Dana handed over her business card with her cell number circled. “I hate to push, but the sooner you can do this the better. The sheriff has called in the FBI to help on the recent cases, and I’m hoping to interest them in looking at this.”

  Ivy stopped in the midst of lifting her coffee cup to her lips. “The FBI’s here? Really? And you think they’d take a look at these murders after all this time?”

  “I hope so. The more information I can give them, the better chance I have.”

  Letha pushed her chair back and stood up. “I’ll go see what I can find out right now. Mila? We rode together. Are you okay with leaving now?”

  Mila Garza swallowed the last of her coffee. “Yes. I volunteered back then, too. Maybe I can help you.”

  The two women made quick goodbyes and hurried out to Letha’s car.

  “Well.” Ivy looked around the table. “Maybe we’re finally getting somewhere.”

  “It would be nice to have some answers after all this time,” Natalie said, her face pinched with bitterness. “Maybe Frank and I could figure out a way to talk to each other again. Twenty-five years is a long time to live with a ghost.”

  “I want to thank you for this,” Dana said. “You’ve helped me immeasurably.”

  “If you can do anything to find answers for us after all this time, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” This from Sharon, who had such sadness in her eyes Dana wanted to weep for her.

  Somehow, in some strange way, it was helping her own problems to see other people who’d been affected by what happened. She wasn’t alone in her grief, or in the damage to families. But she was the only survivor. She was the only one with nightmares so personal that her life was frozen by them.

  At least until Cole.

  Oh, yes. Cole.

  She swallowed a tiny smile.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “So. Finally, awake.” He looked at the woman tied naked to the bed.

  Her eyes widened with fear as she looked at him, then around the one room cabin.

  “I’ve been watching you.” He laughed when she tugged at the restraints and disbelief mingled with the fear in her eyes. He knew what she was thinking. He was everyone’s friend, a pillar of the community. Well respected. His best disguise.

  “I think anticipation is part of the enjoyment, don’t you, Gaby?” He laughed as she struggled more, but he’d tied her good and tight. “Yes, I’ve found that to be true. So I’m going to leave you here for a while, to contemplate the exciting things we’re going to do together. But I won’t be long.”

  He started toward the door but turned back. “Oh, and don’t count on anyone accidentally finding you. If anyone ever knew about this place, they’ve long since forgotten. No, you’ll be nice and safe until I get back. See you in a little while.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Cole looked at his watch. Again. Scott and Nita had been closeted in the conference room for nearly two hours, and he wondered if they were making any progress reviewing all those cases. If they had something to tell him, they would, but all of this was making him very jittery. Probably because of Dana.

  He’d busied himself with paperwork. Making phone calls. Fending off questions from his deputies. Finally, at eleven o’clock he gave it up and told Grace he was going to Harry’s. “Call me there as soon as the door to the conference room opens. I can be back here in five.”

  “Got it.”

  He clapped his Stetson on as he headed toward the door. “Where’s Gaylen?”

  “In his office.”

  Cole stopped in the doorway to the small cubicle. “Care to go to Harry’s with me? I’m about to jump out of my skin.”

  Gaylen shook his head. “I’ve put off these traffic reports too long. My boss might fire me.”

  Cole chuckled. “That’ll be the day. Okay, I’ll be back soon.”

  The pre-lunch crowd was beginning to fill up the restaurant when he swung open the door to Harry’s. He spotted Adele and Tate Bishop in a booth toward the back and headed toward them.

  “Twice in one day,” he joked with his uncle.

  Adele slid over to make room for him, leaning toward him to plant a kiss on his cheek.

  “We hardly see you these days, Cole,” she complained. “The other night you took off before I could hardly say hello. Do I have to come into town at the crack of dawn like Tate does to have a meal with you?”

  He took off his hat and reached around her to put it on the little ledge next to the booth, giving her a quick hug as he did so. “Just as soon as I get this case put to bed, you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

  “You work too hard,” she told him.

  “The boy’s in the middle of a mess, Del,” Tate pointed out. “Leave him be. When he gets it put away, he’ll need a dinner to patch him back up.”

  “I’m not used to seeing both of you in town in the middle of the day,” Cole commented. He accepted coffee from the waitress then waved her away.

  “Adele had an eye doctor’s appointment,” Tate explained. “She had to have her eyes dilated so she can’t drive. I’m playing chauffeur.”

  “Besides,” she grinned, “this way I get a free lunch.”

  Cole was about to lift his mug when someone stuck a folded newspaper under his nose. He looked up to see John Garrett standing beside him.

  “Hot off the presses,” the older man told him. “Let me know what you think.”

  “I will. Thanks.” He unfolded the paper and began the front-page story.

  “Would you like to join us, John?” Adele asked.

  “Maybe just for a minute.”

  But before he could slide into the booth, another man called to them. Cole looked up to see Jed Nickels standing next to John. The man was nearly as tall as both Tate Bishop and John Garrett, but he’d let himself go somewhat to seed physically when he’d left office. His belly pushed a little too hard against his belt and a double chin softened his jawline. The former sheriff nodded to everyone.

  “I stopped by your office, Cole, and Grace told me you were here. I thought I’d see if that FBI man was doing you any good.”

  Cole laid the newspaper down on the table. “I’ll let you know in a little while. He’s going over the crime reports and the autopsies with Nita right now. I got antsy waiting around, so I came over here to get some relief from that poison Grace brews.”

  He stopped himself just short of mentioning what was happening with the old cases. He didn’t want Jed to think they were second-guessing him after all this time until he had something concrete to go on.

  “Well, give me a call if you need me.” Jed winked at him. “I still might have an idea or two, no matter how old I am.”

  Cole reached out to shake the old man’s hand. “I don’t think you’ll ever be too old, Jed. And I might just take you up on your offer.”

  “Say, you know this Moretti woman, Col
e?”

  Cole forced himself to remain calm. “Yes. I do. Why?”

  “She called my house the other day. I hear she’s poking into those cases from long ago.” He shook his head. “Bad business, Cole. Bad. Making a lot of people angry. You need to tell her to quit before she gets hurt.”

  Cole clenched his teeth so tightly he was afraid his jaw would crack. “You sending some kind of message, Jed?”

  The man looked at him for an endless moment. Then he shook his head. “Just letting you know the climate. Well, I need to get going, then. Have to run a couple of errands before heading home.”

  “I’m on my way, too,” Garrett said. “What do you think, Cole? About the article?”

  “Good job from what I read so far. I really appreciate it.” He looked at the others. “I asked John to write something that would help keep the town from exploding.”

  “If I’d known everyone was here, I’d have brought extra copies,” John apologized. “I have a stop to make, but if you go by the paper, they’ll give you one. Anyone who wants it.”

  “I might do that,” Jed said and dipped his head in a farewell gesture. “Later, folks.”

  “We have to get going, too,” Tate said. “I have some business to take care of this afternoon, and I need to get Adele home first.”

  “Honey, I’d be happy to go with you,” she told him. “No sense doing all that back and forth driving.”

  “You’d just be bored, sweetheart.” He patted her hand. “I’ll finish up as soon as I can.”

  “Boy, do I know how to clear a room or what?” Cole joked. At that moment, his cell phone vibrated and he looked at the readout. Grace. He clapped the phone to his ear. “Yes?”

  “You’re being paged,” she told him.

  “I’m right there.”

  ****

  Dana debated stopping at Cole’s office to let him know the results of her meeting. No, bad idea. He’d be caught up in a million things. Better to call first. Anyway, she knew he’d be expecting to hear from her.

  She hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry when she left the Winslows and saw a sheriff’s patrol car gliding down the road and back again. On the way to town, it passed her, but then she spotted another one.