Beneath the Surface

by Lynn H. Blackburn

  “The killer thinks I can identify them,” Leigh said.

  Sabrina acknowledged her with a small thumbs-up.

  “But I don’t know who it is.”

  “Or you don’t know you know,” Sabrina said.

  “What does that mean?” Gabe frowned at all of them.

  “It means,” Adam said, “there’s an excellent chance Leigh does, in fact, know the killer. And while she may not realize she knows the killer, there are facts currently available to her that, when spliced together, will identify both the killer of our John Does and the person attempting to kill her.”

  “Look out, Adam, that Ivy League education of yours just popped out.” Gabe laughed at his own joke. The others chuckled. Adam didn’t.

  As usual, Gabe plowed forward. “But I get what you’re saying. You think Leigh knows the killer, and if the right set of events or facts were placed in front of her, she may be the one person who could make sense of them.”

  “And that makes her very dangerous to the killer,” Adam said. “So the killer breaks out of their usual M.O. and targets Leigh.”

  “Possibly,” Sabrina said. “It’s a theory.”

  Ryan waited for Anissa to make eye contact with him. Her grim nod gave him the go-ahead. “It’s a fascinating theory, Dr. Fleming. Particularly because, minus the part about the killer being female, it’s the same one we came up with this afternoon.”

  Leigh liked Sabrina. A lot. She was such a nerd—and didn’t appear to care what anyone thought about her. She kept her brilliance reined in when talking with mere mortals, except for every now and then when it popped out by accident.

  She spoke to all of them like a professor giving a lecture, but as soon as she took a seat beside Adam, she retreated into her shell. Leigh had the distinct impression that spending time in a group was hard on the professor. She’d probably go back to her lab and stay there for a week when this was over.

  Sabrina looked up from the tablet she’d been tapping away on and Leigh smiled at her. The smile was returned with a small shrug.

  Around her, the room buzzed. Adam and Gabe were in the middle of one conversation. Ryan and Anissa were talking about something Anissa was showing him on her laptop. Leigh tried to follow both discussions, but it was impossible. Especially when Gabe slipped into Spanish and Adam followed him.

  Leigh raised her hand and the room quieted. “I think it might be more beneficial for all of us if we don’t try to talk over each other. I’d like to hear what Anissa has learned about her John Doe. And I think we’re going to need to talk about everyone I’ve ever worked with at the hospital.”

  “Agreed,” Anissa said. “Here’s what we know.”

  She turned her laptop around so everyone could see the screen and Sabrina jumped into action. “Allow me.” It took less than a minute for Anissa’s laptop to be mirrored on the TV screen. Leigh caught a flash of tropical water before the screen was flooded with pictures. “This is Calvin Staton,” Anissa said. “Fifty-nine. Owned a trucking business out of Cleveland.”

  A few more images popped up on the screen. A massive home. A sports car. Another home on a lakefront. “Mr. Staton lived large.”

  Another photo flashed onto the screen. A Christmas card. So much loss. Such devastation for the family. “Mr. Staton’s wife, Shelly, and their three children.” The woman looked like a typical woman in her mid-fifties, except—

  “Look at that diamond.” Gabe whistled.

  “Yes. Mr. Staton was quite generous with his wife. Unfortunately”—another series of photos appeared—“he was also quite generous with his girlfriend.”

  Leigh struggled to find the feelings of sympathy she’d had toward Mr. Staton moments earlier.

  “Did the wife know?”

  “Still not sure she does.”

  “How did you find out?”

  “Given the nature of the case, I wanted to fly out to Cleveland and interview all the parties, but when I called to talk to our counterparts in Cleveland, I discovered the missing persons case had not left the desk of one of their investigators. He’s been working the case hard. He found the girlfriend through some interviews he did with some of Mr. Staton’s employees. But he says the wife and the girlfriend are both clean. Airtight alibis. The girlfriend knows about the wife but swears the wife doesn’t know about her.”

  “The wife always knows,” Gabe muttered.

  “No. She doesn’t.” Ryan glared at Gabe.

  “Sorry,” Gabe said.

  Ryan didn’t reply.

  “Regardless,” Anissa said with no attempt to hide her efforts to steer things off such a touchy topic, “the thing that makes no sense at all is how Calvin Staton wound up in the ground at Mr. Cook’s place. Neither the wife nor the girlfriend could account for his absence.”

  “Another girlfriend?” Adam asked.

  “The detective couldn’t rule it out but said Calvin’s schedule, his secretary, his wife, his girlfriend, his friends, and his employees all believed he was attending a conference in Richmond, Virginia.”

  “That’s not far from here.”

  “No, it isn’t. And when the detective tried to construct a timeline, he discovered the conference was real and Mr. Staton was registered for it, but he never checked in.”

  “That’s weird.”

  Gabe pointed to Adam. “I’m liking the second girlfriend.”

  “Maybe. But if there’s another one, I’m not sure how he would have had time for her. Between the wife and the girlfriend in Cleveland, Mr. Staton was a very busy man. The girlfriend believed he would leave the wife when the kids were out of the house.”

  Leigh groaned. “Those kids look like they are about ten to twelve. She was planning to wait that long? For Calvin?”

  Everyone laughed, except Sabrina. “What do you mean, for Calvin?”

  “I’m sorry, but he’s not much of a catch.”

  Gabe, Adam, and Ryan roared with laughter.

  “You laugh now,” Leigh said. “You’re all three drop-dead gorgeous and you know it. Someday you’ll be pushing sixty and your cheeks will have jowls and your eyes will have dark circles and you will look in the mirror and wonder what happened.”

  Leigh didn’t miss the way Sabrina’s cheeks turned pink at her words or the way Anissa looked from Gabe to Adam and then to Ryan as though she were seeing them for the first time.

  “Oh, come on. Back me up here, ladies. All three of them could be in a law enforcement calendar and you know it.”

  Anissa gave an unwilling shrug. “I guess they’re all right.”

  “All right?” Gabe gasped in mock horror. “I’m hurt, Bell. That was cold.”

  “Leigh’s point is valid, if not one I probably would have considered,” Sabrina said from her spot in the corner of the sofa. “This girlfriend is much younger and quite attractive. Why go for a guy like that?”

  Anissa pulled up a new set of photos. The girlfriend and Mr. Staton on a yacht. On a sandy beach. In Paris. In Rome.

  Sabrina dropped her head. “I get it. He’s got money. That’s all she cares about.”

  “To be fair,” Anissa said, “the detective said she seemed genuinely distraught. She may have cared for him. But interestingly enough, she had expressed concern that she had been afraid he might leave her for—get this—a younger woman.”

  “Oh, good grief,” Gabe muttered.

  “Look, we can dissect this guy’s motives and poor life choices all night. None of this explains how he wound up decapitated in the woods in central North Carolina,” Ryan said.

  His comment silenced the room.

  Leigh expected Anissa to give them some sort of answer, but she didn’t.

  “Do we think this killer, male or female, killed this guy in Cleveland and brought him here to bury him? Because that’s sick.”

  Adam looked a little green. He didn’t typically work homicides and Ryan had told her he had no interest in it. Maybe he didn’t have the stomach for it. Not that that was a weaknes
s. She didn’t blame him.

  “It’s also a jurisdictional nightmare,” Ryan said.

  “What do you mean?” Leigh asked.

  “If we’ve got a serial killer committing crimes in multiple states? Ugh. It would get messy. No pun intended.”

  “I don’t think your killer did this far from here,” Sabrina said. “If the key to the location of the dump sites is the Carrington hospital, then the person must work there or be someone who regularly goes to the hospital. Maybe a florist—which would tie in to your balloon explosion—or maybe someone who does those food deliveries.”

  She tapped her glasses against her lips a few times. “But I still think you’re looking for someone who works in the hospital. They know the routines, the parking lots, and no one notices them if they are in random parts of the hospital. They can blend in. And if your serial killer is female, that also fits the profile. Female serials are rare, but they are statistically more likely to work in a caregiving profession. Either medical or with children.”

  “That’s terrifying,” Gabe said.

  “I’m with you all the way, brother,” Adam said.

  “So what do we do now?” Leigh was afraid to hear the answer to her question, but she had to know.

  “Tonight?” Ryan looked around the room. “Tonight we sleep.”

  “You cannot be serious,” Leigh said.

  “Oh, yes I can. You’re tired. I’m tired. We’re all exhausted. We have to be back out at the Gordons’ first thing tomorrow while forensics goes over everything inside and outside the house. I’m going to run a different kind of search on the missing persons stuff, looking specifically for very wealthy men. See if it narrows down the possibilities any.”

  “I could work on that,” Sabrina said. “I’d be happy to help.”

  “I appreciate that. I do. But it’s not the best use of your skills.” And he wasn’t sure the sheriff would approve of him hiring her for something they could do themselves.

  She smiled. “I’m volunteering my services here. No charge.”

  “Why?” Leigh couldn’t help herself from asking.

  Sabrina shrugged. “I live here. I have a unique skill set that I like to use to help my community when I can. I can take a few hours to run through some missing persons reports and see if anything grabs me.”

  Leigh still wasn’t convinced. There was more to Sabrina’s interest in helping than she seemed willing to share.

  “But more than that,” Sabrina said, “there’s an evil to this that scares me. This person needs to be caught. Before they strike again.”

  “I’m not one to turn down the offer of free help,” Ryan said. “You understand the parameters I’m looking for. Let’s start by checking for any missing person who has a similar profile to Mr. Staton and see where it gets us.”

  “I’m on it,” Sabrina said.

  “Thank you,” Ryan said.

  “I’ve already asked Adam to help me by running some of the financial records the Cleveland Sheriff’s Office sent over,” Anissa said. “We’ll look for anything that doesn’t make sense. They’ve already looked, but they weren’t looking for charges specific to this area. Maybe we can find something that ties him to Carrington.”

  “That all sounds good,” Ryan said. “And I’m not trying to tell you how to run your investigation”—he looked at Anissa—“but now that we have a face, I think we need to get the airport security footage from Richmond and look specifically for Calvin Staton.”

  “Good idea,” Anissa said.

  They all had things to do. Big, important, meaningful things to do. And Leigh would be sitting here alone going crazy.

  “I have a job for you.” Ryan turned to her.

  If he suggested she bake a cake, she would throw something at him. “What?”

  “I need you to make a list of everyone you have ever worked with.”

  “I’ve been working on a list of all my coworkers—”

  “Not just your coworkers. I want everyone. Here, in Durham. Even in nursing school or grad school. If you can think of them, write them down. We will be able to eliminate ninety-nine percent of them, but I’m convinced someone on that list is going to be our man.” He glanced at Sabrina. “Or woman.”

  “I can do that, but it’s still hard for me to believe anyone I know could be this evil.”

  “Serial killers rarely present as evil,” Sabrina said. “They are often charming and compassionate. Something in them is broken, but they understand enough of social constructs to know they have to put on a show of civility. In fact, in most cases, they are genuinely kind to those who aren’t in their target population.”

  “That’s what’s scary about this,” Leigh said. “How could I possibly know who it is?”

  “You couldn’t,” Sabrina said. “The problem is, they think you do.”

  19

  Ryan couldn’t shake the sensation that the answers to their questions were floating all around them. Somehow, with this group of diverse talents, surely they would be able to find them.

  “I want to thank all of you,” he said as they packed up laptops and files and power cords. “This case is going to take all of us, and I appreciate you being in here with me.”

  A chorus of “yes” and “agreed” and even one “hooah” echoed through the den. Leigh smiled and nodded and accepted gentle hugs from Adam and Gabe. Sabrina stuck out her hand, but Leigh grabbed it and pulled her in for a hug. The shock on Sabrina’s face was priceless, but after the hug was over she looked pleased.

  So did Adam. Ryan needed to talk to that boy. If he was going to wear his heart on his sleeve, he might as well do something about it.

  Anissa kissed Leigh’s cheek and said something to her he couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, Leigh’s eyes were shimmering as she closed the door. Their voices faded away as she turned back to him.

  “You okay?” he asked her.

  “Yeah.”

  She adjusted the scarf at her throat again.

  “Why don’t you take that off?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You’ve messed with it all night.”

  She puffed out her cheeks and blew out a long breath. “It isn’t itchy. I don’t know how to explain it. Let’s say I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to wear a turtleneck again.”

  Of course. He walked over to her and unwound the scarf from her neck and placed it on the counter. He looked into her eyes as he reached one hand toward her neck and brushed the bruises with the back of his fingers. “I am sorry, Leigh,” he said. His voice was rough with the emotion he’d been holding in all day. All week. Oh, who was he kidding? More like for the last fifteen years.

  She reached up and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. “It wasn’t your fault. None of this is.”

  He should walk away. He should slide his hand away and tell her good night.

  But she pulled him toward her with the slightest pressure and all his thoughts of leaving fled. His arms wrapped around her, and when she leaned against him, it was like a concussive force went off inside him. Not subtle like a tremor. More like an earthquake.

  The tectonic plates of his heart had shifted and the rearrangement wasn’t something he would ever recover from. He held her and breathed in the fragrance of her and knew he would never feel this way about anyone but her. Ever.

  He needed to be careful not to push her into something she wasn’t ready for. When this was over, would she still want him around? Would she always associate him with this dark time? Or would she be able to see him as the silver lining around the clouds?

  “I’m scared,” she whispered into his chest.

  “So am I.” He doubted her fear was the same as his. She was afraid for her life. And she should be. He was afraid of losing her before he’d ever had a chance to explore what life could be like with her.

  She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I’m not talking about dying.”

  She wasn’t? Was she—? “I’m not either. I�
�m in uncharted territory here. I don’t want to hurt you. Or push you.” Her hands moved to his shoulders. What was she doing? “Or rush you . . .”

  She pulled him closer. “I don’t feel rushed,” she whispered, her lips tantalizingly near his own.

  He closed the distance. Her lips were so soft. Her body so warm. How could this be possible? He kissed her with all the tenderness he could, still afraid of hurting her. He pulled away and she leaned back, her eyes no longer full of fear but of something else that scared him more than anything he’d ever seen before.

  Longing. Desire. Trust.

  If he hurt her, or failed her, he would never be able to live with himself.

  Three quick raps on the door shattered the sacredness of the moment. Leigh stepped away, her hand running down his arm until it reached his hand. She squeezed it before releasing it and turning for the stairs. “Good night, Ryan.”

  “Good night.”

  Twelve hours later Gabe was still apologizing. “Man, I had no idea,” he said for the fiftieth time.

  “I told you to drop it,” Ryan said.

  “But she kissed you. Like, a real kiss. Not an accidental—”

  “How does someone kiss somebody accidentally?”

  “It could happen.”

  Ryan walked back around the Gordons’ house. The forensics teams would be done soon. At least he hoped they would be. They’d photographed and dusted the house, the boat, and the toolshed. There wasn’t much else to see. No blood. No remains. But strong evidence, albeit circumstantial, that someone had wheeled a heavy object down to the boat. They’d taken the boat out for a little while, returned it and the wheelbarrow, and if it wasn’t for the keen eyes of a certain professor, they might never have been the wiser.

  His phone rang and his stomach dropped. Not Leigh.

  “Dr. Fleming. How can I be of assistance this morning?”

  “I have a name you need to follow up on,” she said in her usual crisp tone.

  “Seriously?”