Catch Me If You Can

by Mitzi Pool Bridges

  She’d had only a little over two years experience when he died of a heart attack. When it seemed that half the township wanted her to take his place, she talked it over with her mom. She agreed Lynn was the person to take the job. Reminded her how she’d followed her dad around from the time she could walk. How the two of them poured over the cases he’d bring home. How interested she was. It was true. But Lynn had thought it would be a waste of time, that Roy’s almost fifteen-years experience would top her two years. Somehow, she never imagined sitting here in Lobster Cove in her dad’s old office.

  She sat down, cleared her mind of everything except the case facing her.

  It would be the biggest and the most challenging of her career.

  In the years since her dad died, she’d often wished for his wise counsel, but never more so than now.

  Taking a deep breath, she vowed to find the killer. Fast. The sooner they put this tragedy to rest the better. If not, the mayor would be on her like flies at a Fourth-of-July picnic. He’d rant and rave about the bad publicity. The tourists.

  After she found the killer, Mackenzie would leave town. Again.

  Wasn’t that what she wanted?

  Chapter Four

  Jake closed the last folder and rubbed his eyes. Lynn had done a thorough job on each case. He didn’t think he could have done better.

  The three bodies lying in the morgue might help. There could be trace evidence of the killer on one or more of them. He hoped so. They desperately needed a clue.

  The autopsies would be tomorrow. He planned on being there.

  Right now, he was exhausted. He’d flown into Bangor late this morning, rented a car and was in Lobster Cove by noon. At one he’d received the call from his boss. His vacation was put on hold. So was his decision about the house.

  He was definitely leaning toward selling. He hoped he could clear the case up soon and get the hell out of town. Seeing Lynn again brought back too many memories. He sat back in his not-very-comfortable chair. The outer office was quiet. He looked at his watch. Almost midnight. He rose stiffly to his feet. He’d be thirty-five in a couple of weeks. His trust would kick in automatically at that time. Years ago the thought had excited him. All the things he’d do, the toys he’d buy.

  Bull!

  His parents had been damn smart to put off the release of the trust until now. At least he had a little more sense now.

  Maybe if he’d had more sense back then he wouldn’t have let Lynn slip through his fingers. He wouldn’t be looking at her now with regret.

  Tucking the folders under his arm, he left the room. If he could keep his eyes open, he’d read them again before he hit the sack. He may have missed something.

  This case wouldn’t be an easy one. The killings had been spread out over a two-year period. At least the oldest body looked to have been in the ground that long.

  Two had been listed as missing persons, the senator’s daughter as a runaway.

  He tried to connect the dots, but by the time he pulled up to the house, his brain was fried. He wondered what Lynn was going through. This was her town. Her people. It had to be hard. She’d worked each case for months. Now three bodies suddenly showed up—as if someone were taunting her. Small town. Female sheriff. No major crimes. Then this. It was like some sicko was waving a red flag: Deal with this, bitch!

  Jake shook his head. No one could be that evil. Not in Lobster Cove. He knew he was wrong before the thought finished crossing his mind. He’d seen more evil over the last decade than he’d thought possible.

  Why here? Why now?

  He shuffled into the bathroom to take a quick shower and went to bed, the files forgotten on the kitchen counter.

  ****

  The next morning, he stopped by the sheriff’s office on his way to the morgue. Lynn had already left.

  His stomach churned at the thought she was planning to witness the autopsies. It was hard enough for a seasoned cop. If he were to guess, except for the three women who went missing, her journey in law enforcement mostly consisted of petty crimes, drunk drivers, and an occasional fight. Even though her area was a large one, Lobster Cove, and the surrounding towns in her county, were peaceful—probably because most of them catered to summer tourists.

  Lobster Cove, even the one he remembered as a youth, was practically crime free.

  He stepped on the gas. If possible, he’d talk her out of it. Why put herself through such torture? Though he didn’t relish the job, he did have some experience.

  When he pulled up to the nondescript two-story brick building, a striking contrast to the colorful shops two streets over, he saw her cruiser and parked next to it.

  Hurrying inside, he saw Lynn at the end of the corridor talking to someone. As he got closer, Jake realized it was the coroner he’d met yesterday. Lynn waved at him.

  “You remember Doc Slade from last night?”

  “Of course.” The two men shook hands.

  “I’m about to begin. If you’d like a cup of coffee…?”

  “No,” Lynn said quickly. “Let’s get it over with.”

  “Can we talk a minute?”

  Jake took her arm and walked a few feet away. The coroner went through double doors and left them alone.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You don’t want to do this.”

  She pulled herself up taller, got that stubborn look on her face. “Why not?”

  “When was the last time you saw a body being cut open, his insides taken out? Have you seen a head cut——the brains removed?”

  Her face turned white.

  “I didn’t think so.” He took her hand. “Please, Lynn. Let me do this. I’ll watch carefully for any clue I might find.” Silence. “Is Slade thorough?”

  “He is. I trust him to do a good job.”

  “Then let me do mine.”

  “It’s my job, too. As much as I dread going in there, I will.”

  He shook his head. “Please, Lynn.”

  “I’ll be all right.”

  Stubborn woman. “If you feel sick will you promise to leave?”

  She gave him a half-smile. “I don’t want to make a fool of myself. Of course I will.”

  ****

  But the minute Lynn walked into the cold, dank room the smell of ammonia mixed with alcohol almost sent her right back out. She had to do this. She owed it to the victims and their families.

  Though the room was fairly large, the industrial gray walls seemed to close in on her. The sloping, bare concrete floor made her equilibrium slightly off.

  Taking a firm grip on her emotions, she moved close to the three stainless steel tables lined in a row. Each held a body. The victims were not large women by any means, but lying on the tables they looked smaller than ever. Tiny even.

  Doc Slade had chosen Jo Nelson to be his first. She’d been so pretty. Now her body was deteriorated and bug eaten. Yet, even now you could tell she’d been a lovely woman. Lynn remembered her well as she’d lived down the street from Beth and Roy Webb. Once or twice a month, she’d stop by the office with her cute little daughter in tow to bring a plate of cookies for everyone. If Roy happened to be there, she’d go over to talk for a couple of minutes. After she went missing everyone on the force put more than a hundred percent effort into finding her.

  They’d failed.

  Now, the coroner carefully removed Jo’s clothing. Piece by piece, each was examined, then dropped on a sterile table. Lynn watched each piece carefully. They needed a clue. Anything to point to the killer. She saw nothing, but that didn’t mean nothing was there. Every piece of evidence would be put under a microscope and examined later.

  Once the clothes were removed, he weighed her and made his measurements, stopping every so often to take pictures and speak his findings into a mike. He checked the hands, scraped under her nails, and put the shavings in a plastic bag. Then he checked each arm, lifted them, examined them closely. “No defensive wounds,” he said into a microphone.

&nbs
p; When the doctor took out his knife to make the Y cut, Lynn turned her head. Could she do this? She’d never had to before. Just the thought made her stomach churn and her head swim.

  When she looked back in time to see him make the incision, her vision blurred.

  As if Mackenzie knew how she felt, he stepped closer. That closeness made this a little easier. It didn’t last long. When the doc’s hand went inside to pull out the heart, the stench sent the room spinning.

  Mackenzie hurried out of the room. Couldn’t he take it? No. He was back in seconds with two paper cups of water. He handed her one. “This will make it easier.” He swallowed his in one large gulp. Lynn did the same. Her head cleared some.

  He took a small jar of Vick’s VapoRub out of his pocket, smeared some under his nose, then handed her the jar. She squinted at him. Was he doing this just for her?

  Regardless, she took the jar and did the same.

  She turned her attention back to the doctor. He was raising the saw to cut off part of Jo’s head to get to the brain, Lynn fought off the swift wave of gray that threatened to send her to the floor and locked her knees so she could stay upright.

  “Each victim’s hair was cut to the same length,” Doc Slade said into the microphone. “I’m cutting off a strip from each victim to be analyzed. Looks to me as if it’s been dyed the same color.

  “Why would anyone do that?” Lynn asked Mackenzie.

  “Up to us to find out.”

  “Weird.”

  By the time the last victim had been put through the same process, Lynn was so weak in the knees she didn’t know if she could make it out of the room. She was more than ready for another long shower or a tall, strong drink. Maybe both.

  “Can you give us a timeline?” Mackenzie asked.

  “As close as I can. The dates of their disappearance backs this up so I think it’s pretty accurate. Sherry Miles was the first victim. She went missing two years ago, which matches with the disintegration of her body. Her dentist sent over x-rays so it was easy to confirm her identity. Jo Nelson went missing a year ago, which also matches, as did Kacie Underwood who disappeared a month ago. The bodies apparently weren’t held in storage for any period of time, so my guess is they met their fate soon after their disappearances.”

  The doctor walked them to the door. “I’ll let you know what the lab tells us,” he promised. “It’ll take longer for the toxicology report, but you’ll get it as soon as I do.”

  “Did you see anything that would lead to their death?” Mackenzie asked.

  The doctor shook his head. “No trauma anywhere. No gunshot or stab wound. We’ll have to rely on the tox report.”

  “Could be poison,” Lynn pointed out.

  The doctor nodded. “We’ll find that out, too.”

  They left.

  Lynn went straight to her cruiser. Mackenzie was right behind her. “It’s past lunch time. Why don’t we grab a bite to eat?”

  “You can eat? After seeing what we just saw? You’re crazy. I’m going home and take a long, hot shower. Maybe then the stench of that room will leave. I feel like it’s in my nose, on my clothes, in my eyes.”

  “I told you not to go in there.”

  “And I told you I could handle it. I did. Now I have to get cleaned up.” She turned to him before she opened the door, before she threw up. “Do you ever get used to it?”

  He shook his head. “I think you have to learn the disconnect trick.”

  “What’s that?” It was certainly something she wanted to learn. She didn’t think she’d make it through this. Never wanted to again. But if necessary she wanted a little more armor.

  “Don’t think about it,” he said as he went to the pickup sitting next to her cruiser. Strange. By now she thought he’d have some ball-busting, chick-catching, convertible.

  But what did she know?

  How could you not think about the gore? The stench? Still, whether he realized it or not he had helped her get through this.

  It was clear she didn’t know Jake Mackenzie at all.

  If his past actions didn’t prove that, today certainly had.

  Chapter Five

  His thoughts on Lynn, Jake settled behind the table he was using for a desk. She had pretended viewing an autopsy was routine, but it was easy to see her discomfort. He knew before they went in there how sensitive she was. That couldn’t have changed. He’d been right. Not many could hold up to one, much less three autopsies in one day. It had affected her though. Her face had gone as white as the bodies on the table, and sheʼd had a hard time standing upright. Any minute, heʼd expected her to hit the floor. He admired the gutsy way she’d hung in there.

  Tough lady. He hadn’t seen this side of her when they were young and in love. He should have known. Her dad had been one of the toughest sheriffs in the state. Her mom was no slouch in that department either. He remembered one Saturday when the gang was at the house. Some were playing pool inside, others swimming. He’d come inside to get a drink. Stopped when he saw Lynn’s mom pull up in her station wagon, haul herself out and head straight for the front door where she demanded to known what was going on. You could tell she was angry enough to lay them all flat. His mom had welcomed her inside where her anger eventually turned to laughter. Jake had kept himself well hidden.

  His mother was tall, thin, and always carried a smile. Lynn’s was shorter, carried more weight, and was frowning as if ready for a fight.

  He’d never forget that conversation. “I came to see what the heck brings my daughter here every chance she gets. Just checking, you see, to make sure no drugs or alcohol are involved.”

  Mom had been at the counter making tuna sandwiches and tall pitchers of tea. “This is as strong as the drinks get. And I guarantee there are no drugs.”

  “Are you sure? Teens can be sneaky, you know.”

  Mom took Mrs. Lawton by the arm, led her to the window. “I think you can tell by looking.”

  There were at least a dozen kids splashing, swimming, diving. Laughter drifted through the open window.

  “Not always. Even in Lobster Cove there are drug pushers. Kids are their best customers.”

  “I understand your concern. But look, see that guy in swim trunks down at the deep end? That’s my husband. Either he or I are with these kids all the time.”

  Ms. Lawton went limp with relief. Jake snickered and got the hell out. He wasn’t about to tell Lynn her mom was checking up on her. On them.

  Lynn had that same toughness. It was in her genes.

  Sighing, he opened his laptop and went to work. He had to make his first report. Even this early in the investigation, he knew they’d have to pull in more help. Lynn had spent two years investigating the victims’ disappearances and come away with nothing. From what he’d seen, read, and studied about serial killers, they were never easy to solve.

  He finished his preliminary report and hit send. In seconds his boss responded. He had anticipated the need. They could expect more agents within the hour.

  He picked up the three folders, sat back and re-read the follow-up investigation on the senator’s daughter. There! He squinted at what had stuck in his mind when he read it the first time. A month before she disappeared, Kacie Underwood had been at Murphy’s Bar with friends. All were drunk, or close to it. There was a fight and someone called 911. Deputy Roy Webb answered the call, broke up the fight, and arrested half a dozen guys. When the last one had been put in a police car and been driven off, Kacie approached him, told him he had taken away all the fun, so he’d have to substitute.

  Jake looked up, remembered that Roy had been good-looking even as a kid. From the little Jake had seen of him as an adult he still wasn’t bad in the looks department. He was tall, had blond hair, deep brown eyes and a muscular build. In Jake’s mind’s eye, he could see how man-crazy Kacie would come on to him.

  He continued to read.

  According to the report, Roy had brushed her off. Kacie kept pulling on him, rubbing herself a
gainst him, kissing his neck. Lipstick had gotten on his collar. The report said he took some razzing from the other deputies over it.

  Was there more to this?

  Could Kacie have continued her pursuit? Roy got angry and put an end to it? Permanently? Jake shook his head. Hard to fathom, but weirder things had happened.

  Even with that scenario, how did he explain the other two murders?

  Could Roy have a connection with them as well?

  He grabbed another folder, Sherry, the first victim, young and pretty.

  As if as an afterthought, at the bottom of the report, Lynn had typed in how a week before disappearing, Roy had seen her truck on the side of the road with a flat. He’d fixed it, told her to watch where she drove, as it looked as if she’d run over a nail.

  A couple of days later, she’d brought him a homemade cake to thank him. They were sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee, sampling the cake, when Beth came home.

  Nothing more.

  But what if there was? Roy was practically the last person to see both Kacie and Sherry alive.

  Lynn’s thoroughness impressed him.

  Quickly, he grabbed the last folder.

  Jo Nelson, her husband, and little girl were neighbors of Roy and his wife. But according to the report, they’d been friendly.

  Roy’s ten-year-old son, Buddy, liked little kids and was often seen rolling a ball to her, or throwing a Frisbee to see if she could catch it.

  Roy had a son? Lynn hadn’t mentioned it. What did it matter?