Zachary smiled and looked at her. “Do you really think so?” he asked.
“I do.”
“If I could only reach her…touch her,” he said, his ghostly voice wistful. Then he seemed to give himself a shake. “But…even if Rose had the diamond, what does that have to do with someone kidnapping women from the Alamo?”
“We haven’t figured that out yet,” Logan said.
“Are you sure? Are you sure it’s the same man, and that it could be connected to Rose and the diamond?”
“No, we’re not, but we need someplace to start.” Logan got to his feet. The darkness was descending upon them. “Thank you, Zachary,” he said. “Kelsey?”
She rose, too, and so did Zachary. He began to walk by, then quickly turned.
“Thank you,” he told Kelsey. “I will do my best not to disappoint you.”
She watched as he moved toward the chapel and disappeared into the dusk and shadows of nightfall.
“He may be in love again,” Logan said dryly.
“Jealous?” she teased.
“I’m pretty sure I’m a bit ahead of the poor guy, being flesh and blood,” Logan said. He added briskly, “It’s time to get to the station. I’m tired—and hungry.”
“Yes, we really should remember that thing called lunch,” Kelsey said.
They retrieved Logan’s car and drove to the station. When they entered their office, Jane and Kat were already there, leafing through a sketch pad with Jackson. “May we?” Logan asked Jane, and the other three were quiet as Logan and Kelsey looked through the pages together.
“These are just sketches,” Jane said. “I have computer renditions that may be better. I don’t know yet. I’ll compare the women and the sketches, and you decide which you want to go with. The sketches give an opaque quality to the faces—it makes them a little dreamier. The computer images are sharper.”
“The sketches…have so much life,” Kelsey said. Jane was a talented artist. The faces on the page seemed to have an individuality. Each woman was drawn with medium-length hair, and yet the personalities all seemed different.
“We can put them out tomorrow,” Jane said. “Copies are already at the paper. They just need an approval.”
Kelsey realized that the others, including Jackson, were looking at Logan. He met Jane’s eyes. “Have them printed, please.”
She nodded and just then, the door burst open. Sean entered, pulling a computer from his shoulder bag even as he shoved his way in.
“You have to see this,” he said urgently.
“What? Did you come up with something in a grid?” Logan asked.
Sean was shaking his head. “No, no. I hear you and Kelsey were there for this! I thought Chasson had fiddled with the image somehow. I thought…I don’t know what I thought. But I haven’t given it back to anyone yet. I haven’t shown it to anyone. I just called Earl Candy and asked him if they’d been playing around with Halloween props or anything of the sort, and he swore they hadn’t. All he’d seen through his lens was Sandy and Jeff.”
“What’s in the film?” Logan demanded.
Chapter 11
Logan glanced covertly at Sean, curious about his excitement regarding the film.
There was nothing unusual in it. At first.
He saw what he’d seen earlier that day, in a smaller version on the computer.
Jeff Chasson stood by the window, posing for the camera. He spoke with a husky tremor in his rich voice. “We’ve come to Room 207. When some guests phone to book it, they call it the murder room. It was where Rose Langley entertained men from the Alamo, and where she met her death. And where, nearly two centuries later, another young woman encountered a terrible fate, although the truth of that fate is still not known.”
Logan thought Earl Candy was a damned good cameraman. He’d caught the room at just the right angle, getting in the period dressing table and drapes; he’d used a lens that created a mysterious, ethereal quality.
Chasson spoke again, gesturing Sandy toward him. “With me is Sandy Holly, current owner of the Longhorn Saloon and Inn. Sandy, can you tell us more of the story?”
And then Sandy stood next to him, looking sweetly innocent as she faced the camera, Chasson’s arm around her shoulders. “Ms. Holly, you bought the Longhorn right after the incident with Sierra Monte, didn’t you?”
Sandy nodded. She was a natural, speaking to Jeff, but cheating toward the camera. “I was in the process of buying the saloon, yes, and it was so tragic! We don’t know what happened, other than that a tremendous amount of blood was found in the room. But after the police were finished, a cleanup biohazard crew came in and, as you can see, the room is beautiful now.”
Logan cleared his throat. “Sean, I’m not sure what we’re supposed to be seeing.”
“Wait,” Sean said.
“But, Sandy, twice in the same room… Do you think the spirits of Rose Langley and Sierra Monte are still here?” Jeff Chasson asked.
“No. I think that if there are spirits, they’re the souls of those who have gone on, and both women know I revere the history in this place, and that they’re as welcome as any other guest of the Longhorn Saloon,” Sandy said, passion in her voice.
And then Logan saw it, but he had to blink to be certain. A shadow seemed to step out of the wall. A shadow in the shape of a woman. As the computer continued to play the scene, they heard something that sounded like a sob.
As Jeff Chasson wrapped up, then stood there, giving the camera his final half smile, the sob turned to a wail, and then it, and the shadow, disappeared.
There was silence as they all stared at the blank computer screen.
“Play it again,” Logan said.
Sean did.
And it came back, exactly the same.
“No one’s had the opportunity to alter this film?” Jackson asked.
“I don’t see how they could have,” Sean said. “I got a call from Bernie, and he seemed really annoyed with Jeff, except that he thought they’d gotten some good stuff. He wanted to see it, and he wanted me to play with shadow and light, to make the room look spooky and haunted. But this is what I saw before I did a thing.” He shook his head. “I don’t think there was time for anyone to look at it, much less alter it in any way.”
Kelsey turned to her cousin. “You did say you haven’t given them this footage, didn’t you?” she asked.
Sean stared at her, exasperated. “Of course not! I kept this and copied it, and cleaned up the sound, then exaggerated the shadow so they’d assume I put it in. I brought the original here.” He glanced from Logan to Jackson, and then at Logan again. “I knew you wouldn’t want any of them seeing this, especially knowing Chasson as I do. He would’ve turned this into a media circus. I figured we didn’t want them following anything related to our dead women right now.”
“Kelsey, that’s the room you sleep in?” Jane asked.
Kelsey nodded. Logan felt as if his stomach twisted and every muscle in his body tensed.
“I don’t think you can go back there,” he told her softly.
But she looked at him with bright eyes. “Logan, everything I’ve seen so far has been like a repetition. It’s just a residual haunting. Now I know there’s someone in the room who can be reached. What I couldn’t tell from the image was whether the woman was Rose Langley or Sierra Monte.”
“You shouldn’t be in there alone,” Sean said, sounding like a big brother. He was her cousin, Logan reminded himself. But at the moment, that didn’t matter.
“She won’t be there alone. I’m going to stay with her,” Logan said firmly.
“That’s kind of cute—they’re fighting over you,” Kat said, trying to be light.
“I don’t think Sean’s fighting to be with me,” Kelsey retorted.
Logan ignored them both. “Kat, anything else from your end?”
“More of the same. I was able to get more test results from Tara Grissom. And we’re looking at the same mix in her system. She
was definitely drugged when she was taken—the same as Vanessa Johnston,” Kat said.
“How’s he getting to them? Wouldn’t you find needle marks?” Kelsey asked.
“Well, I’m not sure yet, but… I probably mentioned that when it’s used medicinally, the drug is often delivered through a patch. The killer might be using the same method, with his own little drug cocktail. That would explain why we can’t find any pinpricks, and it would explain how they became so docile. I’m still looking, but soft tissue decomposes quickly,” Kat said. “You should also know that you didn’t fail anyone,” she added, looking around at the team. “There’s a high probability that Vanessa Johnston was killed the night she disappeared. She was covered by plywood, dirt and other grime, but…well, the development of larvae and flies can help a lot in determining time of death.”
Logan watched Kat, glad she was on the team. Or with the unit. Yes, they were going to be a unit. She was a tiny blue-eyed blonde with more energy than a hummingbird; she was thorough and open-minded, never dismissing the suggestions of law enforcement officers, and always going the extra mile.
Logan turned to Sean Cameron. “Have you done a grid on the bodies that can help us any?”
“Yes.” Sean gestured to the desk where Jake Mallory had set up his computer and the connections to the large screen. “I need about two minutes,” he said. “May I?”
“It’s your show,” Jackson replied.
Sean nodded and started his own setup. A minute later, a map of the area with an overlay noting the names of the victims appeared. “I’ll explain, although it’s pretty self-evident,” Sean said. “Here we have the Alamo, the Longhorn and the locations where the bodies were discovered. There are only a few blocks between the Alamo and the inn. We’re going to include everything here, in case there is a connection. Rose Langley was found in Room 207, soon after she was murdered. I don’t think anyone proved it was Matt Meyer, but apparently everyone knew it. Due to the amount of blood in Room 207 last year, forensic scientists and medical examiners agree that Sierra Monte didn’t walk out of there alive. If we were to draw a line around the locations where the rest of the bodies were found, including those of our other known victims—Chelsea Martin and Tara Grissom—we have a circle, and the center of that circle would fall right between the Alamo and the Longhorn.”
“Do you think the locations mean anything?” Jane asked.
“Well, it means that a killer is staying within his familiar area,” Logan said. “Every time he’s dumped a body, he’s known exactly where it could be left in plain sight and still remain hidden. So he knows the area. He also knows something about drugs, decomposition and how to manipulate people. Some of these things anyone can study online. And I’m afraid we’re a huge city, so there are plenty of drugs on the street. Plus, it’s really not that hard to go to lectures or read books on criminal science these days, although it would be interesting to find a suspect with knowledge of criminal science in his background.” He looked around at the others. “We believe this person is never seen accosting the women, because he doesn’t accost them. We also believe he’s taking them from the area of the Alamo. If he’s not creating an obvious problem, there’s no reason for tourists or anyone to notice him. Also, if he’s walking around the Alamo in costume, people just assume he’s part of the program. When Jane’s images go out tomorrow—online and in the paper—we may get more help from the public.”
He walked over to the board Kelsey had covered with the women’s J. Doe names and locations of death. “This is conjecture, but… A gem worth probably millions in today’s market disappeared from Galveston right before the Alamo. If it did come to San Antonio, it came with Rose Langley, who was killed in Room 207. We’ve learned that Sierra Monte was exceptionally fond of gems and intrigued by jewelry, and so was Chelsea Martin. We’ve also learned that Tara Grissom was fascinated by the history here, so she likely had knowledge of the Longhorn Saloon, Rose Langley and the Galveston diamond.”
“How would the killer have known who these women were, and why would he have suspected they’d even heard of the diamond?” Kelsey asked.
“That’s a good question.” Logan looked at Sean. “I’ve done computer searches and I’ve checked our identified victims’ email and social network accounts. What we need to find out is whether they were communicating with someone here, in San Antonio, who might’ve been giving them information—and maybe getting ideas or other information from them. That’s just a theory.”
“What if some of them were killed so it would look like there’s a serial murderer?” Kelsey asked.
Logan turned the question over to Jackson. He was old FBI; he’d worked as a behavioral specialist.
“It’s possible,” he said thoughtfully. “Our scientific investigations have giant holes because most of the bodies were found in such severe states of decomposition, but as far as we can tell, these murders haven’t had the markings of a sexual psychopath. The victims were murdered in different ways. They’re similar only in sex and age. And again, as far as we know, their relationship is to the Alamo or the Longhorn Saloon.”
“The killer almost has to be local, as we’ve discussed, partly because of the time elapsed. Of course, a killer could come and go, but the time and location grids suggest he’s local,” Kelsey said.
Logan nodded. “I’m going to say local for those reasons, too. We’ll accept the fact that Rose Langley was killed by Matt Meyer. And we’ll work on the theory that the Galveston diamond did come to San Antonio. Rose was the only one who knew where the diamond was, but it seems likely that it was hidden somewhere at the inn.” He looked at Sean. “Can you research the known victims, try to find out if they believed they were psychics? I didn’t see anything about that when I researched them, so I figure we’ll have to ask friends and family directly.”
Kelsey raised her eyebrows. “Kat,” she asked, “could the killer have kept them alive long enough to question them, or try to get them to a séance, or anything like that?”
“Yes, of course, it’s possible. But still, how did the killer know which women to snatch?”
“I might have an answer to that,” Sean said. “He saw their pictures, which made them easy to identify. They’re all over the internet. It’s a reasonable place to start.”
“We believe he’s dressed up, so we’re looking for someone who does costume events, has access to costumes or might own a costume.” Kelsey glanced at Logan, and then at Jackson Crow. “I honestly think we have that on good authority.”
“We use everything we get,” Jackson assured her.
“There’s something else to keep in mind. We need to discover who might have had an unhealthy interest in the Longhorn, perhaps because of the murders,” Logan said. “I’m almost convinced that one victim—our drowning victim—was killed by someone else, and if we determine her identity, we have a chance of finding her killer. But as to the killings that could continue, our answers may very well revolve around the Longhorn Saloon.”
* * *
“We really have to do better with this meal thing,” Kelsey said, popping a piece of cheese in her mouth as she cut pieces from a block of sharp cheddar to add to the salads. “I’m starved.”
Logan hardly heard what she’d said. He was deep in thought, trying to create a list of everyone he’d seen at the Longhorn in the past few days. Which, of course, meant very little, since the rodeo was in town.
But there was Ted Murphy, for one.
All right, he hated the man, but you couldn’t go blaming someone for serial murders simply because you found that someone to be an unbearable prick.
“Want to share your thoughts?” Kelsey asked, putting the salad on the table and taking a bottle of red wine from a nearby shelf.
“Sure,” he answered. “Sorry. I was thinking about people at the Longhorn.”
“Sandy, Ricky and a host of bartenders and hired help for starters.”
He nodded. “We’ll get the Rangers and the l
ocal police to follow through on employee dossiers,” he said. “I was thinking more about the people we’ve come across there. Like Ted Murphy.”
“He certainly seems excited by the prospect of blood and guts.” She made a sardonic face.
“Jeff Chasson.”
“He’s sort of a celebrity. Popular historian and performer. And he’s also huge on the blood and guts, or so it seems,” Kelsey said.
“Corey Simmons—but he’s here for the rodeo, and I’m not sure if he’s ever been to San Antonio or the Longhorn before.” Logan reached into the broiler for the steaks he’d thrown in. He set their food on plates and turned off the oven. “I’ll have profiles run on these people. And if we’re going to look at Jeff Chasson, there’s the rest of the film crew. The director, Bernie Firestone, and the cameraman, Earl Candy.”
They began their meal. At one point, Kelsey put her fork down and sighed. “Logan, this is like looking for a needle in a haystack. Even trying to narrow down some kind of profile seems next to impossible. San Antonio is the seventh-largest city in the United States. Most Americans know the story of the Alamo, if not all the details. Anyone can rent a costume.”
“He’s going to make a mistake or he already has made a mistake, Kelsey. We have to find it,” Logan said.
“We can only hope….”
He wasn’t sure when or how, but they’d tacitly agreed that she’d come home with him. They’d slid into this naturally. When the meeting had broken up, he’d spoken first, suggesting steak. Now they were here, back in his house, as they’d been the night before. Of course, they were still talking business, trying to come up with new possibilities; it was hard to erase a mindful of theories and facts and conjecture.
But just as natural as his suggestion of steak and her agreement was the way they rose from the dinner table and melted into each other’s arms. Kelsey headed down the hall, and he practically raced after her, then paused to run back and make sure the broiler was off. When he returned, it was to find a trail of clothing leading to the shower.
Krewe of Hunters, Volume 2: The Unseen ; The Unholy ; The Unspoken ; The Uninvited Page 17