Tracers 02 - Unspeakable

by Laura Griffin

  Now Troy was seriously questioning Diggins’s story, along with his own judgment. If Troy had detected a lie all those years ago, could he have tipped off investigators before this new rash of killings?

  “Anyway, we’ll know for sure when the labs come back.”

  “The toxicology?”

  Cinco nodded. “The ranger they sent down, he’s got a rush on everything at the state crime lab. Should be something back soon. Media’s already made up their minds, though. They’re calling him the Paradise Killer.”

  The bouncer stationed at the beach entrance stopped a slender brunette. Elaina flashed her ID, and he waved her through. Troy turned and watched her walk across the patio.

  “If she’s got ketamine on board,” Cinco was saying, “we’re definitely dealing with the same scumbag.”

  Elaina glanced around briefly before claiming a stool way the hell at the other end of the bar. It was barely five seconds before some beefcake surfer claimed the stool next to her. She smiled up at him, and Troy gritted his teeth.

  “T? You listening?”

  His attention snapped back to Cinco. “Huh?”

  “I said we should have it by Monday. The tox report. Even tomorrow, maybe, if this ranger has enough pull.” Cinco’s phone buzzed, and he checked the number. “I gotta take this.”

  Troy’s attention veered back to Elaina. She wore a dark green T-shirt and khaki shorts, and she looked more like a Girl Scout leader than a beach bunny. But the outfit wasn’t slowing this guy down. He’d noticed her legs, obviously, and that silky dark hair. Kind of hard to miss.

  Troy sipped his beer and let his gaze slide over her. Where was her Glock? Maybe she had a backup piece, something small that she’d hidden somewhere interesting. Troy watched her steadily and resolved to find out.

  • • •

  Coconuts was a predator’s playground. And it only took half an hour and two come-ons for Elaina to understand why.

  The entire place was designed to make flirting easy and sobriety difficult. Competition permeated the warm, chlorine-scented air as people vied for attention at the swim-up bar, on the dance floor, and around the water volleyball net. For the less active, there was the beach, where a row of lounge chairs had been conveniently arranged in the shadows, away from the music and tiki torches.

  It was just the sort of nightspot Elaina’s father used to warn her about when she was a teenager. Not that he’d needed to. Elaina had never owned a fake ID, and by the time she was old enough to drink legally, she was more interested in graduating from Georgetown than picking up men.

  “Need a refill?” The bartender nodded at the drink in front of her, a frozen concoction called a Señorita-something-or-other. The first guy—Brad—had recommended it to her.

  “No, thanks,” she said, stirring the drink. It had come in a coconut with a pink umbrella sticking out of it. She’d meant to use the drink as a prop, but then most of it had disappeared without her noticing.

  “Hey, I’ve got a question for you.” Elaina smiled at the bartender as he lined up a row of glasses under the taps. “You get a lot of regulars here, or is it mostly tourists?”

  He tipped a glass skillfully. “Tourists, pretty much. And rig workers.”

  “Rig workers?”

  “Roughnecks off the oil rigs, out in the Gulf. They come in sometimes, looking to hit on the out-of-towners.”

  Soft targets, Elaina thought. This place was full of them.

  “These rig workers, are they on some kind of schedule, or do they just come and go?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, really. They’re just around.”

  “Are they around tonight?”

  He looked past her, out at the pool, as he loaded the drinks onto a tray. “Nah, don’t think so. Tonight’s surfers and frat boys.”

  Elaina stirred her drink and looked out over the scene. She took a sip, and her straw slurped. Yummy. Potent, but yummy.

  A waitress called in an order and then leaned back against the counter to wait. She sighed deeply and adjusted her coconuts.

  “Busy night?” Elaina asked.

  The woman rolled her eyes. “Not busy enough.”

  “I’m Elaina,” she said, sticking her hand out.

  “Kim.” She wiped her hand on her apron and shook.

  “Were you on duty earlier this week?”

  The waitress lifted an eyebrow. “You mean Tuesday and Wednesday? Yeah. But like I told that other cop, I didn’t see anything unusual.”

  Elaina wasn’t surprised Kim had her pegged. Waitresses were an observant bunch.

  “What about anything usual?” Elaina asked. “What about someone who blended in but something struck you as off? Maybe something minor.”

  Kim tipped her head to the side thoughtfully as she gazed out at the pool.

  Elaina believed their unsub — or unidentified subject—was clever enough not to draw attention to himself. Most likely, he was a smooth talker. Someone who could keep a low profile while he coaxed a woman into his comfort zone.

  “I’ve been racking my brain since that first cop asked me,” Kim said. “I didn’t see that missing girl around. And nothing stands out. Just the same old same old.”

  Elaina nodded.

  “I’ll let you know, though.” She smiled at Elaina as she picked up her now-full tray. “You got a business card or something?” She nodded at the bartender. “Just leave it with Joel.”

  “Sure.”

  The waitress walked off, and Elaina noticed the fresh coconut sitting in front of her. She took a sip. This one was a virgin, and the bartender winked at her from the margarita machine.

  Forget the doughnut shop. The cops on Lito Island should get their freebies here.

  “Watch out for those Sweet Señoritas.”

  Elaina turned around at the familiar voice.

  “One’ll have you on the dance floor,” Troy said. “Two’ll have you on your ass.”

  He was in the same T-shirt and sandals he’d had on earlier, but he wore faded jeans now. His brown hair was sun-streaked and windblown, and it looked as though he’d spent the day out on his boat.

  “Thanks for the tip,” she said. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “Same thing you are.”

  Troy claimed the stool beside her.

  “I’ve got an objective tonight,” she told him. “You’re not part of it.”

  He leaned an elbow on the bar and watched her. “Tell me about your objective.”

  “I need to know if Valerie Monroe frequented this place before her disappearance. Her friends said no, but there’s some time unaccounted for.”

  “You talked to her friends?”

  “Of course.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been busy,” he said. “Not eager to get back to Brownsville, huh?”

  Elaina didn’t answer that. She sipped her drink and tried to look bored, but inside she felt uneasy. Was she really that transparent? She made a concerted effort not to let her feelings about her job show, but she hated everything about Brownsville: her boss, her assignments, the condescending he-men she worked with serving warrants. It was the same routine over and over: The SWAT jocks hit the door, the men did the investigating, and Elaina was sent off to “keep an eye on the women and children” as if she were a babysitter. As if she couldn’t toss an apartment like anyone else. Coming to Lito Island had been her first meaningful assignment since she’d graduated the Academy. It was her first chance to put all those years of study and training to use, her first chance to do something that really mattered.

  Troy leaned back on his stool. He lifted her ponytail and sent a tingle down her spine as he read the back of her T-shirt. “You buy that here on the island?” he asked.

  “It’s from the hotel gift shop.” She glanced down at the beer logo on the breast pocket. “Why?”

  He looked amused. “You don’t speak Spanish, do you?”

  “No, why? What does it say?”

  “‘I’ve fallen an
d I can’t get my beer.’” He swigged his beer and watched her.

  “Well, so what? I needed something that would blend in.”

  “Good call. But you’re gonna have to show a little more flesh, McCord. This is a beach crowd.”

  “Look,” she said, annoyed now, “I’m here to gather information. Do you mind?”

  She waited for him to get up, but he didn’t budge.

  “Tell me about your suspect list,” he said.

  “I’m not giving you names.”

  “How’d you come up with it? Maybe I can help you narrow it down. Hell, maybe I even came across one of the names on it when I was researching the Cooper murder.”

  Elaina twirled her pink umbrella and thought about it. It was probably the rum soaking in, but she was feeling a little looser than she should. “I cross-referenced registered boat owners with the DMV records. Came up with two hundred and eighty-six white males between twenty and forty who live on this island and own a boat.”

  Troy whistled. “That’s a long list.”

  “Yeah, and you’re on it.”

  He smiled. “Told you.”

  “Cinco helped me whittle it down. We crossed off guys who are overseas right now, in the military. Some others who’d moved out of the area, that sort of thing.”

  “Still a lot of folks.”

  “We’re doing criminal background checks, seeing what we can come up with. Our unsub likely has a history of assault or minor sex crimes or both. We hope to end up with just a few dozen names to check out. In the meantime, I want to see what I can get here. Gina and Whitney both hung out at this bar. I have a hunch Valerie did, too.”

  “You’re right,” Troy said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “She was here Monday and Tuesday. She stopped in around midnight. Didn’t stay long.”

  “How do you know that?” she asked.

  “I talked to the bouncer on my way in.”

  “I was about to go interview him,” Elaina said, and immediately realized she sounded defensive.

  Troy watched her calmly with those sea-green eyes. “The bouncer said he saw her picture on the news today and recognized her.”

  A chill settled over her as she slowly scanned the crowd. “I bet he’s trolling,” she muttered.

  “Trolling?”

  She glanced at Troy, expecting sarcasm. But he seemed genuinely interested.

  “Serial killers go through phases,” she said. “There’s the trolling phase, when he identifies the victim, begins circling. During the next phase, he lures her in somehow, gets her comfortable. Most victims of serial killers don’t struggle. They don’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late.”

  Troy nodded solemnly.

  “Then there’s the kill, the totem phase.”

  “Totems?”

  “It’s the ritual part,” she said. “He feels triumphant over the victim, sometimes does specific things to help prolong his feeling of power over her. In this case, I believe it’s the mutilation. That’s his signature. And maybe he takes something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Maybe a lock of hair or a piece of jewelry. A trophy. A souvenir. Anything that reminds him of it, helps him relive the fantasy.” She sighed. “Then the euphoria wears off, he gets depressed, and he starts trolling again. It’s a cycle. He won’t quit.”

  “According to you, this guy did quit,” Troy said.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “A nine-year gap between Mary Beth Cooper and Gina Calvert? Sounds like a hiatus to me.”

  “Serial killers don’t quit,” she said, studying the faces in the crowd. “He probably just went away for a while. Did it someplace else. Now he’s back again.”

  And was he here? Right now? Was he flirting with one of these unsuspecting women, laying the groundwork so he could separate her from the pack later? Elaina’s attention shifted to the lounge chairs. Couples talking, mostly. A few kissing in the shadows.

  “You picked a grim line of work, McCord.”

  She glanced at him. “Law enforcement?”

  “Profiling.”

  “I’m just an agent,” she said. “It takes years to make it into the Behavioral Analysis Unit. I’ve got the right degrees, but they want people with field experience.”

  “So that’s why you’re down here? Field experience?”

  “Pretty much,” she said, although she doubted that was the only reason. The Bureau had put her at this remote border post, as opposed to one of the major metropolitan areas where so many new agents got their start. Elaina still wasn’t sure why. Why here? Why her? She didn’t know of a single agent in her Academy class who was less suited for this assignment. But she’d decided months ago to suck it up and make the best of her situation. No one had promised her a job in D.C. or at Quantico. She was going to have to earn it.

  Troy tapped his beer bottle against her coconut. “Here’s to new experiences, then.”

  She gazed down into her drink. It was gone again. When had that happened? And she’d thought it had been a virgin, but now she wondered whether it had had a touch of rum in it. She felt a little too comfortable talking to this attractive man she barely knew. She needed to focus. She had work to do.

  Troy nudged her arm, and she felt the jolt of it right to her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She stared at him.

  “Come on.” He slid off the stool and took her hand. “It’s a half-moon. Good night for a boat ride.”

  A boat ride? Was he serious? His hand felt warm, and he stroked her palm with his thumb.

  And suddenly she remembered. The beautiful starlet he’d been seen with last year.

  “You’re dating Eva Longoria,” she blurted.

  “Not last time I checked.”

  “But you were.”

  “Eva’s married.” He tugged her off the stool. She gazed up at him as he stood there, holding her hand and practically admitting that he hung out with gorgeous celebrities.

  “I can’t go on your boat with you,” she said. “I’m supposed to be working.”

  “I’m working, too. This is research.”

  “Research.”

  He stood so close, she could see the stubble along his jaw, feel the heat coming off of him. For the briefest instant, she thought he would kiss her.

  “You really care about this case, Elaina, or are you just passing time?”

  “I care.” And she realized how much. This case, these women—it was the most important work she’d ever done, and she desperately didn’t want to blow it.

  “Then let’s go.” He dropped her hand, and his voice was all business now. “Every badge in Lito County is on the bay right now. You want in on this case, you need to be with them.”

  “They’re looking for Valerie?” She pulled some money from her pocket and left it on the bar.

  “Valerie. And that boat you keep talking about.” He took her elbow and steered her toward the front entrance. Elaina didn’t have a car here. She’d walked up from the beach. Troy must have seen her.

  “You think Breck will pull in somewhere to pick me up?”

  He glanced at her. “Doubtful.”

  They passed through a pair of tiki torches and ended up in the parking lot. She heard a chirp, and a pair of headlights blinked. Troy stopped in front of a sleek black Ferrari.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  He pulled open the passenger’s-side door. “What?”

  “It’s a Ferrari.”

  “So?”

  “So, I can’t ride in that thing with you. I’m a federal agent!”

  His brows arched.

  “What happened to the pickup truck?” she asked. “The one we rode in to the marina?”

  “It’s at home. Get in.”

  Elaina stared at the car. She didn’t know how much a Ferrari cost, but it was probably at least a few years’ worth of her salary. Or maybe a decade.

  “Time’s a-wastin’.” Troy rounded th
e back of the car and slid in behind the wheel. The engine made a low, throaty sound.

  Did she want to get out on that bay or not? She did. Did she want to beg Breck to pick her up? She did not. So her best option was Troy. He had a boat and he knew his way around.

  Elaina eased herself into the car.

  CHAPTER 5

  Mia Voss watched her friend squeeze through the crowd at El Patio and plunk a pair of enormous piña coladas on the table. She mustered a smile for her. “Thanks.”

  “Can’t get to the islands, we’ll bring the islands to you,” Alex said.

  Mia took a big slurp, giving herself an instant brain freeze. “I don’t know what made me think I could get away,” she said.

  “Hmm, maybe because you haven’t had a vacation in years?” Alex supplied. “And you were planning to be gone only a few days?”

  “I should have known he’d pull something like this.”

  Alex stirred her drink. “Hate to break it to you, but your boss is a prick.”

  “I’ve had it on the calendar for months. Months.” Mia shook her head. “And still, the second he walked into my office Monday morning, I knew it wasn’t going to happen.”

  “Where’d he go again?” Alex asked.

  “Cozumel. With his new girlfriend.”

  “Let’s hope he gets turista.” Alex raised her glass.

  “I’ll drink to that.” Mia picked up her fishbowl with both hands and took another slurp. Pretty weak on the rum, but she wasn’t surprised. San Marcos was a college town, and watered-down drinks were par for the course at every bar within twenty miles of campus.

  Alex leaned forward, and her brown eyes grew serious.

  Uh-oh. Now came the real reason she’d invited Mia out tonight. Something was wrong. Alex’s fiancé had ditched her. She’d lost her job. She had a terminal disease.

  “Okay, don’t look now, but there’s a very hot guy checking you out, about two o’clock.”

  Mia’s gaze shot up.

  “I said don’t look!”