Walker's dark blue stare narrowed thoughtfully. "He's learning."
"Based on how meticulous this bastard's been, I agree. Also, due to the condition of the parts, our ME suspects that all three victims were killed within hours of each other. So unless this guy's got some morbid assembly line going, he's killing with little to no cooling off period. This also means the victims may've been snatched within hours of each other, possibly a day or two. That would fit with what I've been able to piece together regarding the first two victims' timelines. No one's seen Kusić since he left for vacation a week ago Friday. His cat box contents suggest the same. The last known contact with Dunne came two days after Kusić was last spotted, late Sunday night—but that came via a text to his boss, claiming Dunne had the flu. As far as I've been able to determine, the last time he was actually seen was the day before by his doorman."
The killer's timing was critical for several reasons, not the least of which was that a group roundup suggested revenge. If this bastard was working off a list...had he exhausted it? If not, how many more names were on it?
How many more meticulously hacked-up victims would they find?
Kate turned to the sheriff. "Boss, we need Fort Leaves to conduct a staff headcount tonight to ensure no one else is missing. Physical verification, only. Calls, if they know the person extremely well, but no texts. It may also help us ID our latest victim sooner."
Lou nodded. "Seth's already lit a fire beneath digital forensics. I'll get him on this pronto. Carole did get the lowdown on Dunne's landline and cellphone. Same as Kusić. Nothing unusual on either—and Dunne's cellphone goes dead near his condo shortly after that text was sent to his boss about him needin' time off 'cause of the flu. As for his laptop and iPad, they're workin' on 'em, along with Kusić's. They hope to have somethin' soon. What about the interviews you had today? Did you find a connection between the male victims?"
"Possibly. It may be nothing, but—" Hell, she couldn't even put her finger on how or if it impacted the men's deaths. "—not only do we have the man toys in that trailer, along with the AK-47 and that stash of Benjamins, it turns out Kusić was abusing oxycodone. In fact, the oxy may have been the motivation for the stolen scripts. Kusić got hooked dealing with the fallout from an Iraqi search and rescue mission that ended with grisly results five years ago. According to his ex, he'd kicked the oxy on his own, then started using again a month ago—right around the time Dr. Manning noticed his missing pad. As for Dunne, I found steroids in his apartment. Based on the amount and my interview with his doorman, they appeared to be personal use. Plus, Dunne has a potential connection to an unsavory incident as well—though in his case it occurred in Afghanistan, and Dunne may have been the perpetrator in his. Either way, Tonga's added steroids to Dunne's tox panel. Meanwhile, Dunne's lifestyle also shows an infusion of serious money that's yet to be explained."
Lou shook his head. "I'm still stuck on the drugs. I don't see the connection. Oxycontin and steroids are two different animals."
But from his expression, the BAU agent had made the leap. "Both men had something significant to conceal, something that could have cost them their jobs."
"Exactly. And then there's the two incidents from Kusić's and Dunne's pasts. Granted, the events occurred in two countries, a year and nearly fifteen hundred miles apart—hence, I seriously doubt they're connected. But they need ruling out. Especially since both involved local, Muslim women and US soldiers, if obliquely. As for Kusić—" Kate caught Joe's stare. "—remember the Tanner Holmes case?"
"The sergeant who fell for an Iraqi local and deserted?"
"That's the one."
"Mike Barnes worked it." Joe glanced from Lou to Agent Walker. "There was a soldier who went AWOL in Iraq 'bout five years back, only to be captured by terrorists damned near the second he stepped outside the wire. He was intent on running off with some local he'd met and fallen for. If I remember correctly, they never found the girl; she'd disappeared. But they did find the soldier a couple days later, strung up in a bombed-out building, gutted and burned to a crisp. A seriously fucked-up way to go."
Kate was forced to agree. "According to Kusić's ex, he was on the SAR team that found the body. That's why Kusić turned to oxycodone the first time, to forget. We need to see if you can access the case file, read through it and see if anything pops. As for Dunne—do you also remember the local Afghan woman who reported a rape in an alley in Kabul six years ago only to disappear the next day?"
"The one with the shit of a brother?"
"Yeah, that's the one. I seem to recall that she couldn't describe her attacker's face, just his unit patch." Kate retrieved her phone and pulled up the secondhand photo she'd taken of Dunne and his buddy in front of that Afghan souk. "The same patch Dunne's sporting in this pic. Do you know if he was a suspect in the rape?"
"No idea. Hell, I don't even know who worked that case—but I can find out." Joe tapped the screen of her phone, directly over the slightly out-of-focus souk vendor she'd recognized in the original photo. "Is that who I think it is?"
"Yep. Hamid Kasi. And get this, that AK-47 we found in Kusić's trailer? It's Russian. I don't know if that's a connection, but it bears scrutiny too."
"Damned straight it does. And I'm on it, just as soon as we've finished here." Joe tapped the secondhand photo again. "Would you forward that?"
"Sure thing."
"Thanks. Any other weird connections?"
Just the ones concerning Grant. But she wasn't ready to voice those just yet.
Yes, she had witnesses who claimed Grant knew both male victims. And, no, Grant hadn't shared that with her. Nor had her soon to be ex-lover shared his recent vacation status. Or the existence of that second phone—if, indeed, it was his. But none of it was enough to bring him in for questioning. Not officially. Unofficially, she planned on tracking the man down and grilling him until she was satisfied.
Tonight.
If she wasn't successful, she'd be hauling her concerns to Lou's door at the crack of dawn.
"Nope, that's all the weirdness for now. Though I'm sure we'll be adding to it soon enough." Kate ignored the news cameraman and reporter already rigged for sound as they scrambled out of the van and bellied up to Seth's extended crime barrier well behind the line of police vehicles. "Lou, we need to get those bags to Little Rock asap. We need this woman's name and history—most importantly, if she was a vet and/or worked out of Fort Leaves. We also need to know what, if anything, she's been hiding."
As much as Kate detested putting the victim on trial, pawing through the woman's dirty laundry might lead them to her killer a lot sooner.
The BAU agent nodded his agreement. "Agent Cordoba and I spoke during our flight. If it's all right, I'd like to examine the body parts and speak to your medical examiner. If your ME is willing, I'll also assist him in preparing the body for transport and ride with him so I can examine the other bodies as well. Meanwhile, Agent Cordoba will examine this scene and the others. Afterward, he'll review the case files. We'll also need to make sleeping arrangements. Deputy Holland, your sheriff suggested you may be able to help us out there?"
Suggested, her ass. Kate didn't need to see the guilt threading through Lou's eyes to know he'd been plotting this from the moment she'd shown him that tread impression from her cabin. She valued her privacy, and Lou knew it. It was the reason she'd stopped renting the cabin after the last crime tech had moved out.
She'd have been doubly irked with the end run around her bodyguard refusal, if Joe wasn't part of the package.
"Please, call me Kate. I'm sure Dr. Tonga will be happy to let you tag along. We do have a motel in town, but I wouldn't let a rabid coon stay there. The sheriff's right. I have a place where you can flop. My dad and I built a cabin behind our house fifteen years back. My last renter left a year ago, so it's a bit musty—but it's clean and roach-free."
Joe ignored a hail from a reporter as he turned toward the crime scene. "Sold. Especially if your Dr. Tonga
can deliver Agent Walker to the cabin after they finish with the bodies. We don't have transport yet, so I'll need to bum a ride with you."
"Not to worry." This from Lou. "I'll have someone at the station set you both up with somethin' by tomorrow."
Lou fell into step beside Kate, leaving Joe and the FBI agent to follow behind as they walked toward the tape. He lowered his voice. "I already had those two in the car when I got the call about this location. Are you—"
"I'm fine, boss. Really. We'll talk about it later."
"Okay. You've got my number."
She did. And she appreciated the unspoken offer of his shoulder. Even if she had been tempted to take him up on it, the best thing she could do right now was ignore that cross and the reason for it, until she had cause to do otherwise. It was the only way she'd survive this.
Unfortunately, Lou had reached the inner barrier and stopped to stare at the first sack...then the marker.
Kate cut him off before he could voice it. "I already asked Seth to have it dusted. There's nothing else to do but keep the possibility in mind and wait to see what pans out."
For Christ's sake, half their department was milling around. She could not do this right now.
To her relief, Lou let it go. As he hooked a left to speak with a tech, Kate made her escape. She immediately ducked beneath the tape and motioned for Joe and the BAU agent to follow as they finished donning their protective gear.
She and Joe stopped at the first sack. Agent Walker kept moving toward Tonga. As with Lou, Kate watched as Joe noted the position of the leading body part with respect to the stone cross. He squinted at the engraving, then her.
"Holy shit."
That was all he offered. Since they'd been pulling each other's hide out of the fire when she'd received that pithy Red Cross death notification four and a half years ago, it was enough.
"Yup." And so was that.
They headed for the second bag in silence, automatically spacing themselves for a more complete inspection of the road, even though a dozen techs were doing the same in front of them. What one person missed, another spotted. Anyone who'd survived their first real crime scene understood that.
They paused at each shrink-wrapped part, still not speaking. Joe preferred it, and so did she.
There was enough spinning through her brain during walks like this; she didn't need another's thoughts added in. Unless someone noticed something significant, there was time enough to discuss impressions later, after her own had time to ferment.
To her frustration, that same strange nausea rolled through Kate's belly as they reached the head. That damned scarlet line. Why did she feel as though there was a message inside it, just for her?
It was crazy. She was crazy.
After her rude genuflection before that hospital commode earlier, she probably had proof. There was a good chance she was half off her rocker and simply too stubborn to accept it. At least with Joe here to lean on, she might not have to. If she did end up having a complete meltdown, there was someone nearby who she could trust to see this through.
The thought helped ease the nausea.
Joe was studying her intently as she drew in her breath to soothe her tattered nerves. She pulled her fingers from the band of the watch she hadn't realized she'd been twisting.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. You never quite get used to it, do you?"
"Christ, I hope not."
As crushing as the past two days had been, Kate agreed. What would it say about them if they could?
Upon Joe's signal that he'd seen enough, they retraced their steps down the gravel strip.
Lou waited just outside the tape. "Nester finished scourin' the edges of the road. Other than one from the sedan owned by the couple who found the bags, there ain't any fresh treads."
"That's right." Joe glanced from Lou to her. "The article mentioned something about an impression located at the second site."
Lou stared at Kate—hard.
She sighed. "I found its twin afterward. At my place. Last night, after I returned home from the Dunne scene."
"Are you saying this bastard followed you home?"
Kate winced as the heads of several techs swiveled their way. "Louder, Joe. I don't think the reporters heard you."
"Holland—"
"Nothing happened. Even if the guy was looking for some extra fun, he wouldn't have found it with me. I was locked and loaded."
"Nothing happened, my ass. The fact that he was there is very much something."
Jesus. Joe could be twice as loud and three times as protective as Lou. How could she have forgotten that?
He closed in on her. "I saw the name on that cross. Not to mention that a green MP on his first scene would've noticed the alignment between it and that first, hacked-off hand—a hand that belongs to a woman, mind you. There's a decent chance this son-of-a-bitch is developing a hard-on for you—if he didn't start this entire fucked-up scenario with you already in mind."
She couldn't argue with any of it. The moment she'd noted that marker's alignment with the first bag, she too had begun to suspect some sort of sick, symbiotic strategy.
But what did that change?
Absolutely nothing.
Joe loomed closer, blocking out even Lou's girth. "Do you have a personal connection to either of the other dump sites?"
She clamped down on her tongue and her temper—until the mottled side of her face twitched, betraying her. "Damn it, Joe. I live in this town. I police it. Hell, I went to high school here. Of course I have connections—all over the place. But none like that cross. If the guy does have me in his sights, it's most likely a last-minute, extra twist to get his jollies. His own charming way of inserting himself into the investigation. It's clear he did his research on this town. That had to have extended to our department. And the lead page of our website connects to the memorial write-up on my dad. It would take a moron to fail to notice that a current deputy bore the same last name—something we all know this bastard isn't."
She held her ground beneath that same molten stare she'd seen incinerate privates and generals alike. But she wasn't either. Hell, she wasn't even in the Army anymore. She was a civilian deputy and, as she'd said, this was her town. Her case. And Joe Cordoba damned well knew it.
He backed down, and off. For now.
She wasn't stupid. He'd be bringing up the subject again just as soon as they lost their audience.
Fine with her.
Kate shifted her stance, only to discover a livid Seth six inches behind her. He'd had her back just now, literally and figuratively. Nice to know. "Seth, you busy?"
"Not at the moment."
"Special Agent Cordoba needs a lift to the other scenes. Once he's finished his walkthroughs, bring him to my place. But swing by the station first and grab a copy of anything not yet entered in the electronic case files."
Her former fellow agent took a step toward her. Kate wasn't sure if Joe intended on arguing with the change in plans or apologizing. She shook her head to ward off both scenarios.
Joe and Lou were dead on the money about one thing. This case was jerking her strings. Damn near all of them.
At this rate, it was only a matter of time before she snapped.
She needed to decompress. A decent night's sleep would be ideal. Barring that, a thirty minute power nap would help. So long as it was preceded and then followed by a series of soul-balming hugs from Ruger.
A shower wouldn't hurt either. The dried sweat from that humiliating panic attack in Dr. Manning's office still infested her clothes. If she had time, she might even head to the cabin and open the windows and doors to air it out.
Seth snapped off his gloves and swapped them for his keys. "You ready, Agent Cordoba?"
Joe took the hint and followed Seth to the deputy's Braxton PD SUV.
Kate's crappy night and crappier day must've been on her face, because Lou cocked his head toward her own SUV. "Go home and relax 'til your briefin' with Cord
oba, then take the night off. Toss a ball to Ruger. Grant never stopped by the station to pick up your key. Seth volunteered to let him out, but then he learned about this, so I doubt he got the chance. I'll call if somethin' comes up. But since you won't stay with Della and me—or let me post a deputy inside your place—stay alert and make sure you lock the damned doors. And keep that 9 mil loaded and close by. Ruger, too."
"I will. Thanks, boss."
Kate crawled inside her Durango before guilt changed her mind. She'd been in the business too long to not know what happened when the lead detective burned out. Ian Kusić, Jason Dunne and that unknown woman lying in pieces out on the road deserved more. Not that the two additional news vans and that swelling gaggle of media vultures would get it—or care.
Kate jacked up the Durango's radio to better ignore the cameras and microphones pointed her way, all of which scraped along her window as she eased the SUV through the narrow opening Seth had left for official vehicles in the outer perimeter.
A series of flashes nearly blinded her and almost caused her to run down the photographer who briefly stepped in front of her grill to snap photos of her face through the windshield.
After that standoff with Joe, she had a feeling her ugly mug would be making the Sunday paper, along with her name, rank and so-called heroic past—and a column full of speculation.
It just kept getting crappier, didn't it?
Her empty stomach growled in agreement.
So much for heading home. She had barely enough food for her and Ruger in her pantry, and none that could be popped in an oven or microwave without a lot of time and thought. The latter of which were both in short to nonexistent supply.
Kate headed into Braxton proper. It took ten minutes to reach the grocery store. Ten more to toss an assortment of bags and boxes from the frozen-meals section into her cart, along with an extra tin of coffee and an assortment of fresh fruit in case Agent Walker didn't share her and Joe's addiction to rising-crust pizza and caffeine.
The Garbage Man Page 15