The Garbage Man

by Candace Irving

  She chalked up an additional twenty minutes attempting to clear the "quick" register. For every item in her cart, half a dozen residents stopped to share their horror over the murders. Kate fielded questions and soothed concerns before extricating herself as politely as she could.

  By the time she made it home, twilight had bled down to full-on night. Kate parked the Durango in her drive and released a pent up sigh as she switched off the engine. She thought about retrieving her phone and affording Grant yet another opportunity to ignore her voicemail, but decided to pop the hatch and deal with the groceries instead. Besides, Ruger came first.

  She could hear him from out here.

  Strange—the Shepherd was in the house where she'd left him, but he appeared to be going nuts. Kate abandoned the SUV, the fine hairs along her arms snapping to attention at the change in Ruger's tone as she jogged up the darkened walk. She'd heard that tone only once before.

  Ruger wasn't so much barking, as snarling...and the sounds were emanating from the back of the house.

  Her dad's room?

  How the devil had he gotten in there?

  A split second later, the intent in his snarls clicked in and she realized it didn't matter. Ruger was trying to warn her of a bigger problem.

  Someone was inside their house.

  9

  Kate eased her 9mm from her shoulder holster as she crept around the back of the house to peer through her father's window. Ruger was trapped inside the darkened room, frantically clawing at the door. The only other time Kate had seen him this upset was the night she'd conducted an off-duty traffic stop with Ruger in tow. The driver had been so jacked up on flakka, he'd body slammed her when she'd asked him to walk the line. Ruger had turned so feral, he'd actually cracked the Durango's windshield as she'd brought the man to his knees and cuffed him.

  Kate eased her phone from her pocket with her free hand and thumbed the first entry in her speed dial. Two rings in, Lou's voice filled her ear.

  "Kato, you're psychic. I was just about to call. One of the—"

  "I'm behind my house. Ruger's trapped in Dad's old room, and he's going nuts. I think someone's in there. I'm heading in—"

  "No! Wait. I'll have backup there in—"

  Kate severed the call. She muted the phone and swapped it for her keys as she and her Glock crept toward the double doors at the far side of her shadowy deck.

  Wait?

  Not bloody likely.

  She'd seen what that monster could do. If he was inside her house, she was not affording him the chance to slice up Ruger. Canine or not, Ruger had singlehandedly kept her from swallowing her gun after she'd returned home.

  Several times.

  Kate peered through the kitchen window as she passed. Everything appeared normal in the glow from the light she'd left on for Ruger that morning, save for his frenzied racket. He was determined to shred his pound of flesh. So was she.

  Kate reached the double doors and glanced through the slats of the embedded mini-blinds before unlocking the door on the right. Glock front and center, she slipped inside, clearing the mostly darkened house room by vacant room, saving her dad's for last. Ruger's snarling barks and deep growls provided cover for any stray sounds she might be making.

  To her relief, she reached her father's door without noting a single item out of place, let alone extraneous people.

  But he'd been here.

  Ruger was quite insistent on that point.

  She turned the knob to the bedroom door and jerked back with a millimeter to spare as a still-snarling Ruger tore out of the room and down the hall. She entered the bedroom to clear her dad's connected bath and closet, then made her way to the living room. Re-holstering her Glock, she switched on the inside lights and outside floods before returning to the kitchen to find Ruger scouring the windowsills, doors and floors with his frantic nose.

  Finally satisfied, he bounded over to her, barking his displeasure at the entire experience.

  "It's okay, buddy. He's gone now."

  Ruger must not have believed her, because he shadowed her to the front door and out onto the cedar porch.

  There, his ears pricked up and his head cocked.

  As usual, it took several more moments for Kate to hear it—them.

  Sirens.

  Cavalry had arrived twice in the same day.

  This latest herd came in the form of two Braxton PD SUVs tearing up her drive and sliding to gravel-spitting halts. Owen and Seth squelched their sirens as Lou's sedan brought up the rear. Despite his age and more impressive girth, her boss managed to climb out and meet her in the walkway first.

  Owen and Seth were seconds behind the sheriff, along with an equally frazzled Joe.

  Kate held up her hands. "Everything's okay. The house is clear. Sorry I called for nothing."

  "Nothin'?" The cold air Lou dragged into his lungs did little to calm his raging temper. "Damn it, young lady, I shoulda foreseen this. Until we catch this bastard, I want a uniform planted in front of this house twenty-four/seven."

  "No."

  "Kato—"

  "I said, no." She met his glare with her own. "I mean it. No bodyguards. There's no need." She jabbed her index finger into Joe's chest as he stepped up beside her boss, his posture set to support him. "You trapped me into letting this man sleep in my cabin, his cohort too. That's plenty of backup."

  "It's not close enough."

  "It is." She lowered her hand to pat Ruger's head. Easily accomplished, since the brawny Shepherd was still glued to her right leg. "Not only do I have this guy for warning, I have this." Kate shifted her fingers to tap the re-holstered 9mm as she met the stares of Owen, Seth, Joe and Lou in turn. "All of you know I won't hesitate to use it."

  One by one the men backed down. They didn't have a choice. Not if she refused to offer one.

  "Owen, Seth, thanks for showing up. I appreciate it. But please don't miss dinner on my account. Joe, sorry I interrupted your walkthroughs."

  He shrugged. "I'd just finished. We were grabbing the paperwork when the sheriff called."

  Owen and Seth headed for the floodlit drive. Joe followed. As the deputies climbed into their SUVs and fired up the engines, Joe accepted a thick folder from Seth. He tucked it under an arm and paused beside her Durango's hatch to heft the waiting grocery bags. He carried everything up the walkway as the deputies departed.

  "I'll just put these inside."

  Kate nodded, grateful more for the privacy he was offering than the labor, especially after her tantrum at the crime scene. "Feel free to pick out a pizza and preheat the oven. Coffee's in one of the bags; pot's on the counter. Make yourself at home."

  "Will do."

  Within seconds, only she, Lou and Ruger remained. The silence all but pulsed between them.

  "Hon—"

  She cut him off as she leaned forward to wrap her arms around his shoulders and hug him tightly. Lou's fury had faded to fear—and he was not a man who feared much. She could feel the remainder bleed off with his shudder as he squeezed her back. "Jesus, Kate."

  She nodded into his neck. "I know. It's okay, boss. I'm okay. I promise." She eased a bit of room between them so she could look him in the eye. "But I do need my privacy. Lord knows you're not putting a guard on Seth's door tonight—or any of the other deputies—so don't insult me by insisting that I need one." Not to mention that out of all of them, she was the one who'd demonstrated that she could take care of herself. Eleven times over. "Besides, I called. I've proven I'm not foolish enough to forgo backup."

  "You went in before it arrived, damn it."

  "Ruger was inside. What would you have done?"

  He held her gaze for a solid minute before purging his remaining tension with a sigh. "Same thing." He glanced down at Ruger.

  Ruger stared back.

  "Damned mangy mutt." He softened the pronouncement with a gentle tweaking of fuzzy ears.

  Ruger slobbered on Lou's fingers in return, then whirled around and bounded ac
ross the floodlit clearing and into the trees to take care of the business he'd been holding all day.

  Kate headed down the stone walkway toward the Durango's still-yawning hatch. "So, how am I psychic?"

  Lou blinked.

  "When you picked up the phone, you said I was—"

  "Right. Got so worked up, I plum forgot. We got an ID on the woman."

  "That was quick." Even with the game-night traffic directed away from Little Rock, Tonga must've put the pedal to the metal to get to the state lab this soon. Even then, he'd have had a bit of prep work before he could get the parts into an autopsy suite to unbag the hands.

  Lou reached the Durango first and closed the hatch. "We haven't confirmed it with prints, but we're sure. Nester took one look at the woman's face and hightailed it off the road to puke. Another second, and he woulda contaminated the scene. Her name's Andrea Silva. Late twenties, early thirties."

  "I take it he knew her well?" A rhetorical question at best. As with the rest of the department, that had been Nester's third head in two days—and his first vomit.

  "Yep. She was married to a fellow crime scene tech when Nester lived in Hot Springs. Back then Silva worked at the Hot Springs Medical Center. She wasn't a veteran, but she was a surgical nurse. Accordin' to Nester's cousin, who was close to the woman, Silva moved to Little Rock two years ago. She doesn't work outta Fort Leaves, but the other VA hospital in town."

  Kate frowned. So while the woman wasn't a vet, she had worked with them—in the operating room. Jason Dunne had worked admin. Kusić had been a phlebotomist in the lab. And all three had worked in the same medical system, albeit across town.

  An illegal weapon. Stolen scripts, mail-order steroids, possible vials of stolen blood...and a serious chunk of money.

  How the devil did it all fit?

  "Kato?"

  "Sorry. Just collating information. Why did Silva leave Hot Springs? Because of the husband's job, or hers?"

  "Ahh...that would be the psychic part. You asked about secrets. Andrea Silva and her husband had two girls. They were four and five when Nester knew them. A few months before Silva and the girls moved to Little Rock, she filed for divorce. Next day, she changes her mind. 'Bout a week after that, her husband up and dies. The whole department thought the death was hinky, but no one—includin' the ME—could prove foul play. But durin' the investigation, rumors came to light. Seems the dead husband was asked to stop helpin' with his church's childcare just before Silva filed for divorce. Some of the moms told the pastor he was a bit too friendly with the kids...'specially the little girls."

  "Did anyone file charges for molestation?"

  "Nope. But that don't mean it didn't happen."

  True. Not to mention, "A nurse could get away with murder if she was smart and patient enough...and motivated."

  "Agreed. Hell, the need to keep two little girls safe? That's a pretty good motivator if you ask me. Cain't right say as I wouldn't a done the same thing in her place, neither."

  Not only did Kate agree, but Silva definitely had something to hide.

  An oxycodone addiction. Potential rape and steroid abuse. Murder. Though that last upped the ante significantly, it fit the pattern.

  But how did the fact that all three victims had something to hide connect to their deaths?

  Kate scanned the edges of the floodlit clearing, searching for Ruger as she considered possibilities, only to discard them as she located the white flash of the underside of his tail. He was fifty yards to her right, just inside the trees.

  She relaxed against the Durango. "Did someone call the hospital and confirm the woman's employment?"

  "Owen. Like the others, Silva hadn't been to work in a week. In fact, her supervisor got a text message early Monday morn sayin' she was sick."

  "Let me guess. The flu?"

  "Yep. In the supervisor's defense, it is goin' 'round right now, along with the stories 'bout how the vaccine missed the mark this year, so folks are comin' down with it."

  Which meant their killer kept up to date on the news.

  Good. Kate hoped her ugly mug did make tomorrow's paper. Her scars were distinctive enough to taunt the bastard straight to her door. Better her than another unsuspecting vet or a VA provider with kids to keep safe from a depraved father.

  She hadn't exaggerated earlier. She and her 9mm would be waiting.

  Lou's phone pinged. He checked the screen and frowned. "Governor's aide wants an update. Course it wouldn't occur to the man to get his butt up here and get the facts in person."

  "You tell him that?"

  "Hell, no. With our luck, he'd snap a few pics and swipe what little evidence we did find to hawk on eBay."

  She'd have smiled, but for her suspicion that Lou was right. "If you need to go, boss—do. I'm fine."

  Reluctance wracked his features.

  "Look, I didn't want to admit this, but I probably overreacted. I fell asleep in Dad's room last night. I don't remember closing the door after you woke me this morning. Ruger and I never go in, so I suspect he snuck inside to nose around. That dragon's tail of his probably smacked the door shut behind him and, after being trapped for hours on end, he lost it."

  "You never go in?"

  That would be the part he'd focus on.

  Worse, as Lou's visible reluctance gave way to worry, she realized that her lapse had allowed him to make the leap to the one shame she'd hoped to keep to herself. Namely, that today was also the first time she'd faced that cross out on Fox Run.

  Ruger chose that moment to come bounding across the floodlit clearing, hitched gait and all. She could've hugged him for the timely distraction alone as he slid to an overzealous stop and spun around to plant his rump in the gravel beside her.

  Moments later she realized why he'd resumed his self-appointed guard duty, as another SUV rumbled up her drive, this one carrying Ruger's least-favorite human.

  Grant.

  He hadn't even reached the house yet, and the Shepherd was already growling. Weird.

  "Ruger, hush."

  The Shepherd complied. Reluctantly.

  Lou retrieved his keys as the dark blue Bronco pulled up beside her black Durango. "Guess that's my cue to get lost. I should warn you though; the governor's head lackey's been pushin' for a press conference. I managed to put him off this afternoon—but that was before we found the third dump site."

  "Hold him off a bit longer. At least until Agent Walker's had a chance to study the evidence and create a profile. I'd rather go with BAU's instincts regarding what information to release than some wannabe kingmaker who may be more concerned with his boss' re-election than catching this bastard."

  "Agreed."

  Kate remained fused to the Durango's hatch as Lou climbed into his sedan. The damning tidbits she'd been collecting all day regarding Grant dropped into her gut like jagged stones as Lou fired up his engine and cut a tight one-eighty to begin his return to town. Unfortunately, Lou's departure forced her to turn and face Grant, whether she was ready or not.

  He was wearing the same green cable knit sweater, jeans and lumberjack boots she'd noted from Jason Dunne's window that morning. The deep lines etched in and round his hazel eyes and mouth were unexpected.

  "Missed you."

  Really? After a day of active avoidance, that was what he chose to open with?

  She waited for more. Something worth her response.

  He'd read her mood accurately, because he sighed—and offered a bit more. "Bill Manning called. He said you stopped by his office to interview him about the two murders in town...Jason Dunne and Ian Kusić."

  "I did."

  "He also said you left in a rush, very upset. He tried to follow, but got waylaid by a call. Are you okay?"

  "I've had better days." Definitely better cases.

  Easier interviews.

  Kate held her tongue and growing temper in check as she reached into her pocket. Her fingers closed around the prehistoric phone. If Grant had spoken to Manning, its cu
rrent location had probably cropped up. She wouldn't be able to crack open the SIM card now. Not without a warrant.

  She tugged the phone free and held it up—but not out—forcing Grant to move forward to retrieve it.

  To her surprise, he didn't. If anything, his entire body appeared to be frozen in place. Including his breath.

  "What's wrong?"

  "W-where'd you get that?"

  "Dr. Manning. It slipped out of your pocket during therapy at Fort Leaves, a week ago Thursday night. The doc would've called your office to let you know but, apparently, you were on vacation."

  "Shit."

  She carved out a half-smile. "Yeah."

  "I can explain."

  He probably could. But she wouldn't be buying it. Nor would some impromptu spin change anything. Even without the contents of those paper bags drilled into her brain, his behavior definitely signaled the end to the two of them.

  "The phone belongs to my dad. His cancer's back. He's dying."

  "What?" Abel? No, damn it! Not again. She and Liz had supported Dan through the man's first bout. It had been truly awful. Kate wrapped her arms about her midsection as she fought the surging memories—and renewed panic.

  Suspicion set in as both began to fade.

  Why hadn't Grant told her before now? He knew she adored his dad. So why the delay?

  Grant stepped closer. He ignored the phone to slide his fingers along the skin of her good cheek.

  She tensed.

  Ruger growled. Emphatically.

  But Grant's fingers settled into the curve of her neck and stayed put. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but I didn't know how to say it. Scratch that. I didn't want to say it. Voicing it made it real." He flicked his gaze toward the phone. "I bought him that because he still insists on his walks. I was afraid something would happen and he'd need help. Of course, he keeps leaving it everywhere. And I keep picking it up, and handing it back. A lot of good it does, as you can see."

  Guilt filtered in with the ache. "Grant, I'm so sorry. Your dad—he's amazing."

  As for Abel's elder son...Kate inched away from those fingers, from Grant, and slumped against the side of her Durango. As her stare slid down, it instinctively zeroed in on the right rear tire of his Bronco. The tread didn't match the Starblaze pattern from those impressions.