She shook her head. Laura had attended many an autopsy, but
never one on a person she’d known. She couldn’t imagine being
forced to try to view Jana in clinical terms. Despite the trouble they
had, they had been friends once. She just couldn’t see Jana that way.
This was precisely why cops didn’t investigate crimes against their
families or loved ones. Joe should have taken Rafe and Cam off the
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case the minute he realized she was involved with them. “Just try to
see if Caleb will get me a copy of his findings. I know it’s not
protocol, but…”
“Since when do we stand on protocol? You’ll have a copy as soon
as he’s done.” Nate settled his hat on his head and led her through the
double doors.
The station was buzzing with activity.
“Sheriff.” Hope, Nate’s secretary, stood up and greeted him. She
was in her twenties, but she dressed much older. Laura and Holly had
talked about the admin’s odd wardrobe choices. Today she was
dressed in a long, shapeless skirt and a button-down brown shirt. The
ensemble made her look heavier than Laura thought she was. Her
dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, as it was every day. Her
scrubbed-clean face was hidden behind large glasses. “Logan went
back out to the crime site. He said the special agent in charge came in
and asked him to take out extra evidence bags. They’re apparently
trying to be very thorough.”
Then she and Nate were alone. She would have preferred to have
Logan here as well. Two bodyguards were better than one. It was
broad daylight. Nothing was going to happen to her in a police
station.
Nate nodded at Hope. “I appreciate it. Is there anything else I
should know?”
“Your wife came by.”
Nate’s face became thunderously fierce. “Callie left the cabin?
She better have a damn good reason for leaving the cabin. I left
explicit instructions that she was supposed to stay there with Zane.”
Laura half expected the little mouse to run away, but Hope merely
frowned at her boss. Her eyes rolled just slightly as though she was
utterly used to her boss losing his temper. Maybe she wasn’t so shy.
“Zane brought her in. They brought your lunch and a thermos of
coffee. I believe they thought that since Stella’s was closed today, you might have a hard time finding something to eat. And not eating
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makes you crankier than normal. It’s sitting on your desk. The special
agent in charge used your office while you were gone. He had a call
with DC. I hope it was okay. He didn’t really ask me. He just kind of
told me he was going to do it.”
“It’s fine. Damn, I hope these guys are gone soon. I want my
station back. It’s too loud. And I haven’t been fishing all damn week.”
Nate growled a little and opened the door to his office. “Where are
they now?”
“Special Agents Conrad and Lock are talking to the cameraman.”
Hope motioned toward the back of the building where the small
interview room was located. “It took them a while to get him to talk.
He was trying to make a news story out of this.”
Nate grimaced. “Asshole. I hate reporters. You go on into the
break room and grab a cup of coffee. Take fifteen or twenty minutes
to yourself, Hope. But you make damn sure there are people around,
you understand? I’ll answer the radio.”
Hope nodded gratefully and disappeared down the hallway.
Laura walked into Nate’s office and sat down. She thought about
calling Rafe up on the radio, but decided against it. She’d already
talked to him, and she didn’t want to disrupt their work. The sooner
they got done, the sooner they would come for her.
Nate took off his hat and sat behind his desk. There was a paper
sack and a thermos sitting in the middle. It spoke of sweet
domesticity. She would have to make sure Cam had lunch when he
started coming to work.
The door opened again, and Brad Conrad stuck his head in. He
field, he didn’t show it. Apparently Brad was one of those guys who
didn’t get his hands dirty. He looked down at Laura. “You came in.”
“I told you I wasn’t going to run again.” Was he the one she was
running from? She rather thought not. Unless he was a spectacular
actor. He seemed too emotionally undisciplined. Though he had asked
her very leading questions. He’d seemed to delight in her discomfort.
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“I heard you wanted to talk to me.”
“Yes,” Brad replied. “We’ll get to you soon enough. Don’t leave
the station. I don’t want to have to track you down.”
Yeah, she kind of hoped it was that asshole.
“Hey,” Nate called out to the special agent. Brad turned, his face
bunched in an impatient frown. “Could you show her the letter?”
“Sure. She should know what’s coming for her. It’s really just a
whole bunch of quotes,” Brad explained.
She could guess who the bastard was quoting. “From the Marquis
de Sade?”
“Dunno.” Brad held his hands up, impatience apparent in his
stance. “Someone’s looking into it. It’s a bunch of crap about how
morals are arbitrary and destruction is nature’s mandate. It’s all
pretentious shit. I think this guy is stuck in a college phase.”
“Just get her the letter,” Nate said, his eyes narrowing on the
special agent.
“I’ll see if Joe is still around. He’s been running all over today.
It’s been hard to pin that man down. He has the letter.” Brad shut the
door.
Nate sighed and sat back in his chair. There was a weariness to the
sheriff’s eyes. How hard had this been on him? Callie was pregnant,
less than a month away from giving birth to their first child. Nate
should be at home getting ready for his kid and taking care of his
wife, but he was dealing with feds and autopsies and playing her
bodyguard.
“Nate, I’m so sorry about all of this.”
“What?” Nate asked, clearly surprised. “Don’t you apologize.
This is none of your doing. This is my job. I might complain some.
Fine, I might complain a lot, but I love this town, and I’ll protect
every citizen with my life. Except Max. I’ll protect him with my toe
or some limb I’m not real attached to.”
“Point taken.” She wasn’t alone.
Nate reached out and grabbed his thermos, opening it. Laura was
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immediately assaulted with the smell of coffee.
“You want some?” Nate asked. “I can get you a cup. If I know my
wife, it’s some froufrou flavor. She never just makes plain ordinary
coffee even now that she can’t drink it. Zane has gotten just as bad as
Callie. He claims he needs to push the taste envelope because he’s a
restaurant owner. It’s a bar. He makes wings and burgers, not high-
end coffee. What the h
ell does he know? Bullshit, I say. Coffee is best
when it tastes a little like overused motor oil.”
Laura leaned forward. “Do you drink a lot of overused motor oil,
Sheriff?”
He smiled, his handsome face splitting. “Maybe not, but I like a
masculine coffee.” He took a long drink and grimaced slightly.
“Vanilla.”
“Then yes,” Laura replied. “I would love some. And I’m still
hungry, so if you want to split that lunch of yours, I’ll take it. You
closed down the only diner in town.”
Nate frowned. He opened the bag. “It’s just a sandwich. I don’t
know if that will feed me. Hope was right. I get cranky if I don’t have
proper sustenance.”
“Fine.” Nate Wright was a greedy bastard. She obviously wasn’t
going to get anything out of him. “Do you mind if I use your
bathroom? I still feel grubby.”
He waved her toward the bathroom as he took a long drink of the
coffee his wife had brought him. “Feel free. Apparently we have time.
I tell you, I don’t like being on someone else’s timetable. I’m going to call over and see if Caleb’s gotten started.”
On the autopsy. Laura stood and tried to approximate a smile.
“Okay. You do that. Rafe and Cam should be here soon.”
She turned and walked into Nate’s private bathroom. She closed
the door behind her and took a long, deep breath. The events of the
week crashed over her. She choked back tears. She couldn’t lose it
now. Later, when Rafe and Cam were surrounding her, she could lose
it, but now she had to keep her composure.
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She walked to the window. Fresh air. Nate’s office had a window
with a broken lock allowing for the pane to open. Laura opened it and
breathed in the cool air. Despite the fact that it was summer, the
mornings were still cool. She let her head rest against the sill.
She had to find the strength to get through this. She wasn’t alone,
and she wasn’t walking away this time. She wouldn’t leave her home.
Never again.
She straightened up. As she went to close the window, she noticed
a car in the alleyway. It was a big, black SUV. One of the feds. Damn it. Now they couldn’t be bothered to park in the lot?
Why wouldn’t they park in the lot? There was plenty of parking in
the front and side of the building. The alley was narrow, and anyone
who parked there would have to walk all the way around the building
to get to the front. Not to mention if Nate saw it, he would ticket the
person who parked there.
A cold chill went across her skin. It was illogical, unless the
person didn’t want anyone to know the car was here.
“Nate,” Laura called out. She leaned over the sill trying to see if
she could get the plate number off the car. It was almost surely a
rental, but at least they could tell who had rented it. “Nate, get in here.
You need to see this.”
The door to the bathroom opened. Laura turned to give Nate a
chance to look out the window.
Brad Conrad stood in the doorway. “You need to come with me.”
Laura shrank back. She couldn’t miss the look in Brad’s eyes or
the gun he held. Primitive fear threatened to take over. She pushed it
back and tried to figure a way out. If she tried to get out the window,
he’d be on her before she could get through. She would fit through the
window, but she’d land face first and have to scramble to get up. Then
there was another problem.
“What did you do to Nate?” Nate Wright wouldn’t have allowed
this asshole to walk in. Her stomach rolled. Please don’t let Nate be
dead. He was so close to having his family with Callie and Zane. She
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couldn’t even think about it.
Brad frowned. “I didn’t do anything, but he’s out cold. Look,
Laura, you’re coming with me. I’m sorry, but I can’t take no for an
answer.”
He reached out to grab her, and Laura feinted to her left. She
punched out with her right hand, catching him in the jaw. Brad
groaned, and Laura pushed her way around him. He fell back, hitting
his head hard against the sink. The sound thudded through the room,
and Laura couldn’t miss the blood that started to pool around Brad’s
head. She shoved her way out of the door and froze at the sight in
front of her.
Joseph Stone slipped from the small closet behind Nate’s desk, a
Taser in his hands.
And Laura realized she’d made a deadly mistake.
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Chapter Eighteen
“You’re certain?” Rafe asked, his heart racing as he put the SUV
in reverse and jammed his foot on the gas. He was pretty sure he
hadn’t locked the motel door, but it didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered except getting to Laura.
Cam clicked his seat belt into place and turned to Rafe, gesturing
toward the computer. “It’s right here. I know it’s not conclusive, but
this is it. This is what we’ve been looking for. The lipstick connects
the cases. Purple Passion. The lipstick is listed in the evidence log for Marla Stone’s suicide. Joe’s wife is the connection. She’s wearing the
same lipstick that the Marquis de Sade puts on all his victims. That
can’t be a coincidence. Tell me you think I’m wrong. Tell me Laura
isn’t in the same building with the man who almost killed her.”
“It was a suicide.” Rafe said the words, but he no longer believed
them.
“I don’t think so. I think she’s the first.” Cam still had his laptop
up and running. He struggled a little to keep the thing steady. “She slit her wrists. Damn. And she was pregnant according to the autopsy.
She said in her suicide note—which was typed and unsigned—that
she couldn’t handle what she had done and called herself a whore.
The police concluded she’d been having an affair with a coworker.”
Rafe let his eyes close briefly. “That’s why he tortured the victims
with shallow wounds to their lower abdomen. That was probably what
he wanted to do to her the first time, but Joe has always been a
disciplined bastard. He planned it. He knew he couldn’t get away with
torturing her, so he staged a suicide, but he couldn’t let it go. The first victim was killed a year after Marla, and every six to seven months
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after, he killed again. He was killing her over and over again.”
“That would be my take on it,” Cam replied. “And after we found
the first couple of victims and the news reports started, he couldn’t
help himself. He had to control his image. He needed more than just
the killing. He needed the attention. He asked for our team to be
assigned to this case, you know.”
“I remember it well.” Rafe remembered how Joe had gone over all
the evidence the DC metro police had found before deciding it was a
serial case and calling in the Bureau. He’d thought Joe was excited
about taking on a big case. The bastard had talked about how smart
the killer was. He went on and on about how hard it would b
e to catch
this one. At the time, Rafe had taken it as Joe issuing a challenge to
his team.
Joseph Stone had been bragging.
Cam broke through Rafe’s thoughts. Fingers flew across the
keyboard in a flurry. “It gets worse. Did you know Joe had a brother?
He’s in a mental institution and has been for years. He was discovered
torturing animals and was accused of raping a neighborhood girl. Do
you know who the star witness was in his trial?”
“Joe, I’m sure.”
“His brother’s IQ is under 80. It would have been easy for Joe to
make him the scapegoat. The girl didn’t see who it was because the
attacker wore a mask, but forensics led to someone from next door.
Apparently Joe’s mother had some rare plants in her home that
tracked to the crime scene. Joe gave up his brother. Joe testified that
he’d covered his brother’s violent streak for years. The fucker was
seventeen years old. And his father divorced his mother for cheating
on him. God, what a pattern.”
For the normal person, it was a pattern that would lead to
bitterness and a host of self-destructive tendencies. But with that rare person, it led to focusing the rage outward. Joe was a super predator.
The tendency had always been there. Rafe knew the story well. Most
serial killers had similar stories. Joe had undoubtedly been the one to
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torture animals as a kid. Joe had been the one to rape his neighbor.
He’d been lucky that there was an easy scapegoat, or Joe would have
been discovered. Rafe could guess how things had gone after that
close call. Joe had hidden his monster for years until the inciting
incident—discovering his wife was pregnant with another man’s
child. Then he couldn’t hold it in any longer. The fact that he’d
planned his wife’s death was a testament to Joe’s discipline.
If Joe intended to kill Laura, he would have an excellent plan in
place.
Cam was staring at the screen as though he couldn’t believe what
he was seeing. “He’s hidden this for years. Do you think he laughed
the whole time we were profiling the Marquis de Sade?”
“I bet he did,” Rafe replied.
He’d never known the man. He’d worked beside him for years,