Scene of the Crime: Black Creek Page 15

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  BY TEN O’CLOCK MICK had everything in place. The doll was on the love seat, bathed in the light of the lamp nearby. The window curtains were open to give the shooter a perfect view.

  He’d sat next to it…to her…for about thirty minutes, pretending to talk, and then finally at ten-thirty he’d gone into the bathroom and out the bathroom window. The night air was warm as he dropped to the ground in the middle of some kind of bush.

  He’d already decided his best view of the cottage and the general area was near the swimming pool. He could hide in the shrubbery that surrounded the pool area and see anyone who might come close enough to fire a gun at the woman in the window.

  As he got into position and looked at the doll, he was surprised to realize that from this distance it looked like a person…it looked like Cassie. The blond hair was just about the length of Cassie’s and hung straight and shiny like hers.

  But nobody had hair as silky as Cassie’s. Nobody had hair that held that sweet scent that stirred him in his very soul. His feelings were conflicted about the night to come. He wanted success in the assignment, but also knew that it would mean the end of his time with Cassie.

  She was right, they’d run into each other at the field office, exchange pleasantries whenever they met. Eventually in the future they might even be assigned to work together again, but all of it would be sheer torture for him. They would never go back to the easy relationship they’d shared over the past several days.

  The saddest part of all was that he knew she was capable of climbing out of the box her past had placed her in. He’d seen her get into a canoe on a river despite her fear, had seen her roll with the punches when their schedule had been shot to hell.

  The problem was he couldn’t make her believe in herself. Whatever demons haunted her sleep at night, whatever devils chased after her, had to be slayed by her. He’d love to be her white knight, but he couldn’t play that role in her life unless she let him in, and she obviously had no desire to do so.

  He settled into position at the base of the shrubbery, his gun ready in his hand. It was going to be a long night. He could hear couples still walking the streets, their laughter ringing out as the night began to die down.

  It could be hours before anything happened. He consciously willed his thoughts away from Cassie and to the crimes that had occurred here.

  He felt confident about his assessment that the women had been the prime targets, the men merely obstacles to get through in order for the killer to achieve his goal.

  What still haunted him was how the killer had managed to gain entry into the cottages where the couples had stayed. There had been no sign of forced entry in either case, no open or broken windows, nothing to indicate that the killer had done anything except walk right in.

  According to Lambert, all of the staff had been checked out at both locations where the murders had occurred and nothing had rung an alarm. But had Lambert been focused on the Black brothers and their organization to the exclusion of anything else? Mick definitely believed there was a dark personal element to the murders, that something had unhinged a man with a visceral hatred of blonde women.

  Hopefully everyone working the case was reinterviewing everyone who had any contact with the murdered victims. Mick had stressed to all the men that morning at the meeting that it was vital they start all over again, this time focusing on somebody with a hatred for happy, beautiful blondes.

  The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness. The streets began to quiet and the night deepened. Mick shifted positions several times as he watched both the area around him and the plastic woman in the window.

  At midnight his adrenaline began to build. If a murder was going to take place, he was guessing it would be within the next couple of hours.

  His thoughts went back to one of the questions that had yet to be answered. How had the perp gotten into the rooms? He thought of the young man who had shown up at his door earlier in the day from the adult store. It would have been easy for him to allow the man inside the room, turn his back on him to dig a tip out of his wallet.

  There had been no information about any deliveries the two couples might have had. He made a mental note to check into it the next day.

  As the minutes continued to tick by, his frustration grew. Come on, he mentally urged. Come on, you shot at her while we were in a canoe in the middle of a river. I’ve made it so easy for you here.

  Maybe too easy? Suddenly the whole idea seemed stupid. If the perp watched the woman in the window for any length of time he’d probably notice that she never moved, could probably guess that she wasn’t a real person.

  What had sounded like a brilliant idea in the middle of last night, tonight felt like stupid prank that nobody with any brains would fall for.

  Mick would give it until two or so and then he’d go back inside and get plastic Cassie out of the window and they’d have to figure out another way to catch the killer.

  By one his body was stiff, the heat, despite the darkness of night, was unrelenting, but he couldn’t shut off his brain. Over and over his thoughts twisted and turned all the ins and outs of this case, trying to find the answers that had remained elusive.

  Two couples dead instead of beginning their lives together. Four happy people cut down in their prime for reasons unknown. Lambert and his deputies had been working the case since the first murder a little over a month ago and no new information had come to light since then that would lead them closer to the killer’s identity.

  The law enforcement of Black Creek didn’t appear to be incompetent and yet precious little in the form of evidence had been discovered so far.

  Mick felt as if the past month of their investigation had been wasted time. They’d all been so focused on the motive of somebody fighting against the name change of the town, focused on specific suspects to fit that motive. Mick couldn’t blame them. He and Cassie had initially made the same mistake.

  Besides a delivery man or a employee of the establishments where the couples had stayed, who else could just waltz into a room and not make a woman scream, not force a man to fight?

  Mick could understand a killer who was focused on a specific type of person, in this case pretty blondes. Maybe his mother was a blonde who’d abused him, or he’d been rejected by a woman with the same physical characteristics.

  Mick had worked plenty of cases where obsessions were involved, where a killer focused on a specific type, imagined himself an avenging angel against evil, or retribution for pain inflicted on him.

  This case had the same flavor. It spoke of a man’s obsession. But who? And why? And how in the hell had he managed to get into those rooms without the couples feeling any sense of alarm?

  There was only one other type of person who could appear at a door and gain immediate entry. Somebody wearing a uniform of importance…somebody like a sheriff.

  Mick’s heart seemed to stop beating at the thought. Crazy thought, right? He tried to tell himself that he was grasping at straws.

  A vision of Ed Lambert burst into his head. The tired lines that radiated out from his eyes, the wrinkles that were deeply etched into his forehead—there was no question the sheriff was exhausted.

  He’d complained of lack of funds, inadequate resources and not enough help. How deep did his resentment go of the new tourist traffic in town? He’d mentioned more than once that his men were pulling double shifts, that the crime rate had shot through the ceiling with the influx of honeymooners.

  How desperate was he to get somebody’s attention? A couple of heinous crimes threatening to undo the mayor’s vision of the town might certainly force the mayor to up the ante for more money for the sheriff’s department.

  Lambert knew the plan for tonight, and nothing had happened here. It was almost two, and if the killer was going to strike then surely he would have done so by now.

  The streets had been quiet for several hours, the only thing moving were the gnats that buzzed around Mick�
��s head. It wasn’t going to happen here. The words thundered in Mick’s head.

  Was he right about Lambert? He’d been in control of the investigations into the murders. He’d driven the direction that the investigations had taken. He’d made his sole focus the men who worked at the Stop the Madness organization.

  Lambert knew what Cassie and Mick would have on their agendas. He’d known they would be visiting the spa, taking a canoe ride on the Black River. It would have been easy for him to hold the door of the sauna closed, to take those shots at them while they’d been trapped in the canoe. He could have even been behind the wheel of the dark car that had nearly struck Cassie in the middle of the street.

  Nobody had checked Lambert’s alibis for everything that had happened. Lambert had been in charge of the chicken coop.

  Mick felt as if his head was about to explode. Right or wrong? Was this new theory the right one or was it his own desperation trying to identify a potential perp?

  Hell, for all he knew Lambert had once had a blonde wife who left him. They hadn’t talked about their personal lives at all.

  Mick’s heart beat quickly, new adrenaline flooding his veins. What if he was right about Lambert? That meant he’d sent the wolf to take the chicken to a “safe” place. If what he believed was true, then there would be no murder in Black Creek tonight, but there was a possibility that one would happen in Cobb’s Corners.

  With a sense of urgency, Mick left his hiding place and pulled his phone from his pocket. He punched in Cassie’s phone number and waited as it rang three times and then went to voice mail.

  Something was wrong. She would have answered, eager to hear how the night’s events had played out. He raced toward the car in the parking lot. Cassie was in trouble and he was thirty miles away.

  He had to get to her before it was too late, before the killer of Black Creek decided to take his act on the road.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cassie had been pacing the small confines of her motel room since midnight, waiting for word from Mick, eager to hear the news that they’d caught the killer.

  Several times she’d thought about calling him for an update but had immediately rejected the idea. He was probably in hiding, intent on the job, and she knew that if he had anything to report he would call her.

  If they didn’t get him tonight then she knew Mick was right, it was going to take old-fashioned police work to find the answer. They would have to go back to pounding pavement, reinterviewing anyone who had shared any time, no matter how brief, with the female victims.

  It was possible she would be pulled off the case and sent back to Kansas City to begin work on something else. She’d been assigned to this case strictly because she fit the killer’s profile, but there was no guarantee she’d remain since the bait had worked so well that the killer had changed his behavior and there was no longer a pattern to anticipate.

  The part of her that was an FBI agent hated being taken off a case that wasn’t finished, that hadn’t been closed out, but the part of her that was a woman knew getting out of Dodge was the right thing to do, not because of any danger that might come from the killer but rather the danger that Mick posed to her life.

  There was no question that he’d be a major disruption into her quiet, orderly world. He would destroy everything she’d worked so hard to build after escaping the chaotic madness of her parents.

  Had she built herself into a box? Had she been so desperate to find order and control that she’d surrounded herself with a cage that held her captive rather than gave her freedom and peace?

  If she allowed Mick in, it wouldn’t all be crazy and wild. There would be moments of peace, moments when he held her in his arms and chased away her nightmares, times when she’d feel as safe as possible because he was beside her.

  The last time they had worked together it had been an intense week chasing a man who’d been killing prostitutes. They’d worked long and hard and there had been no time to talk about personal things, no time to get to know each other in any deep, meaningful way. Their sexual attraction to each other had ignited on the first day they’d been on the case and had simmered until the case had closed and they’d fallen into bed together.

  This time was different. She’d admired Mick the agent, but now she knew Mick the man and he was so much more than she’d expected him to be. He had a wonderful sense of humor and when he spoke about his sisters a genuine affection rang in his voice. And when he looked at her, he made her feel like the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world.

  With a sigh of frustration she sank down on the edge of the bed and traced the outline of one of the sleeping kittens on her nightgown. A glance at the nightstand clock let her know it was one-thirty. She was exhausted and yet amped with the restless energy that came from needing information.

  There was nothing more she wanted than to hear her cell phone ring and Mick’s deep voice telling her it was done, it was over. The bad guy was in custody and she and the people in Black Creek were safe once again.

  It was all about getting the job done, and she had to keep it all about that. She couldn’t think about Mick McCane the man anymore. Thoughts of what could be only made her head ache.

  A knock on the door shot her up from the bed. Who would be at her door at this time of the night? She grabbed her gun from her purse and approached the window right next to the door. Moving back the curtain, the man in uniform standing there was visible in the light from the parking area.

  She cracked open the door and lowered her gun. “Is it done?” she asked.

  He nodded. “I’m here to take you back to Honeymoon Haven and Mick. I don’t have all the details yet. The FBI moved in when the perp shot the back of the head of the doll, but that’s all I really know.”

  “I’ve got to get dressed. It will only take me a minute.” She released her hold on the door and stuck her gun back into her purse. “Come on in and I’ll go get ready.”

  As he stepped into the room she threw her purse on the bed and then scurried into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Except for the toiletries that were lined up on the bathroom counter, her suitcase was ready to go. She grabbed a pair of neatly folded shorts, her bra and a T-shirt and began to dress.

  “You’ve got to feel great that this is all finally over,” she said through the closed bathroom door.

  “You have no idea,” the deep voice replied. “It will be nice to get back to breaking up bar fights and dealing with petty crimes.”

  Back to normal business. Cassie wasn’t even sure she knew what that meant anymore. The life she hadn’t wanted to leave to take this assignment suddenly felt staid and empty.

  Nonsense, she told her reflection in the mirror as she quickly brushed through her hair. She’d settle back in just fine when she got back to Kansas City. Nothing had really changed except she now had two nights to remember with a sexy, passionate man who had momentarily taken her breath away.

  “Just another minute,” she yelled through the door as she added her toiletries to her suitcase.

  “No hurry. Take your time.”

  Most people would think the difficult part of the assignment was done. The bad guy had been caught and was now in custody. But Cassie knew the most difficult part still was ahead of her. She had to tell Mick goodbye.

  For a moment she leaned against the counter, weak in the knees as she thought of what she might be letting go of, the forever kind of love with a man she loved.

  Her heart ached with the knowledge that she might be making a mistake, and yet her head rebelled at the thought of inviting him one hundred percent into her life.

  He was right about her. The kind of parenting she’d gotten as a child had forever warped her for any other relationships. She would suffer a core of loneliness inside her because she was too afraid to let anyone in.

  With a deep, weary sigh, she grabbed her suitcase and smaller overnight bag and stepped out of the bathroom. Deputy Alex Perry greeted her with a friendly
smile. “All set?” he asked.

  “All set,” she agreed.

  “Good, because I’m ready for the games to begin.” He held out a gun with a silencer, his eyes narrowed to mere slits. “Now, get on the bed.”

  Cassie stared at him in horror as she realized they’d gotten it wrong. They’d all gotten it wrong, and now a real and present danger stood before her.

  * * *

  DOUBTS ASSAILED MICK as he pushed his gas pedal to increase his speed. He was afraid to go too fast. The road was narrow and twisted and he knew that a deer or some other animal could dart in front of him in the blink of an eye.

  Had he chosen right? Was rushing to Cobb’s Corners the right thing to do or should he have sat on the doll a little longer to see if the killer made a move?

  But his thoughts kept going back to the question of who could have entered the murdered couples’ rooms without any fuss. Who might be welcomed in and would have the power to subdue two people.

  The answer kept coming back to Sheriff Lambert. Who knew what pretense he might have used to get inside the rooms? Mick had no idea what the true motive of the murders might be. His gut still told him it was something personal, but Lambert might have just been bringing attention to the mayor that they needed more funding, more manpower.

  Of course, if that was the case then Ed Lambert definitely had a screw missing and that simply made him more dangerous. As he drove, the urgency that screamed inside him was tempered with thoughts of Cassie and the time they had spent together.

  He loved her. But he apparently didn’t have the tools to make her take a chance on him…on them. At their very core they were two very different people with different ideas about the world and how to function in it. But was that so bad? She had what he lacked, and he had the potential to give her what he thought she needed…somebody who would love her, somebody who would always be there for her.

  He gripped the steering wheel more tightly, wishing he could fly to Cobb’s Corners, praying that he was wrong about everything.

  But the fact that he suspected Ed Lambert, the fact that Lambert had been the one who had driven Cassie to her motel room scared him to death.