Кей Хупер - Whisper of Evil

"No," Justin said, "I didn't know. So they're pushing Cole to bring in outsiders?"

"Sounds like." Steve smiled. "Though I personally think he's looking for help a little closer to home. Psychic help." He sounded the do-do-do-do first notes of the theme from The Twilight Zone .

"You can't know that, Steve," Lauren objected mildly.

"No, I can't know that. But I'd like to know another reason why the sheriff would take Nell Gallagher out to visit the Lynch house. When Terrie Lynch wasn't there, by the way."

"Surely you don't think Sheriff Cole believes in that stuff?" Lauren asked.

"I would have said not. Then again, maybe he really is getting desperate."

"Or," Justin suggested, "maybe he's just exploring every possible avenue. She is supposed to be gifted, isn't she?"

"So they say," Kyle responded laconically.

"It's all bullshit," Steve insisted. "If trained cops can't find out who's doing these killings, then no pretend psychic is going to. If you ask me, the sheriff is going to have to call in the feds, and sooner rather than later."

Kyle said, "We've got a betting pool going. So far, the odds are just about even that we'll be up to our hats in condescending feds by the middle of next week."

"Oh, joy," Justin murmured.

Steve offered an exaggerated shrug. "Hell, maybe we should just admit we're out of our depth and roll out the welcome mat. At least then they could take some of the flak."

Shelby asked, "Are you getting flak?"

He grimaced. "Let's just say I've been asked more than once how it is that we have allowed fine upstanding citizens to be murdered."

Dryly, Shelby said, "Fine upstanding citizens with S and M playrooms in their basements?"

"That point is conveniently forgotten, just like gambling, embezzlement, and collections of porn."

Kyle said, "Why don't you say it a little louder, Steve, so all of Main Street can hear? There might be one or two who don't yet know all the facts."

Unrepentant, Steve retorted, "If you think there's a soul over the age of fourteen in all of Lacombe Parish who doesn't know exactly what's going on, you're nuts."

"What I think is that the sheriff is going to can all of us if he finds out we're talking about this like it's no more important than what we had for lunch. Use your head, Steve."

Whatever response Steve might have made was lost when the radios on the belts of all the deputies as well as the one Justin had in his car suddenly and loudly squawked for attention.

Max looked at Nell sharply but said nothing. Ethan hunkered down and stared grimly at the skeleton. "Adam killed her? Are you sure about that?"

"Who else could it have been? He's the one who claimed she left, that she ran away. He had access to her things and could have packed up and disposed of some of them so it looked like she had taken clothing and personal effects with her. Nobody else could have done that. And he was so openly angry and bitter about her having run away that nobody stopped to wonder if she really had."

Ethan sighed, still gazing down at what was left of Grace Gallagher. "Probably won't be able to tell how she was killed after all this time."

"In the vision, I saw — I remember — there were stab wounds. Lots of them. But I don't think any of them were fatal. Maybe he dropped the knife during the struggle, I don't know. I do know there was a struggle, a violent one; the whole room was trashed." Nell's voice was steady. "In any case, I'm pretty sure her neck's broken. A forensic pathologist should be able to determine that."

Ethan looked at her, brows lifting. "And what else are you pretty sure of?"

"That the body was uncovered for a long period, then finally buried in this very shallow grave. You can see there are only shreds of clothing left, but as much torn as rotted, and there are some fine marks on some of the bones. Teeth marks, I think. Probably rats." Her voice remained composed, matter-of-fact. "I'm thinking he didn't have time to bury her right away, so he just left her down here, covered with an old tarp or something. The rats got to her, maybe even other animals. By the time he could bury her, there wasn't much left."

"That's what you think?"

"That's what I think."

Frowning, Ethan said, "Why do I get the feeling you sort of know what you're talking about?"

Nell didn't hesitate. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and produced a small leather I.D. folder, tossing it across to him. "Because I sort of do."

Ethan opened the folder, and then sat back on his heels, staring down at the FBI badge and identification. "Christ almighty."

Nell had to smile, albeit faintly, at his incredulity. "Never know how people are going to turn out, do we?"

"You're telling me you're a cop? A federal cop?"

"That's what I'm telling you."

Ethan looked up at Max. "You know about this?"

"I found out a couple of days ago."

Rising slowly to his feet, still holding Nell's I.D. open in his hands, Ethan frowned down at it, then closed it and tossed it back to her. "Tell me it's a coincidence that you came to settle your family's estate just when we're in the middle of a murder investigation."

"Afraid not."

His jaw tightened. "You're here officially. And I wasn't consulted or even informed. Want to tell me why?"

Nell chose her words carefully. "There was a request made through official channels for an FBI profile of the killer operating here in Silence. The initial profile indicated there was a high probability the killer was a cop."

Ethan turned around and left the cellar.

"Think he's upset?" Nell murmured.

"Did you doubt he would be?"

Nell sighed and got to her feet. "No. I just hope he won't blow a fuse."

"We've both learned to handle our tempers a bit better than we used to."

"I noticed that."

Max half smiled, but said, "Nell… your mother. I'm sorry. But at least you can be sure she didn't willingly abandon you."

"Yes. I just wish I'd known it a long time ago." Clearly unwilling to further discuss those issues, she added, "We'll leave the lanterns down here for now. I'm hoping Ethan will okay sending the remains to the FBI lab for analysis."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I think he will. No matter how he feels about the possibility that one of his people is a killer, keeping the discovery of these remains quiet is in his best interests, at least for now. This town doesn't need to deal with another murder, even one more than twenty years old. Especially one more than twenty years old."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Don't you need to deal with it?"

"I've dealt with it." Nell walked around the grave without sparing it another glance, then went up the steps and out of the root cellar.

More than a little grim, Max followed.

They found Ethan once more surveying the burned-out hulk of a house but obviously thinking of something else. His face was decidedly dark. As soon as they joined him, he said flatly, "Just how sure is this profiler of yours that it's a cop?"

"Pretty sure. At least, he was when I came down here."

Ethan turned his head to eye her sharply. "And now?"

"I think he's still sure. But I've had a few doubts." Nell shrugged. "I'm not a profiler, even though I have spent some time in Behavioral Science. I could easily be wrong."

"But?"

"But… there's Hailey."

"You don't seriously believe Hailey could have killed four men in cold blood?"

"What I believe is that, so far, we haven't found a better connection between the men. They all had secrets, fairly nasty ones, and one of those secrets was that they all had a sexual relationship with Hailey at some point."

"I told you I don't believe George Caldwell had any kind of relationship with Hailey."