Mariah Stewart - Cold Truth

“No one’s come forward if they have,” Cass told him, “and as frightened as everyone is right now, I have to think if anyone had information, we’d know about it.”

Rick turned to the chief. “I’m assuming you have extra men on the street at night.”

“I have all my cars on the street, twenty-four/seven. But I only have so many officers, Agent Cisco,” Denver explained. “We’re all working around the clock on this case, but he just hasn’t given us much to work with.”

“Would you like to go over the files?” Cass asked.

“Yes, thanks. That’s a good place to start.”

“Detective, you’ll show Agent Cisco where he can hang his hat while he’s here?” Chief Denver pushed back his chair and stood.

“Sure.” Cass stood as well. “If we’re done here, we can start right now.”

“Great.” Rick took the hand the chief extended. “Thank you. I don’t always get this pleasant a reception.”

“Women are dying in my town, Agent Cisco. I want it stopped. I’ll take whatever help I can get, wherever I can get it. I want this bastard brought in.”

“I’ll do my best.” Rick nodded and followed Cass from the room.

She led him down the hall and into a small room that was crowded with two old wooden desks, one of which looked naked except for the phone, a yellow legal pad, and a lone pen. She paused next to the other desk, which was piled high with files and papers.

“You’ll need a chair,” she murmured, mostly to herself, then went back out the door.

Moments later she returned, rolling an old leather number on shaky wheels.

“Sorry,” she told him, “but this was all I could find. If it wobbles too much, we can trade. It won’t bother me.”

“This will be fine.” He rolled the chair behind the desk and sat in it.

“Where would you like to start?”

“With the first victim.”

“Fine.” Cass shuffled through several files. “Linda Roman was our first vic. Here are the basics.”

She handed him a copy of the report she herself had filed. He skimmed it quickly.

“Early thirties… married… one child. No known enemies, no one stalking her…” He went on to the second page. “Found near a creek, apparently within hours of having been killed…”

“Here are the photos from the scene.”

Rick laid the report to one side of the desk and picked up the top photo.

“She looks as if she’s been posed,” he noted. “This isn’t a natural position, arms over the head just so. Legs bent at that angle.”

Cass handed him another stack of pictures.

“Victim number two. Lisa Montour.”

He studied it for a moment, then said, “Same age, same hair. Same pose.”

He looked up at her.

“Number three?”

“Toni DeMarco.” She slid one packet of crime-scene photos across the desk, then a second. “And this is Yvonne Hunt, number four.”

“So close they could be superimposed on one another,” he murmured. “He’s reliving something. Re-creating a scene. The women even look alike. Same age, same body type. And all that dark hair. Notice how in each picture the hair is sort of fanned out…”

“We noticed, Agent Cisco.” There was a touch of starch in her voice now, as if offended. He wondered if she’d been waiting to feel offended.

Well, he’d been waiting for that, that little bit of resentment, to come out eventually. He was going to nip it in the bud right now.

“I’m sure you did. And it’s Rick. If we’re going to be working together, let’s keep it casual, okay?”

“Sure,” she said dryly.

“Look, let’s get something straight. I’m not here to take your case away from you, or to try to make you look bad, or to steal your thunder. I was assigned to come up here and lend a hand. And that’s what I intend to do.”

“You don’t consider yourself the lead, now that you’re here? You don’t feel the need to be in charge?”

“No. Until I’m told otherwise, I’m considering us equal in this. Partners. But since you’ve been on this case since day one, I’m ready to follow your lead. Agreed?”

She studied him with brown eyes that were almost too big for her face.

“Agreed. Okay. I’ll take you at your word.” She sat in her chair, a wry smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. “Not that it makes any difference.”

“It makes a difference, Cass. I know that the Bureau has the reputation of sometimes coming in and strong-arming the locals. I don’t work that way. My unit doesn’t work that way. I’ll help as much as I can, I’ll do whatever I can to work with you. We have resources that you don’t have and we will use as many or all of them, whatever we need to get the job done. But I won’t take over your case, and I won’t try to screw you over to take the glory when we get this guy.” Rick sat back and studied her face. “And we will get him, you and I.”

“I hope you’re right.” She returned his stare for a long moment, then said, “Well, now that we’ve gotten all the obligatory territorial bullshit out of the way, let’s get back to work.”

“Getting back to our victims, then. Just give me a minute or two to read through the report from the medical examiner…” He scanned the information.

He turned the pages so quickly, she wondered if he actually read any of it.

“The autopsy reports reveal all the classic signs of asphyxiation. Petechia at the eyes, broken hyoid bone in the throat… and of course the telltale bruising around the neck.” He laid the photos of the four victims side by side across the middle of the desk. “Any other injuries?”

“Lisa Montour had a broken index finger on her right hand. Other than vaginal bruising, signs of the rape, no other injuries.” She rested her elbows on her desk. “And no, no semen, he must have used a condom each time. No bite marks, no saliva, no nothing. We’re trying to see if prints can be lifted off the victims’ skin, but we’re still waiting on that.”

“No other trace?”

“Some fibers on the clothing of each matched, some gray carpet fibers, probably from the trunk of the car he transported them in, but it’s so generic it’s of no help. We know it was from a GMC vehicle that was made between 1998 and 2003, but they haven’t gotten it down any more exactly than that.”

“Your lab person is good?”

“She’s very good. We can meet with her on Monday, if you like.”

“Great.” He glanced at the lab report again. “What’s this trace found in the hair of the first three victims?”

“The threads? We’re not sure. That’s something we’ll ask Tasha about on Monday. She was trying to analyze it, but with the finding of another body, she had to put the fibers aside.”

“I’ll be interested in seeing what it is.” He slipped the files she’d made for him into his briefcase. “I’d like to see the crime scenes if I could. I realize it’s the weekend, if you have plans you can just direct me…”

“No. No plans. I don’t mind. Besides, it’s always good to walk a crime scene after the fact. Sometimes you see things you might have missed the first time around.”

It was almost one in the afternoon when Cass pulled off the side of Bay Lane and parked her car. They’d already walked the marsh where Linda Roman’s body was found, stood in the alley where Lisa Montour had been left, and visited the lonely stretch of beach where Toni DeMarco had been discovered.

“This is where the last victim was found,” she told Rick as she got out of the car. “We’ve already photographed everything, so you don’t have to watch where you walk.”

Rick opened the passenger door and stepped out onto the soft sandy shoulder.

“You probably got some good prints along here, as soft as the sand is,” he commented.