Mariah Stewart - Cold Truth

She found herself hoping that maybe someday she’d find out what they were.

Rick looked at his watch.

“The afternoon is just about gone. You want to hang around here for a while longer?”

“I guess not.” She glanced up. The sun was well off to the west. “We missed breakfast. And lunch. We should probably get something to eat.”

“Amen to that.”

She smiled. “There’s a place not far down the road that makes great burgers.”

“You’re reading my mind.” Rick stood up, suddenly aware that he was still holding on to her hand. He pulled her off the step, but did not let go. “Feel any better?”

“I do. A little. Maybe a little more at peace.” She made no effort to pull her hand away as they walked toward the car. “I always feel more settled after I’ve been here for a while. I know that must sound crazy, after everything that happened here.”

She smiled almost apologetically and added, “We were such a happy family, Rick. I know, it’s easy to idealize your childhood, your family… but truly, we were all very happy.”

She stood next to the car and looked back at the house, her eyes darting from one window to the next before focusing on a bay window on the second floor. He followed her gaze, but saw nothing there.

Maybe she’s imagining someone there, Rick thought as he walked around the front of the car. Could be she needs to see someone there. Well, if it gives her comfort, who’s to say…

He glanced up again as he opened his car door, and for a split second wasn’t sure that he hadn’t seen something in the bay window. A shadow maybe. He looked over the roof of the car to where she stood, then back up to the window. Whatever he’d thought he’d seen was gone.

Power of suggestion, he told himself as he got behind the wheel. Nothing more than that.

Through the open conference room door, Cass could hear the approaching click click click of high heels on the tile floor as they moved briskly, efficiently, in her direction. She looked up at the precise moment that the wearer of those shoes stepped over the threshold.

“Ah, here’s Dr. McCall,” Rick announced, and rose to greet the attractive blond woman who carried herself and her handsome leather briefcase with confidence.

“Agent Cisco.” She smiled. “And you must be Chief Denver.”

She left her briefcase on the chair nearest her and walked to the head of the table to offer her hand, which Denver shook somewhat gently.

“Thanks for coming, Dr. McCall.”

She nodded and moved on to the next chair, where Cass sat.

Rick made the introductions. “Annie-Dr. McCall-this is Cass Burke. Detective Burke.”

“It’s good to meet you.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Dr. McCall,” Cass said. “Agents Peyton and Cisco tell me you’re one of the best at what you do.”

“Well, I guess you’ll have formed your own opinion by the time we’re through here.” She looked at the empty chairs that stood around the table and asked, “Where is Agent Peyton? I understood he’d be sitting in on this meeting.”

“I spoke with him about an hour ago,” Rick told her. “He’s been tracking information about some older kills that he believes may be related to these. He said something about being in the middle of receiving some faxes and wanting to stay until everything had come through.”

“Then he’ll be along in his own time. Or not, knowing him. He did say he had information that would put a new light on what’s going on here.” She returned to her place at the table. To Rick, she said, “Let’s hope he makes it in the next twenty-four hours. We both know how he is once he gets a hold on something. He has a tendency to lose track of time.”

“Annie-um, Dr. McCall…” Rick started.

“Let’s keep this somewhat informal, Rick. I have no problem with first names, if everyone agrees?” She glanced around the table. Cass and Denver nodded.

“Go ahead, Rick, you were about to say…”

“I was going to ask if you’d had an opportunity to review the files we sent.”

“Not as thoroughly as I’d have liked, but I did get through most of it.” She opened her briefcase and took out a pad of yellow legal paper, skimmed several pages of notes, then folded the pages back until she came to a blank sheet. “It appears you have a serial killer-apparently the same one you had… let’s see, twenty-some years ago.”

Denver nodded. “That’s correct.”

“But no suspects, then or now.”

“Right again.”

“You were on the force at the time?”

“Yes.”

“Then I would think you’d be the obvious one to start with, Chief. Since I didn’t have time to completely read through everything, why not bring me up-to-date. From then till now.”

Annie sat back in her chair while the chief recited all the known facts about their killer. As she did so, Cass studied the profiler, who wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Dr. McCall-Annie-appeared to be in her mid-thirties, and was so petite, she made Cass feel uncomfortably like an Amazon in comparison.

A somewhat slovenly Amazon, at that. Cass looked down at the clothes she had pulled on in haste earlier in the day. Light gray sweatpants and a short-sleeved sweatshirt. At least they matched, she reminded herself.

In contrast, the profiler wore a linen suit that had yet to wilt, a pale pink tank under the unlined jacket. She wore large round gold earrings, and a gold bracelet next to a watch with a brown leather strap. The diamond on the ring finger of her left hand caught the afternoon sun from the adjacent window. Her makeup was perfect, not overly done, just enough to enhance, as Lucy would have said.

At the thought of Lucy, Cass rested her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. Poor Lucy. That she had been attacked was bad enough. How would she feel if she was forced to recover back in Hopewell, with that miserable excuse for a husband…

“Cass?” Rick touched her arm.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Annie was asking if there was anything else you picked up from the crime scene that you might want to add.”

Cass gave it some thought before shaking her head. “Nothing that isn’t in the reports. I tried to be as thorough as possible.”

“And the reports from the other towns…?” Annie looked back at her notes. “Dewey. Hasboro?”

“We haven’t received all the written reports yet,” Chief Denver told her, “but in speaking with the chiefs of police in each of those towns, I can tell you we have identical crime scenes.”

“With the victims posed in the same manner?” she asked.

Denver nodded.

“I wonder, Chief, if you could call those chiefs of police and request that they fax over the crime scene photos?”

“I’ve already asked, Dr. McCall. We only received the ones from Dewey.”

“I’ll take a look at those, if I could. Meanwhile, Rick, please put a call in to home base and request that someone call the Hasboro police chief and remind him Chief Denver is still waiting for copies of their files.” She smiled. “Remind him it isn’t nice to not share.”

Rick excused himself from the room.

“May I see the original photos from your crime scenes?” Annie asked. “Only the recent ones for now.”

Denver handed her several envelopes. The profiler removed the photos, one by one, studying each, occasionally glancing back at her notes.

“So we have someone who is highly organized. He’s studied his victims well enough to know where they go and when they’re most vulnerable. Obviously, the fact that these women are all of the same general physical appearance is key. He’s repeating something. Over the years, he’s perfected his technique. Brings everything he needs with him, leaves little behind.” Her voice was low, as if speaking more to herself than the others at the table. “And he’s fixated on leaving them in a particular manner. The posing, the hair fanned out…”