Allison Brennan - Speak No Evil

Carina glanced at Will and saw that he was thinking the same thing she was.

“Thank you, Jodi,” Will said. “Please be careful, okay? Don’t go anywhere alone, at least for the time being. Be aware of your surroundings. We’re concerned about your safety.”

“It was a dumb thing to do. We were drinking and one thing led to another…” Tears welled in her eyes. “Will you find out who killed her? Can you stop him?”

“We will,” Carina said. She hoped.

Carina and Will thanked the dean for the use of his office and walked back to their car. Carina called her brother Patrick.

“Patrick, it’s your big sister.”

“What do you want?”

“Do I always want something?”

“Yes.”

She grinned. “We might have a break.” She filled him in on the deleted messages. “Do you think you can retrieve them?”

A long silence. “Don’t think so, Cara.”

“Why not? I know those undelete programs the department got from the FBI e-crimes division are the best.”

“True, but those comments would have been saved on the external server, not the victim’s own hard drive. Unless she copied them for some reason and saved them, you’ll need a warrant to access the MyJournal server, and then if they were deleted before a backup was complete, I doubt there’ll be any record of them.”

“Dammit, Patrick, that wasn’t what I wanted to hear.”

“But,” he continued, “I can find out if any of the comments were posted by your suspect. And there’ll be a log on Angie’s computer as to when the comments were deleted. Maybe she e-mailed them to someone, maybe she saved them. I’ll look, sis, but I can’t promise I’ll have the answers you want.”

“Thanks.” She hung up and relayed the conversation to Will. “We need to get back downtown ASAP. Dillon’s probably already waiting for us.”

“I hope he can help with a profile,” Will said.

“Dillon is unusually good at getting into the mind of murderers,” Carina said. “If anyone can help, it’s him.”

Nick arrived at the police station just before the lunch hour, hoping he could convince detectives Kincaid and Hooper to accept his assistance with the investigation.

If they didn’t want his help, he’d work it alone. But he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“May I help you?” the desk sergeant asked.

Nick showed his badge, knowing it was the fastest way to get information. “Sheriff Thomas, from out of state. I’m looking for Detectives Kincaid and Hooper about a case they’re working.”

“They just left.” He glanced at a sheet in front of them. “Signed out for lunch. I can page them for you.”

Nick hesitated. He’d rather talk to them in person, especially with what he wanted to discuss. “When will they return?”

The sergeant sized him up, approved. “They went across the street. To Bob’s Burgers. They left five minutes ago.”

Nick smiled, put his hat back on. “Thanks, Sergeant.”

“Anytime, Sheriff.”

CARINA GREETED HER BROTHER with a hug, then sat down across from him in the booth. “Sorry we’re late,” she said.

He waved off the apology. “I only just got here myself.”

“We really appreciate you doing this off the clock.” Though Dillon was a freelance forensic consultant for the District Attorney’s Office and often worked with the police department on complex cases, he was rarely called in before a suspect was in custody. He also maintained a private practice.

Dillon looked more like their Irish-American dad than any of the seven Kincaid children. While Carina shared the darker complexion of her Cuban-born mother, Dillon had the fair skin and red-brown hair of their father. He was built more like a lean football player than a shrink, which made sense since he’d played college ball and had intended to go into sports medicine before being diverted into criminal psychiatry.

Carina let her partner fill Dillon in on the details of Angie’s life, as they knew it, and her death. Dillon looked through the crime file while Will spoke.

“The DA doesn’t think we have enough to prosecute Thomas,” Will said. “That’s why we came to you. Carina and I are leaning toward him as the killer, but there’s no hard evidence. It’s all circumstantial.”

“And you think he’s guilty because she put a restraining order on him.”

“That and she ridiculed him in public,” Will said. “Through the online journal. He lied to us at least twice.”

“In addition to Thomas, we have a missing boyfriend, a small-time drug dealer named Doug Masterson,” Carina added.

“Are you certain the killer is somehow connected to her sex journal?” Dillon asked.

Carina glanced at Will. “We’re not certain about anything at this point. But because the murder was sexual and her body defaced with profanity, it was the logical place to start.”

Dillon agreed. “After reviewing the autopsy report Will sent over, I think it’s personal as well. She knew her killer.”

That had been Carina’s gut reaction as well. “Someone like Steve Thomas. Ex-boyfriend.” Carina stopped speaking when she sensed someone watching them.

Sheriff Nick Thomas crossed the length of the burger joint, hat in hand. He wasn’t rushed, but ambled over with a steadfast stride. She was struck again by his quiet confidence. He didn’t exude arrogance like so many cops she worked with. Instead, Nick Thomas had an aura that bespoke competence, intelligence, focus.

And he was nice on the eyes. Very nice on the eyes.

“My Mama always said you can catch more flies with honey.”

One conversation with Sheriff Thomas the day before and she was already eager to listen to him again. His voice was even sexier than his firm body. She picked up her iced tea and sipped. The temperature in the room felt like it had risen at least ten degrees.

“I’m sorry to bother you at lunch,” Nick Thomas said matter-of-factly, “but I was hoping you might have a few moments to discuss the Vance case.”

Carina’s first instinct was to dismiss him. Set up something for later. He was the brother of a suspect. But Nick knew about serial killers, had caught one in his own jurisdiction. And he was a cop first, she had known that the minute she had laid eyes on him yesterday.

She glanced at Will and he gave her a half shrug. Her call . She nodded, and Will said, “Sheriff, we’re talking about the case now. Your input may prove valuable, in light of your knowledge about your brother and your experience with sexual predators.”

Carina watched something intense flash behind Nick’s blue eyes, then disappear. He didn’t so much as move a muscle, but his entire body gave off a warning vibe.

“But,” Will continued, “how do we know you won’t take something from our conversation and screw with our investigation?”

Slowly he said, “You only have my word.”

No one said anything for a long minute. Carina was still torn-she didn’t want to jeopardize a conviction for anything. But what Nick had said yesterday had stayed with her. If Steve is guilty, I’ll be the one to throw away the key .

“All right,” Carina said. “Your word is good with us.”

Nick slid into the booth, extending his hand to Dillon as Carina introduced them. “Dr. Dillon Kincaid-yes, he’s my brother-is a forensic psychiatrist. We’re talking informally right now, trying to get a handle on the situation.”

She filled Nick in on the manner of Angie’s murder. When she was done, Nick said, “You think you have a serial killer on your hands.”

“We don’t know enough of anything,” Will said, “except that the crime seems both ritualistic, like a serial killer, and personal, like she knew her attacker.”