BEVERLY BARTON - The Watcher

Nic nodded, but before she could respond, Griff took over. “This isn’t an official FBI case. Not yet. Special Agent Baxter is here in an unofficial capacity. We’re putting together a few pieces of a puzzle, that’s all. If enough pieces fit together and we can prove there’s a killer who is crossing state lines, then the bureau will step in.”

“As you know, any case with an interstate aspect to it comes under the FBI’s jurisdiction,” Nic added.

“Well, I tell you what—when I get more information, probably within the next few days, I’ll share it with you and whatever you find out about that murder in Texas, you share with me.” Benny picked up his fork and dove into his chicken and dressing. After a couple of bites, he continued the conversation. “You’re welcome to go out to the park and take a look at where we found her. And you can talk to the first officer on the scene, but I’d rather you not talk to the boys who found the body. They were pretty shook up about it and their folks don’t want them having to retell it again and again.”

“Mr. Powell and I appreciate your cooperation,” Nic said.

“We sure do,” Griff said. “Nic and I will take you up on your offer. We’ll stay overnight and then head for Stillwater in the morning.”

Apparently, Benny had talked all the business he intended to for the day. He concentrated fully on his meal. Griff ate heartily, seeming to enjoy the down-home country cooking. Nic ate two-thirds of the delicious food on her plate, then stopped. She had learned long ago that if she ate all she wanted, she gained weight easily. At five ten she could carry some extra weight, but God knew she wasn’t model thin. She worked out regularly and watched her diet in order to keep her body fit.

Thirty minutes later, after she’d drunk another glass of iced tea while Griff and Benny had finished off huge slices of German Chocolate Cake, they headed for Ballinger Park. Located in the center of four downtown streets and comprising an entire block, the park boasted a central fountain, a gazebo, brick walkways, towering trees, neatly manicured flowerbeds, and a variety of wrought iron and stone benches.

“You folks take your time,” Benny said as he led them directly to the corded-off crime scene. “The Crime Scene Investigation folks are finished, so you can’t bother nothing. If you need anything, you’ve got my number, so just give me a call. I’m fixing to head to Pine Bluff. I’ve been seeing a lady over there for the past six months and if things keep going along the way I hope, we’ll probably get married before Christmas.”

“Congratulations,” Nic said, even more curious about the wedding band he wore.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ve been a widower nearly three years and my kids are all grown and gone. A man gets mighty lonely.” He looked at Griff. “You’re not married, are you, Mr. Powell? Don’t put it off too long. A man your age ought to be thinking about settling down with a good woman and having a couple of kids.”

Nic almost laughed out loud. If only Griff could see the expression on his face. But she managed not to laugh or make a snide comment until after Benny disappeared up the brick walkway. Then she laughed.

Griff gave her a hard stare.

“Sorry,” she told him. “But the way you looked, you’d have thought Chief Willoughby had suggested you should get yourself castrated.”

“Marriage isn’t for everyone, is it, Nic? You tried it once, didn’t you?”

That certainly achieved the desired effect. Wiped the smile right off her face. She wondered just how much Griff knew about her marriage. The fact that he obviously knew she was a widow was more than she’d like for him to know. What had he done—investigated her past? Probably. Okay, so he’d found out she had been married and that her husband was dead. That didn’t necessarily mean he knew how Gregory had died.

“No, marriage isn’t for everyone,” she replied.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he stepped over the yellow crime scene tape and walked around the massive oak tree. He stopped and studied the low-hanging branch from which Kendall Moore had been hung.

“A guy would need a ladder and some sturdy rope,” Griffin said. “And he’d have to be fairly strong to lift a dead body.”

Following Griff, she stepped over the yellow tape. “He probably laid her on the ground, tied her feet, then climbed up and tied the robe around the limb and hoisted her up.”

“This guy is smart,” Griff said. “And careful. During the five years of the BQK murders, he didn’t leave any clues that would lead us to him. Hell, nobody even realized there were two killers.”

“Not until the end. Not until one partner killed the other.”

Griff jerked around and stared at her. “He didn’t have to kill him that day. My sharpshooter’s bullet would have taken him out. He killed Maygarden because it was part of their game. That tells us that he plays by the rules, even if they are his own rules. He’s organized, methodical, and—”

“Evil,” Nic said. “He’s capable of just about anything.”

“He abducted Kendall and kept her somewhere for three weeks, then brought her here to the park. Where did he take her? Why keep her alive for three weeks before killing her?”

“We need to find out if she was tortured.”

“Do you think that’s why he kept her alive, to torture her?”

“Probably.”

“The BQ Killer’s MO didn’t involve prolonged torture. He moved in for the kill pretty damn quick and got it over with, then left the body there. This is a completely different scenario.”

“A new game,” Nic said.

“A solo game, one without a competitor.”

“No scorecard this time. No one to compete with—” Nic gasped. “That’s the reason he called us.”

“To tell us this game is different, that there are new rules, a completely different—”

“Yes, all that, but more. He wants us to play the game with him. Isn’t that what he said? He even gave us the first two clues. He’s daring us to play the game, to see if we can outsmart him, maybe even catch him.”

“We’re his competitors.” Griff snorted. “That son of a bitch!”

“We don’t have to play his game.”

“Yeah, we do. And he knows it.”

“Why us? How could he know that you and I were the only two people who believed he existed, that believed Cary Maygarden had a partner?”

“It was either a lucky guess or a logical conclusion. Whichever it was doesn’t matter, does it? We were the two investigators who followed the BQK cases for years. We were the two people who knew all there was to know about the murders and the murderer. And he had to know the ballistics reports would show that Maygarden was hit with two different bullets that day and that somebody would get suspicious.”

“He probably felt pretty sure that the bureau wouldn’t try to track down a possible second killer when we had no solid proof of his existence and there were no other BQK murders after Cary Maygarden was killed.”

Griff walked all the way around the tree and Nic followed him. When he stopped abruptly, she almost collided with his big, broad back. She caught herself just in time. Another two inches and she’d have slammed up against him.

“This is useless. We made a mistake coming to Ballinger first,” Griff said as he turned around to face Nic. “We should have started with the first murder, the one that’s nearly a month old. The sheriff in Stillwater will have more info.”

“What makes you think the woman in Stillwater was his first victim?”

Griff narrowed his gaze until his eyes were hooded slits. “Good question. I’m hoping she was, but it’s possible there have been others.”