Josh Lanyon - The Mermaid Murders

Gervase said slowly, “They’re not sure. They don’t think so. And I can’t see her willingly accompanying him to Rexford. He’d have had to fight her every step of the way.”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Jason said. “A ghost town is interesting, especially to kids, who aren’t going to think twice about flooding or rotten floors or snakes.”

“Maybe at Halloween,” Gervase said. “It’s hard to imagine Rebecca leaving her own party on the spur of the moment to go check out a ghost town.”

Jason remained unconvinced. Spur of the moment was pretty much synonymous with adolescence. And the opinion he’d formed of Rebecca through the statements of friends and family was she was a girl who acted on impulse a lot of the time. If someone attractive, someone she admired and felt safe with invited her to share a private adventure to a spooky old ghost town? Jason glanced at Boxner.

Feeling his gaze, Boxner looked Jason’s way. They stared at each other with open and equal dislike.

Jason said, “So we continue to have similarities to the original crimes. And the significant differences are probably inevitable given we’re dealing with two separate offenders?”

Kennedy nodded.

“Which brings us back to my theory,” Gervase said. “That what we have here is not so much a copycat, as the return of Pink’s original accomplice. I always said I didn’t believe Pink could have been acting alone.”

“Yes, you did always say that,” Kennedy agreed. Jason knew him well enough by now to know when Kennedy was being sardonic.

Gervase also recognized Kennedy’s sarcasm. His eyes kindled with irritation, but he restrained himself, instead reaching for his coffee cup and drinking from it.

That tensions were running high was understandable. They were now past the initial forty-eight. For local law enforcement forty-eight was the magic number. Most homicides were solved within that initial time span—or at least the information vital to solving the crime was provided within that window. Cases that didn’t resolve within the initial forty-eight might drag on for weeks, months, even years…or might never be solved.

From the FBI perspective, they were just getting started. The Bureau usually wasn’t even called in until well after the initial forty-eight hours had passed.

The real problem here was they had no idea when the unsub might strike again. Pink had waited years after Honey. And less than two weeks after Ginny. What his accomplice or apprentice might choose to do was anyone’s guess.

Kennedy said, “The problem with trying to match this scenario with your pet theory is that it doesn’t fit the profile. The Huntsman’s accomplice wouldn’t be someone who lures his victim into accompanying him. There is no coercion, no coaxing. Part of the pay-off for this offender is the abduction itself. The ability to overpower and take his victim against her will. That’s always been a fundamental component of these crimes.”

Gervase set his cup down. “We don’t know that. You said yourself we’ve got two different offenders. What worked for one might not work for the other.”

Kennedy gave an impatient shake of his head but didn’t bother to explain. Jason understood though. The police chief was talking about a leopard changing its spots. In this case the spots were psychological markers, but they were just as indelible.

“So we’ve got the same basic MO but two different profiles. Makes sense to me,” Gervase said.

“It makes sense to me too,” Boxner said.

“Our boy is having trouble shooting straight. Or shooting at all.”

Jason took that opportunity to look back at Boxner. “Now that I can see.” When he faced forward, Kennedy was watching him. His expression was unamused.

Gervase said mildly, “Unless this is the return of the Huntsman—and he’s really off his game.”

Kennedy grinned. It was a sharp, white smile. Dangerous.

Gervase grinned too. “Just sayin’.”

It was a long day.

There was a new stack of witness statements to go over as one by one the uninvited guests at Rebecca’s party were tracked down. Jason and Kennedy divided them up, but nothing stood out.

“She was a wild kid,” Jason said. “Not a bad kid.”

“No. Not a bad kid,” Kennedy agreed. “Spoiled. And not smart enough to know when to be afraid.”

That last would be the fault of Rebecca’s parents, who were at that moment down the hall in the chief’s office, demanding progress. Rebecca had grown up believing there was nothing money couldn’t buy because her parents believed there was nothing money couldn’t buy. Including justice.

There were some things no amount of cash or credit could put right.

When the final witness statements proved to be a dead end, Kennedy turned his attention back to tracking down Coral Nunn and Dr. Jeremy Kyser.

Or tried. Nunn was not talking to the FBI, and Kyser’s old number was disconnected. He did not appear to have a new number.

“He’s written three books,” Jason informed Kennedy, studying the iBooks listings. “ Voices in the Dark: One Hundred Interviews with Death Row Inmates , Necrophilic and Necrophagic Serial Killers: Case Study Analyses , and the ever popular and bestselling Monsters Among Us: An Introduction to Psychopathy, Perversion, and Lust Homicide .”

“Sex sells,” Kennedy said absently.

They worked through the morning without much to show for it, but that was to be expected at this juncture of the investigation.

A little after one, Kennedy said, “You want to grab some lunch?”

Yes. He did. Jason said firmly, “I’ll get something later.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Kennedy said—and left Jason to it.

When Jason did finally step out for lunch about half an hour later, he called SAC Manning and explained the investigation appeared to be progressing, though not quickly, and he felt his own presence was unnecessary.

“I can’t agree with that, erm, conclusion, West,” Manning said. “I wouldn’t have assigned you to this case if I hadn’t believed your, erm, presence was necessary.”

“Sir, I’m not being falsely modest here. Kennedy has this under control. I’m not exactly sure what happened in Wisconsin—”

“I’ll tell you exactly what happened,” Manning cried. “That arrogant asshole nearly wrecked the investigation. He threatened to punch a county sheriff in his—and I quote— fat fool face on national TV. National TV , West. The governor’s own son-in-law.”

“Ah,” Jason said.

“And then he refused to apologize.”

“I see.”

“He is not a team player. He’s…” Words failed SAC Manning. He said, “The only reason I can, erm, sleep at night, West, is because I know you’re on the scene, I know I’ve got some, erm, insight, some intelligence into whatever happens from someone who is , erm, a team player.”

“Sir, you need someone here from the BAU. You need someone who can really assist Kennedy—not that he needs it—and I need to get back to my own team. My own duties.”

“I can’t trust anyone from the BAU,” Manning said. “No one in the BAU is going to report back to me if Kennedy, erm, steps out of line. No one in the BAU is going to help me build a case for, erm, disciplinary action against Kennedy.”

Neither am I .

Jason didn’t say it. Part of being a team player was knowing when to keep your mouth shut. In any case, Manning was still talking. As the Mannings of the world were wont to do.

“Besides which, West, you know as well as I do that all members of the, erm, ACT are subject to being, erm, moved to other units when and as needed. It’s part of your, erm, brief.”