Cold Fear (25 page)

Izzy held her hands wide to say it wasn’t her choice, but she understood the need to bury herself in work. “She wants to try and carry on life as normal. It seems like a reasonable thing to do.”

“I’ll take her to the diner,” Tyson said. “That way people will be reminded I’m not happy about the whole photo saga.”

She glanced at Agent Randall. “Did they figure out who sent that awful message yet?”

He nodded. “Yes and no. A friend of mine tracked it and deleted it from most sites. It originated from Franky Cirencester’s phone, but he said it he didn’t send it to anyone. He thinks someone must have picked up the phone when he put it down somewhere at the party. He was pretty drunk from all accounts.”

“So who was it sent to?” she asked.

Randall eyed her cautiously, judging how much he could reveal. “Jesse’s ex-girlfriend, Jessica Tuttle. She’s the one who spread it around the next day with that message. Her email address was on about half the original texts and she posted it on social media. She wasn’t exactly difficult to track down.”

Izzy shook her head. Charlene’s mouth hung open.

“Thank goodness she’s an ex-girlfriend,” the chief stated with a grimace. “I’m assuming there are charges that can be brought?”

Randall nodded. “Frazer said to leave it with him. He was going to talk to a few people and figure out the best approach.”

Tyson nodded. “I want to be kept in the loop.” He put his hands on his hips. “What she wrote about Kit and Helena was plain wrong.”

A strong sense of gratitude hit Izzy out of nowhere. The fact she didn’t have to handle this alone was a huge relief. “Thank you,” she told the Tysons and Randall. “Thank you so much for your help with this.”

The chief sent her a wry smile. “You’ve got your work cut out with that one.”

Charlene’s eyes filled with tears, which she quickly blinked away. “None of us are exactly winning parenting awards.”

Chief Tyson put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Hey, they went to a party and didn’t tell us about it.” His face grew sad. “We did the same sort of stuff at their age. It’s normal. No one should have died.”

“So why do I feel like such a failure?” Izzy blew out a long, audible breath.

“Because you have a teenager to raise.” Charlene smiled tightly. “And we’re the lucky ones.”

On that sobering thought Izzy and Charlene headed out. Izzy wondered where ASAC Frazer was and was proud of herself for not angling for information. She didn’t think he’d returned to the cottage last night. Maybe he was gone for good? The idea brought with it a mixture of relief and anxiety.

They walked back to her car in silence. The weight of everything that had happened was exhausting. She didn’t know how cops handled it. She kept wondering if they’d IDed the two bodies they’d found on the beach yesterday. The fact she could have told them the identity meant she was wasting their time, time that could be spent hunting the killer. Although they’d have to run the DNA through databases anyway, she realized. They wouldn’t just take her word for it.

“Is that your car, Izzy?” Charlene caught her by the arm.

Izzy jerked out of her thoughts and glanced up.
Oh, shit
. Every window in her SUV had been smashed. Thank heavens Barney was at home.

Dammit. Hurt and fear competed in her brain—hurt won. Why would someone do this? She drew in a deep breath, trying to calm down before she spoke. “I guess you’re gonna need another ride home, Charlene.” She checked her watch. “I’ll call the garage for a tow.”

“And I’ll call Lee.” Her husband. “He needs to see this.”

Izzy shook her head. “He’s got more important things to worry—”

Charlene’s fingers bit into her arm. “What if it’s related? What if it’s the same person who attacked Jesse and Helena?”

Everything inside Izzy froze as terror rose up inside. It was crazy, but at the same time the Outer Banks was a low crime area. These things simply didn’t happen here.

“You’re right, of course, you’re right. Call him.” Because someone was targeting her and until the bastard showed his face, she was running blind.

*     *     *

“
D
ENKER KNOWS EXACTLY
what’s going on,” Frazer said grimly as they left the prison. He looked at the map. “He’s manipulating our every move and someone’s helping him. Now we have to involve more people in this circus.”

He and Hanrahan climbed into the rental car and he plugged the location Denker had said was a dumpsite into his GPS. Frazer clipped the Bluetooth device to his ear so he could talk and drive at the same time. Then he pulled out his cell to call the SAC of the Charlotte division of the FBI in North Carolina to organize the search for human remains and a shallow grave. His cell rang before he could dial. Randall.

“Any progress?” asked Frazer. The guy had been pissed with him earlier because he hadn’t told him Rooney was in the hospital. It was her business.

“I just got a call. Another body. On the mainland this time. Prostitute reported missing from Greenville yesterday. Body dumped an hour south of there on the grounds of an abandoned school.”

“Who found her?”

“Couple of kids messing around in the woods with their dog this morning.”

That would have been a grisly discovery. “How do we know this is related?” The murder of a prostitute would normally fly pretty low on the radar.

“Easy. They found my business card with my direct phone number on her.” There was a pause. “
In
her.”

Jesus. “I don’t suppose you know who you gave that particular card to?”

“Nope.” Randall’s voice held a trace of excitement. “But I got a new batch printed because my extension number changed. I’ve only handed out this particular card during the Helena Cromwell investigation.”

So the killer lived on the island. Frazer had already suspected it.

“Send me the address of the murder scene. I’ll go there next. We have anything back on the skeletal remains yet? Or DNA from Helena or the shovel?”

“Quantico is still running DNA against the databases and the ME’s office hasn’t called yet. Did your visit to Denker shake anything loose?”

“It rattled him, but I wouldn’t say it shook him. He gave us a dumpsite in North Carolina. Now I have to call your SAC from Charlotte and bring him up to speed. You can call Danbridge and fill her in if you want before he does—that’ll buy you some brownie points. Thanks for holding off on that.” The words felt weird on his lips. “Thank yous” always did.

“Where is the dump site Denker gave you in North Carolina?” asked Randall.

“Near a place called Maysville.”

Randall released a heavy sigh. “Guess where the latest murder vic was found?”

“Maysville.” Frazer gritted his teeth.

“Yep. On the grounds of St. Joseph’s School for Boys.” Randall reeled off the address.

“Something tells me these guys have got more games of show-and-tell planned. Ask the local police on the island to warn people to take extra precautions until we catch this guy.” Frazer was about to hang up but found himself saying, “And keep your eye on the Campbell women until I get back.”

“You think they’re suspects?” Randall asked carefully.

“No. I think the killer stole their shovel because he’s familiar with them, their home and belongings. I think there’s a connection there.”

“The doctor had her windshield and car windows smashed in this afternoon. Someone took a baseball bat to it, right in the hospital parking lot.”

“No cameras or witnesses?” asked Frazer, trying not to react. Why hadn’t she called him? Why would she call him?

“No one saw a damn thing. Cameras don’t cover that part of the hospital grounds.”

Why was she being targeted? “Is she okay?”

“She wasn’t there at the time. Thankfully, she was talking to me and Tyson because Kit wanted to get in to see Jesse. So she’s fine, but a bit shaken up.” A calculating edge entered Randall’s voice. “You coming back to Rosetown tonight?”

The guy was going to use the opportunity of Frazer’s absence to make a move on Dr. Isadora Campbell. Jealousy rushed through him in an ugly wave. But why? He had no intention of letting anything happen between them, at least not during the investigation.

What about afterwards?

What if she met someone else first, someone good-looking and charming like Lucas-fucking-Randall? Someone who wasn’t a manipulative, controlling bastard who’d use any tool or any
body
to break a case.

What about it? He didn’t need a woman in his life.

“I’ll be there, but it’ll be late.” He needed to contact his media connections. The discovery of four bodies and the excavation of another possible gravesite wasn’t something he could keep quiet any longer. Frazer should give the case to someone else from his unit and get back to doing his job as supervisor. The Denker connection was about to get blown wide open, if not by them then by the asshole’s lawyer. But he didn’t want to let go. He wanted to find Helena’s killer. He wanted to see Isadora Campbell one last time.

“I have to make some calls. What are you doing now?” Frazer asked.

“I’m on my way to interview the retired police chief in Roanoke, and also see if I can get a lead on obtaining surveillance footage for anyone leaving the island yesterday morning, a couple of hours before the prostitute disappeared. Cross-reference the information with traffic cams on the roads between here and Greenville.”

“Good idea.” That should keep him occupied for a few hours. “Let me know what you find out.” He hung up and dialed Parker. “How’s Rooney?”

Hanrahan’s ears perked up at that. He’d been the one to bring Mallory Rooney into the BAU for reasons that had been unclear at the time. Now they were crystal.

“No placenta previa indicated and everything else seems normal so she’s being released from the hospital tomorrow as long as she behaves herself.” Parker’s voice grew stern, and he was obviously talking to the woman herself.

Relief expanded inside Frazer at the news. “Good. That’s good. I know it’s the weekend but things are moving fast down here. They found a murdered prostitute in Maysville wearing a business card that Lucas Randall knows he handed out on the Outer Banks. And, in a nice twist, Ferris Denker just revealed the location of one of his victims to Hanrahan and me. Same probable dump location.”

“You’re looking for how Denker communicates with his partner?”

“Yes, but I think they think they’re too smart to leave an obvious trace. Randall’s going to check CCTV footage and Automatic License Plate Reader databases to see who left and returned to the island yesterday around the time of the latest murder, but it’s multi-jurisdictional so it might take some time to untangle the red tape and get everyone onboard.”

“You want me to investigate the staff, the warden?”

“Everyone,” Frazer said. “Including all visitors to the prison. I know it’s another big ask when Rooney’s stuck in bed—”

“What? No. It’s fine. Gives her something to do besides driving me and the nursing staff crazy.”

Frazer heard a rude comment from Rooney, but it was obvious things were much better with the pregnancy if Parker was teasing her and letting her work.

Fingers crossed.

Frazer smiled to himself that he still subconsciously used his mother’s old Christian superstitions.

“Denker only has twenty-two days left on this earth. He wants the sentence commuted to life. And is prepared to barter the locations of his victims for that. He asked me to talk to the governor,” said Frazer.

“And this new killer will make people start to ask questions about a partner or copycat—maybe make them doubt the conviction. The victims’ families are gonna want closure before he takes that information with him to the grave,” said Parker. “The governor might have no choice but to postpone if only for a short time.”

Frazer and Parker had both seen the extremes Mallory Rooney’s family had gone to in order to find her missing sister. It followed that other families would be just as desperate.

“I tried to keep this out of the press, but with this second murder and the discovery of human remains—”

“Followed by another dig? Press is going to be all over this like a coonhound scenting blood.”

And the pressure would be on.

“The idea Denker could escape his death sentence makes me furious,” Frazer admitted.

“Preaching to the choir, dude. But life in prison wouldn’t be so bad if he tells us where he buried the bodies.”

“He’ll never reveal them all.”

“Let’s squeeze what we can get out of him and hope he fries.”

Frazer felt a reluctant smile tugging his lips. “I’m going to concentrate on finding this other killer so Denker has one less card up his sleeve.” And so no one else had to die. Frazer said goodbye and hung up.

“You and Alex Parker seem pretty pally, under the circumstances,” Hanrahan noted quietly.

Frazer said nothing.

“Why are you going back to the Outer Banks?” asked Hanrahan.

“That’s where the killer is.”

“Are you sure?”

He shot his former mentor a look. “He was there on New Year’s Eve. He stole the shovel from a local family and injured another woman when he went back the night after to clean up any evidence he might have left behind.”

“If he really was local he’d have used his own shovel,” Hanrahan countered. “Don’t they all carry them in their trunks for when they drive on the beach?”

“We think he rode a dirt bike to the murder on New Year’s.” But suddenly Frazer wasn’t so sure about his theories—what if the real reason he wanted to go back to the Outer Banks was because of the strawberry-blonde with the sage green eyes? The idea shook him. Nothing ever came between him and the job. Then he remembered something else that let him breathe easier. “The killer placed Special Agent Randall’s business card on the latest victim—cards he only handed out during Helena Cromwell’s murder investigation. The guy’s a local, or at least staying in the area. I’m running down a list of people who own dirt bikes on the island.”

“Won’t you need to stay in Maysville?” Hanrahan pushed.

“Maysville is important. Denker says this is the site of his first kill. I need to bring in someone familiar with the case to liaise with local police. Someone I can trust.”