Unspeakable (20 page)
“
Do you think—” She paused, feeling self-conscious about the question now. Scientifically speaking, she knew the answer. But she wanted Troy’s take on it.
“Do I think what?”
She cleared her throat. “I’ve been wondering about the ketamine,” she said. “Do you think he does that for a reason? Besides controlling them?”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean, do you think they ever wake up?” Her skin chilled as the words left her mouth. “Do you think they realize what’s happening when he starts the cutting? Do you think that’s part of his thrill?”
Troy didn’t say anything. The only sound was the monotonous
slurp glop
as the mud sucked at her shoes.
“I think it’s possible,” he finally said.
She took a deep breath. “I do, too.”
“But the thing to remember is—”
She bumped into the solid wall of his back. “What?”
“Shh.”
“What is it?” she whispered.
He dropped down, yanking her with him. Her knees sank into mud. He took her chin in his hand and turned her head to face due east.
“There,” he whispered in her ear. “Someone’s over there. I saw a flashlight.”
Elaina strained to see what he meant. She reached for her weapon and felt Troy do the same. Gradually, she managed to make out the figure—a black shadow against the sky that was almost as dark.
It was a man. Average height. Stocky. Not twenty yards away. He moved toward them.
In his hand was a gun.
FBI! Drop your weapon!”
The figure froze at her words. Elaina’s heart slammed against her breastbone as she knelt there, aiming her gun at the shadow. She felt Troy beside her, his pistol raised alongside hers.
“I’m a cop,” the man called out.
“Drop the gun!” she shouted.
“Now!”
He crouched down slowly and placed something on the ground. Then he stood, lifting his hands above his head. She and Troy stood, too.
“I’m a cop,” he repeated. “Lito Island PD.”
“Cinco?” Troy asked.
“Troy?”
Elaina’s breath whooshed out. She lowered her arms.
“What the hell’re you doing?” Troy demanded. “You damn near got your head blown off.”
Elaina’s hands shook as she reholstered her Glock.
“What’re y’all doing out here?” Cinco shined a flashlight in her face as she approached him. Then the beam shifted to Troy.
“
I got a phone call,” she told him. “Anonymous. Possible location of Valerie Monroe’s remains.”
“GPS coordinates, right?” The beam moved back to her again.
“Breck told you?”
“No,” Cinco said. “I got a call like that, too. She gave me the location, almost to the square foot.”
“You mean you found something?” Troy asked.
“Your caller was a
she
?” Elaina cut in.
“I found something,” Cinco said. “Not sure what it is, yet. Got the area taped off. Cisernos is on his way out here to tell me what we’re looking at.”
“What does it
look
like we’re looking at?” Elaina asked.
Cinco shook his head. “Well, shit, I’m no expert. But looks to me like a leg.”
Elaina stood beside the portable spotlight and watched a member of the evidence-response team deposit a bone atop the white sheet.
“Is it human?” she asked.
He glanced up. “Appears to be.” He swatted at the cloud of insects swarming around the surgeon’s light attached to his headband. “Looks to me like a tibia. We’ll need to consult a forensic anthropologist to be sure.”
“Got another one.”
Elaina turned and saw the dog handler approaching from the east. His black Labrador, Ike, had alerted on twelve other bones in the past hour. So far, no skull. Elaina met the dog handler’s gaze and asked the question with her eyes.
“
Sorry, ma’am.”
She sighed. It was entirely possible they might never recover the full skeleton. Elaina dreaded the thought of breaking that news to the victim’s family. A vision of Valerie’s father filled her mind. He was wrecked and grieving as his wife stared out the window of that police station. He’d looked at Elaina with his watery blue eyes that could have been her own father’s, except that her own father never cried.
You have any children, Ms. McCord?
No, sir, I don’t.
Well, when you do, you’ll know what it’s like to have your heart ripped out.
“McCord!”
She turned and spotted Scarborough standing beneath the open-sided tent that had been set up to sort evidence.
“Sir?”
“Over here. Someone you need to meet.”
Elaina crossed the muck, tugging at the hem of her flowered shorts as she went. She was covered in grime, head to toe.
Scarborough wore his typical slacks and dress shirt, but his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. His gaze skimmed Elaina, then he gave a curt nod.
“This is Special Agent Bob Loomis. He’s taking the lead on this.”
Elaina traded nods with the man. She was pretty sure no one wanted to shake her hand at the moment.
“Loomis has seen your profile. He’s got some ideas of his own to add. Fill him in on what you know.”
“Sir?” She gazed up into her boss’s piercing gaze.
“
About your mystery caller,” Scarborough said, and then stalked off.
Elaina shifted her attention back to her new acquaintance. Tall. Paunchy. Wedding ring. She put him in his mid-forties.
“I read your profile,” Loomis said. “It didn’t mention an accomplice.”
“That’s right. I don’t think he has one.”
“In that case, how do you explain the female who called Officer Chavez?”
“She could be anybody,” Elaina said. “Someone walking down the street who accepted a few bucks just to talk on the phone for him.”
He paused for a moment. “Chavez said she sounded agitated.”
“It’s also possible she found the bones out here. That would make most people agitated. Maybe she’d heard about these murders on the news and didn’t want to get involved beyond reporting her find.”
“With GPS coordinates?”
Elaina swallowed. Loomis had a point. It was a strange coincidence. And she couldn’t explain it, except to say that whoever the caller was, Elaina didn’t believe she was the killer’s accomplice. They were dealing with a lone perpetrator, of that she felt sure.
“This box you found earlier,” Loomis continued. “The one with the toys. Any idea if it’s connected in some way?”
“Nothing solid,” she said, and immediately regretted her choice of words.
“What do you have, McCord?”
“Just a theory, really. It could be nothing.”
“
Or it could be something.”
She hesitated. “I was just thinking about the cereal box.”
“The bran flakes?”
“Special K,” she said. “That’s a street name for ketamine hydrochloride. Also, Kit Kat, Vitamin K, Cat Valium. It’s commonly used as an animal anesthesia, but it’s also a club drug. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but so far, all the victims have had ketamine in their systems.”
He crossed his arms and looked at her, and she stood there, clasping her hands together to keep from scratching the itchy welts up and down her neck.
“It’s my understanding that the tox results aren’t back yet on the most recent autopsy—the girl from Houston,” he said. “And I hear she was pretty decomposed. We may never know what drugs, if any, she had in her system.”
“Actually, we should,” Elaina said. “The ME was instructed to look for ketamine. He took a vitreous sample from the eye.”
“How do you know?”
“I attended the autopsy.”
This seemed to come as a surprise to him. He tipped his head to the side, and she couldn’t tell whether it was respect or skepticism she saw in his gaze.
“Well, you’re right, then. If she had ketamine in her system, we’ll probably find traces. You think she did,” he stated.
“I’d be surprised to learn otherwise. All the other victims have had it. It seems to be his drug of choice.”
He looked at her for a long moment. In her peripheral vision, she saw Troy approaching. He must have just finished giving authorities his formal statement.
“
You understand this case is ours now, don’t you?” Loomis asked her. “Besides this one turning up on federal land, we know we’ve got a serial killer on our hands, and it’s time we stepped in.”
Elaina waited. Where was he going with this? Everyone knew the Bureau had taken over. That particular piece of news accounted for the resentful looks she’d been getting tonight from Breck and the sheriff and especially Cisernos, who had responded to Cinco’s request, only to be told his services weren’t needed; the FBI had taken charge.
“I’ve been tapped to lead up this investigation, McCord. You’re new. You’re green. Letting you anywhere near this thing is probably a mistake.”
She saw Troy edge closer, probably wanting to hear the rest of it. Elaina wanted to hear it, too. She sensed a “but” coming. Despite the sweat and the mud and the Hawaiian shorts, it was possible this man actually took her seriously.
“But you’re already involved,” Loomis said, “so we’re going to go with it. You’re a part of this case, and I’ve got a task for you, starting right now. That is, if you’re up for a challenge.”
Troy was waiting when Weaver exited the station house. He watched the agent walk across the blindingly white caliche parking lot. Three in the afternoon, and the man still wore a jacket. His only nod to the triple-digit temperature was his slightly loosened tie, which happened to be purple. Not a great choice for spending the afternoon with Lito Island’s finest.
If Weaver was surprised to find Troy out here leaning
against his car, he didn’t show it. He stopped beside the battered Taurus and pulled out his keys.
“Hey, I think you dinged my car,” he said.
Troy scowled at the sedan. It was a heap, just like Elaina’s.“I can’t believe you guys drive these things.”
“We took a vow of poverty. What can I do for you, Mr. Stockton?”
“Troy. And you know exactly what you can do for me.”
“I don’t know where she is,” Weaver said.
“Bullshit.”
“Okay, I know exactly where she is, but I’m not going to tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s got a difficult job to do, and she thinks you’ll distract her.” The man’s gaze dropped briefly, and he lifted an eyebrow. “I can understand her concern.”
Troy gritted his teeth. “She’s off trying to track down that ketamine.”
Weaver didn’t say anything.
Troy crossed his arms. “I was standing right there when Loomis asked her to do it. That’s where she’s been all day, isn’t it?”
Weaver just looked at him.
“Is she aware she’s being set up for failure?” Troy tried to keep his voice neutral, but some of the anger slipped through. He’d been mad as hell since Elaina had turned to him last night and politely ordered him to leave the crime scene. Searching high and low for her since eight this morning hadn’t improved his mood any.
“You underestimate her,” Weaver said now.
“
What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Elaina knows she’s being set up. How could she not? It’s been happening since she joined our office. She’s doing the only thing she can do.”
“Which is?”
“The impossible. Walk into a hostile environment. Provide a profile nobody wants. Track down the origins of a drug that can be obtained by any kid with a computer. She’ll do everything they ask her to, and more, and that’s how she’ll prove herself. And she doesn’t need your help, however much you’d like to give it to her.”
Troy’s gaze narrowed on the agent’s face. He caught the disapproval in his eyes, and something else, too. Disgust.
Weaver thought he was using her.
And maybe he was. Maybe this was about sex and Troy’s perverse attraction to a woman who’d made it clear she didn’t want him around.
Or maybe not. Troy wasn’t sure really. But he knew he was pissed at her, and knowing she was off somewhere on a fool’s errand—
alone
—when she’d caught the attention of a serial killer wasn’t something he could let go.
“I’ll find her,” he told Weaver.
“She’d be happier if you didn’t.” He opened the door and slid behind the wheel. The car coughed as he started it, and then he looked up at Troy. “But if you
do
find her, I suggest you stay out of her way. She doesn’t need any more stumbling blocks right now.”
“Stumbling blocks?”
“Oh, you know, like seeing her name on the news, having her professional reputation trashed in the media.”
He slid on a pair of mirrored aviators. “Don’t cause problems for her. You won’t like the result.”
Troy laughed. “Are you threatening me?”
“You
were
listening. Good. Now, do us both a favor and leave Elaina alone.”
