The Watcher. BEVERLY BARTON
make him wait, the better.
“I’m on a private jet that will soon be taking off from Lufkin, Texas,” Nic said.
“How’d you get yourself involved in this?” Doug asked.
“Does it matter?”
“It does if you’ve gone over to the dark side.”
Nic laughed softly. “I take it that you’ve heard I’m in league with Lucifer.”
“Lucifer?” Griff asked, faking an indignant expression as he pointed to himself.
“What are you doing with Griffin Powell?” She heard the obvious disapproval in Doug’s voice.
“Remember my theory that there were two BQ Killers?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, Griff and I both received calls a couple of days ago from a man who implied that he was that second killer. And he told us that he has begun a new game. He gave us both clues, each the name of a town and state and a time frame.”
“Go on.”
Nic wondered why Doug didn’t seem surprised. “There had been murders in each of the towns he named, and the time frame he gave us fit the time frame for each murder. Four days ago and four weeks ago.”
“So, instead of contacting me, you went with Griffin Powell to Ballinger and on to Stillwater. Want to tell me why?”
“Because Griff and I knew we needed some sort of proof that the murders were connected and that the local law had to get on board before—”
“You’re calling him Griff now, traveling on his private jet with him, partnering with him. I don’t like it, Special Agent Baxter.”
“Yes, sir. I’m not thrilled with the arrangement myself.”
“I want you to part company with Powell as soon as possible,” Doug told her. “Then I want you to hop a commercial jet to Atlanta. I want you to speak to a couple of detectives there. After I heard from Benny Willoughby this morning, I set some wheels into motion and discovered a really ugly trail of scalped female bodies hanging from tree limbs.”
A ripple of fear zipped through Nic’s nervous system as a sick feeling hit her in the pit of her stomach.
“What is it?” Griff asked, a concerned look on his face. “What’s going on?”
Nic shook her head and motioned for Griff to be quiet, then she asked Doug, “Are you saying there were others besides Gala Ramirez and Kendall Moore?”
“Yeah. So far, we’ve discovered three other similar murders in three states—Georgia, Oklahoma, and Virginia. All three women were young—under thirty.”
“Virginia?”
“Yeah. I’ve got Josh on it until you get back here.”
“Were all three women brunettes?” Nic asked as she absorbed the facts.
“There were three other murders?” Griff asked.
Nic laid her phone on her chest, glowered at Griff and told him, “Yes, there were three more. Now, will you please shut up until I finish talking to my boss!”
“Nic?” Doug called her name.
She lifted the phone to her ear. “I’m here. I had to swat a pesky mosquito.”
“To answer your question, no, they were not all brunettes. The first one, killed back in April, was blonde. The second one, killed in May, was a redhead, but the third one was a brunette. She was killed in late June.”
“Then her hair color may not have anything to do with his choice. It may not play a part in his new game the way it did in the BQK murders.”
“There is a connection between the women, other than the fact that they’re all young,” Doug said.
“And that would be?”
“Five of the four women were athletes.”
“Interesting. We already know that Gala was a tennis pro and Kendall was a former Olympic silver medalist in the long-distance running competition.”
“Dana Patterson was a gymnast and Candice Bates was a rodeo athlete.”
“And what was the fifth one?”
“Angela Byers was an Atlanta police officer.”
The wheels in Nic’s mind turned at lightning speed. “My guess is that Angela Byers was in tiptop physical condition. We can check it out, but I’d bet my pension on it.” Nic took a deep breath. “What all five women definitely have in common is the fact that they were physically fit. For whatever reason, our killer either wants or needs only women in their physical prime.”
Anxious to know every detail of the information Doug Trotter relayed to her, Griff waited impatiently for Nic to finish her conversation. From listening to her side of the exchange, he surmised that Gala Ramirez had not been the first kill and that three other women’s murders fit the same MO.
Nic looked at Griff and wiggled her fingers. “I need a pen and paper,” she said as she held the phone sideways to prevent her boss from overhearing her request.
Griff hurried to a built-in desk, opened a drawer, and grabbed a notepad and paper, then slid the pad into Nic’s lap and handed her the ink pen. She nodded her thanks, then began writing rapidly as she straightened the phone and said, “I’ll get to Atlanta as soon as possible. Want to give me the names of the officers I should contact and where I can locate them?”
Griff watched while she continued writing furiously, nodding her head occasionally and giving simple, one-word replies. Finally, just as his patience wore thin, Nic said goodbye, closed her phone, and slipped it into her pocket.
“Well?” Griff asked.
“Doug unearthed some information that led him to believe there have been five connected murders, not two.”
“And?”
“The bureau is looking into each. He’s contacted the various law enforcement agencies in the affected states—Georgia, Virginia, and Oklahoma. He’s also contacted the field offices in those areas. He wants me to go to Atlanta before I return to D.C.”
“No problem,” Griff told her. “I’ll just have Jonathan file a new flight plan and we’ll head for Atlanta instead of Knoxville.”
“I don’t remember inviting you.” Clipping the ink pen to the top of the thin notepad, she looked directly at Griff. “Doug told me to go to Atlanta. He didn’t say anything about bringing you along with me.” She pressed the pad to her chest. “As a matter of fact, he disapproves of your involvement up to this point.”
“Tough.” Griff had no intention of letting Doug Trotter shut him out. He didn’t take orders from the bureau and although he tried to cooperate with all law enforcement agencies, he always did what he believed was in the best interest of everyone involved. He felt a special need to assist the victims’ families and to see that justice was served. Of course, it wasn’t always the type of justice he would prefer. His type of justice would be swift and deadly. No mercy whatsoever for vicious murderers like Cary Maygarden and his unknown partner, who had already begun a new killing spree.
“Look, Griff, it’s not going to work, our partnering up. Not now. It’s only a matter of time before this case is official FBI business. And when that happens—”
“You know that I’ll either be one step ahead of you or one step behind you. It doesn’t make sense for us not to cooperate.”
“I’d ask you to stay out of this and allow