All the Pretty Girls - J. T. Ellison [99]
“How much are you paying him, Mr. Sherwood?” Baldwin felt pure disgust. Over the phone he sounded like a man seriously intent on helping with the investigation. Now it was obvious that he was just an ass.
“Aww, son, that’s neither here nor there. Isn’t much more than a couple hundred, give or take. How much they paying you FBI boys these days? Bet I could make you an offer that would blow your socks off. How ’bout it? Come work for me, personal security. I can make it worth your while.”
This was a fruitless endeavor. The man wasn’t going to tell him anything. If he were a bit more jaded, he would think Sherwood brought him in to gauge his knowledge of the cases and the company, but he dismissed that thought. No, this was just a guy who had some power being a jerk.
“That’s awfully kind of you, Mr. Sherwood, but I’m happy with my current position. I suggest you think about cooperating with me. It won’t take me long to procure a warrant for your records.” He stood and stalked to the door.
Sherwood just laughed. “You get a warrant, and then I’ll chat with you.”
“Count on it.” Baldwin grabbed the handle and threw the door open, then retraced his steps to the locked entrance that led to reception. He banged through it to find Darlene, smiling expectantly at him.
Seeing the fury on his face, she dropped the cutesy affectation and gave him a sympathetic smile. He realized she was older than he first thought, probably more like twenty-five.
“Sherwood being an ass again?” she asked with a sigh.
Baldwin nodded. “I don’t know how you stand him.”
“I don’t. Here. I have something for you.” She handed him a plain manila file folder. He opened it and read ITINERARY in boldface at the top. “Jake Buckley” was directly underneath. A quick scan showed that Jake’s travel had taken him all over the Southeast, confirming Baldwin’s suspicions. No more wasting time, and no need to get that warrant.
Baldwin looked up to see a tear in Darlene’s eye. But her voice was hard. “Nail him, if he did this. Nail him for me.”
Baldwin nodded, not knowing exactly what to say. He had the impression that perhaps Jake Buckley did know what to do with a live girl after all.
He took her hand, squeezing it gently, and sincerely promised to do just that.
Baldwin was finally home. The weather had cooled off after the storms, so he’d showered and defrosted a container of Taylor’s homemade vegetable beef soup. He settled in to wait for Taylor to come home. He was also waiting to hear from Grimes. The man should have called by now to let him know if there had been any reports of a missing girl in the Asheville area. He’d talked to the men on the ground in Louisville, and it was starting to seem like this may be a different killer. Though the girl they had found was a brunette that seemed to be in her late teens or early twenties, there was no visible cause of death, and she still had her hands. The Louisville police were desperately searching their databases and tip lines to see if anyone had reported a girl missing that fit the description of their Jane Doe, but there hadn’t been so far. Maybe they were in luck. If Buckley was their killer, he seemed to be taking a break.
Baldwin went to the kitchen, pulled a Guinness out of the refrigerator, popped the top and poured it into a glass, then walked back into the living room. He should call Grimes, check his status.
He dialed the number, and an unfamiliar voice came on the phone.
“Who is this?” the voice demanded.
“This is Special Agent John Baldwin with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Now, who are you?”
“I’m the one wiping blood off this damn phone so I can answer it. Do you know a Jerry Grimes?”
Blood? Shit, what was happening? Had Grimes managed to get himself into an accident?
“Yes, I do. I’m working a case with him. Can I speak to him?”
“Um, I’m sorry, sir, but you’re going to have to wait on that. I’m Detective Moss, Mike Moss, with the Asheville police. It seems your friend