Angel Fire - Lisa Unger [43]
“The seventeen-year-old girl who went missing has run away from various foster families three times. The missing couple—well, people take off. It was suspicious, they took nothing with them, but that’s not a crime. Besides, I figured if something had happened, the husband probably killed his wife, hid her body, and ran off. He’d been beating her for years. We’ve brought him in at least a dozen times over the last five years.
“But around three A.M., when we got the call from Maria Lopez’s apartment building, I started making connections. I mean, four people missing in a town this small—it means something. I’m just not sure what. I’m not sure I’m ready to say there’s a serial killer out there. That’s why I haven’t called the FBI. I don’t want to involve them unless I have to.”
“What about the surgical-supply warehouse and the dog?”
“The supply house seemed strange. I mean, whoever did that stole enough stuff to set up a small hospital. And it seemed even stranger still when the dog turned up.” He motioned to the picture still in Jeffrey’s hand. “But there was no evidence connecting those events. Either thing could’ve been kids, pranksters.”
“You must have some pretty sick kids in this town.”
“Hey, don’t you read the news? Kids in a rural area are restless, looking for kicks. More and more there’s a lot of methamphetamine around—that’s some dangerous shit, turns normal people homicidal. I guess Nintendo doesn’t cut it anymore.”
They laughed. Like people laugh at a funeral, uncomfortably, hushed.
“So what are you thinking now, Chief?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got detectives and Forensics from State at the crime scene right now. They’ll be here by noon with whatever they’ve gathered. I just don’t know. After what I saw this morning, I’m starting to think something very ugly may be going on. But I’m really reluctant to call in the feds. Things always get messier when they’re around. No offense.”
“None taken. I know what you mean; it’s part of the reason I left to start my own firm. Too much bullshit from the top. I started to worry more about public relations than about doing my job,” he said, partly to put Morrow at ease, to create a sense of camaraderie, and partly because it was the truth. “I think you can avoid calling them in. After all, the only reason to do so would be if you can’t solve the case yourself, if there is one.”
“That’s true.”
“Whatever your opinion of Lydia and of me, you must be aware of our track record. If you let me take a look at your files and let me know what the guys from State find at the scene … If there really is a serial offender, maybe we can give you a hand. The feds never have to be involved until it’s over. Until your department has solved the case. We’re ghosts, me and Lydia, you never even have to let anyone know we were here.”
“Why are you interested in this?”
“Let’s just say I’m doing a favor for a friend. And in doing so, I could do a favor for you and your department. It wouldn’t be the first time since I started my firm that I’ve worked with the police—confidentially, of course. Otherwise I have a good contact in the Behavioral Sciences Department who I’m sure would be happy to give his opinion if I called.”
Chief Morrow rubbed his balding head. He honestly couldn’t tell if he was being offered a helping hand or if he was being threatened. Was Jeffrey saying, Let us in or I’ll call the FBI myself? Whether it was a threat or not, if Morrow could avoid involving the FBI, even if it meant working with Lydia Strong, he would be happy. He was smart enough to know that trouble was brewing and neither he, nor anyone in his department, had ever handled a serial case. Hell, he had to go through the state police department to gain access to VICAP and the other FBI databases.
“I’ll send everything over to you later today. Where are you staying?”
“With Lydia. Do you know where her house is?”
He nodded.
“In the meantime,” Jeffrey said, “make sure no one else talks to the press. There’s already too much information out there.