Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [72]
The woman needed a keeper. Always had and always would.
There had been a time when he would have gladly taken that job, taken it for a lifetime. But that was then and this was now.
Chapter 15
On Saturday morning, Special Agent Hicks Wainwright held a press conference in Birmingham announcing the formation of a task force that would investigate three recent murders believed to be the work of a serial killer. He kept the facts to a minimum, stating that the two of three murders occurred in Tennessee and the third in Arizona. When asked, he gave the names of the three victims, but did not elaborate on anything about them or their deaths.
Mike Birkett sat in his den, his television tuned in to Birmingham’s ABC 34/40 station, and watched the interview as he drank his fourth cup of coffee. Wainwright had phoned him late last night to tell him about the scheduled interview.
At 7:00 A.M., Hannah and M.J. were both still in bed. Saturday was the one day of the week during the school year they could sleep late. In his effort to be a good parent, Mike censored what his kids watched on TV, but with him being the sheriff, he had found it impossible to shield them from the local news reports. If they didn’t see it on TV and he didn’t explain what was going on, one of their classmates was bound to fill them in. And more often than not, they were misinformed and he’d have to go into more detail than he liked in order to correct the erroneous facts.
“Is there a specific reason you were chosen to head the task force?” a female reporter asked Wainwright. “You work out of the field office here in Birmingham and none of these murders occurred in Alabama.”
“I can’t be specific concerning the reasons I was chosen,” Wainwright told her. “But I want to reassure the citizens of our state that we believe the general population is in no danger from this killer. We have reason to believe he—or she—has targeted someone in Alabama, as well as several other states. And before anyone asks, no, we will not release the identities of the potential victims to the media.”
“Even if you can’t give us their names, can you tell us anything else about these potential victims?” a bespectacled, white-haired reporter asked.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Then what can you tell us about why the FBI believes the killer is targeting these particular people?” a familiar voice called out from the crowd of TV, newspaper, and magazine reporters.
The camera panned across the media swarm and stopped on the speaker.
“Son of a bitch!” Mike cursed under his breath.
There stood Ryan Bonner, all five feet ten inches of brash and inquisitive trouble. Big trouble.
“In order to protect those involved, I’m afraid that information must remain classified.” Wainwright pointed to another reporter, who had held up his hand and waved frantically.
Before his colleague got out a single word, Ryan Bonner called in a loud, demanding tone, “Isn’t it a fact that the three victims were former adult film stars and that the potential victim in Alabama is also a former porno actor?”
“No comment,” Wainwright said and pointed again to the other eager reporter.
“Any comment on the fact that the one film the three victims and our Alabama connection have in common is titled Midnight Masquerade?” Bonner shouted.
“Again, no comment.” Wainwright visibly tensed as the camera zeroed in on two agents who approached Ryan Bonner and escorted him out of the press conference.
Mike cursed again, mumbling the obscenities to himself. Everybody in town knew the