Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [96]
He watched her masturbate until she climaxed, her body jerking convulsively as she moaned softly and seductively.
“Did you enjoy that as much as I did?” she asked breathlessly.
Jeff chuckled. “Almost as much.”
“I thought you said you wouldn’t need me for a while.”
“Travis Dillard called.”
She rose from the chaise, slipped on a knee-length satin robe, and turned off the video camera set up on a tripod. “What did he want?”
“Shontee’s dead.”
Jean closed her eyes for a moment. “Oh my!”
Jeff rushed over to her and took her in his arms. Rubbing her back comfortingly, he told her, “Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
She laid her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I know you will.”
As if he could hear her thoughts, his mind revised her words from “I know you will” to “I know you’ll try.”
As the lead investigator, Special Agent Wainwright called Mike and invited him to come to the field office in Birmingham and sit in on a general meeting of the Midnight Killer task force. Mike wasn’t an official member of the force, so the invitation had been a courtesy. After Wainwright had come to Dunmore and interviewed Lorie, Mike had checked out the FBI agent and had found pretty much what he’d expected. Wainwright, at thirty-nine, was a seasoned investigator. He had the dedication, tenacity, and experience to direct every aspect of the investigation. Within days of being assigned the leadership role, Wainwright had established a computerized information management system to track tips and leads in the case. Under usual circumstances, Mike would have assigned one of his deputies as a liaison to work with the Bureau, but this was not just any case. Lorie’s life had been threatened, and unless the killer was found and stopped, she would remain in danger.
A representative from each of the two states—Tennessee and Arizona—where the Midnight Killer had struck the first three times had been included on the task force, which at present numbered only five. A small group of experienced homicide detectives could be far more effective than a larger group of inexperienced lawmen. Wainwright had chosen one fellow federal agent and one Alabama state agent to complete the force.
Upon arrival at the field office, Mike was shown to Wainwright’s office and introduced to the task force members by FBI Special Agent Luther Armstrong, who served as the force’s co-investigator. Mike shook hands with the state reps, one a homicide detective from the Knoxville PD and the other a seasoned cop from Blythe, Arizona. When ABI Special Agent Karla Ross came over to him and held out her hand, Mike recognized her immediately.
“Good to see you again, Special Agent Ross,” Mike said.
“Good to see you, Sheriff,” she replied. “I don’t think either of us thought we’d ever be working together on another serial killer task force.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Mike said. “But just like the last time, I’m not an official member of the force. And you’re the lead control officer on this one, right?”
Mike had become acquainted with Karla and her fellow ABI agent, Wayne Morgan, during the Fire and Brimstone murders that had ravaged Dunmore and several surrounding towns in northern Alabama for more than eighteen months. The lady was a hard-nosed, by-the-book type, a woman proving herself in a profession still dominated by men. She wore her hair cropped carefree short, didn’t bother with makeup or nail polish, and walked with a swagger that said don’t-mess-with-me.
Wainwright called the meeting to order and got down to business. The information he shared could be condensed down to one sentence: They did not have a suspect in the four murders. Basic facts were: The killer had used a different gun for each kill; he was probably using fake ID and different disguises; he killed each victim in the same manner, shooting each multiple times;