Believe No One (15 page)

There's no such thing as altruism.

Westfield, Williams County, Oklahoma

They held the first Task Force meeting in the town of Westfield, Williams County, Oklahoma. The inn where Nick Fennimore was staying was chosen as the venue: the proprietors were delighted to dust down their function room. Fennimore walked up a flight of stairs and opened the doors on to a buzz of conversation; the sharp, bitter-chocolate aroma of strong coffee was balanced by the sweet smell of warm cookies. Flyers bullet-pointing Sheriff Launer's successes during his term of office lay in three neat stacks on a table directly in front of the doors. Fennimore skimmed the list, intrigued by $60,000 dollars saved in ‘creative sourcing of office ordnance'.

A portable projector screen was set up out of line of sight of the doors; chairs had been set out in rows facing the screen, and a laptop and digital-media projector on a stand in front of it. Four-foot-high posters of Sheriff Launer had been hung on the pine panelling around the room, one placed just right of the projector screen, with the American and Oklahoma State flags propped either side of his smiling image.

Sheriff Launer himself stood at the centre of a knot of deputies, beaming like a senatorial candidate, but keeping a sharp eye on the room, and Fennimore saw him notice his arrival. His gaze switched quickly to another part of the room, and Fennimore realized the Sheriff was watching Abigail Hicks walk towards him, clutching a neat black slipcase under her arm as if she was afraid to put it down.

She greeted him with a handshake.

‘Is that a netbook?' he said.

‘Brand new,' she said, beaming. ‘Compliments of Team Adam.' It seemed they had taken her seriously when she said she could use a functioning computer. ‘Best thing is, I get to keep it.'

‘I'd get that in writing if I were you,' he said, thinking about Launer's election flyer and his ‘creative sourcing'.

She leaned in close. ‘Way ahead of you.' Her face betrayed nothing; they might have been exchanging information about the running order for the day.

Launer was working the room, shaking hands, playing the part of the good host.

‘It's quite a turnout.' Fennimore had counted over thirty in the room.

‘Yeah.' She scanned the room. ‘We got people from St Louis Major Case Squad, NCMEC, Team Adam. The International Association of Cold Case Investigators is here, too. They want to develop a worldwide database of cold-case homicides – it's kinda new. One of the guys on their board of directors is also a Team Adam consultant – he hitched a ride out of Tulsa with the NCMEC team.'

Fennimore nodded, making a mental note to exchange details later. He scanned the rest of the room. The head of the Major Case Squad in St Louis had called him as soon as he'd learned that Fennimore was advising Williams County Sheriff's Department. Fennimore explained that he was there in an unofficial capacity, but was persuaded to attend the meeting. He recognized the detectives by the St Louis shields they wore on lanyards around their necks. A couple of CSIs with badges stitched on their polo shirts mingled with the rest. ‘Who's the sombre-looking fellow in the suit?' he said.

‘FBI Behaviourist,' she said. ‘There's a British Chief of Police here with a CSI, too. She's here on a look-see with St Louis PD.'

His heart rate picked up a notch.

‘Simpson, or Simmons,' Hicks said. ‘I forget.'

‘Kate Simms,' Fennimore supplied. Was she in the room right now? He searched the clusters of people, feeling that he should be able to sense her presence. ‘She's a Chief Inspector, a bit lower down the chain of command than your Chief of Police – a Chief of Detectives, if you will.'

‘If I will?' The corner of her mouth quirked into a smile. ‘You do talk like a knight of olden times,' she said. ‘Did you work with this Chief of Detectives?'

‘A lifetime ago, at the National Crime Faculty in England.'

‘But you knew it was her right away,' Hicks said.

Oh, she's sharp.

‘We email occasionally,' he said, trying to sound casual. ‘She might have mentioned that she was planning a research trip to St Louis.'

Hicks raised her eyebrows; the dark outer rim of her blue eyes giving her gaze an animal, almost wolf-like intensity.

He saw Kate Simms through the crowd. She was over by the coffee table, choosing something to eat with her morning coffee. She exchanged a few words with a young detective, smiling, and Fennimore had to stop himself from calling out her name. ‘That's her,' he said. ‘Let me introduce you.'

But one of the techs called Hicks over. They needed her USB ‘flat', he said, so they could show the images of her victim and the location. She turned to Fennimore. ‘You should go ahead,' she said. ‘Say hello before we get started.'

Fennimore edged through the crowd until he was by Simms's side. She hadn't seen his approach, but as he reached past her for a plate and a cookie, she glanced over her shoulder. A light flared in her eyes, but was gone in an instant.

‘Nick.' She smiled. ‘Now, why am I not surprised?'

‘Can I help it if we're fated to meet?'

‘You're a scientist. You don't believe in fate.'

‘I'm a statistician, I believe in probabilities.' He poured himself a coffee and filled another for Simms. ‘Anyway, when you made it clear you were “too busy” to see me, I came five hundred miles
away
from St Louis to help with a case in a rural county, in a different state. A case which, until yesterday, had not been reliably linked to any other murder, anywhere else.'

‘You've been in on the investigation from the off?'

He dipped his head, modestly.

‘Is there a woman in the case?'

‘Am I so transparent?' Fennimore said, his tone playful.

‘As glass.'

‘Half empty or half full?'

She shrugged. ‘Either way, you can see right through it.'

‘Have you never heard of altruism?' he said.

She gave him a sardonic look. ‘Is that what they're calling it these days?'

A sudden clatter of crockery jarred him from a contemplation of Simms's eyes and Fennimore realized that Deputy Hicks, unobserved, had joined them at the table.

Kate Simms took a nibble of her cookie, eyebrows raised, looking from him to the deputy and back again. ‘Glass,' she said, chuckling as she took another sip of coffee.

Her laughter sent a ripple of pleasure through his chest, which lodged at his heart and loosened something that had been growing tighter ever since she had stalked out of the restaurant in St Louis.

‘Deputy Hicks,' Fennimore said. ‘We were just talking stats.'

‘Yes,' Simms said, her eyes dancing with laughter. ‘Improbabilities.'

Fennimore made the introductions, and Kate wiped her hands on a paper napkin before offering her hand to the deputy. She smiled at Hicks. ‘Outstanding job on the case,' she said.

‘Professor Fennimore's been real helpful,' Hicks said.

‘He can be.' For a brief moment Simms was serious. ‘Just don't let him hustle you with his numbers lark.'

Maybe she was puzzled by what Simms had said, but whatever the reason, Hicks didn't answer, and after an awkward silence Simms excused herself and headed over to the St Louis team.

A second later, Sheriff Launer appeared at Hicks's side. His shirt looked like it was fresh out of the packaging and his hair was suspiciously brown for a man in his early fifties.

‘You ready for the Show and Tell, Deputy?' He was affable, even smiling, but his smile had a ferocious quality, revealing too many teeth, and it was clear to Fennimore that he intended the ‘Show and Tell' remark as a put-down.

He got no reaction from Deputy Hicks; she looked at her boss with her intense, hunting-wolf eyes and said, without rancour, ‘Yes, sir, I'm ready.'

‘I'll handle the introductions, then you can take the floor.'

‘Talking of introductions, sir, this is—'

‘Your pet professor.' Launer stuck out his hand, beaming, and, as Fennimore took it, the Sheriff gripped his arm with his free hand, just above the elbow. ‘I hear she's been keeping you up at night.'

Fennimore let go of the handshake, but the Sheriff kept a grip on his upper arm, squeezing the muscle as if testing for bulk and tone.

‘Nice meeting you, Professor,' Launer said, loosening his grip and finishing with a friendly pat to Fennimore's shoulder. ‘Well, c'mon, Deputy Hicks,' he said, still beaming. ‘It's your time to shine.'

Detective Dunlap spoke first. He began with a valediction to Sheriff Launer, thanking him and the county for their hospitality, and praising Deputy Hicks's work in flagging up the link to the St Louis murders and finding the partial palm print on the invoice copy. Fennimore was impressed by the man's calm authority.

Sheriff Launer stood next. He beckoned to someone at the back of the room and, as people turned, the doors from the landing opened and a man carrying a camera and a woman with a notebook stepped inside.

‘Come on up,' he said, positioning himself between the two flags. ‘This is Merl and Shona from the
Westfield Examiner
– covers the entire county. Won't take but a minute, folks,' he said.

Glances were exchanged, but no one commented. The photographer had been well briefed. Merl snapped three of the Sheriff on his own, standing in front of his own image, striking the same pose, smiling the same smile, so that he looked like an infinity reflection in a mirror. Launer asked the FBI agent up. Detmeyer hesitated, but seemed to decide it could do no harm and submitted to a handshake, Launer grinning like a toothpaste ad, the FBI agent sombre and unsmiling. Finally, the Team Adam consultants were asked to join him for the photo op. As he shook their hands, Launer said, ‘Here in Williams County, we care about family values.' He spoke slowly, glancing at Shona with her notepad, making sure she was getting it all down. ‘Having discovered a connection to murder–abductions in Missouri, this sheriff's office has brought together the St Louis Major Case Squad, the Federal Bureau of Investigation and those wonderful guys from Team Adam to see if we can't solve this case.'

Fennimore glanced cautiously around the room. These were experienced law-enforcement officers; they didn't reveal anything in their faces, but he could feel the tension like the silence before a thunderclap.

‘I cannot speak for the other agencies present,' Launer said, and someone coughed. ‘But neither I, nor anyone on my team will rest until Laney Dawalt's killer is brought to justice, and little Billy Dawalt is home with his daddy.'

The press dispensed with, Sheriff Launer yielded the floor to Deputy Hicks. He stood to the side, but still in her line of sight, his arms folded, watching her avidly. She presented the evidence she had in a clear, unshowy way, tolerating interruptions and asides from Launer with good grace. Dunlap was the first to speak up when she invited questions from the floor.

He said, ‘Our victims had recently moved counties – would you happen to know how long Laney Dawalt had been living at her last address?'

‘She moved back to Adair nine weeks before she disappeared,' Hicks said, without hesitation. ‘Before that, she was just outside of Chandler, Lincoln County.'

‘Did you talk to anyone there?'

‘Haven't had time yet,' she said. ‘But if Sheriff Launer will—'

‘Anything you need, Deputy Hicks,' he said smoothly, all white teeth and insincerity. ‘We just want that boy home safe, don't we?' He spread his hands like a Baptist preacher inviting an ‘Amen', but apart from a mumbled ‘Yessir' from two of his deputies, he was disappointed. ‘On that subject, I've been liaising with Adair County Sheriff's Office – we now have DNA from Billy's mom and dad, so if that poor boy is already in CODIS, we should at least be able to identify his remains.'

No mention of Hicks's role in securing those samples. Fennimore glanced at the deputy; her face was a bland mask, but her jaw tightened and she took a deep breath, letting it go slowly.

‘Did you guys go out to the Missouri victims' mobile-home parks, yet?' Hicks asked.

‘We thought we should talk to you before deciding strategy,' Dunlap said.

Sheriff Launer shifted stance. Perhaps he didn't find the word ‘you' inclusive enough, or maybe he didn't like the idea of a detective deferring to an uncertified deputy just one step up from a reserve.

A lean man spoke up. ‘CSI Roper,' he said. Roper had slightly protruding eyes, suggesting mild hyperthyroidism. ‘The glue residue in the hair – are you having that analysed?'

Launer jumped in. ‘It's with the County Lab, as we speak.'

Fennimore said, ‘You had a theory about the glue, Deputy Hicks.'

‘Yes, Professor.' Hicks looked around the room. ‘Professor Fennimore is a forensic-science consultant from Aberdeen, Scotland. He's been advising on the case.' It was a courtesy – introducing him, when Sheriff Launer had chosen not to. ‘I noticed that the glue was too high up on the head to bind the mouth – I'm thinking it was more like a blindfold.' The St Louis team were making notes. ‘And he cut it off before he dumped the body, taking a hank of hair.' She indicated the position, high up, either side of her own flat cheekbones.

‘Could be he was taking the hair as trophies,' someone said.

The FBI psychologist said, ‘Could be.'

‘The professor thought the killer might be removing forensic evidence,' Hicks said.

‘If he did take trophies, it might help us further down the road,' Detmeyer said. ‘But if he cut the hair to remove evidence of a blindfold, it could tell us something we could use right now, in our search. It may be that he can't stand to be looked at, which means he could have a physical disability or scar.'