Reclaim My Life (17 page)

“I did.” Adam glared at him, stiffening in his seat, literally getting his back up.

Wil mentally dug into his negotiation training, as well as his reserve of patience. “Would you be willing to tell me about it? You may be the last person to have talked to her before she disappeared.”

“Am I a suspect in her disappearance, Sheriff?”

“Oh, good God, Adam, you know I have to question you. Cut me some slack.”

“If our roles were reversed, would you cut
me
any slack?”

“I’d like to think I would. Regardless of our differences, we owe each other professional courtesy.”

Adam exhaled a loud breath. “Not much to tell. Kris called just as I was heading out the door. I’d planned to have dinner with Amy and Ben out at their place. I invited Kris to come along, but she declined. You can check it out. I was out at my sister’s house until eleven. Then I headed home and went to bed.”

“Were you surprised to hear from Kris?”

“Hell, yes. She’d made it clear after the second date that we had no future, so I didn’t expect a call.”

Wil nodded. “How do you feel about her?”

“She seems kind of unhappy to me.” He shrugged. “But what do I know about women?”

Wil smiled. At least now the conversation had relaxed. “Yeah. Who can figure ‘em?”

“Do you really believe something’s happened to her?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t ignore a pattern. First Cathleen Hodges disappears and turns up dead, then one of her friends is missing.”

“You
are
thinking the worst.”

“I don’t want to, but I’m trying to be proactive.”
Thanks to Elizabeth
.

“God, I hope you’re wrong. Let me know if I can help. Kris is a nice person and a good teacher, from what I hear. We don’t need anything more happening in our town.”

They’d ended their meeting on that note, both concerned about one of their citizens. Wil congratulated himself for not antagonizing the police chief further.

Reaching Drake Oaks, Wil parked the Jeep in front of the big house. He dragged himself up the stairs to the porch. When he stepped into the entry hall, he heard the happy sound of the tap-tap-tap-tap of Sophie’s nails on the hardwood floor. Stooping, he petted his dog, and his mood improved at once. “How’s my girl feeling?”

His dad called out from the next room. “Wilson, is that you?”

“Yeah, Dad.” He rose and turned toward the den. Sophie led him to his father’s wheelchair. “How’s it going?”

“Good, but you need to give Sophie her vitamin. Didn’t that vet tell you to give her four a day?”

“She’s not a vet.” Or at least she wasn’t owning up to it.

“Could’ve fooled me. She’s a cool one under pressure, and she certainly knew what to do with Sophie. Might’ve saved her life.”

“Might have. I’ll give Sophie the capsules at the cabin. So did she seem all right today?”

“Right as rain. You sure that girl’s no vet?”

“She says she used to work for one.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

That was the question, of course, and Wil answered honestly. “I’m working on it. But she’s not like other women, and the old Drake charm has failed to knock her off her feet.”

This brought a chuckle rumbling from his dad. “Then she must be a bright lady.”

“Does this mean you approve of her?”

His dad harrumphed. “Since when do you need my approval?”

I’ve always needed your approval, Dad
. “Well, I’d like your opinion. She’s someone I’ve had my eye on a while.”

“I liked what I saw. The girl has some meat on her bones and some brains in her head. And she’s nice. There’s kindness in her you don’t find often in young people today.”

Wil started to tell him that she wasn’t that young, but in his dad’s mind Wil was young at forty. “Yes, she’s kind. I’ve invited her back for a movie night, so maybe you’ll have a chance to get better acquainted.”

He expected some word of protest about his wasting an evening keeping an old man company. The fact that his father didn’t object implied a lot about the man’s loneliness.

“So tell me what’s new on the case.” The light in his eyes gleamed, affirming Wil’s suspicion that his dad needed to feel a part of something.

“We found the victim’s minivan. FDLE towed it in, but it appears to have been wiped clean.”

“So we’re dealing with a killer who kept his head.”

“Yeah. The victim had an old boyfriend back in Arkansas who used to beat her up. He’s looking good as a suspect. Arkansas police are going to pick him up.”

“What did Adam Gillespie have to say about his involvement with the victim?”

“Adam’s not a suspect, Dad.” Wil didn’t elaborate. “But there’s something else that’s happened. Another woman’s gone missing.” Wil explained about the disappearance of Kris Knight.

“This the woman you said resembled your murder victim?”

“Yes, why?”

“Those two look enough alike from a distance to fool me. Sounds like you have a killer interested in women with a certain look—”

“Whoa! Kris Knight is missing, not murdered.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. You didn’t find Doc Hodges right away, did you?”

“True, but let’s not borrow trouble.”

“Hear me out. I’m just theorizing. Phyllis Gillespie’s not sitting here with a tape recorder.” His dad made a face at the mention of the editor’s name.

“Okay, just for argument’s sake, what are you ‘theorizing’?”

“Some guy’s wife divorced him, and he’s nutty. Or his girlfriend dumped him. Whatever. He hates her. She had long brown hair, was tall, slender, and pretty. So every woman who fits that description enrages him and he kills her. Or maybe his mother abused him and she fit that description—”

“Dad, you’ve been watching too much truTV.”

His dad tried to shrug, but with half his body paralyzed, he couldn’t pull it off. “You’ll admit these two women look alike.”

“Yes, at least from a distance.”

“Then consider that their resemblance is related to their disappearance.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. I’ll let you know what the profiler has to say about it. She may agree with you.”

“When you meeting with her?”

“I hope tomorrow.”

“I just hope you can find the killer before anyone else gets hurt.”

“You and me, both.”

Monday morning Wil arrived at the sheriff’s office earlier than usual. He wasn’t sure what time to expect Special Agent Buckner, but he didn’t want to keep her waiting. Preparing for his meeting with the profiler, he’d worked late yesterday putting together a folder with copies of all reports pertinent to his homicide case. Wanting to review the case one more time before her arrival, he slipped into his office via his private back door at a quarter to seven.

A woman in her forties sat in his office across from his desk, her shoulder-length hair a mass of blond curls that nearly reached the shoulder pads of her suit jacket. Clear blue eyes rimmed by lashes thickly coated with mascara steadied their gaze on him. Lips heavy with blood-red lipstick curved into a friendly smile. The glamour treatment reminded him of Sunny Davis. Attractive, but a bit heavy handed.

Standing, she extended her hand. “Sheriff Drake, I’m Special Agent Buckner, but please call me Ronda Lou.”

Good grief, a morning person. So much for giving his case folder a final read before her arrival. She must have driven from Tallahassee before daybreak. He shook hands. “Call me Wil.”

As if appraising him, she held onto his hand a beat longer than he thought protocol dictated, but he could’ve imagined the interest in her eyes. “Very well, Wil.”

He started toward the interior door. “Let me see if we have fresh coffee brewed.”

“I’d rather get right to business, if you don’t mind.”

He did mind, but he’d manage a bit longer without his morning caffeine fix. “Sure.”

She sat down again and nodded toward the reports fanned atop his desk. “I’ve studied the crime scene photos and the write-ups you have so far on the homicide. There’s not a lot of physical evidence, but that in itself is a clue.”

She must have arrived in the middle of the night to cover all the material he’d prepared. “How so?”

“From the post mortem we know the victim died from a gunshot wound to the temple, a twenty-two caliber short, solid lead bullet at close range.”

“Right.”

“There were no bruises or scratches indicating a struggle, which tells us the offender was someone the victim perceived as nonthreatening. It appears he had no trouble getting close enough to fire the shot point-blank.”

“So she knew the killer?”

“Possibly—”

“Wait a minute. It’d be easy for the killer to shoot point-blank if Cathleen was asleep or unconscious.”

“The toxicology report isn’t back yet. Of course, they’ll look for sedatives or narcotics. But there’s no head wound to indicate she was knocked unconscious. You found no evidence that her bed had been slept in, and she was still wearing her clothing. Furthermore, look at time of death. Her stomach contained undigested food from her dinner.”

“Right. Also, according to her companions, she had nothing alcoholic to drink at dinner.”

“What convinces me she knew her killer was that the offender moved the body, thus distancing himself from the scene of the crime or from where the victim was last seen.”

“What about her ex-boyfriend, Michael Moore? She would’ve recognized him.”

Ronda Lou shook her head before he’d finished his sentence. “Cathleen Hodges feared Michael Moore. I don’t see her willingly allowing him to get close enough to fire a weapon against her head.”

Wil rubbed his chin, considering. “So you’d expect wounds indicating she’d put up a fight if Moore had approached her. But what about the fact that he ran before authorities could bring him in for questioning? The Arkansas State Police have an APB out.”

“He’s not off the suspect list, of course. I’d be interested in hearing his alibi for the time of death, too.”

“Running away is suspicious behavior if he’s innocent.”

“Moore may or may not have killed the victim, but he isn’t innocent. If he’s heard of her death, he knows he’s a suspect because he has a known history of violence against her.”

“But you don’t think it’s him?”

She tapped the case file pages with one long fingernail. “He’s not fitting the profile I see emerging from the case file. An organized killer—or an incredibly lucky first-time offender—did this crime.”

Wil shook his head in confusion. “In the little evidence we have, what makes you say that?”

“We know from the ME that the victim didn’t die in the water, but we also know nothing found on the body will lead us to the offender. Bodies submerged in water decompose at a faster rate in this climate, which tells me the offender has forensic knowledge and hopes to conceal his crime as much as possible.”

Wil nodded, remembering his father’s words:
So we’re dealing with a killer who kept his head
. “And when we found the victim’s minivan, it had been wiped clean of prints. Bottom line, we can dismiss the scenario of a stranger passing through.”

“Absolutely. I don’t think this was a random killing. This woman was targeted.”

“Which brings us back to her ex. Could he have hired a hit man?”

“A hit man that the victim trusted enough to allow next to her with a twenty-two? I don’t think so.”

Wil nodded. No wonder truTV wanted Ronda Lou Buckner for a program. “So we need to look at someone she knew and was comfortable with—”

“Or an acquaintance she’d have no reason to fear.”

“Then her murderer is still here and among us.”

“Yes,” she said with a single nod. “I’m afraid someone living in your community is a cold-blooded killer.”

“Damn.” He cringed at his response, but this was
his
county. One of
his
citizens had murdered another.

Ronda Lou flashed him a sympathetic smile. “Is this your first homicide?”

“First as sheriff. I worked many years as a detective in Jacksonville.”

“Ah. So you’re no stranger to violent crimes.” She shifted the papers on his desk and picked up a report. “I’ve read your interviews. It concerns me that the victim’s three best friends didn’t seem to know her that well.”

Her tone said she thought they knew far more than they’d said. “I think each is busy with her own career, so their dinner nights out were the extent of their friendship. All had moved here about the same time.”

“And now a second of this foursome is missing?”

He’d included the missing person report on Kris Knight in case the profiler considered it connected to the homicide. “Looks that way.”

“I’d be interested in speaking with the other two women.”

“I can arrange that.” He’d welcome any excuse to contact Elizabeth, especially since it didn’t seem likely he’d get to the diner in time to see her at breakfast. “Both work at the college. Want me to drive you over to the campus?”

“That’d be great. I’ve already had a two-hour drive this morning.”

“How long will you be staying in Drake Springs?”

“A couple days at least. I’ve booked a room over in Jasper, near the interstate.”

“That’s good. I’m afraid our only motel closed in 1981.” He chuckled. “It’s now a strip of businesses including a florist, barber shop, and dry cleaners.”