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Authors: Joseph Heywood

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21

WEST PLAINS, MISSOURI
MAY 28, 2004

The meteorologist at the television station was middle-aged and overweight with gray-blond hair in a pompadour.

“You got records for the weather goin' back a spell?” Eddie Waco asked.

“That depends on how one defines spell,” the man said. “A spell of love can last seconds or a lifetime, a spell of weather somewhere in between.”

Service gave him the date.

“Clear night,” the weatherman said. “Could see smiles in the stars.”

“You can remember what the weather was back then?”

“What they pay me for. We've also got records to corroborate.”

“No lightning?” Service asked.

“Nothin' closer than western Kansas, and if you boys are seeking Oz, you don't have to travel that far afield.”

Back in Waco's truck Service said, “What lightning was Cake talking about?”

“He's a bit addled. Is it important?”

“I don't know.” He was having trouble sorting out the things he had seen and heard, and he was tired.

22

CABOOL, MISSOURI
MAY 29, 2004

Service didn't want to answer his vibrating cell phone. It was Special Agent Tatie Monica. “Service, you are not leaving until we talk.”

“I've had enough talk,” Service said.

“Please,” the special agent said. “Where are you?”

Service looked over at Eddie Waco. “Where are we?”

“Short spit down the road from Cabool,” Waco said.

“Near Cabool,” Service told the FBI agent.

“Afghanistan?” she asked.

Service looked at Waco. “She wants to know where that is.”

“Texas County,” the Missouri man said. “North a' her.”

Service passed the word.

“They got an airport?” she asked.

“Airport?” Service said.

“Size of a three-cent stamp,” Waco said.

“Little one,” Service told her.

“I'll meet you at airport security in two hours,” she said. “And I'll arrange for a plane to take you to where you want to go. Just wait for me, okay?”

“Don't waste my time,” Service said.

“I'll be there.”

He closed the cell phone and cut her off.

“Change in plans?” Eddie Waco asked.

“The feds want a meet.”

“And you agreed?”

“She said please.”

“I reckon that changes everything,” Waco said.

They drove past darkened fields and, on the outskirts of town, farm-­implement dealer lots filled with huge, brightly colored machines illuminated by garish neon lights. They pulled into the parking lot of an orange building called The Fish-Walker. The interior was dark, with a century-old stand-up bar, vases filled with peacock feathers, and dusty stuffed fish on the walls, mostly trout.

The waitress had long straight hair and a gaunt face. She stood with her legs apart like a linebacker waiting to make a tackle.

“How'd this place get its name?” Service asked.

“Town's posed to be named for some Indian. The place is named for the owner. Why is anybody's guess. He's a lawyer over St. Looey way, a bit in his own world, all twisty-headed about trout. They ain't no fish on the menu today, gents. What'll it be?”

Waco ordered fried pork steaks for both of them, and Service settled in with the reports.

While Service tried to read, patrons tentatively approached Agent Waco, each of them using the same opener: “Hey, got a question for you.” Every game warden in the world had heard this so many times that it was an inside joke.

The commonalities in the cases were few: Every victim had been a game warden; no collateral fatalities had been discovered, unless Deputy Owens counted; the most recent victims had been killed and displayed in the same way, their eyes removed. All the bodies had been found unclothed near water. No kill sites had been discovered until Ficorelli's. Culkin would show Waco another possible kill site, but in the wake of the storm, it was unlikely there would be much evidence there. But these were only the second batch. What about records for the first set of killings?

He saved Monica's list until last. His name was listed for Michigan, Eddie Waco for Missouri, and Wayno Ficorelli for Wisconsin. His name ­didn't freak him out as much as make his face turn red with anger.

A waitress brought the steaks, said to Waco, “You need anything more, you give a wave, okay, hon?”

“You're top of the list,” Service said.

Eddie Waco glanced at him. “Thet list hain't right.”

“Any way to find out who sent the information from your higher-ups to the feds, and to whom?”

“I reckon, but I'm thinking weren't nothin' sent.”

“How long have you been a warden?” Service asked.

“Twenty year.”

“You been ta college,” Service said, mimicking Cake Culkin.

Waco nodded. “Mizzou.”

Service raised an eyebrow: University of Missouri. “Studying what?”

“Biology and forestry.”

Service said, “I thought you said you don't know science.”

“Learned enough ta slide through. All I ever wanted was to be a game warden.”

“I guess you turned out to be a pretty good one.”

Waco's eyes narrowed. “Elray was the best I seen. You think the feds are going to waste your time again?”

“Our time,” Service said. “The way I figure it, we both have a stake in this fiasco, and if I'm in, you're in. The feds have had this thing closed up in a box for too damn long. It needs air and light.”

After eating, they waited in darkness at the airport. The unlit field was tiny, with only three small planes parked in the open air.

“Where's Security?” Monica asked when she pulled up.

“I reckon we're it,” Waco said.

“Let's go inside,” she said.

“We're outdoor guys,” Service said. “And there isn't an inside unless you want to sit in the truck.”

Eddie Waco grinned.

Monica handed him a large envelope. “Larry only gave you the records from the second group. I thought you might want these.”

“You lied to me,” Service said. “You put the bite on your old classmate. It wasn't his idea to contact Governor Timms. It was yours.”

She held up her hands. “
Nolo contendere,
” she said. “I wanted you close.”

“To protect me,” Service said.

“The killer hasn't struck an officer outside his home state. If you were with us, I figured you'd be clear until we could get this damn thing figured out. I swear it was in your interest.”

“Bonaparte says you're a zealot.”

She said, “I'm also damn good.”

“Which is why you got dumped in Milwaukee.”

“That's bullshit. I broke the case in LA and I
asked
for Milwaukee.”

“Your colleagues say differently.”

“Gasparino?” she said. “Larry's green, still susceptible to the most outrageous gossip. There's always gossip when a woman gets the job done. You want, call my boss in Milwaukee. He'll confirm it.”

Service looked over at Eddie Waco, who shrugged.

“You have had a chance to look at the reports?” she asked.

“We looked.”

“And?”

“Not much there.”

“That's the truth.”

Service said, “But it seems to me we have a few things. Bonaparte insists this guy is the perfect serial murderer, but he hit Elray Spargo, when Agent Waco is the top man on the list for Missouri. He also may have killed Deputy Owens, and the fact that he may have brought her in as a third party to arrange a meeting suggests he's changed his ways, or is unsure of himself. Something is changing. He was also close to getting confronted in Wisconsin by the sheriff. This guy may be good, but he's not flawless—if your list means a damn thing. The real key is what do all the victims on the list have in common—other than the obvious?”

She scratched the corner of her mouth. “That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about—the list.”

“We're listening,” Service said.

“The analyst who discovered the pattern also suggested the list. I mean, who were the victims? Were they targets of opportunity, the best guys, or unlucky foul-ups? The list was intended to help us pinpoint more of a pattern.”

“Which it did.”

“It became pretty clear that only the top people were being targeted.”

“But Spargo died, not Waco.”

“You have to understand, we were getting a little desperate. We have to fight like hell for resources nowadays and we were getting big pressure to produce. We thought the list would be a way of assessing patterns, and then it started to have predictive value, so I decided to rig a control, hoping I could speed up things.”

Service thought he misheard. “You
switched
Spargo for Waco?”

“It was strictly an alphabetical choice. They were both on the Missouri list.”

“Which got Elray killed,” a tense Eddie Waco said. Service wondered if he should move the federal agent away from him.

Tatie Monica shook her head and sucked in a deep breath. “Maybe, but the fact that the killer went for Agent Spargo tells us a couple of things.”

Service said, “One, he makes mistakes.”

“Hit also says he's wired into the dadblame list,” Eddie Waco interjected.

“Which has very limited distribution,” Monica said.

“I managed to get a copy,” Service said, “which doesn't say much for your security.”

“I know, I know, but I wanted you to have the list, and you would have gotten it, but you duped Larry before I could get to it.”

“It wasn't difficult.”

“He came to me and told me what he'd done. His instincts are good.”

“The killer has thet list,” Eddie Waco repeated.

“Only he fucked up,” Service said.

“Not in
his
mind,” Monica said. “As far as the killer's concerned, and according to the control, he took out the top man in Missouri. In his mind, he's still perfect, and it's what's in
his
mind that matters to us.”

“Bonaparte said the man's flexible and creative.”

“Both of which may be true, but he still took the wrong man. Bonaparte says I'm a zealot, but he won't give up his bullshit perfect-killer theory.”

“Who called the FBI about Spargo?” Service asked.

“The call came into the St. Louis office,” she said.

“Recorded?”

“Yes, but the audio people say the caller used a pay phone and a masking device. They haven't been able to filter it yet, and they probably won't.”

“Pay phone where?”

“St. Louis,” she said.

“How did Bonaparte get involved?”

“He was in St. Louis when the call came in. I had talked to him about joining us in Wisconsin, but this broke before he could get there.”

“And he went to the site here and left before we came in?” Service asked.

She nodded.

“Does he go to all the crime scenes?”

“Not all, but it's fairly standard procedure for BAU people, especially in a major case.”

“Even for an acting assistant director?”

“He's been a profiler for a long time, and his management gig is ­short-term.”

“He really believes his theory?”

“Absolutely,” she said.

“Supporters?” Service asked.

“These killings are certainly earning him some. Look,” she said, “if you want to go home, it's your call. I'm sorry I pulled you into this the way I did.”

“We might have met with my lungs pulled through my ribs.”

“I know,” she said. “I was desperate, and I'm sorry.”

“Officers have a right to know all about this,” Service said, looking to Eddie Waco, who nodded. “Do the states' fish and game division law enforcement people know this is going on?”

“No,” she said.


Unacceptable!
” Service said, nearly shouting.

“We thought we could get the guy without making a big public case.”

“All ya'll were wrong,” Eddie Waco said. “That puts some of the body count on all ya'll's heads.”

“I hear what you guys're saying, and in your position I might be feeling the same thing, but we can't call back the past. There's no do-overs in this, so all we can do is move on.”

“How many people are privy to the list?” Service asked.

“Two dozen max.”

“Two dozen like Larry?” Service shot back.

“I hope not,” Tatie Monica said.

“This don't give a soul a heap of confidence,” Eddie Waco chimed in.

“Look, I admit I've made mistakes. But now you know, and it's up to you to decide where you go from here.”

Service studied her. “You remember when you asked me about hunting?”

“I remember.”

“I forgot to say it's not a group activity,” he said. “I'm thinking Agent Waco and I need to talk, and then we'll get back to you.”

“Are you going to stay?” she asked.

“Did you order a plane?”

“Be here soon.”

“Good. I'm going to go back to Michigan.”

“Home?”

“I haven't decided that yet,” Service said.

Special Agent Monica looked at Eddie Waco. “You?”

“Like the man says, we'll get back at you'n,” the conservation agent said.

“Any chance the killer has both the original list and the control?”

“Looks that way, but I don't see how,” Tatie Monica said. “Only the analyst and I had the list with the control.”

“Did the killings that took place before the list conform to the list?”

“Yes,” she said.

“But those states that already had lost a man wouldn't be on the list.”

“We went only to the states that had not lost someone.”

“What about the states that had already lost people?”

“We had names of victims, and went directly to each state to get a sense of the victim's value.”

BOOK: Strike Dog
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