“Makes sense,” Teri said. “So, what I need to do is gather all the info I can on each of the fifth victims.”
“I think that may prove to be our missing link.”
Teri poured herself another cup of coffee, then sat down in front of Linc’s computer and quickly zipped through the basic information on victims number 5.
“Four women, all the fifth victim. Hmmm.” Teri bit down on the side of her lower lip and clicked her tongue as she scanned the information. “Our first number five was Kim Johnson, twenty-seven, a TV reporter from Texas. Next was Daphne Alaire, thirty-eight, a novelties and bookshop owner who lived in Louisiana. The third number five, Lori Wright, was from Hilton Head, South Carolina. She was a twenty-year-old college student home for spring break when she was murdered.”
“I’m not picking up on any similarities.”
“That’s because there aren’t any.” Teri shook her head and clicked her tongue again. “The fifth victim in the Mobile murders was a housewife, Barbara James, thirty, with two kids, who did volunteer work with troubled children.”
“What’s the marital status on those four women?”
Teri skimmed the info in the computer files. “James was married, Wright was single, Alaire widowed, and Johnson divorced.”
“Physical descriptions?”
Scrolling through each woman’s file, Teri made a mental note of each description. “One blonde, one redhead, two brunettes. One fat, one skinny, two average. One short, one tall, two average height.” She spun the swivel chair around and confronted Linc. “And before you ask—one black, three white.”
Linc shrugged. “You’ll have to dig deeper. Check into things like religion, clubs and organizations they belonged to, hobbies, things like that.”
“You do know how long that could take.”
“We’re narrowing the search from twenty women to four. If there is a link, a common thread—and I’m sure there is—it will be among those fifth victims.”
“Then what you’re saying is that if we can hurry up and find that common denominator, we still probably won’t be able to save the fourth victim, but we might be able to figure out who the fifth victim is going to be and hopefully save her.”
“That’s right.”
“Brooke was the fourth victim in Mobile,” Teri said. “I know Dallas would like to save number four in Cherokee County.”
“That might not be possible. He may have to settle for saving the fifth victim.”
Chapter 19
Tension was running high in Cherokee County and the fact that the local media was enjoying a feeding frenzy at Sheriff Butler’s and Chief Watson’s expense only added to the problem. Dallas had seen this happen before—a town panicking when it began to question the competency of its local lawmen. The
Cherokee Pointe Herald
and WMMK TV and radio stations, owned by the MacKinnon family, continued giving a one-sided view of events, thanks to the animosity between Jacob and Brian MacKinnon. But unbeknownst to the media, during the past week, some progress was being made in solving the sacrificial murder cases. With a task force in place, and the FBI officially, as well as unofficially, working in conjunction with local and state law enforcement, they now had a streamlined suspects list that might lead them to the killer.
Neither Matt Newton, the reporter Jacob had coldcocked, nor MacKinnon Media had instigated a lawsuit against Jacob or filed assault charges against him. Dallas figured Newton would do whatever the MacKinnons told him to do, and Brian MacKinnon was enjoying making Jacob wait. Dallas believed MacKinnon was the type who derived pleasure from toying with a man he thought he held any kind of power over.
The majority of public opinion still remained on Jacob’s side, despite the media blitz against the local lawman. People tended to like and trust Jacob Butler whereas most intensely disliked and distrusted Brian MacKinnon. What Dallas couldn’t figure out was why MacKinnon would deliberately attack Jacob if MacKinnon really was in love with Genny.
Dallas lifted his legs and placed his feet atop the edge of Jacob’s desk, then reared back and gripped his hands together behind his head. He hadn’t slept well since arriving in Cherokee County. Too much happening too fast to waste time getting eight hours every night. Hell, he’d settle for five good hours. But once the killer was caught, he could rest.
The initial profile that Linc Hughes had faxed them six days ago had reinforced Dallas’s conviction that one of their original four suspects was the serial killer who had murdered Brooke and the three Cherokee County women. Even though they had no other evidence against any of the men, they also had no other suspects.
Only yesterday Teri had called Dallas to report her findings from the five murders in Hilton Head, which had taken place eighteen months prior to the Mobile murders. Her findings had narrowed the suspects down to three—that is, if they were on the right track. If they were barking up the wrong tree, then heaven help them, because only a higher power could save the final two victims.
“Dillon Carson was working with a dinner theater in Savannah at the time of the five murders,” Teri had said. “That’s a forty-five-minute drive to Hilton Head.”
Royce Pierpont had been employed at an antique shop in Charleston, an hour and a half drive from Hilton Head. And Jamie Upton had spent that spring with friends at Hilton Head, playing golf, fishing, kayaking, and getting picked up twice for being drunk and disorderly. The Reverend and Mrs. Stowe had been living in Whiteville, North Carolina, during the time of the Hilton Head murders. With the distance between the two cities, it was highly unlikely that Haden Stowe had been the perpetrator in those five killings. Unlikely, but not out of the realm of possibility. With time running out, Jacob and Dallas had agreed to concentrate on Carson, Pierpont, and Upton, the three most likely suspects. Each man fit the profile Linc had compiled.
Carson and Pierpont had cooperated fully when Jacob asked them to come in for questioning, but neither had alibis for the time of the first two Cherokee County murders, only for the third. They had both joined in Jerry Lee Todd’s manhunt that morning, and dozens of other men could swear to their whereabouts. But Dallas knew, considering the mob mentality of the mayor’s vigilantes that morning, no one could be one hundred percent certain when any one particular member had joined the group.
Carson had claimed he couldn’t remember exactly where he was living at the time of the Louisiana and Texas murders, but did know he’d never lived or worked in Texas. But yes, he had lived in the border state of Oklahoma and had vacationed in neighboring New Mexico. He just couldn’t remember when. Nor could he remember when he’d last been in Louisiana. Pierpont said he’d never even been to Texas, but he had worked in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, which was within easy driving distance of Lafayette, where the second set of murders had occurred. However, he wasn’t sure about the exact dates. A few years back? Yes. At least four? Yes, at least four. Pierpont had seemed quite calm and controlled, answering without hesitation. Dillon’s replies were often vague, but he seemed more aggravated about wasting his time than having to answer questions.
Both men had refused to give DNA samples. But even an innocent man might object to that request.
Jamie Upton had been another matter altogether. He had refused to answer any questions without his lawyer present. And his grandfather’s local attorney advised him that he didn’t have to answer any questions unless he was being charged with a crime.
“Charge Jamie with something or let him go,” Tyson Baines had demanded, with a smirking smile that accentuated his fat jowls.
Did Jamie have something to hide or was Big Jim Upton simply throwing his weight around? Possibly both. Only this morning, Jacob had told Dallas he’d heard that the old man had put the infamous trial lawyer from Texas, Quinn Cortez, on retainer. Did that mean Jamie’s grandfather suspected he might be a killer?
Dallas spent most of his waking hours at the Sheriff’s Department, which had become command central for the task force. But he had managed to slip away for a while to drive up the mountain on the days that Genny couldn’t make it into town. Knowing Jacob would agree with him and nix her plan, he’d told Jacob about Genny’s idea of trying to telepathically connect with the killer’s mind. Jacob had gone ballistic; and only then had Dallas understood the true danger to Genny if she tried such a feat.
“We can’t allow her to even try,” Jacob had said. “If she were to go in too far, we might not be able to get her back.”
Fortunately, Genny hadn’t mentioned it again, not once in the past six days. The way Dallas felt about Genny, he found it difficult to believe he’d known her only a little over a week. This was the first time in his life that a woman had become so important to him. He wasn’t calling it love. Love was just a word. An overused word. He wanted Genny. Wanted her desperately. But there was something more to his feelings, something he couldn’t quite define. And it was that other element that worried him.
A booted foot kicked Dallas’s legs where he had them propped up on the desk. He eased his feet onto the floor and glanced up at Jacob.
“Daydreaming?” Jacob asked.
“Not exactly. Why?”
“You didn’t hear what I said, did you?”
“Was it something important?”
Jacob grunted. “I wish there was a legal way for us to get hold of Jamie Upton’s DNA.”
“What brought this on?”
“I just talked to Jazzy. She’s thinking about taking out a restraining order on Jamie. Her new bouncer over at Jazzy’s Joint has had to get rid of Jamie twice this week. His actions are coming pretty damn close to being harassment, but if she tries to bring him up on charges, he’ll walk and she knows it.”
“You think Upton is our killer?”
“I think it’s highly possible.”
Dallas shook his head. “I disagree.”
“So, G-man,” Jacob said jokingly, “who do you think it is?”
“Carson or Pierpont.”
“Carson is a jerk and Pierpont is a wimp, but being either of those things isn’t a crime.”
“Upton is too obvious. He’s an in-your-face type, not caring how much attention he draws to himself.”
“Jamie is an amoral bastard who’s never thought of anyone other than himself. Our killer has no conscience. That trait fits Jamie to a tee.”
“I’m not ruling him out,” Dallas said. “Just going by gut instinct and experience.”
“In my experience if it quacks like duck, waddles like a duck, and looks like a duck, it’s a duck.”
Dallas grinned, but before he could counter with a witty response, Tim Willingham knocked on the office door and stuck his head in.
“There’s a call on line two I think you’ll want to take,” Tim said.
“Who is it?” Jacob asked.
“Dr. MacNair. He says his wife is missing.”
Genny opened the door to Brian MacKinnon and invited him in, maintaining a polite if somewhat cool expression. She was glad Drudwyn was off in the woods right now; otherwise her dog would pick up on the hostility she felt. And although she could control Drudwyn, she wasn’t sure she could stop herself from letting him frighten Brian just a little.
When she’d first heard Brian’s car in the driveway, she’d thought Dallas and Jacob had arrived. She was expecting them for supper tonight. She planned to approach them once again about her idea to try a telepathic link to the killer’s mind.
“I wasn’t sure you’d see me,” Brian said as he entered the living room.
“And why would I refuse to see you?”
Brian smiled, but there was no humor in his eyes, only a watchful curiosity. “You’re upset with me, aren’t you?”
“Would you care for coffee or tea?” Genny asked.
“You have every right to be dissatisfied with the way WMMK and the
Cherokee Pointe Herald
has treated Jacob’s part in the murder investigations.”
Genny kept her facial expression placid. Brian had no idea just how dissatisfied she really was. She had given him the benefit of the doubt, given him every opportunity to prove himself a good man, and had overlooked several lapses in his behavior. But not this time. She was willing to admit she’d been wrong about Brian. The man was not redeemable.
Brian cleared his throat as he stood with his back to the fireplace. “Jacob doesn’t like me. He’s made that abundantly clear on more than one occasion. He disapproves of my pursuing a relationship with you.” He paused as if he expected some type of response from her. She gave him none. He continued. “Until recently I’ve given him no cause to dislike me.”
“Are you saying that crucifying Jacob in the media is some sort of payback?”
“No, of course not.” Sweat popped out on Brian’s forehead. “In my opinion Jacob and Roddy are doing a pitiful job with these murders. As a matter of fact, the entire task force has accomplished very little. It’s the job of WMMK and the
Herald
to report the news as we see it.”
“You could have told me all of this over the telephone and saved yourself a trip up the mountain.” Genny crisscrossed her arms over her chest.
Brian pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket, wiped the perspiration from his face and moved away from the fireplace. “I’ve tried calling several times, but you haven’t been answering your phone.”
Not when your number came up on my Caller ID
, Genny thought. She had wanted to avoid Brian, but she should have known he would force a face-to-face confrontation.
“Jacob is like a brother to me. He’s one of the finest men I’ve ever known. If you’d had any feelings for me whatsoever, you would have taken another tactic in reporting what you call the truth.”
“That’s just it, Genny…” He held out his hands beseechingly, but dropped his arms to either side when Genny eased farther away from him. “I do have feelings for you. Strong feelings. And I’ve come here to prove to you just how much you mean to me.”
“How do you propose to do that?”
“You’re aware of the fact that Jacob attacked Matt Newton, a WMMK reporter, when the man was simply doing his job.”
Genny breathed in deeply, then slowly exhaled. She seldom lost her temper; in fact, most people who knew her would say she never lost her temper. Only Jazzy and Jacob knew better. When pushed to the limit, she reacted. Brian had pushed her almost to her personal limit.
Brian took a hesitant step in her direction, then paused when she glared at him. “If we choose to, we can sue Jacob personally, as well as file assault charges against him.”
“And is that what you intend to do? I’m sure you’re pulling Matt Newton’s strings, so—”
“Genny, Genny…”
When Brian moved toward her again, she held up a restraining hand. He stopped immediately.
“Because of my high regard for you, my deep feelings for you, I will see to it that neither Matt Newton nor MacKinnon Media brings charges against Jacob or files a lawsuit against him.”
“And what do you expect in return for this grand gesture?”
Why had it taken her so long to accept the truth that had been staring her in the face all along? Brian MacKinnon was evil. She sensed that evil all around her. In the past, had he been able to mask his true nature when around her, or had she simply been unwilling to probe too deeply into his psyche for fear her hopes for his reformation would be dashed?
“You suspect an ulterior motive?” Brian asked. “Genny, my dearest, I’m willing to give you Jacob’s career, which is in my hands, as a gift. To show you how very much you mean to me.”
Truck doors slammed. Drudwyn barked. Feet tramped up the front steps and across the porch.
Brian gazed into the foyer, toward the front door. “Are you expecting someone?”
“Jacob and Dallas are coming to supper,” she replied.
“I see.”
“Brian, if you truly mean what you’ve said, that you’ll do this for Jacob…for me…I’m grateful. But—”
The front door burst open. Dallas came through first, with Jacob directly behind him. Drudwyn rushed past both men and galloped over to Genny. Jacob paused in the living room doorway, but Dallas charged in, not stopping until he was at Genny’s side.
“Brian, I don’t believe you’ve met FBI Special Agent Dallas Sloan,” Genny said. “Dallas, this is Brian MacKinnon, of MacKinnon Media.”
Brian glanced from the man to the dog, the two flanking Genny, then tentatively held out his hand to the man. Dallas eyed Brian’s hand speculatively, then grasped it, and the two exchanged a quick shake. By the way Brian grimaced, Genny figured Dallas had used a macho tactic of superior physical strength to intimidate Brian.