Too Close to Home (4 page)

“That’s it?”

Connor nodded. “Yep. We called the number and it was a prepaid cell phone. Out of order now, of course. No way to trace it. No record of it. Whoever got it paid with cash.”

“So now we see if we can get something else from the computers.”

“Yeah.” Connor sighed and rubbed his eyes. He needed a break.

Andrew said, “Oh, I went over and watched the video from the grocery store. It’s not clear at all, but it does show Leslie being dumped by some guy draped in black.”

“The black monster?”

“Obviously. And that homeless guy’s no help. I tried to question him, but he’s had some kind of psychotic break and is in the psychiatric hospital downtown.”

“Great.” Connor rubbed the back of his neck and stood.

Andrew stopped him with, “On a personal level—how’s Jenna?”

“Hanging in there.” He tapped the IM still enclosed in the plastic bag to protect it. “Andrew, you know I love my daughter, but we’ve got a killer to catch before someone else goes missing—and Jenna is a pretty teen, just the right age. It makes me extremely nervous. I know, in one way, I’m not being the kind of parent I need to be, but in another, I feel like I’m focused on getting this guy before he gets Jenna.” Rubbing his eyes, he confessed, “Maybe that’s crazy, but every time I see one of those dead girls, I see—” He forced down the sudden lump in his throat that always seemed to form when he thought about Jenna.

Andrew nodded, sympathy flashing.

“Anyway,” Connor continued, “I’ll be home in time to eat supper with her—or at least at my parents’ home to eat. I asked my mother to pick her up this morning, take her to school, and pick her up later. She’s going to be staying with them for the duration of this case. I don’t like leaving her in the middle of the night. I don’t like leaving her alone, period. Sixteen or not, she should have someone there.”

Andrew held up a hand. “Hey, you don’t have to justify it to me. There’s a killer out there who’s targeting girls like Jenna. I think you did the right thing. I do think you should call her. It’s what . . . a little after four?”

Connor glanced at his watch. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call her. Guess I can at least find out what we’re having for supper, right?”

Andrew just shook his head as Connor pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom, it’s me.”

“Hello, Connor. How are you?”

He winced at the tightly leashed disapproval coming over the line. “Fine, Mom. Just really busy trying to find out who’s killing these girls.”

“Any luck?” Genuine interest found its way into her voice. His mother may not approve of his parenting, but she did care about the teenagers and the progress of the case.

“Maybe. I’ve got a possible lead. We’re getting ready to check it out.”

“You sound exhausted. How much sleep have you had in the past forty-eight hours?”

“Not enough, that’s for sure. But I’m okay. How’s Jenna?”

Silence, then, “She’s fine—I think. She’s supposed to be working on her geometry homework. Would you like to speak to her?”

Connor heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Well, I guess the real question is, does she want to speak to me?”

“Jenna, your dad’s on the phone.” His mother’s voice faded as she turned her head away from the mouthpiece.

“So?”

He heard that loud and clear.

“So? How about saying hello. You haven’t seen him in a couple of days.”

“Yeah? Well, whose fault is that?”

Connor had heard enough. “Um, Mom, it’s okay. Forget it. I’ll catch up with her later.”

“Connor, you’re going to have to do something about this disrespect. You can’t let her get away with acting like this.”

“I know, Mom. I know you’re right, but what do I do? She’s right too. It is my fault. Look, I’ll be leaving here shortly. I’m just going to see if I can do a couple more things, then I’ll be home hopefully in time to talk to her.”

Connor hung up the phone and rubbed his blurring eyes. His mom was right, of course. He definitely had to do something about Jenna’s insolence. But what? Ground her, then wind up having to stick his mom with enforcing it?

Somehow he had to come up with a plan that would allow him to be both the dad he needed to be and the cop he was born to be.

4

By lunchtime Tuesday, Sam felt like a new person. When she’d answered her phone in the wee hours of yesterday morning, she’d refused to go in, knowing in her state of exhaustion, she wouldn’t be good for anyone.

However, she promised to be available as soon as she completed the paperwork for the job she’d just finished and had a few hours of sleep. She’d had five, understanding the urgency of this new development in a case she’d been following.

Missing teenage girls who were turning up dead. Knowing how desperate the police were to find this sicko, she’d had a hard time sleeping, forcing herself to do so out of sheer physical necessity.

Now, she was ready to lend her expertise to the local police force. Their computer forensics guy was good, but Samantha was better and they knew it. Besides, they wanted to bring in the big guns for this case and Samantha’s boss was happy to oblige them. He’d sent them the best.

She agreed to be down at the precinct by one o’clock in the afternoon to meet with the detectives working on the missing teens case. They thought somehow the vanishings and eventual deaths of the girls were linked to their computers.

Sam’s job would be to find that link—if there was one. It had been a while since she’d been called in to work with the local police. As an FBI agent, it seemed like recently she’d spent her time and energy sitting in front of a computer, catching online predators. Now, she looked forward to being back out in the field, throwing all of her energy into nabbing this guy and getting him off the streets.

She parked in the visitor spot and made her way into the building. The front door faced downtown, and the traffic zipped past her, causing the breeze to tug at the strands of her casual ponytail.

Jeans, a hot pink T-shirt, and flip-flops completed her clothing ensemble. She didn’t bother with makeup. It just got rubbed off within minutes, due to her habit of massaging her temples, cheeks, and eyes when she worked.

She paused at the entrance and put her hand on the door. “Okay, God. I’m here. Show me the way, use my skills, and let’s get this guy off the streets, okay?”

Pulling open the door, she stepped inside and slid her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head. Sam walked up to the glass-enclosed desk and rapped her knuckles on the protective barrier. The woman typing on the computer swiveled her chair around and offered a smile.

“Hey, Sam, it’s been a while. How are ya?”

The woman’s deep southern accent made Samantha grin back. “Oh, pretty good, Deb, how ’bout you?”

“I reckon I can’t complain too much. Who’re you looking for today?”

“Detective Connor Wolfe, a SLED agent. I haven’t heard of him. Is he new?”

Deb shook her head. “Naw, not really. He’s been in the business for a long time, a detective up in North Carolina, then joined up with SLED in Columbia about two years ago to be closer to his parents. The sheriff called them for help on this missing teens case about a year ago. Sheriff’s getting kinda grumpy with them, though. Says they’re taking up space and not showing much for the effort.”

Sam grimaced at the thought of Sheriff Chesterfield. A good man who did a good job, but was a bit territorial. She knew he’d only call SLED in as a last resort. “Detective Wolfe, huh? I wondered why I hadn’t met him before. You guys haven’t called me in a while.”

“Don’t know why not. It sure hasn’t been quiet around here.” Deb’s fingers tapped on her keyboard, and the visitor’s pass printed out. She handed it to Sam and said, “Okie dokie, you’re all clear. When you get into the ‘asylum’ you’ll just have to look for the name on his desk or ask someone. Good to see you again. Don’t be a stranger, ya hear?”

A few clicks on the computer, and a buzz later, found Sam walking through the security door and down the hall.

Sam traced the familiar path to the “pit,” a.k.a. the “asylum” according to Deb, where she entered the chaos she loved. Phones ringing off the hook, suspects being questioned and booked, perps exercising their right to one phone call. All in a day’s work.

She wound her way around the desks, looking at nameplates, finally arriving at the third desk on the right.

Detective Connor Wolfe. A dark-haired, well-built gentleman leaned back in his chair with a phone pressed to his ear. He didn’t look very happy. His next words confirmed that initial impression.

“I said no, Jenna, and that’s what I meant. No going out after dark. You understand? Girls are disappearing and turning up dead. I don’t want you to be one of them. Clear?”

Despite his firm tone, the man looked bleary and tired. He rubbed his eyes, then squeezed the bridge of his nose—one that looked like it had been broken a time or two. “Yeah, yeah, sure. I’m sorry I’m ruining your social life. You’ll thank me later. Look, Jenna . . .”

He stopped speaking, pulled the phone away from his ear only to slam it down. The glare he shot the handset should have melted it. He muttered, “She hung up on me.”

“Excuse me. Connor Wolfe?”

He looked up. Blinked. Swallowed hard. Sam could have sworn his face lost a couple of shades of color as he gave her the once-over. “Huh?”

“Connor Wolfe?” she repeated.

Sam started to squirm under his avid scrutiny. Without taking his eyes from her face, he said, “Oh, yeah. That’s me. Hang on a sec.”

He looked over his shoulder at another detective one desk over who Sam recognized. “Hey, Andrew, when’s that computer geek supposed to be here? Doesn’t she realize we got murders to solve and kids to find?”

Computer geek?
Samantha gaped at him.

Andrew choked on the sip of water he’d just taken, then sputtered, “Uh, Connor, when you pull your foot out of your mouth, you might want to use it to kick yourself in the rear before you introduce yourself to the computer geek.”

Andrew pointed at her.

Samantha narrowed her eyes and gave Connor a tight smile. “Special Agent Samantha Cash. I was asked to come in and look at some computers?”

Connor stood, and Samantha was startled to see how tall he was. He dwarfed her five-feet-nine-inch height by at least five inches.

He held out his hand and had the grace to look slightly embarrassed; still his gaze never left her features. “Um, sorry about that. I’m a little frustrated at the moment, and I didn’t realize . . . that is, I didn’t know . . . aw, nuts, help me out here, huh?”

Samantha bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as the man stuttered out his half apology, half excuse. She shook his hand and said, “One computer geek at your service.”

What was it with women and the careers they picked these days? First Serena, and now Samantha. She reminded Connor of a character on one of those cop shows he’d watched once or twice when he needed a good laugh at the thought of solving a case in the time frame of sixty minutes.

He swallowed hard, looked closer. She was also a dead ringer for—

Uh-uh. No way, not going there.

Straight blonde hair, blue eyes, no makeup, and just about perfect. Definitely not your typical computer geek. He really had to stop typecasting. Still, her resemblance to—

“Earth to Connor.” Andrew whistled.

Connor blinked and rushed to cover the awkward moment. “Okay, now that I’ve got my foot out of my mouth, let’s get started. Oh, by the way, that’s my partner, Andrew West. I hear you two have met.” He watched the two exchange nods.

“Yes, we’ve met. It was a missing kid, suspected online predator case, about two years ago. Andrew was the uniform on the scene. How’s Angie?”

“She’s great. Good to see you again.” Andrew’s mirth still danced in his eyes. Connor shot him a warning look, mixed with a question Andrew would be answering later, before turning back to Samantha.

All business now, she asked him, “Okay, what do you have for me?”

Connor followed her lead. “Obviously you’re aware of the missing teenagers case. We think it’s the same guy doing it, and we think that somehow he’s contacting them through the internet and getting them to meet him. None of the houses have been broken into, no forced entry, etc.”

“Hmm, so what makes you think he’s getting to them through the computer?”

“This.” Connor handed her the IM. He reeled in his wandering thoughts again as he watched her read the note.

She set it down. “Okay, I’ll say you’re probably on the right track. Lead me to the computers and I’ll see what I can dig up.”

“We’ve got them all set up in a makeshift lab. Since my brainstorm several hours ago, I called in some reinforcements, so they’re all hooked up and ready to go.”

Samantha looked up at him and said, “Great.”

He wondered what she was doing for dinner—then wondered what he was doing wondering that. Since Julia’s death, he hadn’t even thought about other women—at least not in terms of actually wondering if she’d say yes if he asked her out. Was he contemplating a date? With someone he just met thirty seconds ago? Whoa! Back up, buddy.

“I’m ready if you are.”

Connor felt his face flush. He’d been standing there like a fool, staring—again. Clearing his throat, he turned without another word and led her through the crowded floor, down another hallway, then left into what looked like a small computer lab.

Connor stopped and said, “Make yourself at home. Do you need anything to drink?”

“Yeah, some water would be great, thanks.”

“Sure, and could you start on the computers of the missing girls first? If there’s anything on there that could help us locate them, I’d like to know it now. We can’t help the ones in the morgue, but there are still three that we might be able to save.”

“You got it. Which ones are they?”

“They’re labeled with their names and pictures posted on the monitors. The three on this end are the ones we’ve found dead. The three on that end are the ones still missing—and hopefully still alive.”

“Okay. I’ll keep you updated.”