Текст книги "Winter Kill "

Автор книги: Josh lanyon

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Chapter Ten

He woke several hours later to bright moonlight and a headache.

Rob was still deeply asleep, snoring softly, peacefully on the other side of the king-size bed.

Adam rose, trying not to jostle the mattress, and found his way to the spa-like  bathroom in search of aspirin. He flicked the wall switch, wincing at the flood of bright light, found a bottle in the cupboard and swallowed three tablets—hopefully aspirin—washing them down with water scooped from the sink. He splashed water on his face and stared blearily at his red-eyed reflection. Ugh. He was sore and aching. Some of the aches were more pleasant than others, but all guaranteed he would be doing little sleeping for the rest of the night.

He wasn’t much for sleep these days anyway. In fact, he’d always had trouble turning off his brain. Alcohol didn’t really help because halfway through the night he’d wake up wide-eyed and brain buzzing like now.

He turned off the lights and stepped back into the bedroom where Rob continued his untroubled slumbers.

Adam felt a swell of affectionate amusement. Good for Rob. He’d earned a good night’s sleep. Adam’s memory of the evening was foggy. He did remember being pleasurably surprised at just how attentive and inventive Rob had been. In fact, he hadn’t been with anybody that tuned in to what he wanted since—well, a very long time.

In fact, if Rob didn’t live in the back of the Great Beyond, Adam would be tempted to start thinking maybe there was a possibility of…what?

By his own admission Rob was not the From This Day Forward type.

Whereas Adam. Well, he was an FBI agent. The first word of the Bureau’s motto was fidelity. Fidelity, Bravery, and Integrity. There wasn’t any future in it, but it was tough not to give in to the desire to crawl back into bed and let himself be calmed and comforted by Rob’s presence. He continued to study the sleeping mound next to the empty stretch of sheet where he’d lain.

Yes, it would be all too easy to care for Rob.

Adam crossed to the picture windows and gazed out.

From this vantage point, Nearby looked like an Alpine village in one of Rob’s Disney films. Was there a Disney film set in an Alpine village?

Frankie must have finally gone home because there didn’t seem to be a lamp shining in the entire town. In fact, there didn’t seem to be a light on in the entire world. Not that it was dark. The reflection of moon and starlight on snow illuminated the mountains and forest in an unearthly silver light.

He shivered. There was a stark, almost aching beauty to it.

A couple of other vacation homes dotted the pristine hillside. There was plenty of room between them so nobody was breathing down anyone else’s neck.

As he stood watching he noticed a pale glimmer moving through the house on the ridge across from Rob’s.

The next instant it was gone. Maybe it had been a reflection?

Adam waited, watching.

He was growing bored and cold when he saw the single bright dot moving on the top level.

Ghost light? He smiled grimly. No, sure as hell that was a flashlight beam.

He tried to think of a good and lawful reason someone might be tiptoeing around their own house using a flashlight.

Maybe the power was off?

He glanced over at the clock beside the bed. The illuminated numbers read four thirty.

The power wasn’t off all across the valley. It didn’t mean it wasn’t off in that rental. Even so, what was someone doing up and creeping around at four thirty in the morning?

Granted, he was up and creeping around.

He watched the light die again.

What are you up to?

Maybe nothing at all. Given the rapidly rising murder rate in the town of Nearby, it seemed worth checking out.

He went back to the bed and sat down on the mattress.

“Rob?” he said quietly.

Rob cut off mid-snore, jerking awake. “Hm? I’m listening!”

“The house across from this one. Does someone live there?”

Rob was silent for a few seconds, processing. “Live there?” he repeated. “It’s a rental property.”

“Someone’s moving around inside with a flashlight.”

After a moment, Rob threw back the covers, rolled out of bed, and went to the windows. He said finally, “You could be seeing a reflection from headlights.”

“There aren’t any cars on the road.”

Rob was silent, staring through the window. “I don’t see anything.”

“It went dark before I woke you up. I watched it move from room to room downstairs and then again upstairs.”

Rob turned back to the window. Adam joined him. The windows in the vacation property remained solidly blank.

Rob said, “You want to go check it out?”

The relief was substantial. Adam had been prepared for amusement or exasperation. “I would like to. Yes.”

“Okay. Let’s go see what’s going on over there.” Rob turned from the window. “I think we should walk. It’ll take us a little longer to get over there, but whoever is in that house won’t see or hear us coming.”

They dressed quickly, Rob loaning Adam a black sweater, a dark parka, and a pair of wool gloves. Then they armed and headed into the cold night.

The crust of snow crunched softly beneath their boots as they jogged down the road. Ahead, the vacation rental continued to sleep beneath the rafters of clouds.

Adam knew he hadn’t imagined that furtive light. He was afraid that whoever was behind it would be long gone by the time they made it down the long, slippery road.

Five minutes into their run, Rob, slightly ahead, stopped so suddenly, that Adam slammed into him. Rob grabbed his arm, steadying him. “What…the…fuck…is…that?” he whispered. He was staring at the ridge above them.

Adam gazed up and his heart seemed to stop for a few crucial seconds.

Gazing down at them, so still he could have been carved from midnight, was a tall, black, winged figure.

Winged.

As in…wings.

Adam tried to wrap his mind around this development, assuring himself they were not real wings, even as his disbelieving eyes took in the details of every glossy black feather. They sure as hell looked like real wings.

Rob seemed to recover from his initial shock. He said in a clear, loud voice, “What are you supposed to be?” and pulled his weapon.

The figure drew back, disappearing from view.

Adam saw it all, just as he’d seen it unfold from the backseat of Tom Conway’s Porsche on that deserted road in Bakersfield.  Intuition? Instinct? He didn’t know how he knew. He just knew.

He said urgently, “Rob, we’ve got to get to that house. He didn’t come from there. He’s after whoever is in there.”

Rob was already halfway up the slope, pistol in one hand, scrambling for a foothold. He threw over his shoulder, “Then find her. Or whoever it is in there. This guy is mine.”

They shouldn’t split up. But there wasn’t time to argue, and if by some chance Tiffany was hiding in that vacation rental, he had to get to her first. Why the hell hadn’t they brought a radio? These thoughts flooded Adam’s brain as he sprinted down the road, twice nearly losing his balance on patches of ice, racing for the dark and silent house.

God, be careful, he thought. There was light; icy, silvery light, more romantic than useful. That’s all he needed. A sprained or broken ankle. But the words were really meant for Rob. Did Rob realize what he was dealing with? Did he understand the danger?

He hit another frozen puddle, his foot slipped and he went with it, skating a couple of inches before regaining solid ground. He ran on. He reached the house at last and went quietly up the snow-piled steps to the front deck. He crossed the deck and tried the front door.

It was locked. It would have been surprising if it hadn’t been. He moved on to the sliders a few feet down. Also locked. With a wooden broom handle wedged in the tracks for good measure. He tried to peer through the glass. The drapes had been drawn across them.

He didn’t want to panic her, if it was Tiffany inside. And he didn’t want to get shot by some freaked-out homeowner. He went back down the stairs and went around the side, nearly falling over a metal fire pit concealed beneath the snow. The collision of his shins with the metal lid and the subsequent crash made a fair bit of racket. No lights came on, no draperies twitched open. The house stayed stubbornly still.

Maybe she’d already fled.

That was a disheartening thought.

He tried the two big windows on the first floor. Both were locked. He went to the back door and began searching amongst the weathered and peeling lawn ornament animals populating the built-in flower planters. He struck out a couple of times before he noticed a small, painted stone.

Score.

Why homeowners imagined these decorative hiding places were anything but an invitation to burglary, he would never understand. Tonight he was only grateful to hear the reassuring jingle of metal on resin. He opened the key box, rose, and went to unlock the back door.

The door swung silently open onto a long empty sun porch.

Adam softly closed the door, locked it, and drew his weapon. Carrying at low ready, he moved quietly across the outdoor carpeting and went up the narrow wooden staircase.

The house was cold and smelled of paint and new carpet. It smelled uninhabited, and he began to wonder if he had made a mistake.

He reached the next level and found himself in a kitchen. There were half shutters across the windows. Moonlight spilled over the tops, highlighting a can opener and an empty Campbell’s soup tin on the island in the center of the kitchen.

“Tiffany?” Adam called. “This is Special Agent Darling. I’m with the FBI and I’m armed. Please show yourself.”

Nothing.

He kept his voice calm, tried to sound reassuring. “We don’t want anyone getting hurt tonight.”

A floorboard squeaked. He brought up his weapon. The doorway was empty. Even so he could sense her presence, feel a pulsing, live element in the darkness. Close by.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Adam said. “No one wants to hurt you.”

Granted, the fact that he was pointing a Glock in what he surmised was her general direction was probably not reassuring. But he had no way of knowing whether she was also armed or not, whether she was another innocent victim or an accomplice, whether it was even Tiffany he was talking to.

“We can end this right now,” Adam said. “Put your hands up and step out slowly. I’m going to count to three. One. Two.”

Shrieking, she flew from the darkness like an apparition in a horror movie. Knife upraised, eyes wild in her white face, hair a matted mess.

“Jesus.” It happened so fast and the sound she made was so bloodcurdling, he wasn’t sure why he didn’t shoot her. Somehow he saw her terror for what it was and managed to shoulder his weapon and grab her wrist before she could slash him.

She was strong and wild. Not a match for him, though, and the butcher’s knife clattered to the tile floor. Unnervingly she continued to scream, over and over. If there were words, they were unintelligible.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Adam kept saying. He doubted she could hear him over her shrieks. “You’re all right now.”

She wasn’t all right though. She was crazed with whatever she had been through. She writhed in his grip and screamed at the top of her lungs, eyes staring at him but clearly seeing something else. Finally, in a mix of desperation and pity, he wrapped both arms around her and held her tight. Her screams choked off and she went limp.

For a moment he was afraid she’d literally died of fright, but no. When he lowered her to the floor, she was in a dead faint. Beneath the torn and bedraggled flannel sleep shirt her heart was still pounding.

“Adam?” Rob yelled from downstairs.

“Up here!” Relief washed through him. Until that instant, he hadn’t realized how worried he was about Rob, how much of his mind had been occupied with what might be happening to Rob.

Rob’s boots thudded up the stairs. “What the hell? I could hear screams clear across the ridge.”

“It’s Tiffany,” Adam said. “She’s in shock.”

Rob reached them. “It is Tiffany.” He sounded startled, though he too had guessed at the truth earlier. “I’ll phone for an ambulance.” He reached for his cell phone.

“I don’t know how she managed to get over here, but she’s been hiding in this house.”

“I guess it makes more sense that she’d run toward houses and people rather than the forest.”

Adam nodded absently. Given the opportunity, why hadn’t she run toward town? What was it in the village of Nearby that frightened her?

“I lost that birdman bastard in the woods. He had too much of a head start. Do you think she saw who killed Cynthia?”

“She sure as hell saw something,” Adam said.

Rob said grimly, “One thing we know for sure. Sandy Gibbs isn’t our guy.” He turned away to speak into his cell phone.

* * * * *

“Well, you boys had a busy night,” Frankie said when Adam arrived at the sheriff’s office much later Monday morning. He had waited with Rob until Tiffany had been transported to the hospital, then Rob had driven him back to the campground where he’d showered, shaved, checked his email, and returned phone calls before heading over to the sheriff’s office.

As he’d seen Rob only a couple of hours earlier, Adam was disconcerted at the way his pulse jumped when he spotted him over by the coffee machine. Rob held the pot up in inquiry. Adam nodded.

Watching him, Frankie said, “I guess I shouldn’t ask how you two managed to be working together at five o’clock in the morning.”

“Early to bed, early to rise,” Rob said. “And no, you shouldn’t ask.”

Frankie put her hands up. “It’s not like I want to know.”

“How’s Tiffany doing?” Adam asked. “Any change?”

“The doctors are saying she’s in deep emotional shock. She’s under heavy sedation,” Frankie replied. “And nobody is willing to commit as to when we’re going to be able to question her.”

That did not sound promising.

“And in other news,” Frankie continued, “Sandy Gibbs tells me he’s planning to sue you.”

“Me?”

“The Federal Government in general, and you and my deputy in particular.”

“Let him sue.” Rob’s expression was flinty. He carried over two mugs, handing one to Adam, and leaned against the door frame of Frankie’s office.

“I have to agree,” Adam said. “The minute he opened up on our searchers with an assault rifle, any legal standing he might have had became shaky.” All the same, it was not good news. And it would not be greeted as good news by his SAC. This would be the second citizen in less than a year who was threatening Adam with legal action.

“I think there’s room for negotiation,” Frankie said.

Mid-sip, Rob paused. “What exactly does that mean?”

“It means I think there’s room for negotiation.”

Rob opened his mouth and Frankie said, “He says he’s got information for us on our killer.”

There was a short, sharp silence. “Let me get this straight,” Rob said. “You’re suggesting we make a deal with him?”

Frankie rolled her eyes. “Now don’t go getting all bent out of shape until you hear what I have to say.”

“I’m listening.”

Frankie looked at Adam. “This concerns you too.”

Adam hadn’t planned on going anywhere. He said mildly, “All right. Go on.”

“He says he didn’t shoot first.”

“Bullshit,” said Rob.

Frankie looked at Adam. “I think it’s bullshit too. But…we weren’t there,” Adam admitted.

Rob looked outraged. But it was the truth. Adam and Rob had not been with Zeke’s party. They could not say for certain who had fired first.

“He says someone tried to kill him. And he says it’s not the first time.”

“Horseshit,” Rob said. Evidently bullshit couldn’t cover this degree of lying. “What does Zeke say?”

“Zeke went down to Portland to break the news about Azure to her family. I’ll talk to him about it when he gets back. Here’s the thing of it. I don’t think Gibbs is lying.”

“What?” Rob quit leaning on the door frame and drew himself straight.

“I don’t mean about yesterday. I don’t know about yesterday,” Frankie said. “I do know genuine fear when I see it in a man’s eyes, and I believe that someone has tried to kill Gibbs in the past. Maybe not yesterday, but I think part of why he reacted the way he did was because of these past attempts.”

Adam said, “Sheriff, Gibbs has an arsenal of illegal weapons in that cabin of his. He opened fire on law enforcement, federal agents, and innocent civilians. He threatened to shoot Rob, and I have no doubt he’d have done his damnedest to shoot me or anyone else in his way as well.”

“But he didn’t shoot anyone. For all that gunfire, nobody got shot. The only injury was a sprained ankle, and Bobby Kane knocking herself cold when she ran into a tree trunk.”

“He’s a lousy shot,” Rob protested. “How is that a legal defense?”

“Haskell, will you sit down and open your ears? The fact of the matter is that Zeke’s search team was trespassing on Gibbs’s property. Nobody talked to Gibbs, nobody warned him of what was going on. It’s not like he’s keeping up with current events.” Frankie headed off Rob’s objection before he could voice it. “I know. He doesn’t have a phone. That doesn’t negate his property rights. Gibbs’s story is he saw an armed man climbing up the hillside, and that the man fired on him. Now whether anyone fired on him, I don’t know. His story is he was just trying to scare off his would-be attacker.”

“That’s the dumbest story I’ve ever heard!”

Frankie eyed him with grim sympathy. “I’m not denying I think Gibbs is a few saltines short of a cracker box. But I think he’s telling the truth as he knows it. He believes someone is out to get him. Has been trying to get him for years. And he mistook yesterday’s search efforts for a full frontal assault.”

“Years!”

Adam said, “Why would someone be out to get Gibbs?”

There was a funny gleam in Frankie’s eyes. “He says he saw our murderer. And that the murderer knows he saw him.”

“I’m confused,” Adam said, and that was an understatement. “How could this murderer have been after Gibbs for years when Cynthia Joseph was only killed four nights ago?”

“That’s just it,” Frankie said. “Gibbs isn’t talking about whoever killed Cynthia. He’s talking about our other murder.”

Rob raised his head. “What other murder? Is he talking about the dead hiker? Or Dove Koletar?”

“No. Well, maybe. I’ve wondered about that one from the first. But no, Gibbs is talking about Jordan Gaura.”

Chapter Eleven

“Hm.” That was all Adam said. Which was sort of annoying—as was his thoughtful tone of voice. As though none of this was coming as any great surprise.

Rob said, “Just how the hell many murderers are supposed to be living locally?”

Adam said, “The Pacific Northwest does produce more than its share of serial killers. I guess it’s too soon to have the ME’s report on Gaura?”

“You guess right. They haven’t even finished excavating him,” Frankie said. “I figure it wouldn’t hurt to speak to him though. Right? Gibbs, that is.”

“What’s the deal?” Rob asked.

Frankie looked blank.

“The deal you want to strike with Gibbs? We drop all charges in exchange for the name of Gaura’s murderer?”

“I haven’t promised anyone any deal,” Frankie said. “But you should consider the fact that it’s a way to get your—Agent Darling and yourself off the hook. And maybe we’ll get some information we need.”

Adam met Rob’s eyes. “I wouldn’t mind hearing what he has to say.”

“I don’t mind hearing what he has to say,” Rob said. “But I’m not in favor of cutting any deals. In my opinion Gibbs is crazy and he needs to be locked up. He’s a danger to society and to himself.”

“I’m not so sure a good defense attorney couldn’t knock that argument on its ass,” Frankie said. “But it’s your head on the chopping block. Why don’t you talk to Gibbs and then see how you feel?”

* * * * *

A skimpy breakfast and a night on the lumpy mattress in their holding cell had put Gibbs in a talkative frame of mind. Cooperative or not, he was not an attractive specimen, but then Rob was predisposed not to like anyone who had pointed a rifle in his face.

Gibbs was a wiry five eleven with balding, sandy hair, and eyes of a reddish brown color that reminded Rob of a white rat. The rat resemblance was bolstered by Gibbs’s nervous habit of twitching his nose.

“I didn’t actually see his face,” Gibbs hedged. “But it was Bert Berkle. I’m sure of it.”

“Bert Berkle?” Rob repeated in disbelief.

Gibbs raised his chin defiantly. “That’s right. His southwest property line runs along mine. He used to hunt over that way.”

“Yeah, I know,” Rob said. “And I also know you two have been feuding over that property line for the last twenty years.”

Adam asked, “If you didn’t see Berkle’s face, how are you so sure it was him?”

“He was a big man, Berkle’s size. He was a hunter. And when he spotted me, he took off back across Berkle’s property.”

“How the hell does that prove anything?” Rob asked. “Berkle is not the only big man in this county, or the only hunter, or the only hunter wandering around in those woods.”

“Tell us what you remember about Jordan Gaura’s murder, Mr. Gibbs,” Adam said.

“Oh, now it’s Mister Gibbs,” Gibbs retorted nastily. “Don’t think I’m not going to remember you, Mister G-man.”

“We’re wasting our time,” Rob said to Adam. “He’s full of shit.”

“I’m not!” Gibbs said. “I’m telling you what I saw. You just don’t want to believe it, that’s all.”

Ever patient and persistent, Adam said, “What exactly did you see?”

“Well, I didn’t see everything,” admitted Gibbs.

“You’re kidding,” Rob said sarcastically. Adam shot him an impatient look.

“Go on,” Adam said. “Start at the beginning. Do you remember the date? What time of day was it?”

“It was night. I remember that. I don’t remember the day. It was before the kid disappeared obviously.”

Rob sighed.

Gibbs said, “How the hell should I remember what day it was? It was twenty years ago.”

“It wasn’t twenty years ago. It was seventeen years ago,” Rob said. “And if you don’t come up with some compelling information pretty fast, I’m walking out that door.”

Adam gave him a long, level look.

And Rob gave him a long, level look right back because this was a complete waste of their time whether Adam realized it or not.

“I heard them before I saw anything,” Gibbs said. “I didn’t want to see because from the sounds, I was afraid it was a pair of faggots doing their thing. But then the big man got up. His back was to me and it was dark in the trees, but there was moonlight shining through and I could see that he was holding a big knife.”

Gibbs held his hands apart.

“Can you describe the knife?” Adam asked.

“Bloody. I could see the blade was black with blood. The blood dripped right off it. I won’t forget that.”

“What type of knife?” Rob asked with what he felt was great restraint.

“One of those KA-BAR knives, I think. He was breathing real heavy. I was afraid to move. I thought my heart was going to explode. He bent down and wiped the knife in the grass, and then he shoved it in his belt.”

“You could see he was wearing a belt, but you never saw his face?”

“I didn’t see his belt. I just knew that’s what he was doing. What else would he be doing? For a while he was just kneeling there breathing real hard, like I said, and then he got up and pushed and dragged the body until he could throw it into the gully. And then he threw the kid’s backpack in too. Maybe there was a sleeping bag or something. I don’t remember now.”

“Go on,” Adam said.

“He was still standing there looking down into the gully, and I thought it would be a good idea to bug out. So I started backing up real quiet and real slow. But he must of heard something because he spun around and he was looking right at me. And I was looking right at him.”

“But you couldn’t see his face?”

“He was standing in the shadows. But I know he saw me. And he knew I saw him because he turned and ran.”

Rob said, “But you didn’t see him. Not really.”

“I saw enough.”

“Why didn’t you come forward?” Adam asked. “Why didn’t you report what you saw?”

Gibbs laughed unpleasantly. “You think anybody would have believed me? Hell no. They’d have said I killed him and that I was trying to cover it up.”

“Sounds like a workable theory to me,” Rob said.

“See!” Gibbs pointed at Rob. “That’s what I mean.”

“But if you believed this man recognized you, you must have realized your life was in danger?”

“Not that much danger,” Rob said. “Because he’s still here seventeen years later.”

“He’s tried to kill me,” Gibbs said. “But he has to make it look like an accident. And I’m smart. And I’m careful.”

“Yeah, you’re a genius,” Rob said.

“Deputy Haskell,” Adam said.

“Agent Darling,” Rob retorted. “Explain to me why this giant knife-wielding killer didn’t slaughter Mr. Gibbs on the spot? He was armed and he sure as hell had motive. But he turns and runs. Why?”

“He didn’t know if I was armed or not. I was armed and I was fumbling for my rifle.”

Rob turned to Adam. Adam said, “Is there anything else you’d like to add, Mr. Gibbs?”

“I want to make a deal. I won’t sue you and Deputy Hassle over there if you drop all the charges against me.”

Rob laughed. “Fat chance.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not that simple,” Adam said. “Firstly, multiple agencies were involved in yesterday’s shooting, and the kind of deal you’re asking for would require every single one of them to sign off. That’s unlikely to happen. In fact, I can assure you right now, it won’t happen. Secondly, regardless of your motives, you opened fire on civilians and law enforcement alike which gave Deputy Haskell and me reasonable grounds for searching your property—whereupon we discovered a number of illegal weapons, including a grenade launcher.”

“I made that myself!”

“And thirdly,” Rob interrupted, “your story is total bullshit.”

“The hell it is! I’m telling you exactly the way it was. Bert Berkle killed that hiker, and he killed the Indian woman, and he killed that green-haired bitch and he’s been trying to kill me. And I’ll tell you something else. A man has a right to protect his property. And people around here understand that. And they also don’t like the federal government butting in where it isn’t wanted. So think about that before you try taking me to court, Haskell.”

* * * * *

“That was a waste of time,” Rob said. They had returned Gibbs—loudly protesting the violation to his civil rights—to his cell, and were reporting back to Frankie. Or would have reported, had Frankie not been on the phone to Doc Cooper.

“I’m not so sure,” Adam said. “I believed his story. Well, not all of it. The part about where he came across his neighbor throwing Gaura’s body in the ravine—that sounded genuine.”

“That’s because you don’t know Berkle. Or the history between those two.”

“I understand that there’s a dispute over property lines.”

“Dispute is not the word. Feud is the word. Blood feud would be more accurate.”

“Which doesn’t change the fact—”

“No, it doesn’t change the fact, because there are no facts. There’s an accusation from someone in deep legal shit who has a score to settle. I’ll tell you another thing. That whole bit about thinking he’d stumbled upon faggots doing their thing in the woods. That was aimed at me. And maybe at you too. It sure as hell wouldn’t be aimed at Berkle.”

Adam frowned. “Gibbs’s hostility is irrelevant.”

“I don’t see how you can say it’s irrelevant. It’s the driving force in his life. But okay. I know we’ve got to talk to Berkle. So let’s go get his side of the story.”

“Don’t go anywhere just yet,” Frankie called.

Rob stepped into her office. “News?”

“We’ve got the autopsy report on Azure.”

Rob was glad Zeke was not in the office for this. “And?”

“She wasn’s sexually assaulted. Doc believes it’s the same assailant. Left-handed, using a—”

“Left-handed?” Rob interrupted. “Cynthia’s killer was left-handed? You didn’t mention that before.”

“Didn’t I?” Frankie asked innocently. “Well, maybe I thought it might be a good idea to keep certain facts quiet.”

“From your own investigators?” Frankie had her own way of doing things, but this seemed eccentric.

“One of my investigators is left-handed,” Frankie observed.

It took Rob a disbelieving moment to find his tongue. “Zeke? You think Zeke—” He looked at Adam, and was shocked to see an expression of something like approval on his face.

“Shhh!” Frankie said sharply. “No need to blast it into the atmosphere. The thing is, Doc says Azure put up a real fight. He retrieved what he called a ‘significant amount’ of DNA evidence from beneath her fingernails.”

Adam said, “It’s going to take time to get the lab results.”

“We may not need lab results,” Frankie said. “Doc is pretty sure that whoever killed Azure is going to be wearing an ugly set of scratches for a few days. So I think maybe we’re going to hold a local beauty contest and invite the gentlemen of Nearby to take part.”

“And what if a gentleman doesn’t want to take part?” Rob asked.

Frankie’s smile was cold. “I would find that very suspicious, wouldn’t you?”

“Have you seen my partner?” Adam asked as they were leaving the office to drive to Berkle’s place.

“Don’t tell me you lost this one too,” Rob said.

“Agent Russell drove down to Medford,” Aggie volunteered.

Adam checked his cell. “He didn’t leave me a message. Did he say why?”

“Nope.” The phone rang, Aggie bitterly cursed all reporters everywhere, and reached for it.

“Maybe he flew back to L.A.,” Rob said as they walked outside into the bright sunlight. Most of the remaining snow had melted. There were deep puddles everywhere, reflecting startlingly blue sky and fleecy clouds. The morning felt clean and freshly washed. Which was kind of surprising given the grim start to the day.

The night had been nice though. He couldn’t help glancing at Adam and smiling.

Adam said, “As much as Russell doesn’t like this assignment, he wouldn’t leave without informing me. And if he’d been recalled, I’d have been recalled too.”

“Did you check your phone messages?” Rob hated the idea that Adam might get recalled. But whether he was recalled or not, sooner or later Adam would be leaving Nearby.

Suddenly the sun didn’t seem half as bright as it had a few seconds before.

“Yes. I just checked my messages, and I checked my email this morning. There’s nothing from anyone, including Russell.”

“Then don’t worry. He’ll be back.”

Adam nodded, though clearly unsatisfied.

They climbed into Rob’s SUV, and Rob started the engine. “The Constantine place is on the way to Berkle’s. We can stop there on the way back, if you’d like to talk to Bill.”