Waking for good at 5:30 a.m., she dragged herself from bed and showered, then contemplated what to do with the rest of her day, now that she didnt have a job to go to. Her mother had told her she should come by the house more often, but by now, the town grapevine would surely have made its way to her parents, and the last thing she wanted to do with her day was spend it listening to her fathers litany of I-told-you-sos.
Roy Tatum had also told her to stay away from Hamilton Gray, which she didnt intend to do, but it would be smart to keep her distance for the next couple of days, at least.
That left J. D. Cooper.
Shed hung around Annabelles long enough to see him taken into custody. Shed been surprised the deputies had gone that far on a simple trespass, but she supposed in a place as small as Terrebonne, a brutal murder could put law enforcement on edge.
Shed followed the squad car to the police station, parking far enough away to avoid detection but close enough to see Massey walk J. D. Cooper to his truck about an hour after he arrived at the sheriffs station, sparing her the need to intervene.
After all, Annabelles was her property now. Carrie had left it to her in the will. All that was left was the paperwork. She had a say in who was trespassing and who wasnt.
She ended up at Margos Diner for breakfast. Margo herself was behind the counter, entirely too energetic for such an early hour. She poured Natalie strong, black coffee without waiting for the order and set the cup on the counter in front of her. There was a man here yesterday who seemed mighty interested in you.
Natalie glanced up from the steaming coffee. Dark hair, blue eyes, about the size of a grizzly?
Margo grinned. So youve met him?
She answered with a low growling noise. So, now J. D. Cooper was asking around town about her. What did he want to know?
Not that much, really. Margo blushed under a layer of makeup, and Natalie got the feeling shed done most of the talking. She did love to gossip. He asked if you were married.
Natalie arched an eyebrow. Is that so?
I wouldnt think much of it. Hes married.
Actually, hes a widower, Natalie corrected, though she wasnt sure why she bothered. Margo would probably latch on to that piece of information and turn it into a big deal. She didnt give Margo time to ask any more questions. Did he ask anything about Carries murder?
You know, he did. He wanted to know if I thought Hamilton Gray could have killed her.
Interesting. So he was open to her theory of what happened to Carrie. What did you tell him?
Margo blushed again. I know you think its Hamilton, honey, but I just cant see why hed do it. Its not like your sister would get any of his money if they just divorced. And hes not going to inherit anything from her because of that prenup.
Natalie should have guessed Margo knew about the prenuptial agreement. You know everything that goes on in this town.
Margo grinned. I suppose maybe I do. Another customer entered the diner and drew Margos attention away, leaving Natalie to drink her coffee in silence.
So, J. D. Cooper wanted to know if she was married. Why hadnt he just asked her directly?
J.D. WASNT SURPRISED to see his brother Gabe waiting in the Millbridge Police Department when he arrived. I drove down last night and stayed at Alicias, Gabe explained, shaking his brothers hand. Dads taking my fishing clients this morning.
You didnt have to come, J.D. said, although he was glad Gabe was there. The drive from Terrebonne had seemed to fly by, not giving him nearly enough time to prepare himself to see Dyson.
I came for my girl, not for you, Gabe said with a grin. But while Im here
J.D. squeezed his brothers shoulder. Any word from the university about her dissertation?
Gabes grin widened. The last revision passed and she has her oral defense in three weeks. Alicias dissertation on the psychology of serial-killer pairs had included her personal notes on Marlon Dyson and Victor Logan. Her advisor thinks shell do a bang-up job on the defense. In a month, Ill be dating a doctor.
Mom will be so proud, J.D. murmured.
A man about Gabes age with wavy dark hair and brown eyes emerged from a door down the hall and walked toward them. He smiled at Gabe and extended his hand. I thought you were back home at the lake.
I thought Id drive down to see Alicia. Gabe shook the mans hand. Tony, this is my brother J.D. J.D., this is Tony Evans, Alicias friend.
I like to think Im your friend, too, Cooper. Tony shook J.D.s hand. Ive got Dyson cooling his heels in an interview room down the hall. I figured you wouldnt want to do this at the jail. Ill have to stay with you, and therell be two guards there, too. Plus, hes cuffed to the table. You ready for this?
J.D. nodded. Lets do it.
His stomach knotting with tension, he followed Tony to the interview room.
Chapter Four
J.D. recognized Marlon Dysons boyish face from the photograph that had run in the Millbridge paper the day after his arrest. Tony Evans had emailed Alicia a copy of the article the day it ran, and shed shared it with J.D. for his case files.
But the last four weeks hadnt been kind to Dyson. His cheeks were leaner, and his eyes warier, as he watched J.D. and Tony enter the interview room. Hed been shot by accident while struggling with Alicia. Lost a lot of bloodprobably explained his paleness as well.
Mr. Dyson, this is J. D. Cooper. Tony sat in one of the two seats across the table from Dyson. J.D. took the other chair.
The widower. Dyson smiled. Ive heard a lot about you.
From Alex? J.D. asked, disturbed by Dysons hungry gaze. Dyson seemed to feed off the tension filling the interview room.
Alex? Dyson replied innocently.
The man you worked with. The man who killed those coeds here in Millbridge. And the women in Mississippi and Louisiana.
That was Victor Logan, wasnt it? Dyson asked, still smiling. Thats what I heard. Good thing he died, huh? Saves taxpayers the cost of keeping him in jail the rest of his life.
You rigged a gas explosion to save taxpayer money?
Tony had asked the question, but Dysons gaze never left J.D.s face. I have no idea what youre talking about.
Who is Alex? J.D. pressed.
I dont know. Dysons hard face softened until he looked like an overgrown, scared kid. How would I? I just made a stupid mistake. I let my feelings for a coworker push me to do stupid, terrible things. Thats all. I swear.
Stupid things like killing a janitor who got in your way?
It was an accident!
You shot him in the head.
The gun just went off, Marlon moaned, starting to rock back and forth. I didnt mean for it to happen! I dont know much about gunsI should never have had it with me
J.D. stared at him in growing horror as he realized the sociopath was actually on the verge of tears. Tony made a low groaning sound beside him, but the sound barely registered over the buzz of rage filling J.D.s ears. It could really happen, he realized as Marlon stared back at him, blinking back what looked to all the world like tears of fear.
Put this guy before a gullible jury, let him turn on the little boy lost act and he might get away with a minimal sentence for killing the janitor and trying to kill Alicia Solano in the bowels of the Mill Valley Universitys Behavioral Sciences building.
J.D. bit back a growl of frustration and pushed away from the table. This guys small potatoes. He probably doesnt even know Alexs real name anyway.
Dysons smug gaze faltered for a second.
The guy who killed those women doesnt make stupid mistakes. Alex wouldnt trust a half-wit like Marlon here with his name.
You cant trick me into telling you his real name. Dysons chin came up defiantly.
So you do know it? Tony asked.
Dyson clamped his mouth shut.
He didnt, J.D. realized. Dyson truly didnt know the killers real name, for exactly the reason J.D. had said. A guy whod gotten away with murder for over a decade wouldnt chance revealing his true identity to someone who could testify against him later.
J.D. was back to square one.
BESIDES A HANDFUL OF bed-and-breakfasts, the only place for travelers to stay in Terrebonne was the Bay View Inn, a twenty-unit motel that, despite its name, was at least a mile from the water. On a clear day, from a second-floor room, it was theoretically possible to see the bay from the motel, Natalie supposed; but from J. D. Coopers ground-floor room all she could see was the parking lot.
It hadnt been hard to beat the lock on the motel room door, which probably explained why she had found almost nothing of value in J.D.s room after nearly a half hour of searching. Hed be foolish to leave money or anything of worth in a place like this. Not out in the open, anyway.
She stopped in the middle of the room and looked around, trying to clear her mind of distractions. Such as the distinctive masculine scent that seemed to permeate every corner of the motel room, a blend of soap, aftershave andshe took another quick sniffgun oil. So he was carrying a weapon? She hadnt found one anywhere in the room, so he probably had it on him. And if hed been carrying a concealed weapon, the deputies whod picked him up last night would have already checked his CCW permit. Hed clearly passed muster, or hed still be cooling his heels in jail.
She forced her gaze around the room one more time. If she were going to hide something in a motel room, something she didnt want anyone else to find, where would she hide it?
Her eyes gravitated toward the bed. The bedcovers were neatly in place, the pillows symmetrically positioned. Shipshape, even. What were the odds the giggling teens Bay View Inn employed as housekeeping staff could make a bed so neatly?
After checking out the window to make sure nobody was heading toward the room, Natalie pulled back the bedcovers. The pillows sat side by side, positioned perfectly across the bed. But there was something odd-looking about the pillow closest to her. She grabbed it and discovered it was heavier than a pillow should be.
She opened the case and looked inside. Below the fluffy foam-filled pillow lay a thick file folder full of papers.
She pulled out the folder and opened it. The papers inside were photocopies of police reports, crime-scene photos, witness testimony transcripts, autopsy reports, even newspaper clippingsa treasure trove of information about a series of murders dating back over a decade. The deeper she delved, the more her stomach tightened, nausea rising up her throat in cold waves.
There was no photo of her sisters crime scene in this folder, though the top-most sheet of paper was a photocopy of the article about the murder that had run in the Terrebonne Banner the day after. But Natalie didnt need a photo; shed been the person whod found Carries body. She remembered exactly how she had lookedlying on her back, as if she were merely sleeping, with her hands flat to the floor next to her. A series of knife wounds across her abdomen had spilled blood onto the pale yellow blouse shed worn that day, turning it crimson.
Every womans body in this file could have been Carries. The position was the same. The women were curvy brunettes like her sister, and, in the handful of photos where the victims eyes were open, their eyes were brown like Carries.
No wonder J. D. Cooper thought Carries death was connected.
Forgetting all about covering her tracks, Natalie pulled out all of the photos in the file and laid them across the motel bed, beginning to tremble as she saw the sheer number of photos involved. Sixteen women, once alive, now dead at the hands of what clearly was a serial killer.
Or two killers, if J.D.s theory was correct.
The rattle of the doorknob made her jump. Her first instinct was to scramble to return the photos to the folder, but she quickly realized shed never put things back the way hed left them. She left the photos where they were and pulled her Glock from the holster at her waist. If it was J.D., shed explain herself and hope he understood the desperation that drove her. And if it was an intruder, she was armed.
It wasnt an intruder. It was J. D. Cooper, carrying a newspaper in one hand and a dark gray gun case in the other.
He jerked to a stop in the doorway, instantly focused on the Glock in her hand. His eyes widened a notch.
She put her weapon away. Sorry.
J.D.s gaze swept over the scene, taking in the haphazardly placed pillows, the turned back bedcover and the photos laid out across the bed. His eyes blazed with anger. What the hell do you think youre doing in here?
Trying to find out if youre for real, she answered, keeping her voice steady, although inside, she was cringing with shame at being caught breaking and entering. What on earth had she been thinking?
Do you have a warrant?
She licked her lips. No.
Then get the hell out of my room.
She couldnt get out of the motel room without moving past him, and right now, he was filling the doorway completely, blocking her exit. But she couldnt just stand where she was, so she started forward, her knees trembling as the full impact of her foolish decision hit her.
It wasnt enough that shed broken the law by picking the lock and tossing his room. Shed done so without any thought of what would happen if he caught her. What did she know about him, really? Hed told her some sob story about his dead wife, and hed talked up Margo, the town gossip, but how much of what hed told either of them was the truth?
He made no attempt to move out of her way. She faltered to a stop in front of him, drawing herself up to her full five feet nine inches, and he was still several inches taller than she was.
You couldnt look me up on your computers at the station?
She lifted her chin. Im on administrative leave.
For breaking and entering? he shot drily.
She supposed she deserved that. Because apparently the department-ordered psychologist thinks Im a danger to myself, my fellow deputies and the public.
Are you?
No. Though she couldnt muster much conviction in the denial, considering hed just caught her snooping in his motel room without permission.
His lips curved, as if he could read her mind. Did you find what you were looking for?
She glanced over at the photos on the bed. Maybe more than I was looking for.
Your sister looked like those women. He wasnt asking a question, just making an observation. Carries picture had been included in the Banner article. He must have seen the similarities between her and the victims in those photos. It was probably what had drawn him here in the first place.