Chapter 37

Laurel sat at her office conference table with an uneaten bagel next to her. She stared at the murder board, to which she'd also added Rachel Raprenzi's picture.

"I've got them." Monty hustled into the conference room.

Laurel reached for the photographs. "These are pictures of the crime scene where Rachel had been pushed toward a river?"

"Yeah," Monty said. "Fish and Wildlife officers were close by because of the search and rescue, so when Rachel called it in, they quickly tracked back to where she thought she'd been taken."

"Helping me will get you fired, Monty." But he was all she had. Everyone else was gone.

"Don't care," Monty said. "Plus, it's Sunday. It's my day off. I can do what I want."

Not true. Laurel peered more closely at the broken ice, which appeared as if crampons had been used. The edges exhibited a rough but symmetrical quality. "Rachel said Huck kidnapped her?"

Monty nodded. "But Rachel didn't actually see Huck. She felt a muscled male body hold her and was put into a dog crate in a truck, so she thinks it was Aeneas's crate. But she didn't see him."

"Did she hear a dog?"

"No."

Laurel quickly considered her options. "I'm still on this case."

"Probably not for long."

She nodded. "What do you say we pull Rachel in for an interview? This is a serial murder case, and we do have jurisdiction, especially since this crime occurred on federal land."

Monty had dressed in his Fish and Wildlife uniform. "I would have to take lead."

"I agree. I'll do my best not to interfere."

He lifted his shoulder. "I need Raprenzi's number."

Laurel looked it up on her phone. Rachel had given it to her months ago while asking for information on a case.

Monty lifted the phone to his ear. "Ms. Raprenzi, it's Captain Monty Buckley from the Fish and Wildlife service. I need to interview you about what happened last night." He waited a beat. "Yes, I'm aware you've accused Captain Rivers, and that's fine. But I've been on this case since the beginning and would like to bring you in for an interview."

Laurel held her breath.

He shook his head. "No, I'm not consenting to an on-camera interview. You would come to our offices." He rolled his eyes. "I'm still not consenting to that. Either you come and talk to us, or I will put out word with your competitors that you are unwilling to help in this case and just want to use it to further your career."

Laurel's jaw dropped. She hadn't realized Monty would resort to such a ruthless strategy so quickly.

"That sounds lovely. We appreciate you coming in to see me tomorrow." He ended the call.

"Monty," Laurel said.

Monty took a deep gulp of his latte. "That's the only language she understands. She'll be here to talk to us tomorrow morning."

Laurel wanted to groan. She turned to the screen at the far end of the conference room and quickly brought up the streaming channel.

Somebody buzzed in at the front door, and she stood, hurrying to the reception desk to see Pastor John and a woman on the screen. She buzzed them in, and they walked up the stairs.

Laurel straightened. "Pastor John. Don't you have church services today?"

"I was let go after Zeke firebombed me in front of the entire congregation," the pastor said. "I heard your phone message this morning and thought I would just cut you off at the pass." He pointed to the woman next to him. "This is Lativa Jones, and we were together all last night. So if you're trying to pin the Rachel Raprenzi kidnapping on me, you're way off base."

Lativa appeared to be in her early thirties with curly red hair and sparkling green eyes. "I've never been an alibi before," she said, grinning, "but we were together all night."

Laurel looked at Monty, who'd followed her down the hallway. "All right. Have you been to Santa Fe lately, Pastor John? Before you answer, please remember that I can track your movements and that it's a crime to lie to a federal agent."

The pastor frowned. "I've never been to Santa Fe." His voice remained level and he did not fidget.

"Are you certain you've never met Delta Rivers?" Laurel asked.

He sighed. "Yes. I promise."

She would have Nester double-check his whereabouts for the last month, but she couldn't create a scenario where he'd killed the victims. "Very well. How about Pastor Zeke? Has he been to Santa Fe recently?"

"I have absolutely no idea where that man has been," Pastor John snarled.

She had leads to pursue and didn't have time to waste. "Would you return tomorrow morning when Agent Nester Lewis is back in the office?" Nester could track them in real time. If Pastor John had an alibi, he'd be cleared of the other murders, considering the same crampons had been utilized at all scenes except for Teri Bearing's. That one kept poking at Laurel's subconscious.

"Sure thing," Pastor John said. "I need to clear my name." He slid an arm over the woman's shoulders. "We'll be back tomorrow." They left with Lativa chattering excitedly about being part of the process.

Laurel hurried back into the conference room with Monty on her heels.

Rachel came onscreen beside a thirtysomething man with curly black hair and greenish brown eyes. "Oh, no," Laurel muttered.

"What?" Monty pulled out a chair

"That's Lucas Carver."

Monty set his elbows on the rough wooden door. "Who's Lucas Carver?"

Laurel shifted uncomfortably. "We attended graduate school together and then were at Quantico at the same time. Whenever any professor graded on a curve, if I had the highest A, he would have the next grade."

"Oh," Monty said, nodding. "So if he had the highest grade, then you—"

"No," she said, "I always had the highest grade." She sat back to look at Lucas. How in the world had Rachel found him?

Rachel smiled prettily, despite the bruise on her face. "So tell me, Mr. Carver," she said, "you're an expert on serial killers, correct? You're a profiler?"

Carver laughed, the tone charming. "We don't really believe in the term ‘profiler.' We're more behavioral analysts, if that helps, and please call me Lucas."

Rachel twittered, looking like a heroine from a tragic novel with a bruise over her cheekbone and her blond hair up in a ponytail. She held her right arm against her ribs as if experiencing pain. "I've detailed for our audience what happened to me last night, how I was kidnapped and put into the dog crate but then managed to escape."

Carver reached over and patted her hand. "You did escape. You're a very brave young woman, and you are smart, and you kept your wits. You're the first one to live after facing this brutal killer. You're very impressive."

She smiled, the expression somewhat shy.

"Give me a break," Monty muttered.

Rachel sobered. "I really think the man who assaulted me was my ex-boyfriend, Captain Huck Rivers," she said, her voice hushed, her eyes wide.

Carver nodded. "I can't really say that Captain Rivers kidnapped you, but I can tell you that the person committing these killings is strong, methodical, and very angry at women. From the victims he's targeted, very angry at blond women."

Rachel swallowed and then pulled on her blond ponytail. "I would never have thought I'd be a victim."

"You're not. You're a survivor," Carver said instantly.

Rachel straightened and gingerly touched the bruise on her cheekbone. "You're right. I am. So do you think there's significance to his putting me in a dog crate?"

"Of course." Carver nodded, both eyebrows up. "He thinks women are dogs."

Laurel smacked her hand against her head. If Rachel was put in a dog crate, it was to keep her contained, for Pete's sake. No dog hairs were found on any of the victims. "Every crime scene is the same—the use of crampons, an iced-over river, and an isolated area—except for one. I'm missing something."

On the podcast, Rachel touched Carver's sleeve, as if seeking a connection. "So hypothetically, what if Huck Rivers is the killer? He has been arrested, you know."

Carver stared thoughtfully into the camera. "Let's keep in mind that we need to use the word ‘alleged.' But if Captain Rivers committed these crimes, it would be interesting that the first victim was his mother, the mother who abandoned him."

Rachel wiggled in her seat. "Exactly. Isn't that the type of impetus that would propel him to start killing? When we were together, he was searching for a killer who drowned boys, and he saved one, but another died. He never got over that."

Carver nodded wisely. "Then it would make sense that drowning would be his choice of killing, allegedly," he added at the end. "His mother would be the first target, without question."

Rachel shook her head. "But we broke up."

"Yes, but you were meaningful to him at a time when he was in great pain," Carver said gently. "He might want to end you to end that pain. Allegedly."

Monty sighed. "Tell you what. Why don't I go get some Fireball, and every time that moron says the word allegedly, we can take a shot?"

Laurel shook her head and sat back to watch the remainder of the show. Finally, Carver shook Rachel's hand, and the show went to commercial.

"What a bonehead," Monty muttered.

"I dated him," Laurel admitted.

Monty swung to face her. "You did not date that idiot."

She sighed. "I did. Worse yet, he broke up with me. He claimed I failed to be there for him emotionally."

Monty laughed out loud and then looked down at his laptop. "This guy's all over the Internet. He separated from the FBI in December and now runs his own business looking for missing persons. His initial fee is fifty grand."

Laurel's jaw dropped. "Fifty thousand dollars? This is a publicity stunt for him?"

"I suppose," Monty said thoughtfully, his hands shaking. "This is a big case, and The Killing Hour has gone viral. He's probably just gotten himself enough business to last the next five years. Plus, he probably didn't mind sticking it to you a little bit, Laurel."

Laurel studied him. "You need to rest." The color had leached out of his face. She placed too much reliance on Monty with the absence of her team. He exhibited signs of imminent syncope, and if he passed out, she might not act quickly enough to catch him. "Go home, Monty."

"No. I need to help Huck. Tell me what's bugging you about the crime scenes."

She couldn't force him and understood his desire to help the captain. "I don't like that the ice was broken differently in Teri Bearing's death from the pattern at the other crime scenes."

Monty looked back up the hallway. "You think we have a copycat?"

"The possibility has occurred to me," Laurel said. "We want to look at Teri Bearing's husband as well as lover. Statistically, the killer is usually close to the victim. We know the mayor is an obvious choice because of Teri's affair with Pastor John. But perhaps Pastor John hasn't been truthful about his plans to work with Teri to take the deal from Zeke." Although she hadn't discerned markers of untruthfulness from him.

"Neither man has a decent alibi," Monty said. "But didn't a number of people know about the affair? The cat was out of the bag, right?"

Laurel nodded. "Yes, but not publicly. Not to the point that Pastor John would be ruined nationally."

"I guess," Monty said. "What else is bugging you about this case?"

Laurel breathed out and pounded her palm rather gently against her forehead. "Okay, one thing at a time. It's the dyed hair. Huck's mom's hair. That's the key."

Monty frowned. "I don't understand."

Ideas and scenarios ran through her head faster than lightning. "Me neither. The answer is just out of my grasp." She only had so much time left to find answers before Norrs rightfully pulled her off this case, and then it'd be too late. "We're need to speak with the mayor again, but first, Monty, have two of your burliest officers go pull in Pastor Zeke Caine. We have to determine if Delta's ‘pastor' was Zeke. I would like a show of force when he's brought in."

"Yeah?" Monty asked. "Are you sure? It's Sunday, and he'll be at church."

This could be a colossal mistake. "Yes. Thank you."

He straightened. "Do you want to come with us?"

She exhaled slowly. "No. I want him to wonder why I'm not there. If he asks, tell him I had more important matters with which to deal."

"You're trying to tick him off," Monty noted.

"Yes. He most likely has issues with impulse control. Let's shake him up a little."

Monty rocked back on his heels. "Should we cuff him?"

"Not if you can help it," Laurel said. "I don't want to cross the line, but make the movements public if anybody's around, and look tough. I want him angry when he sits down."

"You've got it," Monty said weakly. "I'll get a couple of badasses."

"Then go rest. Okay?"

He nodded.

How concerning. He'd actually agreed. Laurel sat back, trying to refrain from worry about Huck or Monty.

She hoped she knew what she was doing.