The Numbers Killer Page 6

“If there’s ever going to be something between you and your boss, you need to let her make the first pass. And make sure it’s loud and clear. That’s all I’m saying. And you’d be wise to listen to me and take my advice whenever you are so lucky as to receive it.”

  He chuckled. “I know. I’m not going to do anything stupid. But if she ever makes a pass at me . . .”

  “She’s crazy not to be madly in love with you by now, so maybe she’s not quite—”

  Ned laughed. “There’s nothing wrong with her. She just doesn’t get close to many people.” He thought about the one time he’d asked Victoria about her mother’s death. Her reaction had given him all the information he’d needed for an armchair diagnosis of intimacy issues. “But, hey, I will take your advice.”

  “Good because I’d never steer you wrong. Love you, Ned. Gotta go.”

  “Love you, Lori.”

  What would it take to change Victoria’s mind about him? Would she ever come home at the end of the day and be as excited about seeing him as she was about her dogs?

  He had to tread carefully. And be patient. Victoria was worth whatever it might take.

  Chapter Eight

  Victoria settled back against the leather seat, watching the road ahead. “I can’t believe there was a murder on the Triple Falls trail. It’s a popular hiking destination.”

  Rivera draped his arm over the top of the steering wheel. “Wonder who got killed.”

  “Murphy said ‘older couple’. I interviewed a witness from one of Butler’s warehouses awhile back, can’t remember his name now, but he was on the old side. Maybe his wife was with him. What a shame.” She tapped her phone. “I still need to call Sam.”

  Rivera stayed silent while Victoria spoke to one of their intelligence analysts, Sam, her favorite person in the office because he was always polite and pleasant, no matter that everyone’s requests came in as emergencies. He was ideally suited to weather the ongoing stress in the office.

  “What can I do for you?” Sam asked, as if he was idling his time when in reality, he was multi-tasking for a dozen agents.

  She updated him on the murder scene and asked for information on Todd Meiser’s phone records and anything to help them identify the prostitute James Meiser mentioned.

  “I’m on it. You be safe out there.” Even over the phone, his smile traveled through his words.

  Knowing Sam would get back to her soon, she ended the call and slid her finger down her phone screen, searching through her mail. “Nothing from forensics yet.” She set her phone down against her leg and looked at Rivera. “What do you think the message at this crime scene says?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough. You always hike alone?”

  “Me and my dogs. And my pistol.” She patted the holster at her side.

  “And you get cell reception in those woods?”

  She grinned. “Sometimes.” She knew he worried about her. She was lucky they had been assigned to work together increasingly more often lately. Rivera could be gruff. He was a man of few words. Nothing wrong with that. On the contrary, sometimes working with him was almost as good as being alone.

  “We’re almost there. I just have to make a quick call.” She pressed the contact button for Ned. After a few seconds, she said, “Hey Ned, it’s me again. So, I’m going to have to work over night. Can you stay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Thanks. Something came up. It might last a few nights, but I’ll keep you posted on my schedule as soon as I know.”

  “Okay. Be careful.”

  “I will. I’ve got to go. Thanks again.”

  Rivera tightened his grip on the wheel. “So, whenever you tell Ned to stay at your house, he’s automatically available?”

  “Yes. Because it’s part of his job.” Why did Rivera sound condescending? Her unpredictable schedule was the reason she paid Ned a salary that exceeded her own. He was always expected to be on call. “To do my job well—”

  “Which you do—”

  “I need to know my dogs are well cared for. Most of them were rescued from horrific situations.”

  “I know.”

  “So he’s essentially expected to be on call 24/7. And if that’s so ridiculous, then why have we pretty much signed up to do the same?”

  Rivera’s face broke into a smile. “Touché.”

  The agents drove in silence past scenic farms. Victoria stared out her window, taking in the scenery in a way she hadn’t on previous trips with her dogs, because she had always been alone and driving. The rolling acres and white fences made her think of her mother, mainly her mother’s love for dogs and horses—all animals, really. If only she’d said yes to more hikes with her mother when she’d been alive. With a sigh, she switched mindsets, reviewing every detail of the scene at Todd Meiser’s house. And then somehow, she sensed Rivera was looking at her, even as he drove.

  “What?” She fiddled with the buttons on the dashboard, turning down the heat and having it blow out only from the bottom vents.

  “Nothing.”

  “Think these crimes are related?” She grabbed her bag and found an elastic band in the inside pocket.

  “Yes.” He grimaced. “Unless a group of psychos sent out a memo with a special signature for today.”

  “Let’s hope that’s not what’s going on here.” Victoria gathered her hair back and fastened it into a ponytail.

  “Meiser’s death reminded me of something, but I’m not sure what. Like I had a déjà vu when I first saw him on his floor.”

  “Another case? Was it the blindfold? The number on his forehead?”

  Rivera shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  “Well, we’ve got a two, a three, and a four so far. I’m wondering if there’s a number one out there that we haven’t found yet.”

  Rivera frowned. “I was thinking the same.”

  Victoria peered out the window at downed trees from last night’s storm. The forest had thickened, marked by an occasional trail entrance. “Okay, the parking area is coming up soon. It’s not well marked and easy to miss.”

  Rivera slowed down. Victoria leaned forward. “There!”

  Two giant stone pillars marked the entrance to the gravel lot. A news van was parked near two police cruisers and a sheriff’s car.

  “Oh, jeez,” Victoria said, unfastening her seat belt. “They got here before us.”

  Rivera parked, and the agents opened their car doors. Amanda Jones rushed toward them as if running from a fire.

  “What do you think is the chance of them holding on to the information about Todd Meiser, like we requested?” Victoria asked as she shut the car door.

  “Are you kidding?” Rivera formed a zero with his thumb and middle finger.

  Murphy’s car squealed into a nearby spot and stopped with a lurch.

  Amanda flipped her long hair carefully over her shoulders, framing her face. She was still catching her breath when she spoke, which added to the drama of the scene her sidekick was recording. “Two homicides in one day, Agents? What’s the story? Can you tell us anything about the double murder on the Tripe Falls Trail? Is there an unknown killer on the loose?”

  Rivera stepped to the side and Victoria answered. “We just arrived, and what we know we can’t disclose at this time. But as soon as we have information we can share with the public, you’ll be the first to know. If you don’t mind waiting here in the parking lot, we’ll be sure to give you something you can broadcast when we’re done here.”

  “Fair enough. Thank you.” Amanda continued to walk alongside them, the video still rolling.

  With an angry expression, Murphy edged between the agents and Amanda, essentially bumping Victoria out of his way. Victoria stepped backward and almost stumbled over something on the ground. Rivera’s arm shot out to support her. She steadied herself and mouthed “thank you.”

  Murphy barked at the reporter and videographer. “I’m the SAC on this case. You can’t be here. This is an active crime scene. You need t
o leave.” Holding on to his jacket, he raised his arm, pointing to the parking lot exit.

  “Agent Heslin said we could wait here until you’ve finished your investigation. We won’t go beyond the area that’s been taped off.”

  Murphy glared in Victoria’s direction, then glared at Amanda. He shook his finger toward the main road, causing his jacket to wave up and down beneath it. “Leave. Now.”

  Victoria offered a discreet apologetic look to the reporter and camera man, who retreated back toward their van. After all, they were only trying to do their jobs. And if there was any danger, the public had a right to know about it as soon as possible so they could take proper precautions. Like not go hiking for a few days until they figured out what had happened here.

  There were three other cars in the parking lot, a Honda Odyssey, a Toyota 4-Runner, and a Subaru Outback. Their owners could be in danger, or, one of the cars might belong to the killer, still hiding somewhere in the woods.

  “I’ll get the plates.” It only took a few seconds for Victoria to take pictures of the makes, models, and plates. Rivera waited for her, eyes roaming the area.

  The trail ahead had been cordoned off with crime scene tape. A young female deputy guarded the opening.

  Putting on his FBI jacket, Murphy spoke to the officer. “How far up the path are they?”

  “Not far.”

  Murphy ducked under the police tape. “Make sure to keep everyone off the trail, especially the media.”

  The deputy nodded. “I’ve already had to turn a few people away. They weren’t happy,”

  “There are trails on the other side of the main road, about a half mile up. Maybe you can direct them there.” As soon as Victoria said the words, she wanted to take them back. What if the killer was still out there? She scanned the area, looking for people. “Watch your back, okay?” she said to the deputy as they passed her.

  Murphy led the way, grumbling, “my team is losing right now because I forgot to wear my lucky shirt.”

  “Did you forget last week, too?” Rivera asked, grinning.

  “I’m not in the mood,” Murphy said, checking his watch. “Three murders in one morning tend to do that to me. I’m supposed to go to my kid’s chorus concert tonight. I swear the school moved this thing to the weekend because of my wife’s insistence. She wants me there. I’ve got to leave here before five.”

  A short walk up the trail, Murphy sauntered up to the Sheriff and put his hand on his shoulder. He introduced himself and his agents to the two other male officers crowding the trail. One of them stepped back, nudged the other, and whispered something. They both looked at Victoria and grinned.

  Victoria ignored them and focused on two panting dogs that were tied to a nearby tree. It wasn’t warm. They were stressed. They stood alert in their matching leash and collar sets, protecting their owners, who also weren’t going anywhere. A surge of anger mixed with compassion temporarily distracted Victoria. She forced down her emotions and turned her attention away from the dogs and to their owners. This job was one of the ways she could make a difference in a world with too many awful people, too many awful circumstances.

  The bodies of a man and a woman were sprawled across the dirt path. In their sixties or seventies, both had silver hair, wrinkled bronze skin, and lean bodies. Victoria wouldn’t have called them elderly, as one of the first cops on the scene apparently had. The word elderly reminded her of fragile senior citizens with walkers and canes. This couple wore hiking boots, shorts, and lightweight shirts. Their backpacks were still attached, as were their broad-rim hats, secured by strings underneath their chins. Their wide-open eyes and shocked, pained expressions wrenched at Victoria’s heart.

  Victoria always asked the same questions at a crime scene. What motivated the killer? Why this couple? Why here? Why now? Because answers to the how and why questions almost always led them to the who.

  The husky officer stepped forward. “This guy found them and called 911.” He gestured to a thin man with a hiker’s strong calves leaning against a tree. In a tie-dyed shirt and bandana, he looked like a hippie hold-out from the seventies. A backpack with a sleeping roll and tent attached lay on the ground next to him. He straightened up to speak to the agents. “I was camping overnight. I found them when I was leaving this morning.”

  Murphy studied the hiker. “Did you see anyone else?”

  He shook his head. “The only other people I passed before I found them were a group of women. Three of them. Don’t know that they came this way. Two other trails intersect with this one farther up.”

  The Sheriff’s eyes traveled from Murphy to Agent Heslin as he spoke. “Two officers went to find them.”

  “Can I go now?” asked the hiker. “The Sheriff said I had to wait for you, but now that you’re here . . .”

  Murphy set his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Give Agent Rivera your contact information. We’ll be in touch and we might need you to identify the women when we find them, make sure we located the ones you saw.”

  “Sure.” The man gave his information to Rivera. “So, I can go now?”

  “One second,” Victoria held up a finger. “I just tried to send a message. No reception. How were you able to call 911?”

  “I had to walk back to the parking lot and call. They told me to wait for the cops.”

  “What kind of car did you drive here?”

  “A white Toyota 4-Runner.”

  “Did you hear anything?”

  “Like gunshots? Or people screaming? No.”

  “Okay. Here’s my card. Call if you think of anything else.” Unless he suddenly remembered he had seen someone running down the trail with a gun, she couldn’t imagine he would think of anything else that would be helpful, but it never hurt to make the request and hand out her card, just in case.

  Once the hiker left, Murphy walked around the couple, studying the scene from all angles. “From the surrounding pool of blood, they were definitely shot here. The man was shot first, in the heart at close range, possibly trying to shield his wife. He was facing the shooter when he died.”

  Blood soaked the man’s torso. Only his shirt collar indicated his top had once been white. The number three was written on his head in black ink. Below the number, the word CHEATER was scrawled in the same ink.

  Behind him, the woman lay on her side. She had also been shot in the chest. The number four was written on her temple.

  “No attempt to hide the bodies.” While Victoria studied the scene, she was annoyingly aware of the Sheriff’s eyes on her. Wearing gloves, she swatted at the insects honing in on fresh blood, removed the woman’s backpack, and examined the contents. It held a collapsible dog bowl, several bottles of water, dog treats, granola bars and trail mix. “It’s pretty clear what they were doing out here.” Her face was set in stone as she glanced at the dogs, whining to get closer to their masters. She focused hard on them to make sure a tear didn’t escape her eyes.

  Rivera opened the man’s backpack. He found their wallets and car keys, more water bottles and two rain ponchos. “Robert and Anne Cossman. They’re from Baltimore.” He held up a blue and green hotel key card. “If this is current, they were staying at the Sonesta Hotel and Suites.”

  “If they’re still checked in, I want you to search the room,” Murphy said. “Find out what connection they have to the Butlers and Todd Meiser.”

  Rivera nodded.

  Victoria walked slowly toward the dogs, crouching down. “We’re going to find out who did this to your parents. And meanwhile—"

  “Heslin.” Rivera cocked his head and gave her a warning look. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “You sound just like my father. Are you going to take them, then?”

  Rivera sighed and shook his head but said, “Sure, why not?”

  Victoria straightened with her hands on her hips. “Why not? Because for one, you have terrible allergies. We also work too many hours a day and you don’t have anyone to take care of them.” She sq
uatted down, allowing them to sniff her. Untying their leashes, she read the tags on their collars. “Come on Leo and Bella. You’ll be okay with me for a little while.” With their leashes in hand she spoke to the officers. “I live near here. I’ll take care of the dogs until we know where they’re going, until we find out if the Cossmans have family that wants to take them.”

  Murphy narrowed his eyes at Heslin. “You’ve got work to do. You can’t be babysitting dogs today. Someone can take them to the pound.”

  “No, sir. It’s not necessary.” Victoria’s response was quick and firm. There was no question about her determination.

  Murphy glanced at his phone. “Forensics is still half an hour out. They’re going to want to comb those dogs for evidence. I need to go. You got this?”

  Rivera nodded. “Got it.”

  “Yes.” Victoria glanced down at the dogs. Leo tipped his head back to look up at her. She smiled at him.

  The sheriff and the officers stood to the side, watching the agents interact.

  Looking his agents in the eyes, Murphy’s voice was forceful. “Figure out who is doing this and stop them before there’s another victim.”

  Rivera folded his arms. “About our watch on the other Butler witnesses tonight—”

  “I’ll find someone else.” Murphy grumbled. “You’ve got three murders now, don’t let this thing blow out of control. Can’t believe this . . . this . . . whatever it is and the Butler case fiasco.” Murphy stared down the trail, one hand on the fingers of the others, getting ready to pull off his gloves. Taking a last glance around, his eyes settled on a small dot of white in the corner of Mr. Cossman’s mouth. “Wait. What’s that?” Murphy stooped to part the dead man’s lips. He slid out a small piece of paper and studied it. His scowl deepened. He looked up, stared straight at Victoria, and said, “What the hell?”

  “What is it?” Rivera asked, walking over to his boss.

  Murphy glared at Rivera. “It says—'Dear Agent Victoria Heslin – Does your partner treat you well?’”

  Victoria’s mouth dropped open. She thought she must have heard wrong, but Murphy’s expression told her otherwise. “My name is really on there?”