“Kyle West?” Davis muttered. “Wait—ain’t he our suspect?”
Luke held up a grainy photo for Monica. The same grainy license photo they’d accessed through the Department of Motor Vehicles before and given to the deputies. The image showed a guy with glasses. Too-long hair. An angular nose and weak chin.
“Not anymore,” she muttered. But if it wasn’t Kyle…“Why didn’t Sheriff Martin tell us this?” Yes, okay, she could see May not being fully aware if she’d been off her meds, but Sheriff Martin should have known about Kyle’s death. Informing local authorities was standard procedure. He had to have known.
And Martin had to know that they’d find out the truth. The guy knew the system. A search would turn up Kyle’s death certificate.
But he’d held back that information about Kyle. And that part, well, it was damn interesting.
She’d remembered that dark night with Jake Martin… had he been just pretending? Had he really remembered her, too?
He’d gone to Angola, the prison that housed Romeo. A prison he visited every month. And the killer kept throwing Romeo up in the case. “It’s all about Romeo,” she muttered. Damn him, why couldn’t he stay buried?
“Romeo?” Davis straightened. “Dammit, I’m tired of hearing about him. My fuck-up, coming back to haunt me.”
Monica stiffened. Her gaze lifted, slowly, and locked on the sheriff. “Run that by me again.” His fuck-up?
“You don’t know?” Luke’s rough whisper.
But she didn’t look his way. Monica was too focused on the Sheriff. His lips pressed together, and for a minute, she wasn’t sure he’d answer her. Then Davis said, “The Romeo Killer grew up here in Jasper. I met him when he was just a kid, when he was mutilating pets, and I—”
The Romeo Killer grew up here in Jasper. That was all she heard. Her face flashed ice cold, then pin prickles of heat shot beneath the skin.
“You didn’t know.” Luke spoke slowly.
Monica managed to shake her head. She hadn’t wanted to know. Not a damn thing. She’d made a point of staying away from all the Romeo case files. She hadn’t wanted to learn what made that asshole into the freak he’d become. After she’d gotten away from him, she’d never wanted to see him or hear about him again.
At the Academy, she’d even dodged a few profiling classes because she hadn’t wanted to sit there and hear Romeo’s crimes re-told to everyone.
Buried my head in the sand. Pretended he didn’t matter.
“Are you…” A hand brushed her shoulder. Sheriff Davis. “Are you all right, agent?” Real concern rumbled beneath the words.
No, no she wasn’t all right. She’d been so focused on protecting herself and hiding her past that she’d been blind. So blind. “That’s the link.” She spun away from him and his comforting hand. Her gaze shot to the victim board. Sally. Patty. Laura. Jeremy. She hurried forward, read their profiles again. All born in Jasper. Just like Romeo.
“Monica?” Luke paced to her side.
She shook her head and pitched her voice low. “The messages weren’t about me.” Blind. A rough laugh escaped her lips. “The killer’s been telling us, but I didn’t listen.” Her head turned and she found Luke watching her, eyes so intent. “The newspaper clippings, the bloody flower—it’s all pointing to Romeo.” Not her.
Hell, maybe she was some kind of sick side benefit. But all the other kills…“Like a damn tribute to him.”
He used fear to break them. Romeo hadn’t just killed his prey, he’d broken them first.
Just like the Watchman.
“What’s happenin’?” Davis asked, standing hesitantly behind them, the lines on his face thick. “Who’s gettin’ a tribute?”
“Romeo.” The name left a bad taste in her mouth and she swallowed quickly. “Sheriff, I want you to get the warden from Angola Prison on the line.”
His brows rose. “Now?”
“Now.” Her temples began to throb. Someone would be there, someone was always in the Angola office. “We need a log of every visitor that Romeo has had in the last two years.” That would be a start. They might have to go back even further.
But if she was right and the Watchman was in Jasper, killing here because of some sick homage to Romeo, then she’d bet the bastard had paid Romeo a visit.
He’d gone to hell, and he’d learned from the devil.
The victims were different, the kill methods so different, but that damn rose had been left for a reason. That clipping had been about Romeo.
And he knows me. The killer knew her secret, a secret Romeo could have shared with him.
Too many damn links to overlook—especially since they were playing this deadly game in Romeo’s old backyard.
A light rapping shook her door. Monica glanced up, expecting to see Luke. But the door opened and Davis was there.
“Uh, we need to talk….” He glanced back over his shoulder.
Okay. Monica eased back in her chair, her eyes narrowing when Davis shut the door and took a hesitant step forward. Not really the sheriff’s usual style. “Did you contact Angola?”
“Yeah, yeah.” His head bobbed up and down. “Me and the warden there, we go way back. Huntin’ buddies.”
Why wasn’t that surprising?
“I called him at home. He’s goin’ in, and he said he’d personally fax the logs to us.”
“Excellent.” Once they got a look at the names on that list, they might just get a handle on the bastard.
Would Jake Martin’s name be on that list? She was already planning another call to his office. She had questions that the sheriff would answer for her.
“There’s something you should know.” Davis’s shoulders straightened, and he met her stare directly. “My name’s gonna be on that log.”
What? But she didn’t say that. Instead she asked, “Why?”
“You know what he did, don’t you?” Not an answer. “To those girls, you know.”
“I do.” She knew better than anyone else.
“I had him in my town. I looked at him, and I swear…” He licked his lips. “I saw the evil in him. Just a kid, but I saw it.”
She pressed her hands flat against the desk top. “You had no idea what he’d grow up and become.”
A fast glance over his shoulder at the still closed door. “I’ve read all those fancy studies, too, you know. Animal mutilations in childhood—that’s how it always starts, right?”
Not always.
“The boy sliced his cat open. I knew he did it, but when the sheriff told me the case was over, I just let it go.” His jaw tightened. “The boy needed help then. Help I didn’t get him. If someone had just stepped in, if I had just stepped in, those girls might be alive today. They might have families.”
Her breath came a little too fast. “And what about Romeo? You think he would’ve had a family, too?” Can’t see him that way. Only see him covered in blood.
“Too late to know now. When I saw the pictures of those girls and I found out what he’d done, it made me sick. And trust me, ma’am, I’ve seen a lot of bad things in my life, but Romeo was in a class by himself.”
Yes. “Why did you go see him?” she asked again.
Another slow step toward her. “Because I had to know why. Why he did it. Why he took those girls. Was he crazy? Did he just not know what he was doing? Was he so far gone he didn’t understand it was wrong?”
Or had he done it just because he liked the sound of screams? She forced her hands to lift when her nails bit too deeply into the desk. “And what did he say?”
He inhaled on a hard rasp. “ ‘Because the bitches begged for it.’ ”
No, they begged him to stop, begged to go back home, but he just laughed. “He is sick, Sheriff. He’s a psychopath. He cares nothing for anyone else. He can’t care. He’s never felt guilt over his actions, and he won’t.” The words were clipped, cold, but the fury in her heart burned red hot. “He’s incapable of feeling guilt, just as he’s incapable of feeling e
mpathy. When his victims screamed and pleaded with him, it did nothing. He just didn’t care.” She suspected that seeing the pain had been as close as he’d ever gotten to feeling anything.
Davis turned back toward the door. “Just wanted you to know. I needed to explain before you saw the file.”
“Sheriff!”
He froze with his hand on the door.
“You didn’t hurt those girls.” Me. “He did.”
He didn’t look back at her. “You ever wish you could change the past?”
“No point in it.” Why waste the time? “But I make sure I don’t repeat my mistakes. I make sure the future’s different.”
Davis looked over his shoulder.
“That’s all we can do,” she told him, and knew it was the truth.
The end game was coming. He paced around the cabin, the scent of pine filling his nose. It had been such a fun match, but the end was coming.
The end always had to come.
Romeo had told him that. In the end, the prey dies. Never leave a survivor, never.
Romeo’s mistake. He’d been weak. Left little Mary Jane because he’d thought she was special. Thought she was like him.
But Mary Jane couldn’t even come close to touching Romeo’s greatness. A pretender, that’s what she was. And he’d prove it. He’d finish what Romeo started.
He’d break the bitch.
His steps were silent as he left the cabin. He had the perfect place in mind for his next attack. So perfect.
Mary Jane would appreciate it, he was sure. He’d talked with Romeo, spent hours getting the information so he could make everything just right.
A fitting ending. A final end.
Break her, then kill her. That had been the plan from the beginning. The moment Romeo had learned of the SSD and seen a picture of Mary Jane in the paper, he’d given the kill order.
Lure her to you. She was Hyde’s right hand at the SSD—it had been a safe bet that she’d come to profile the serial in Jasper. And if she hadn’t come, he would have just kept killing until she did show.
But she’d been the one to come first. Getting her into the game and out of her safe, D.C. office had been so easy.
Prove that you’re smarter than she is.
He had. He’d killed, he’d taken her agent, and, soon, he’d be taking Monica.
In the end, she wouldn’t be able to save herself.
Time to make her worst fears come true.
CHAPTER Sixteen
Romeo gets regular visits from his lawyer, a guy named Bryan Tate who lives in Gatlin,” Luke said, the faxed log in his hands.
Monica’s eyes narrowed at that. Gatlin? We keep going back there. “Run a check on him. Get Kenton to rip the guy’s life apart.” She wasn’t taking any chances.
“Romeo had a few sporadic visitors, too. A woman named Kristy Lee. She… ah…”
Monica glanced back at him.
“The warden said she was one of those women who get off on being with serials.”
The taste in her mouth just got worse. “Who else?”
His gaze darted to Davis. “Guess he already told you.”
“How many visits?”
“Just one.”
Can’t take chances. “Anyone else that sticks out?”
“Yeah. Jake Martin. He’s been to visit Romeo three times in the last year.”
Dammit. Martin’s voice drifted through her mind, that slight hesitation the first time they’d met. “I… know you.”
Sure looked like he did.
“I don’t usually forget faces….” The Watchman knew all about her past. What a coincidence; it was a past she shared with Jake Martin. “I’ll call Martin.” She’d rather talk to him in person, and she’d be doing that real soon. But she wasn’t going to let another minute pass without questioning him.
But she also wasn’t going to blindly focus on just one suspect, even though right then, Martin was looking suspicious as hell. Why’d he lie about West? The only answer that sprang to mind was a damning one. To throw suspicion onto someone else. Martin would know that she’d followed up on West, but maybe he’d just been hoping to buy a few days’ time. Killing time.
“Those were all the visitors he had in the last two years.” His lips tightened. “While you run down Martin, I’ll get started checking everyone at the station.”
Because they wouldn’t overlook the obvious signs. A deputy’s uniform. Someone who knew the area. Someone who knew the case.
“Do it,” she told him, and knew they’d make some enemies real soon. Too bad. They had a killer to catch. “And you need to start with Lee. He’s got a history in Gatlin.” The sheriff’s words were locked in her mind. He worked over in Gatlin County for a few years. Word was that he’d had him a bad break-up so he got out of Jasper.
Then he’d come back home, and people had started dying.
Luke walked away from her and cleared his throat as he approached the sheriff. “Davis, I’m gonna need to ask you a few questions about your staff here at the station.”
And Davis wasn’t slow on the draw; he knew this had been coming. “What do you need?” His shoulders stooped a bit.
Monica went back into her makeshift office and closed the door. A few moments later, she had the phone pressed against her ear and a slow ring drifted across the line as she waited to connect with the Gatlin County Sheriff’s office. One more ring. Another. Come on—
“Sheriff’s office.” The woman’s voice was slow, a bit sluggish. Seven a.m. must be too early in Gatlin.
“This is FBI Special Agent Monica Davenport. I need you to connect me with Jake Martin immediately.” If he was at home, sleeping in his bed, they could just drag his ass out.
“Sp-special agent—”
“Agent Davenport, FBI,” she said again and knew the words were clipped. “I need him on the phone, now. If he’s not there, then give me his home number because I need to talk to him ASAP.”
“H-he’s out of the office today… family emergency…”
Out of the office again? Big coincidence. Hyde had taught her not to believe in coincidences.
An image of Martin’s shiny star and perfectly pressed brown uniform flashed before her eyes.
The same uniform that Sheriff Davis wore. Standard issue—dark brown pants and shirt. Wide-brimmed brown hat. Yellow emblem high on the left arm.
I need to see that surveillance video. Kenton said Hyde had gotten a copy transferred over on his laptop. It was with him at the hospital.
“What’s your name?” She demanded and realized the silence on the phone had hummed too long.
“K-Kathy. Kathy Grant.”
“Kathy, give me his cell.” Did her voice tremble? Because she was trying real hard to hold back the rage.
The now-awake clerk rattled off the number, and Monica scribbled it down even as Kathy said, “H-he ain’t gonna answer. I told you, it’s a family emergency.”
Sometimes the job trumped family. If he was a good sheriff, Martin knew that. “Tell me, Kathy, did your office get a report of Kyle West’s death a few months back?”
“What? Kyle’s dead?”
Okay. Guess that answered one question, but it just raised more. “You’re telling me you never received official notification of his death?” Didn’t make sense. Someone from highway patrol had gone and seen May Walker. That person would have stopped by the sheriff’s office, too. Procedure would have dictated notification there.
For Jon to find the death notice in the system, someone had filed the paperwork. If not the Gatlin office, then who’d done it?
“No! I never—Kyle’s dead?”
“You really don’t know?” If only she could see her face. Sounded like truth, but some lies did.
“I swear, ma’am, no.”
So maybe someone had screwed up the notification. Or maybe someone hadn’t wanted the folks at the Gatlin County Sheriff’s office to know that West had died.
“Thanks for the info, Kathy
.” She disconnected the call. In seconds, she’d punched in Martin’s cell phone number, but when the call connected, it just went straight to voicemail. Damn. “Martin, this is Monica Davenport. I need to speak with you immediately. And guess what? I’ve remembered where we met.” She rattled off her number.
She’d get a trace on his phone. If he turned the phone on, the SSD would find him. She put in a call to the main office, giving them instructions to monitor Martin’s cell. If he turned his phone on, if he used it to make one call, the SSD could use the FBI’s satellite technology to pinpoint his location.
It was the same technique they were using to find the Watchman. If he used another victim’s phone… if he so much as turned on Patty’s cell…
Monica sucked in a hard breath and hurried out of the office. She almost slammed into Luke and the Sheriff. “I need those personnel files.” Monica met the Sheriff’s glinting stare head on. “We’re also going to need to talk to every deputy you have on staff—immediately.”
The sheriff shook his head even as he sagged back against the wall. “My men.” Not a question, not anymore. The red heat had faded from his cheeks, leaving him looking pale.
“Every possibility has to be explored right now.” But it was time for her to lay her cards on the table. “And the signs here are pointing to a law enforcement connection.” She’d called Hyde right after seeing the bodies of the victims in the morgue. No DNA evidence had been left behind at all—nothing. “Everything’s been too neat, Sheriff. Too tidy. No fingerprints. No hair. Nothing is left behind.” The guy had too much crime scene knowledge.
Davis ran a hand over his face and didn’t speak.
Luke stood at her side, aligning himself with her. Backing her up as she told the sheriff more news he wouldn’t want to hear.
“This person has far more than a civilian’s knowledge of crime scenes,” she said, “and he knows your area, knows all the back roads and the empty houses. He knows how to use a gun.” And how to keep it locked on prey from a perfect shooting distance.
“You tell us,” Luke invited softly. “Wouldn’t one of your deputies have all this knowledge?”