Page 20 of Their Haunted Hearts
Jenna nodded. “That sounds like a plan.” She followed Kane up the stairs. They dumped the evidence bags onto the conference room table and headed for the showers.
Since becoming sheriff, Jenna had encouraged her team to keep clean uniforms and casual clothes, boots, and cold-weather gear in the lockers. Visiting crime scenes could be a nasty business, as was chasing down killers over all terrains. Having a laundry room as well had made life easier. The changes she’d made and the extensive expansion of the sheriff’s office had made a great difference to the comfort of her team. As she climbed into the shower, the image of Bunny Watkins slid into her mind. Who had she been running from? A killer, a stalker, or an abusive relationship? Her hands would be tied to pursue an abusive partner if he lived out of her jurisdiction. Special Agent Beth Katz and the intimidating Agent Dax Styles out of Snakeskin Gully came to mind. Beth had the same hatred as she did for abusers. If she discovered Bunny had been a victim of domestic violence to the extent she needed to hide in Serial Killer Central, she’d ask Special Agents Katz and Styles to pay her partner a visit.
Nineteen
He sat in his truck, his fingers cold as they circled the milkshake. He sucked on the straw, one arm leaning nonchalantly on the open window as he watched the people climbing down from the bus and collecting their luggage from the underneath compartment. He wondered if the vampires he sought understood how easy it was to pick them out of a crowd. When people arrived in town, they usually had purpose. They scanned the vehicles as they waited for a ride or had made plans to move to the next stage of their journey and, ticket clutched in their hands, moved off toward a line of waiting buses. The vampires kept their heads down, likely trying to hide the red glow in their eyes. They always started that way. They honestly believed that people are stupid, and that everyone would fall for their poor little girl act.
Most times the crowd would scatter and they’d be standing all alone with maybe a small bag or a backpack. It was as if they were testing the location by tasting the air to see if anyone would take the bait. They expected people to feel sorry for them and offer help—and oh, how they played on people’s feelings, drinking down their good nature as if it were nectar. He’d witnessed it so many times. He could play the game, and although they often acted coy, very few refused his help in the end. If they were reluctant to follow him to his truck, he’d pretend to leave as if he didn’t care and they’d run after him or call him back. By then it was too late for them. He always drugged their drinks and they’d either fall asleep in the truck or at the table in the diner with no memory of him. The drug he used made certain of that and by morning it had left their system without a trace.
The straw made a slurping sound at the bottom of the to-go cup and he tossed the empty container into the garbage can beside the truck. By the time he looked back at the bus, the crowd had thinned and there she was. This one was younger than the others, maybe eighteen, with long blonde hair falling to her waist. Pale skin and those big round frightened eyes. He wondered how many poor souls she’d drained the blood from and over how many centuries. She’d hide her fangs, keeping them tucked away until she had someone in her sights. The evil coming from her spilled across the blacktop and mixed with the puff of exhaust from the bus as it drove away.
He pulled out his field glasses and peered at her, noticing she had a bruise under one eye, hastily covered with makeup. He shook his head, disappointed. Most of his selections were perfect, but she had all the other attributes he needed. She looked like an angel but the innocent look didn’t fool him. He would bide his time and wait for her to need him. A young blonde in the Triple Z Roadhouse alone after dark was a recipe for disaster, and he could play the knight in shining armor again. He smiled as two pickups screamed into the parking lot and hunters, still wearing their bright orange vests, spilled out. From the lack of kills in their truck beds, they hadn’t had any luck and were heading to the roadhouse for a meal. They all noticed the lone girl, whistled, and offered her their company. He smiled. Some days, others did his work for him. One man, she could feed on safely, but not a bunch of yahoos.
He glanced in his rearview mirror. He’d changed his appearance. He’d chosen worn jeans, a T-shirt under a sheepskin jacket, and a dark brown Stetson, his dusty cowboy boots were worn down at the heels and turned up at the toes. He blended in with the locals as just another ranch hand. His attention moved back to the girl. She checked her purse and chewed on her bottom lip, no doubt working out if she had enough to buy a meal. As she pushed through the doors of the roadhouse, he took the wedding band out of his inside pocket and slipped it on. Believing he had a wife at home sweetened the pot. The girl would feel safe and the vampire would have two sleepy victims to hunt. He checked his watch. It was five after ten as he walked toward her. Excitement shivered through him and he breathed it in, enjoying the rush. It was almost as good as when he drove the stake into their rotting hearts.
Twenty
Wednesday
Rio went to the whiteboard, picked up the pen and made a list of the suspects that Jenna had retrieved from the Triple Z Bar. He’d arrived at the office at six-thirty that morning and spent his time hunting down any information he could dredge up from the files. Sly Goldman, the cleaner at the Triple Z Bar, had been arrested in Blackwater a few times for petty crimes but had a rape case against him dropped, when the woman involved had refused to cooperate with the investigation. As he could possibly be one of the last people to see Bunny alive, he would be someone they would need to investigate more closely. He made the appropriate notes against Goldman’s name.
The horse breeder was easy to find. Bryce Withers had his own spread, known locally as the BW Ranch. A search of his name brought up interesting articles about the charismatic man in his late thirties, who had plans to run for mayor one day. He found no priors, not so much as a parking ticket. He often hung out at the local bars too, as he was quoted in a recent article, “Get to know the working man.”
A background check on Dale Cash, a ranch hand working out on the Crazy K Cattle Ranch, proved to be more interesting. His records showed juvenile misdemeanors, including drug possession, theft, and vandalism. He had a current order against him for abusing his girlfriend. The order had originated from the neighboring town of Louan six months previously. The last man on his list, Daniel McCulloch, a maintenance man at the hospital, was a surprise. A few years previously, after drugs were stolen from the local hospital, the background checks on employees had been tightened, and yet McCulloch had complaints against him, which had resulted in disciplinary actions or terminations from previous jobs. It seemed unusual to him that the hospital would employ someone with obvious behavioral issues. He rubbed his chin, thinking as he scanned the whiteboard, checking his entries.
The previous evening Jenna had given them their orders for the morning as she and Kane would be attending the autopsy. He turned as Rowley walked into the conference room. He looked tired and had a distinct smell of babies about him. No doubt, he’d been up all night with a teething child. He rubbed a hand under his nose. He didn’t envy him one bit. Of late, he enjoyed being single and dating a variety of women. Seeing Raven with his ex-girlfriend Emily didn’t bother him at all. He cleared his throat. “Morning. I have some background information on the suspects and where we might find them this morning. I’ve uploaded the information onto the server. If you download the files, we’ll head out and start interviewing them as potential suspects.”
“Sure.” Rowley turned on his heel and headed back down the stairs.
Rio followed. He grabbed his coat and checked his weapon. As usual, on the strike of seven Maggie walked through the door and beamed at him. He handed her a list of the places they’d be heading. “I’ll check in as we arrive and leave. When the sheriff arrives, tell her I’ve added everything I’ve found onto the whiteboard and the files have been updated. There’s nothing from Wolfe yet.”
“Okay, I’ll let her know.” Maggie dropped her bag on the counter and slid out of her heavy coat. “I figure snow is on the way. The sky is threatening.” She smiled at him. “Stay safe out there.”
He nodded and turned as Rowley came toward him, pulling on his coat. “First stop is the Crazy K Cattle Ranch.” He looked at Rowley. “Do you know where that is by chance?”
“Yeah.” Rowley pushed on his hat. “We’ll take my truck. It’s easier when I know the ranches. The Crazy K just happens to border my land.”
Rio followed him to his truck. “I hope one of these leads pans out. Whoever is doing this knows about leaving trace evidence. If Wolfe had found anything, he’d have called by now. Which means it’s going to be hard police work.”
“I don’t know how they do it but Jenna and Kane often see things I miss.” Rowley backed out and headed along Main. “You do too. It’s also the subtle things suspects say you all home in on and explore. I’ve seen Kane ask questions and the suspect seems to forget to lie or something.”
Rio smiled to himself. “It’s an interviewing technique. Kane makes the suspect believe he is either on his side or he feels the same way. I recall him getting down to a killer’s level to make him confide in him. It worked and another killer is off the street.” He looked at Rowley. “I figure he’s been trained in interrogation. We know he is ex-military, not that he talks much about it, but I’m guessing that’s where it came from.”
After looking at the images of the suspects, Rio had an idea. “Swing by the roadhouse. I want to show these pictures to the servers and see if any of our suspects dropped into the roadhouse on Sunday night.”
“I doubt it. The staff on duty at this time of day would be different than the ones who work nights and weekends.” Rowley kept driving. “Maybe try there after five, when the new shift takes over?”
Rio nodded. “Good thinking.”
Twenty-One
Ten minutes later, they headed through the gates of the Crazy K Cattle Ranch. As they drove along a well-maintained driveway lined with white pole fences, Rio took in the landscape. A herd of Black Angus cattle grazed on a hillside, and as they got closer to the buildings, he made out a paddock with horses, heads up looking at them. They headed to a collection of outbuildings set around a grand old ranch house with wide verandas and pulled up outside a building with the sign office. He climbed out and the smell of cows washed over him. It wasn’t unpleasant, more like the smell of a ranch he recalled visiting as a child. He followed Rowley into the office and a woman in her sixties greeted them. “Morning, ma’am. I need some information on one of your ranch hands by the name of Dale Cash.”
“I’m not in the habit of giving out confidential information.” The woman looked at him over her half-moon glasses. “You should know that, Chief Deputy Rio. Is that a trick question?”
Rio smothered a smile. “Nope. Dale Cash has a criminal record, as I’m sure you’re aware. We are not here to arrest him. We’re more interested in who he was speaking to on Monday night.”
“Over half the men working here have criminal records.” The woman leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her ample belly. “Many of them just want the chance to start again. We run a tight ship here and don’t allow them to get out of hand, but what they do on their downtime is their business.”
