Page 104 of Girl Between
Dana studied Lena for a moment, wondering how long the woman had been in love with Vincent George. She refrained from asking. Instead, Dana said. “Thanks for telling me. I’m not here to cause anyone more pain. George is a great guy. I hope he gets back out there. But that’s not why I’m here. I’ve got my own baggage to sort out.”
“With sexy Agent Shepard?” Lena asked, eyebrows comically wagging.
“We’re just colleagues,” she answered.
“Please! I’ll say it again. Tell your face.”
Dana could feel her cheeks heating. She really needed to work on her poker face. “How about we focus on the case?”
“Boring,” Lena snarked before loudly slurping the last of her iced coffee through her straw.
“What are the odds that the Harvest Girls are really connected to this case?”
“Don’t know,” Lena said. “I’ve heard the Harvest Girls story since I was a kid. It’s an urban legend around here, just like the Grunch or Rougarou, or LaLaurie Mansion. Told to keep kids from seeking out mischief. The fact that we could be uncovering actual facts about the Harvest Girls gives me goosebumps.”
“I was at the cabin,” said Dana. “Seeing the names of those girls carved into the wall … it made it more real than I’d like to admit.”
“I don’t know how likely it is the cases are connected, but it’d sure be nice to put those rumors to rest once and for all. This city’s got enough dark history without adding fabricated fiction to the mix,” said Lena.
“You know, generational killers often insert themselves into society in a way that gives them access to investigations. Helps them control the narrative, stay hidden long enough to keep a killing spree like this going.”
“Agent Creed mentioned as much in his briefing,” Lena replied.
“Landry bolted quickly after Creed shared the suspect pool.”
Lena rolled her eyes. “He’s not FBI or NOPD. Not much for him to do at the moment.”
“You’re here.”
“Yeah, and technically I’m employed by the state. Louisiana parish law is sticky. Basically, my job is on the same rung of the ladder as the police. But like I said. There’s not much for me to do right now. My hands are tied unless you got a new body, which I think we’re all trying to avoid.”
“I just find it odd considering you invited Landry to stay for lunch. Plus, he’s on the task force. Shouldn’t he make himself available in case his expertise is needed?”
“He’s got a phone. We can reach him if we need to. And as far as excuses go, running a free health clinic and caring for his terminally ill daughter go a long way.”
“Sounds like the perfect cover.”
Lena crossed her arms over her bright pink scrubs. “Let’s assume you’re right. Take a long, hard look at Dr. Landry. Do you really think his scrawny old ass is dragging bodies around this city’s cemeteries at night?”
“Maybe he leaves the heavy lifting to his partner. But he’s old enough to know how to perform this particular TNC, and he’d have been around when the Harvest Girls went missing.”
“I know you’ve got good intentions and good instincts Dr. Gray, but I’ve gotta say, you’re wrong about him. Dr. Landry loves this city. And he’s devoted his life to taking care of its people.”
A strange thought caressed the dark corners of Dana’s mind, like an old itch asking to be scratched. It was Jake’s voice she heard, echoing through her memory.Love can make people irrational, unpredictable.
He’d said that to her on their first case together, right before everything unraveled.
Unable to quell her intuition, Dana prodded Lena for more. “Tell me about Dr. Landry’s daughter.”
91
Jake poppedhis collar against the brisk chill in the damp Virginia air. He hadn’t expected to be back in D.C. until the start of Claire’s trial. But Agent Creed had taken pleasure in bursting that bubble.
After snatching the case with the gravitas of a spoiled toddler being handed yet another new toy, he unceremoniously handed Jake his walking papers, along with a coach ticket back to HQ.
Normally, Jake was filled with pride when he walked into the J. Edgar Hoover Building. Today, it was dread lining his stomach as he passed the Department of Justice emblem dignifying the lobby.
It used to mean something to him when he walked these hallowed halls. He didn’t know when it happened, the change so gradual he’d missed it, but being here didn’t mean what it used to. It was no longer a means to an end, a way to right past wrongs, while protecting the civil liberties he’d spent a lifetime defending.
