Page 48 of 1st Shock
I hold my hand out. "Thank you, Dixie."
"You're welcome. Just don't tell Mickey I talked to you. I don't want my name anywhere near him."
Charlie says her goodbyes, offering a business card in case Dixie needs anything. I suspect what she needs is to be left alone and never hear her stepbrother's name again.
We stand under the streaming sunlight as Dixie hustles to catch a bus rolling to a stop at the corner.
"Billy Ray," I say.
Charlie spins around and heads for the Peruvian restaurant. "We'll get your food to go."
20
Charlie
Ifeel like I'm in a time capsule, a history lesson unfolding under me as JJ and I land in eastern Tennessee. The Smoky Mountains earned their name from the fog that hangs over them, and before we touch down at the Pigeon Forge airfield, I see as many fields and forests as I have towns and Metropolitan cities.
Meg was exhausted, even after I fed her, and decided to stay home. I was going to suggest she do that anyway, but she came to the idea on her own, saving me an argument. Thank God. She pushes too hard, forgetting to eat, tossing and turning at night. Sometimes, her art helps get rid of her demons, and others, there's nothing in the world that can. I told her she needs a hobby, a boyfriend, something to bring light and joy into her world, but she claims art is all she needs. Right now, with all these dead bodies, she's draining herself to the point of a nervous breakdown.
I reminded her Matt needed help picking out a diamond for Taylor, but he's out of town for the day, working on another case, so not much help in the distraction category.
Luckily, JJ was more than happy to offer to help with the serial killer investigation. Law enforcement has no further leads, and someone higher up and in charge of a helicopter, wants this resolved. Fast.
I admit I was relieved to not have to make the sixteen hour round-trip drive on my own. This was more of a long shot than trying to get Mickey to stop hiding behind his attorney and talk to us again, but I have a tickling in my gut that won't wait for Mickey to come down off his high horse.
While his sisters were victims, Billy Ray knows his stepbrother better than anyone, I'm betting. Maybe it was only because Billy Ray wanted to keep the girls safe, and he never intended to become a hero, but looking at it from a psychological standpoint, he subconsciously understood his brother's neurosis and how to stand up to him. That may offer a key as to how I can handle this copycat.
I suspect Billy Ray will want nothing to do with us. He won't want to discuss Mickey, their childhood, or the trial, and I can't blame him. Mickey destroyed his life. Why relive that destruction? All I can do is hope he’ll tell me something I don't already know that might let me peek inside the mind of this copycat killer.
Some serials pattern themselves after others they admire. They find inspiration in these "role models," studying their methods and avoiding their mistakes. I wrote an article forPsychology Todaya few years ago about copycats and two had been so confident, so egotistical, they called in their crimes to the press to ensure investigators would make the link to their "murder mentors." They wanted credit for being better and smarter than the killer they copied.
Both were caught.
Unfortunately, there is an abundance of these role models for them, from H. H. Homes in the nineteenth century to modern-day killers like Ted Bundy–and our illustrious Mickey Wilson. People like Devante are fascinated with him, and apparently, so is our copycat.
After landing, we hit the rental company inside the terminal. JJ and I didn't talk in the helicopter, but now I'm going to be stuck in a car with him as we venture to Cove Mountain where Billy Ray has tried to disappear.
I hold up my phone so JJ can see the screen showing my GPS map. "It's thirty-four minutes to the mountain, and at least another half hour to get to Billy Ray's place. I'm guesstimating, since GPS can't actually locate his address."
"I'll drive. You navigate."
These are our strong suits. If only our personal relationship worked so easily.
Any worries I have over JJ wanting to discuss us are put to rest when he asks me to tell him about Mickey’s trial. I have the transcripts with me, so I start reading as he drives toward the giant mountains rising into the clouds in front of us.
Maybe because he's looking for tiny clues that might be revealed from the trial, or he's just tired, he listens without interrupting. Here and there I've made notes in the margins, but I stick to reading the transcript only and leave out my thoughts about the things that send up red flags. My intuition insists our copycat attended the trial.
The road becomes a two-way, the incline steepens. We pass what's considered a village too small to even register as a town. Pastures with horses, traditional farmhouses and white picket fences. It seems like every few miles there's a historical marker about a battle scrimmage or other important landmark. Signs pop up a few times, directing us to more historical places if we want to turn off the main road.
The higher we climb, the more we leave civilization behind, giant firs and oak trees creating a canopy above our heads. The GPS directs us to a turn that lands us on a gravel road. My ears pop from the pressure as we continue, snaking around bends, heading down into a valley before climbing once more.
The forest closes in, cutting off sunlight. I stop reading, but JJ doesn't say anything, either concentrating on driving or turning over Mickey and our copycat in his head.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye and see the stubborn set of his jaw. The kind of pressure he's under takes someone of extreme fortitude. I let him continue his mental stewing in silence, only offering directions when necessary. A part of me wishes this was the way it could be for us all the time—working cases side-by-side, and not having to worry about our personal relationship.
We come to a dead end out of the blue, and JJ slams on the brakes. "What the...?"
He gives me a hard look and I shrug. "I told you GPS couldn't track the exact location. It doesn't seem to exist on the map."
