Page 81 of The Last Love Song
Heather. Forever.
Sam rubbed his jaw. “I’ve been looking for commonalities in the incident reports from roads that back up to Jeremy Covington’s quarry—everything from traffic mishaps to lost kids and drag races.” He slapped a hand on one fat manila folder.“These are from the interstate.” He patted another folder. “These are from local reports from the quarry road.”
“And?” Zach took a seat at the conference table, his focus shifting to the investigation. “Anything stand out for you? This are a lot of incidents.”
“Deserted roads attract more vagrants, illegal campers, dumping, drag racers, that kind of thing. But even after weeding out that stuff, we have a significant volume of reports.”
“Several accidents.” Zach thumbed through some of them. And frowned. “A lot of young female drivers.”
“An inordinate number.” Sam leaned back in his chair and grabbed the foam basketball that Zach had left behind. He pitched it over his head and caught it a few times. “I double-checked the stats on that type of thing.”
“The reasons are that the sign was out for that sharp curve. Drivers out of gas. Hitting a large rock.” The wording on some of the reports set off warning bells.
“Right.” Sam nodded. “Gabriella went up there because she thought she was meeting a friend. She missed the curve because the sign was down, and next thing you know, she’s totally vulnerable up there.”
Zach’s chest hurt. “Thank God you were there.”
“She was underage and had no business driving.” Sam had followed her that night because he’d been worried but had told Zach he’d been scared to try to make her pull over because he didn’t want her to panic and get in an accident.
She’d gotten in an accident anyway, which hadn’t been the worst of the ordeal. A masked man had been waiting, as if he knew exactly where that accident would happen. As if he’d taken the sign down.
“Heather ran out of gas on the interstate the night after the wedding,” he remembered, his skin going cold. “She hit a rockand told me she was glad to see me because she heard someone in the woods.”
“So what if our guy isn’t just a stalker, he’s also a scattergun shooter, seeing who ends up alone and vulnerable in a place he knows well. Which puts Covington or anyone who works at the quarry front and center.” Sam pointed to a third folder. “I’m starting another file of cases where a girl was sexually assaulted or feared being sexually assaulted by someone she met on the road.”
There weren’t many, Zach noted. And the MOs were different. It was too dark to describe the guy. Or the guy wore a cartoon mask. Or a hoodie. There were no weapons involved.
“These span over a decade.”
“Carefully under the radar. And not necessarily stalker victims.”
“That we know of.” Zach stood, a bad feeling making his gut sink. “I’m calling Heather. She’s on her way out of town right now. Your guys are watching Megan Bryer?”
“I don’t have that kind of manpower,” Sam admitted with a wince. “But her father was going to keep her close to home other than work and school. You really think Jeremy Covington could be our guy?” Sam paused. “There aren’t many people who’ve worked at the quarry for more than five years besides him. And there was less internet stalking back when your sister received those messages. Yet the quarry was hardwired for service even then.”
Sam frowned. “Maybe if we read the messages, we’d find something to link old cases and new cases. Syntax. Turns of phrase. Something.”
But Zach had other concerns as he listened to Heather’s cell phone ring and ring before going to voice mail.
“My sixth sense or whatever it is that makes the hair on your neck stand up is tingling like mad.” Zach stared at his cell phone and redialed. “She’s not answering.”
“I’ll call Megan.” Sam pulled out his phone. Punched in numbers.
And waited.
Zach’s sixth sense buzzed louder.
He swore.
“We still don’t know who our guy is,” Sam pointed out, stabbing numbers on the office phone, obviously trying a different line.
“Doesn’t matter. We’ll know when we catch his ass, if we have to put cameras all over that quarry. Why the hell isn’t she picking up?” Heather’s phone went straight to voice mail again.
“You really think someone’s after her?” Sam asked. Then he put his head down to speak into the desk phone. “Dan, hello. It’s Sam Reyes from the sheriff’s— Excuse me? Sir, slow down.”
Zach didn’t wait to find out what was happening at Megan Bryer’s house. He called Bethany Finley’s house. When no one answered there, he searched online for a number for Diana Finley. And called.
“Mrs. Finley, it’s Zach Chance. I’m worried about Heather and can’t reach her, but I remember she talked about stopping in Nashville to pick up her friend Sylvia. Do you know how to reach Sylvia or what her last name might be?” He clicked the call to speaker so Sam could hear what she had to say.
