Page 19 of Crossing Lines

“Sure.”

Jo’s tone was missing some of her usual excitement for their regular coffee stop. Sam glanced in the rearview at Lucy. The dog flicked her eyes to Jo. Right, time to say something. Sam cleared his throat. “Umm… I wanted to—”

Squawk!

Static blared from under the dashboard. Sam had almost forgotten about the dispatch system the city had insisted they install. He hated that thing. You could hardly understand what the person on the other end—usually Reese—was saying. Why drive around talking into a mic when you could just call?

Jo was frowning at the thing too. “What did she say?”

“Darned if I know.” The mic had gone silent, and Sam tried to regain the momentum to smooth things over with Jo.

Jo shifted in her seat to look at him. “Were you going to say something?”

“Umm, yeah, I just wanted to clear—”

Squawk!

More static, then “… Station… Four?”

“We better answer.” Jo picked the mic off the hook and spoke into it. “Couldn’t hear you, can you repeat that?”

More static, then “I said, Holden Joyce is here. Says he has important information.”

“About this case?” Jo asked.

“Ten-four.”

Jo looked at Sam, who nodded and pulled over to execute a U-turn. “We’ll be right there.”

“I wonder what he would have on our case?” Jo asked.

“I don’t know, but this can’t be a good sign. If the FBI has something they think is relevant, then I don’t think we’re dealing with a simple one-off killing.”

Chapter Thirteen

The killer ducked behind a wide old oak tree and congratulated himself on his good fortune. Who knew so many redheads would be in a small town like White Rock? Small towns usually had slim pickings. It was a lucky thing he’d found this one so easily. It was almost too easy, really. He’d been watching the comings and goings at the last victim’s house—he liked to see the carnage that happened after they were found—and this girl was perfect for his next “project.” She’d appeared almost as if due to divine intervention. It was meant to be.

Maybe it was a blessing of small towns. Everyone knew each other and came to give their condolences.

One thing about small towns that wasn’t a blessing, though, was that it was harder to stalk someone. But he wasn’t worried. He was very good at stalking.

As he watched, the girl went into a store. The front windows were loaded up with displays of perfumes and creams. He made a note on his phone of the time. The record keeping was part of getting to know her routine. Hopefully she would be like most people and follow the same pattern pretty much every day.

But he wasn't overly interested in what she did during the day. He needed to nail down her routine during the night, because it would be under the cover of darkness when he'd make his move. He needed to pick the perfect time to snatch her where there would be no witnesses. And even better if she routinely went somewhere where she'd be gone for a long time and no one would notice she was missing.

He’d have to look into her profile on social media. You could learn a lot about a person from social media.

But for now, he'd satisfy himself with watching. He liked watching.

She came out of the store, her long curls bouncing as she walked quickly toward the Main Street diner. He liked the color of her hair, orange like a carrot, not auburn, chestnut, or even strawberry blond. She probably had a smattering of freckles too. What color were her eyes? Maybe hazel or green. Well, no need to speculate on that. He'd find out the color of her eyes soon enough.

Chapter Fourteen

“Glad you finally figured out how to use the police radio,” Reese teased as Jo and Sam entered the station. She was at the reception desk, fingers rapidly clacking on the keyboard. She didn’t look up from the screen before adding, “Holden’s in the squad room.”

Sam rounded the wall of post office boxes to see Holden Joyce standing next to the filing cabinet, petting Major.

“He lets you pet him?” Was the cat purring? Sam couldn’t believe his ears.

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