* * *
Regretfully, Alex admitted to Tracy, “I need to go.” He could stay and play all night but Tracy was different now, and he sensed that she wanted a lot more than he was willing to give. Nearing forty like Alex was, he didn’t think Tracy was too picky about whom she ended up with—it wouldn’t be him.
But he was a bastard and had only used her to make a point to himself about Christina. The woman had him tied in knots just like last time. He was running scared and needed to grow a set of balls and face his fear—fear of being with her only to have her trample all over his heart again.
He rubbed his chest where his heart ached.
“Are you sure?” Tracy asked, her eyes hooded and her lips painted red in a pout. She obviously thought it was sexy, when in fact she looked ridiculous and he tried his best not to laugh.
He ducked his head. “I’m sure,” he answered and climbed from the bed.
For the first time in a while, he felt like a heel leaving a woman the way he was about to, but he quickly lost interest.
He tugged his clothes on and let Tracy lead him through her small house to the front door. She opened it and, once he stepped outside, she smirked. “Pity you’re leaving. I thought that you might have wanted to know who really took Saige.”
She slammed the door in his stunned face.
* * *
11:35pm
* * *
Weary from his day of questions without any real answers, Coulter pulled his car in beside the sheriff’s. The last thing he expected was the call he received fifteen minutes ago.
The body of a woman had been found in the forest, a mile outside of Port Jude.
Coulter tried to keep an open mind, but with the discovery of Jocelyn, followed by Fern, it was difficult not to imagine that they were all connected—only one way for it to be confirmed.
With his hiking boots already on his feet, he climbed out of his car and followed the path toward the lights he could see through the trees.
The road alongside was isolated, so chances of a witness coming forward would be next to nothing.
“Sheriff,” Coulter greeted, the only sign of his frustration with the whole Saige Lockwood case was the tightening of his jaw.
“Detective.” The sheriff dipped his head and moved closer. “I heard you’ve been looking for me. I didn’t think we’d be meeting under these circumstances.”
Coulter let the sheriff’s words settle, and asked, “Why did you call me about this?” He’d ask the sheriff about Saige’s statement at a more appropriate time.
“Like I said, I knew you were around. My curiosity was piqued, especially when Tracy Adam’s was found.” Sheriff Hodges shook his head and, taking his hat off, wiped at his forehead with his arm. “I’ve known Tracy all her life and no matter what she’s done in the past, she didn’t deserve to die the way she did. I’m just glad her parents aren’t alive to see this.”
“What’s my connection to Tracy?” Coulter couldn’t let it go. There was a reason the sheriff had called him to come to the crime scene and he needed it spelled out.
“Tracy Adams and Alex Peterson used to be an off again, on again, couple.”
“Couple?” Coulter hadn’t missed how he used the word couple rather loosely.
“It was probably more like itch scratching if you know what I mean.” He turned back toward where Coulter could see the body. “Alex is back in town, and now Tracy is dead.” Sheriff Hodges seemed to let his unsaid accusation sink into Coulter’s mind. “I read about the young woman in Tampa who worked for the defense attorney, Daniel Sterling. I remember him, and the fact that he was Quinten’s defense. With you being in town asking questions, I put two and two together...what’s going on, Detective Robinson?”
Coulter wiped a hand down his tired face and knew that he couldn’t keep the sheriff out of the loop, or at least he’d have to tell the sheriff something. “I’m thinking that now that the warrant of execution has been signed, someone feels like he can move freely. There are suddenly dead bodies piling up and I think it somehow has to do with the Petersons.
“Quinten has always maintained his innocence. I’ve always had my doubts about his guilt, which you know. The recent deaths and other information I’ve received make me believe that there was a lot more going on back then. I believe Quinten Peterson was set up. Perhaps not intentionally, considering he always admitted to bleeding all over the shack—the blood turning out to be the evidence that convicted him. I think the real killer saw the opportunity of escaping...and has maybe lain low all this time.”
He paused and stared down the path where he could see people moving, “Serial killers go underground…to sleep as it were, maybe he’s been woken up with the news about Quinten and he’s hunting again. At least, that’s what my gut is telling me.”
Silence followed Coulter’s assessment of the old case, and hearing his thoughts out loud made him realize that he was probably on the right track. He just needed a direction to go in and, right now, he had zero leads.
“I’m not sure what to think,” Sheriff Hodges mumbled, sounding exhausted. “Let’s get this over with.”