CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Laura stretched her stiff muscles over her head, trying to work out the kinks with the sea breeze in her nose. It was a different kind of way to wake up, a little nicer than the class of motel they were used to. It seemed there was no such thing as an absolute dive in Pacific Cove – even the cheapest option the FBI was willing to shell out for had comfortable beds and an ocean view.
None of which mattered at all, because you had to actually sleep in those comfortable beds to get the benefit of them, and Laura had hardly been able to. She’d tossed and turned all night, waking fitfully from dreams of unseen killers putting candles on girls and lighting them on fire. Like her subconscious was trying to tell her something – just not something that actually gave her any insight.
She was still struggling to see the connection between the victims, and it irked her that she hadn’t found it yet. Three was a charm, though. And maybe, she thought, Cecilia Powers’s family would be able to help her figure it out. She wasn’t ruling out the potential of their testimony just yet.
She moved to the room next door and knocked on it, waiting for Agent Won to answer. It was early still, but the sun was rising, and that meant it was time to go. Part of the reason for her sleepless night had been the fact that she knew the killer was still out there. Maybe looking for his victim even now. She knew from the initial reports that the first victims were killed only within an hour of being found, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t change things up. That was the worst, scariest part about working cases like these: never knowing when the rug would be pulled out from under your feet, when it would be too late again.
There was no answer from Agent Won. Laura moved to the side, to the small window with its quaint lacy curtains and white-painted frame. Cupping her hands around her head, she could just about see the floor of the room through the lace, though nothing more than that.
What she did see was a pair of black suit pants left lying on the floor, and a couple of discarded men’s shoes beside them. Agent Won was definitely not dressed. She paused a moment, listening, putting her ear closer to the door.
She heard a faint snoring, and almost rolled her eyes right back into her head with the force of how it hit her. He was still asleep.
Damn rookies.
Laura sighed, shaking her head to herself. Her options were few. She could either wake him and wait for him to get ready before she started her day, which could take a while – or she could just get on with it and leave him to catch up later.
It would be a good lesson, she thought. That if you slept in you got left behind. Next time, he could set an alarm, make sure he was awake at an appropriate time. She nodded to herself at this decision, turning to get into their rental car alone.
She looked at her cell phone as she started the engine, waiting for the car to warm up just a touch. It was chilly outside, and while she did enjoy the bracing nature of it, it wasn’t comfortable for long. She scrolled through her conversation with Nate – if you could call it a conversation; lately it was just her asking him to call her, over and over again, begging him to talk about his transfer. There still had been no reply. No sign that he had even thought about trying to contact her.
And then there was one message on her phone, one that made her bite her lip. It was from Chris, telling her he was looking forward to seeing her tonight if she was back in the state. The question mark at the end of the text message let her know that he was expecting an answer, but she couldn’t give him one. Not just yet.
If she said something now, it would be no. She’d have to cancel. And she didn’t want to do that. She wanted to get this case solved before lunchtime, jump on a plane, and get back to Washington, D.C., in time to have dinner with him. It was selfish, she knew. But she’d been looking forward to their date.
And if she got back in time for that date, then no one else would die, which was just about the bonus to end all bonuses.
Laura pulled out of the parking lot and drove the admittedly short distance to the precinct – Agent Won would be able to simply walk over when he finally woke up. And when he did, he would find Laura gone, because her plan was to just pick up the information from the local department and then drive right on over to find the Powers family, whoever they might have been.
She went through the motions, putting the car where it needed to be and then getting out and walking through the precinct with her head firmly on the case. She was having trouble with the job connection between the three girls. There was a kind of disconnect that she was struggling to understand. First of all, it seemed like the fact that they all worked public-facing jobs meant that anyone could have been the killer. It could be someone that they encountered on their daily rounds, someone they just met one time. Someone that was a customer for years. There was no real way to know.
It might have been that they had a stalker, just like Colt Peake. Someone who went around following them, but maybe not so obvious as Peake had been. Or maybe it was just someone who lived in the town and had snapped, and went after those who were very visible to him. The fact that they were interacting with the public on such a regular basis, every day of their working lives, meant that it even could be a tourist or someone who was simply passing through. No personal connection, just a crime of opportunity.
But then again... The candles, the way he laid them out in these public places. It was at once a performance meant to be seen, and an intimate display of affection. Maybe. Laura felt like she was going around and around in her head, unable to really settle on a clear definition of the killer’s behavior. Just from the MO of the way the bodies were left, she would normally have assumed that the killings were very personal. Deeply so.
But then, the rest of it just didn't add up. And there didn't seem to be any clear personal connection between all three of the women. Sure, they lived in the same town, but so far it seemed as though they didn't even run in the same circles. But there again, she doubted herself, wondering if she had missed something. It was a small town, after all. Everyone knew everyone. So, someone must have been the missing link between the three.
As she approached the desk she had been sitting at yesterday, Laura spotted a file that had been popped on top of it by one of the local detectives. It was a dossier with all of the information about Cecilia Powers and her family, and she snatched it up gratefully. She took the time only to wave it in the air, making sure that at least one person still sitting in the office had seen her taking it to indicate that she was going, and then she left. She didn't want to hang around even further.
She got back into the car and started the engine again, setting up the GPS as her mind replayed mentally those visions she had seen. First flames, then flames being snuffed out. Was it a literal vision? Was it a vision of the past, like she'd had recently for the very first time? How was she supposed to know anymore? Was it even some kind of metaphor? Not the vision itself, but whatever the killer was doing - did he think that it symbolized something different?
She needed the answers – but it was starting to feel like all she had were questions.
***
Laura looked up at a warning from the GPS, and realized that she'd managed to drive all the way to the house of Cecilia Powers’s mother on autopilot, just obeying the instructions from the machine and barely even thinking about it. She was distracted, but at least she was distracted by the case. She was going to get to the bottom of this, she told herself. She had to.
She knocked on the door with that trepidation that always came from approaching the family of the deceased. Knowing they were going through the worst thing that had ever happened to them, and now she had to march right in there and basically interrogate them. But it couldn’t be avoided. As far as she knew, no one had officially interviewed Mrs. Powers yet – there was nothing about it in the file she’d been left. She guessed the locals had been waiting for her to make that decision, and she couldn’t really blame them.
It was the kind of job you didn’t take on unless you had to.
Mrs. Powers answered the door with a tissue clutched in her hands, fresh tear tracks on her cheeks. Instead of getting dressed, it looked as though she’d got out of bed last night and thrown on a robe, and that was how she still was.
“Are you with the police?” she asked immediately, and Laura braced herself, wondering whether she was going to get thank God you’re here or why the hell aren’t you doing anything?
“I’m with the FBI, ma’am,” Laura said. “My name is Special Agent Laura Frost. I want to ask you some questions about your daughter, if now is a good time for you.”
It was really just a nicety – she had to ask the questions. If the woman said no, it would make everything a whole lot more complicated. But Laura did like to ask, because it put things on a more equal footing. She was seeking permission, not just telling the woman it had to happen. That made the grieving families more at ease in most cases, even if it didn’t manifest in their behavior right away.
“Come in,” Mrs. Powers said, turning and leading her down a hallway. It was stuffed with photographs: pictures of Cecilia in life, as a child and then a teen and then a young woman, family portraits with a man who must be her father, Mrs. Powers herself at various stages of her life. They must have been a close, loving family.