Amazing Grace (The American Soldier Collection 3)

“He didn’t kill her, Jamie. He kept her alive possibly because of his son.”

“Or the real killer’s trying to throw you off. Make you think that Donald is the killer. You said it yourself, this guy is crazy but not stupid. This could be one big setup,” she said as she moved the mouse to the laptop lower. That’s when the words appeared and her heart dropped.

Sandman saw her reaction and knew she was looking at the poem.

“Grace, don’t.” He put his hand over hers and closed the laptop.

“I want to see it. Let me please?” she asked him as she looked down into his eyes. “I have a right to see them, Sandman. If he wrote these poems to me and kept Jamie alive because of me, then I should be aware of what he’s thinking, what he wants from me.”

“No one knows what this psycho is thinking, Grace. There’s no reason for you to put yourself through this. Just keep it closed.”

Just then Sandman’s phone rang, and as he answered it, he closed the e-mail and turned off the computer.

* * * *

“Agent Lancaster,” Sullivan said as he waved the paper in the air.

“Let’s get going, guys.”

The other agents prepared for one of their well-known home invasions.

“Search warrant? For the lieutenant’s house?” Frank asked.

“You’re more than welcome to tag along, Detective. I wouldn’t want anyone trying to say we planted evidence,” Lancaster stated sarcastically, as he brushed past Frank.

Frank of course followed the circus all the way to Donald’s house.

* * * *

When they arrived there fifteen minutes later the agents swarmed the house, each designated to a specific location. They were placing papers and various personal belongings of Donald’s into plastic evidence bags and large cardboard boxes. They gathered hotel pay stubs, used airline tickets, and personal expense files. Anything and everything that could possibly leave a paper trail and put him near the location or vicinity of any of the murders.

An hour later they were still heavily into their work and had begun to search the basement.

Frank joined Agent Lancaster and Sullivan and a few other agents in the basement when someone came across an old cubbyhole door behind a large, old, dusty wooden workbench. It was the only thing in the whole basement that was broken down and junky looking. Donald kept the rest of the basement immaculate with each box or wooden chest in a lined position against the walls. In the center were a workbench and some free hand weights. Even his washer and dryer were downstairs and set atop a plywood platform with every detergent bottle, fabric softener, and Clorox bleach sitting in their own positions on a wooden shelf.

He was very organized and meticulous. That was obvious.

“Let’s take some pictures of the position of this bench first before we move it,” Lancaster said as the photographer who followed them around continuously took pictures of everything in its current position. The photographer began taking pictures and then everything was marked, checked off, and logged.

A few of the agents moved the bench as the loud squealing sound of wood being dragged across the cement floor echoed throughout the basement. Then they opened the door and to their surprise there was enough room for someone to walk in, hunched over, and it looked as though the room continued through the whole house.

“Let’s get this room lit up bright so we can see everything before we enter,” Lancaster ordered as the others gathered around, turning on flashlights and a handheld spotlight.

As the cubbyhole was illuminated Lancaster became excited at their discovery.

“It looks like the Lieutenant has a naughty hobby,” the agent told Frank who looked inside as well as the other agents.

There were centerfold pictures scattered around the walls, all of brunettes, as well as various types of sexual paraphernalia, including whips, paddle boards, handcuffs, and chain restraints.

“Holy shit,” Justin said and even Frank was shocked.

As they carefully took pictures and moved forward into the cubbyhole, the ceiling became lower and lower. They came upon a wooden box with a sheet scattered across it.

The photographer took pictures and they removed the sheet.

“What’s inside the box?” Lancaster asked.

“There’s a few things, sir,” Justin said. Then he took the box and moved it toward the entrance of the room.