Fay's Six

CHAPTER10

Fay stuffedher hands in her pockets and stared off into the morning sky where the sun kissed the mountains with a fiery glow.

“What are you thinking?” Walker stood a foot away, his gaze drifting in the same direction.

They had been woken up at five in the morning when Sparrow called informing them they had another body.

A young man traveling from California to Dallas, Texas. He’d been making several stops along the way, and a couple of ghosts towns were on his docket. Specifically, Stephensville Ghost Town.

“That Sparrow is right and this is somehow a big fuck you to her. But what’s the motivation? Every killer has one.”

“The notes the killer leaves are chilling.”

“I know,” she said. “The first one mentions someone making a mistake and how that’s disappointing. This one echoes that, but the line reads, Prove your worth or step down. Better yet. Quit. You’re not meant for this job.”

“There was no name on the note. We can’t be sure it was meant for Sparrow.”

She mentally threw daggers at Walker. She knew he was playing devil’s advocate, but it was still annoying as hell. “Sparrow is in charge of the local office. Who the hell else would this jerk-off be talking to? Wilder? He’s only been here for what, a year? The fucking FBI? Come on. Let’s be real here.”

“Speaking of the FBI, the agent that’s here hasn’t said much.” Walker glanced over his shoulder where the CSI unit continued to look for evidence around where the body was found. They’d already bagged the cell phone. They’d have to get a court order to unlock it and also retrieve the records. “Other than they have two cases in another state this could be linked to, but he doesn’t want to share much with us. I’m not sure he wants to give up anything to Sparrow either.”

“Tuck is sending those files over. For the record, he doesn’t believe that connection.”

“Why not?” Walker asked.

Fay turned and forced herself to examine the position of the body. Where the arms and legs were. The angle of the boy’s head. Where the phone had been found, which was now labeled with what looked like something a restaurant would use to indicate where waitstaff would bring your food.

“Too many inconsistencies, but they have to do their due diligence.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

She twisted her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. “He was stabbed five times. Twice in the front and three times in the back,” she said, mostly to herself. She needed to resort her thoughts, mentally putting them in different files in her mind. “There’s no pattern in that with the other victim who was stabbed eight times, so other than cause of death, there doesn’t seem to be a ritual with that.”

“Could just be the intensity of the fight,” Walker said.

“If he was trying to crawl to the road for help.” She shifted her gaze toward the hiking trail and then back toward the street. They were twenty-eight miles from town. The Beals’ home was on the opposite side about forty or so miles away. Because everything seemed to happen on the same road as the Beals’ house, she decided that was important, though she still didn’t believe Randall had anything to do with it. “Why did he end up on his back?” She pointed toward dirt where either the victim dragged himself, or someone had pulled his body across the ground. “It rained last night and everything is still a little damp. I would think there would be elbow and knee impressions but instead it looks like someone else placed the body here.”

“You think this scene was staged,” Walker said more as a statement than a question.

“This young man didn’t die like that. The killer wants us to think this boy struggled for his last breath while calling 9-1-1.”

“The call was made from his phone.”

“I want the voice analyzed.” She turned and faced Walker. “This victim hadn’t checked in with his family or with friends for three days. We don’t know when he was actually kidnapped. He could have been held hostage for days. And our killer could already have his next victim. For all we know, this asshole could have kidnapped another four or five young men.”

Lee strolled across the crime scene. He’d been talking with Wilder and the FBI agent. So far, he’d been behaving himself, and while he didn’t go out of his way to avoid Sparrow, he didn’t engage her either. However, it was progress.

“I agree with her,” Lee said.

Fay arched a brow. “Seriously. About what?”

“What you just said.” Lee shook his head as if in disgust. “Don’t be so shocked. I want to catch this asshole, not be one.”

Fay snapped her gaping mouth shut. She swallowed. Maybe Lee had turned the corner. “Two bodies in two days. I wouldn’t be surprised if there is another one tomorrow, unless we can figure out who the killer is in the next twenty-four hours.”

“I hope this is okay, but I took it upon myself to call Randall’s parole officer. He’s going to find out where Randall was all night,” Lee said.

Fay had to be okay with initiative. Of course, Lee should have said he was doing it the moment he dialed the phone so they didn’t look like idiots if someone else had done it. “That’s fine,” she said. “Let us know those details the second you hear from him.”

“Will do.” Lee nodded.

“This might be a needle in a haystack, but would it be a good idea to get a list of any missing persons in the last twenty-four hours of young men from the age of eighteen to twenty-three who have told their families they were traveling through Colorado?”

“I’ve asked Tuck to get me that list,” she said. “He’s going to try to narrow it down by taking everything we know about the two dead boys. Their physical features. Age. History. He’s going to make a comparison so he can come up with a type and then hopefully get some kind of victimology.”

“Why not add Levi and Andrew to that mix?” Lee asked.

It was a valid question. “We don’t know they’re dead. Without a body, I can’t include them. The FBI is running on the idea we have two different perps.”

“I don’t believe that for one second.”