Who could?
He thought himself some kind of artist, he’d mentioned it as well as telling her how beautiful she was, how “perfect.” Her stomach had twisted as he’d licked her navel and caressed her breast with the tip of his tongue. He’d wanted to do more to her, she’d read it in his eyes. He wanted to do all kinds of vile things to her, cruel, sadistic acts that she didn’t want to imagine.
She’d been horrified, and had lain motionless, her muscles unable to move, her voice mute though inside she was screaming. How had she not suspected how deeply evil he was, this man she’d seen around Grizzly Falls? This married man had seemed somewhat normal, a person to whom she would cast a friendly smile when he’d come to her table at Wild Will’s, but who was, beneath his normal facade, a madman, a demon sent straight from Satan himself. She’d seen a glimpse of his dark side once when he’d thought she’d ignored him on a day that was crazy-wild at work; it hadn’t helped that the chef had messed up his order, but other than that one time ...
She forced herself not to think of him or how helpless she was at his hand. Her mind began to wander again in the darkness, and for a second Brenda thought she heard another voice, one as frightened as her own. But of course, when she croaked out a response and waited, she heard nothing other than the beati
ng of her own heart. What she’d heard was an audio hallucination; there was no other person near enough to hear her or rescue her.
She was doomed.
Only Jesus could save her now.
Brenda was sure of it.
Her faith prevailed and so she began to pray. Silently. The familiar words coming to mind. Our Father, who art in heaven; hallowed be Thy name ...
Though it was the weekend, the sheriff ’s department was buzzing. Not only were there the usual accidents, fights and altercations brought on by too much celebrating on Friday night, and the regular amount of thefts, but with these latest murders, the offices were busier than ever. Phones jangled, conversation hummed and, aside from Joelle’s added Christmas enthusiasm, the station was filled with weekend officers or others, like Alvarez herself, pulling overtime.
While the press camped outside, the sheriff and undersheriff were both in their offices and, of course, Sturgis had taken up his usual spot near Grayson’s desk. Seeing the dog had reminded Alvarez of her own missing pup, not to mention the son she’d given up half a lifetime previously.
She’d been too busy to think much about Gabriel Reeve or Roscoe.
Now, her back beginning to ache a little from hours at her desk, Alvarez read through Lissa Parsons’s phone log one more time. A computer had compared it to the numbers in Lara Sue Gilfry’s and come up with only three matches: a clinic where Dr. Acacia Lambert practiced; Joltz, a local coffee shop; and a garage over on Seventh Street. It was all a dead end. Comparing personal computers was next on the agenda, but that was tough, as Lissa Parsons’s laptop and smartphone were still missing. They’d received records regarding her account from her server, that information requested weeks ago when she’d gone missing. Since then, there had been no activity on either her phone or computer. As for Lara Sue Gilfry, she’d used the common computer supplied by the Bull and Bear bed-and-breakfast, where she worked. Many times she hadn’t bothered to log in personally, but just checked Web sites through the inn’s account, so sorting what she’d done, as opposed to the rest of the staff or customers, had been tedious, nearly impossible. And that didn’t count the library where she was known to hang out.
Fortunately, now that the FBI was involved, they and their hyped-up technology would take over. Alvarez had gone over the records of the inn before November sixth, when Lara Sue had last been seen, but those records were still being compared to those on Lissa Parsons’s account with a national Internet server.
“Keep at it,” she told herself.
Alvarez’s cell phone rang and she noticed O’Keefe’s name on the screen. Her stomach tightened a bit as she answered. “Tell me you have good news.”
“Wish I could,” he said, and she wanted to close her eyes and envision his face. Instead, she glanced at the clock on her computer and saw that it was nearing six. She’d been at this for twelve hours. “Rough day?”
“To put it mildly.” She considered telling him about the nipple ring but held back, didn’t want to compromise the case. Agents Halden and Chandler from the FBI field office in Salt Lake City were due to arrive within the next couple of hours. Had the weather been better, they would have been here earlier, but as it was, their plane was delayed in Missoula and they were driving the short distance to Grizzly Falls, but only after looking into the ice sculpture competition in the area along with the artists involved and anyone close to them.
Meanwhile a task force room, complete with dedicated phone lines, was being created in the very same area the sheriff ’s department had used in the past.
“How about I meet you after work? We can get something to eat and discuss the case.”
“Is there anything to discuss?”
“Always.”
That much was true, she supposed, but she didn’t think spending more time with him was such a good idea and she was still bothered that her earring was found on the victim. It just didn’t seem like a random act. No, it was pointed. At her. At least she felt as if it was, but she couldn’t make heads nor tails of it now and the night stretched out long before her. The thought of spending the hours alone, absently stroking Jane’s head while worrying about her missing dog, her son, an old earring or the madman stalking the county held little appeal. She needed a break. Besides, any information he could give her was something.
“Come on, Selena. Live a little.”
Her throat tightened at the familiar phrase, one he’d used often enough when they were both working in San Bernardino. “Okay, as long as it’s not pizza.”
“Deal,” he said, unable to hide the bit of amusement in his voice.
“And this is not a date?”
“Of course not. Why would you think anything like that?”
“Oh, you know the old saying, if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, then it’s a date.”
He laughed outright. “Call it what you want, Alvarez. I’ll meet you at your place at what ... six?”