Out Of Control (31 page)

Cole
linked his fingers and cracked his knuckles. How to explain the climate of
culture in Salado County to this man?

“This
is a small town, Scott,” he said slowly, “in a sparsely populated county.”

The
agent held up his hand. “I told you. I grew up in an area very much like this
so I don’t need a sociology lesson. Let’s see if I can guess. The sheriff was
the law and everything was in his hands. The people didn’t want the world to
know the heinous crimes being committed here so they just huddled together in
fear until it finally stopped. Right?”

Cole
looked across the desk at him. “Right. Absolutely. The killings ended when the
last little girl survived. I don’t know if he stopped because he feared
exposure and identification, but as far as I know, no one was ever named. I don’t
think the child even knows who it was. I have a hunch the man wore a disguise.”

“What
kind of disguise would induce a child to run off when I’m sure they all had the
big lecture about strangers?”

Cole
looked at Nita again.

“My
lips are sealed,” she told him, “but I’ll leave if you’d feel more comfortable.”

Cole
blew out a breath. “No, because I want to ask Scott something that would
involve you.”

“Let’s
hear it,” Scott said.

“Dana
found a common thread in the reports as well as the interviews she’s been doing
with parents.” He paused. “It’s clowns.”

“Clowns?”
Nita raised an eyebrow.

Scott
nodded. “Makes sense. What kid doesn’t love a clown? Great method of
enticement.”

“It
seems, in almost every instance, the family was at a community event. Rodeo,
picnic, county fair, one of several public events that go on around here all
the time. At least two mothers said their daughters were last seen running
toward a clown.”

“But
no clowns with these latest killings.”

“No,
but she still thinks the killings could be connected. The difference is those
were small children. These victims are teenagers. I wanted to get your take on
having Nita look at all the old autopsy reports for similarities.”

Scott
leaned forward in his chair. “Maybe the girls are older because he’s older.
Maybe his preference has changed over the years. And we don’t know what he’s
been doing all this time, if it is the same perp.”

“Dana
brought that up, too. Suggested he might have moved his activities to another
county to keep from being identified here.”

“Entirely
possible,” Scott agreed.

Nita
looked from one to the other. “But that would mean the perp in the old case
wasn’t a transient like everyone said. That it’s someone who lives around here.
Has for a long time.”

“That’s
right. And we have to accept that possibility.” Cole turned to Scott. “Okay,
then. Can you get someone at Quantico to profile this person for us?”

“As
soon as I have more information. I don’t suppose the old files are on computer.”

“Unfortunately,
no. But I can have someone scan them for you.”

“No,
let’s just fax everything. That’ll be quicker.”

“Okay.
As soon as we wrap up, I’ll get someone on it.”

“Nita
and I can start with the new cases until they can bring us the old ones.” Scott
snatched a pad of paper and pen from Cole’s desk and began making notes.

Cole
leaned forward. “Okay, next. Can you have your office check NCIC or whatever
other databases you think might work to check for similar crimes during the
twenty-five year interim? We could find out if this guy’s been killing all this
time somewhere else or just in hibernation, brought out by some perceived
danger. I don’t want any more bodies turning up.”

Scott
gave him a piercing look. “You really think Dana Moretti’s the trigger for
this, don’t you?”

Cole
exhaled slowly. “Yes. I do. I know she’s worried about it, too. He may be
creating a situation that will overshadow what she’s trying to do. Keep us all
so busy no one has time to talk to her and she’ll give up and leave.”

“Or
he could be working up to her,” Clayton pointed out. “She showed up and now he’s
nervous.”

A
sudden chill skittered through Cole’s blood. He’d tried to avoid thinking that
very thing, but now it was staring him in the face. He heard Nita’s indrawn
breath.

“I’ve
thought of that,” he said, his throat suddenly too tight. “I keep hoping I’m
wrong, just connecting too many dots.”

No
one said a thing for a very long minute. Then Scott stood up. “All right. Is
there someplace Nita and I can work?”

“The
conference room. We’re wireless, believe it or not, so you’ll be online at
once. I’ll put a note on the door and keep everyone out. You’ll have to break
to meet with the deputies because it’s the only space we have for that.”

“No
problem. When we’re finished, I’d like you and your senior deputy to join us
and we’ll see where we’re at.”

“Okay.
Come on. I’ll get y’all set up.”

But
as he walked toward the door, his cell rang. Looking at the Caller ID, he said,
“Nita, why don’t you show Scott where the conference room is and get started. I’ll
get someone running the fax in a minute.”

As
soon as they left, he pressed Talk. “Hey, darlin’. What’s up?”

“Don’t
be made at me, but Ivy Winslow called. She’s gotten some of the mothers to meet
with me at her place. I’m heading there now.”

“Dana,
listen.” His hand tightened on the phone.

“I
know what you’re going to say, but what can happen to me at the Winslows? And I’ll
keep checking in with you. Please, Cole? This is a real breakthrough.”

“I
guess I can’t stop you, right?”

“I
promise to be careful. Really.”

“You
call me when you get ready to leave there. You hear?”

“Word
of honor.” Her voice lowered. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“No
doubt about it.”

When
he disconnected the call, he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his mouth.
Something good came out of everything.

Chapter
Twenty-Seven

Dana
knew Cole was unhappy and worried for her safety, but she couldn’t let him lock
her away until this was over. Especially now, when things were beginning to
turn her way.

The
women seated around the table in Ivy’s sunny kitchen wore expressions that were
a mixture of fear and defiance. There were five of them, as Ivy had said, and
she introduced each one to Dana.
Natalie Grimes. Sharon Colton. Letha
Milton. Sonja Escobedo. Mila Garza, who was on her list.
Two of them,
Ivy had told her, never recovered from the crimes, so Dana was surprised they’d
agreed to come.

She
slipped into the vacant seat at the head of the table, accepted a cup of coffee
from Ivy and smiled softly at everyone. But when she brought out her little
tape recorder, the women froze.

“If
you’d rather I didn’t use this, I’ll shut it off. But I find if I’m taking
notes, I’m not paying full attention to what everyone’s saying.”

“We
had it on when I talked with Dana yesterday,” Ivy put in. “If there’s something
on there you want her to erase or not use, all you have to do is ask.”

“First
of all,” Dana told them, “let me assure you, I’m not looking to sensationalize
what happened. If any of you have read my books, you’ll know I turn them into full
length books based on truth and I’m very matter of fact about things. I don’t
want you to say anything you don’t want to, and I’m not looking to hurt anyone.”

“I’d
like to ask a question.” Natalie’s voice was tentative. “If you don’t mind.”

Dana
nodded. “Anything at all.”

“Why
do you do this? Dig up all this…this,” she opened her hands, “sludge and slime?
Make celebrities out of the people who do these awful things?”

It
was a question Dana had often been asked. She looked at each woman as she
answered. “I’m not trying to glorify them or give them celebrity status. I’m
trying to solve a puzzle, to finally give people answers they’ve never had. And
to let them see the rotten underbelly that could easily belong to the person
sitting next to them in a restaurant. Maybe help people be more aware of the
evil that’s out there and how to avoid it.”

“It’s
a wonder you don’t have nightmares,” Sharon put in.

You
don’t know the half of it.

“What
exactly are you looking for with this book?” Mila asked, slightly defensive. “Haven’t
we been through enough?”

“Answers
for everyone. When a crime is never solved, when there’s no resolution, it’s
very hard to move past the heartache.” She let her eyes travel from face to
face as she spoke. “I’m hoping to either turn up new evidence, as I’ve managed
to do many times before, or find a different angle. I’m looking for anything
that might make people take a new look at things. Maybe even solve the case.”

“Do
you think this is someone who lived here?” Sonja wanted to know. “Who maybe
still lives here?”

So.
Not everyone had bought the party line about an itinerant stranger.

Dana
nodded. “I hate to say this, but it’s entirely possible.”

“What’s
he been doing all this time, then?” Sonja persisted. “Did he just stop? I heard
people who do the kind of things he did can’t control themselves.”

Dana
pursed her lips. “That’s not exactly true. They control themselves until the
urge builds and builds, then they seek relief again. I have a theory that he’s
been active someplace else all this time and we don’t know about it.”

They
peppered her with questions, which she answered the best she could. She didn’t
want to cut anyone off because it would be hard to get them talking again. This
was almost a gift. Usually, she had to light a stick of dynamite to get her
interviews completed.

Ivy
kept everyone’s coffee cups filled and warm cinnamon rolls on the table. The
women talked, the recorder hummed, and Dana listened to every word carefully.
Some of these women were still holding themselves and their marriages together
with frangible glue. Others had managed to center themselves, as Ivy had, for
the sake of their other children.

But
as Dana had expected, all the stories had one thread in common.

Clowns.

They
had all been at events with clowns. The little knot of expectation inside her
began to expand.

“Do
you think the Chamber would still have records of who they hired?” she asked,
when the conversation began to wind down.

“I
don’t know,” Letha answered. “But I could find out. I volunteered there back
then.”

“I’d
really appreciate it.” Dana handed over her business card with her cell number
circled. “I hate to push, but the sooner you can do this the better. The
sheriff has called in the FBI to help on the recent cases, and I’m hoping to
interest them in looking at this.”

Ivy
stopped in the midst of lifting her coffee cup to her lips. “The FBI’s here?
Really? And you think they’d take a look at these murders after all this time?”

“I
hope so. The more information I can give them, the better chance I have.”

Letha
pushed her chair back and stood up. “I’ll go see what I can find out right now.
Mila? We rode together. Are you okay with leaving now?”

Mila
Garza swallowed the last of her coffee. “Yes. I volunteered back then, too.
Maybe I can help you.”

The
two women made quick goodbyes and hurried out to Letha’s car.

“Well.”
Ivy looked around the table. “Maybe we’re finally getting somewhere.”

“It
would be nice to have some answers after all this time,” Natalie said, her face
pinched with bitterness. “Maybe Frank and I could figure out a way to talk to
each other again. Twenty-five years is a long time to live with a ghost.”

“I
want to thank you for this,” Dana said. “You’ve helped me immeasurably.”

“If
you can do anything to find answers for us after all this time, I’ll tell you
anything you want to know.” This from Sharon, who had such sadness in her eyes
Dana wanted to weep for her.

Somehow,
in some strange way, it was helping her own problems to see other people who’d
been affected by what happened. She wasn’t alone in her grief, or in the damage
to families. But she was the only survivor. She was the only one with nightmares
so personal that her life was frozen by them.

At
least until Cole.

Oh,
yes. Cole.

She
swallowed a tiny smile.

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

“So.
Finally, awake.” He looked at the woman tied naked to the bed.