by prison booties.
“ What now?” asked Combs of Jessica in the empty interrogation room.
“ Boyd's having Campbell's shoes and his tire treads checked against the casts. But Nathan doesn't strike me as a vicious killer.”
Just then Jessica's cell phone rang and she dug it out of her pocket. “Coran,” she said into the phone, “how can I help you?”
A strange, strident male voice replied, “Don't believe a word of the lies my woman has told you.”
“ Who is this, please?”
“ I'm not the Skull-digger. I'm cured of all that a long time ago. Just don't waste your time coming after me.”
“ Who is this?”
“ You focus all your efforts on the right man. Not me.” The phone went dead.
Jessica went into the answered calls in her phone log and punched SEND for a dial back, and though it rang, no one picked up. Her phone displayed a number with a 609 area code. A different number but still a New Jersey exchange- the Atlantic City area of New Jersey.
“ What was that all about?” asked Combs.
“ Not sure, but I may just follow up on a lead that'll take me to New Jersey.”
“ Want to tell me about it?”
“ I've got to alert Eriq about this call I just got.”
“ Go right ahead. Then maybe we can get a bite to eat, a cup of coffee,” suggested Combs, looking tired.
Jessica again caught Eriq and put him on the speaker-phone. “The creep may have called me.”
“ What creep? Cahil?”
“ None other. He didn't identify himself, but he pleaded with me not to listen to the woman who'd fingered him. He's got my cell number now. The number he called from was an Atlantic City exchange.” She read the number off to him. “Maybe it'll help to pinpoint his location.”
“ What'd he say, exactly?”
“ He's concerned I'd be wasting my time on him, that he's not the Skull-digger.”
“ If it's from a pay phone, we'll check surrounding area hotels. If it's from a phone he owns, we've got the bastard, and this time no one's going to let him out of his cage ever again,” said Eriq. “Oh, and we're running down leads on the wife-slash-girlfriend as well.”
“ Maybe the wife's already dead, and he took my number off her body.”
“ I've made arrangements with Deitze for us to see him at two P.M. tomorrow afternoon. Can you make that?”
“ Make it four if you can.”
Eriq had an incoming call. “Let me know of any new-”
“ Will do!”
He hung up and Jessica did likewise. She looked over to Lorena and said, “I'm with you. Let's go get something to eat and drink.”
People milled about the corner restaurant called Savannah Sal's in downtown Savannah, just off the historic section of the city where tourists flocked. Jessica watched the crowd, trying to get her mind to relax from the case. She watched people try the patience of those behind the counter as they stared at an overhead quick-order menu; she saw others picking up their orders and complaining about this or that. Still others searched for their parties, while a few urgently sought the bathrooms. A number of people sat reading newspapers, while one or two worked on their laptops, one of them laughing at something on his screen, the other grimly silent. The average clientele appeared to be of college age, and countless textbooks were stacked and flung across tables and on seats. Some of the young people looked hungover.
Jessica and Lorena had coffee while awaiting a waiter to find them in Sal's more formal dining section. Jessica rested her head in her hands, complaining of her lack of sleep.
“ I know what you mean,” agreed Lorena.
Jessica excused herself and snatched out her cell phone and contacted J.T. back in Jacksonville. She informed him, “We've got an identical killing up here, John, down to the skull etching on the inside. But he left tracks this time.”
“ Foot prints?”
“ Shoe prints and tire marks.” Jessica quickly brought J.T. up to date on both the Cahil angle and that she had to be in Pennsylvania the following day to meet with Jack Deitze. “I need you to get all the evidence gathered on the Manning girl, including the bone fragment, up to Quantico ASAP.”
Their drinks arrived with hot rolls and butter. “Thanks, John. I gotta go now.”
For a brief time, the two women remained quiet, each trying to cut the edge of her hunger. Combs broke the silence. “So, anything else you can tell me about this Cahil guy?”
“ He hit a number of cemeteries in New Jersey as a modern-day grave robber, a ghoul-the old expression aptly fits here, Lorena. Hasn't been a recorded case of actual grave robbery-as opposed to grave vandalism-in the U.S. since.” “The New Jersey Ghoul, yeah, I remember now. Saw a segment on Ripley's Believe It or Not that highlighted his questionable accomplishment as the last of the ghouls.”
“ Apprehended in 1990 in a Morristown cemetery with a bone saw. He cut the heads off and took them with him. Left the graves wide open.”
“ 1990, yeah… I was still in high school at the time, but I recall the case. Something about necrophilia, that he robbed the graves of their heads and used them as sex objects. A real sick freak.”
“ I don't know too much about the man's motivations.” Jessica wanted to change the subject, so she asked, “How old are you, Lorena? You must be the youngest female sheriff in the South, or the country for that matter.”
“ Democrats thought a woman running for office would fail, but we surprised them. I got the black vote and the Indian vote and a good chunk of the white vote.” Lorena stirred back to the case. “So, how does grave robbing and brain snatching go together?”
“ I'm not sure, and I'm not sure that Cahil won't lead to another dead end. If I hadn't gotten those two calls, we probably wouldn't even be looking at the guy.”
“ So, you don't think anything'll come of it?”
“ Maybe, maybe not. I'll know more after I talk with Dr. Deitze.”
“ The clown who authorized Cahil's release? Good luck.”
The waiter returned with two hot steaming plates, Jessica's a roast beef dinner and Lorena's a vegetarian lasagna. Jessica glanced at the decor as she ate, studying the walls covered with historical items supposedly out of old Savannah's past: old soda pop and cigar signs, buckets, milk pails, rusty traps, harnesses, an entire plowshare heavy enough to kill someone should it fall. Combs, following Jessica's gaze, said, “All items no one in his right mind would hang above a plate of food anywhere but in a restaurant.”
Jessica laughed in response, and Combs joined her.
“ I still have no idea how someone like Cahil could get my private number.”
Combs said, “Doesn't take much these days with computer access to everyone you know on the planet, Jess. Remember the Theresa Saldana stalking murder attempt?”
“ The actress who survived-what was it? — seven or eight knife wounds?”
“ Yeah, that's it. Her attacker told police that a hundred dollars to a private eye gave him the family address.” Combs allowed the fact to sink in. “And nowadays with the damn Internet it's easy enough to get information on your own. Cut out the middleman to get names, addresses, phone numbers.”
“ But I'm very careful with that number.”
“ The celebrity stalker told Saldana that he was a production assistant for Martin Scorsese, and wanted to know if she would look at a script for 'Marty.' Now, maybe you didn't get a call from Scorsese, Jess, but you did get one from a resourceful lady in a day and age when you don't have to be all that resourceful to electronically get reams of information on what you want.”
“ I know you're right. I guess I just want to hold on to the illusion that I have some privacy left.”
They continued their meal. Then Combs asked, “What next?”
