to him, but he told me before he left that there wasn’t a solid line of communication. He’ll want to have a hand in everything.”
Taylor handed her one of her cards and said, “Anytime tomorrow morning is fine with me. Just give me a call and I’ll meet you there.”
With that they wrapped things up with a few niceties and Taylor made a hasty retreat. Something was very sad about Quinn Buckley, and it wasn’t only that her twin sister had just died.
Back in her car, she decided she might have time to head over to Betsy Garrison’s house. She dialed the number, and Brian Post answered.
“Hey, Post, can I come on over? I wanted to check on Betsy, see how she’s doing. Maybe talk about the case for a moment.”
“You know what, Taylor, it might be best if we gave it a day. She’s starting to come off all the drugs and really grasp what happened and she’s pretty pissed off. Having the story out on the air isn’t helping matters. I don’t want her to have to go through it with other people around, you know what I mean?”
“Of course. That’s no problem. Have her call me when she’s ready to talk. Meantime, do you want to be brought up-to-date?”
“I already spoke with Lincoln and Marcus. They brought me up to speed. I guess we have to start looking at one of our own, huh?”
“Well, there are lots of police uniforms in the mid-state. Maybe it’s one of theirs.”
“That would be great,” he said a bit sarcastically. “Tell you what, I’ll give your boys a shout in the morning and we can decide where to go from there.”
“Sounds good. Give Betsy my best. Sounds like she’s lucky to have you around.”
“Will do, Taylor. Thanks.”
Twenty-Seven
Baldwin got the call in his stifling hotel room nearly a full minute before the News Alert flashed on the TV screen.
“It’s Grimes. We’ve got another one missing.”
“Are you kidding me? It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.” Baldwin was wide awake now. “Who is it?”
“Local girl, Christina Dale. Didn’t show up for work this morning. This whole town is on alert because we’ve been here tending to Marni, and when she didn’t show up they immediately called it in. And one more thing. We’ve got a leak.”
Baldwin saw a flash out of the corner of his eye. He looked to the TV. Sure enough, the News Alert came up, a picture of a pretty brunette staring out from the screen. “We have a leak” was an understatement, and he told that to Grimes.
“I know, I know. I can’t figure out who it is, either. No one that I’m giving information to, that’s for sure. Regardless, we need to get moving on this new victim. How soon can you meet me?”
“Let me grab a shower, say, fifteen minutes in the lobby?”
“Okay, I’ll see you.” Grimes hung up and Baldwin sat on the edge of the lumpy bed shaking his head. Too fast. Too fast. This guy was on fire, and they weren’t any closer to finding out what was happening. They needed to kick it into high gear. He got up and walked to the bathroom, stripping off his boxers as he went. Oh, who was he kidding? They needed a break. They needed a big break.
“We got a break,” Grimes whispered to Baldwin as he walked up to him in the lobby. Grimes was looking a bit better today, not rested but there was a glimmer in his eyes. “We got a break,” he said again, low, and put his hand on Baldwin’s back as if to propel him toward the front door.
Baldwin waited until they were outside and turned to him. “Let me guess. There was a DNA hit on the piece of condom.”
Grimes looked vaguely disappointed. “No, there was nothing of use there. They recovered epithelial cells, but they were from a female. It’s a wash, unfortunately.”
“Damn,” Baldwin huffed. “That was our best shot so far.”
“You’ll change your mind after you hear this. We had an anonymous call that Christina Dale was seen at a motel last night. Cheap-ass place, just a couple of miles up the road. We’re gonna go in and check the room, she might still be there. We’ve got dogs meeting us, too…if she’s gone, we might be able to track her scent.” They got into the car and Grimes was buckling, shifting and steering at the same time. “Break, man, that’s what we needed, a break.”
“Yeah, no kidding. This is good, Grimes.” Baldwin was skeptical that they’d find the girl in a cheap motel room with all the evidence they needed to catch the killer. But he was willing to try anything once. His thoughts drifted. It seemed a little unlikely that the Strangler had simply decided to grab a motel room for the night to kill his latest victim. Baldwin mentally slapped himself. You don’t know she’s dead, man. But if she was, and he left something behind for them, well, that would be nice. A motel room would be a blessing and a curse for them. Too many remnants to process, but something might pop out.
Grimes was still muttering under his breath as they pulled into the horseshoe-shaped drive of a budget motel that had seen better days. Paint peeled off the walls, a dirty gray that might have been white fifty years before. The Vacancy sign flashed, and Baldwin wondered if it had ever been turned off. There were cars piling up in the parking lot and Baldwin wanted the first crack at the room.
“Stall them,” he said to Grimes as he jumped out of the car. He walked quickly to the office and shut the door behind him. A fan poured warm air through the room, making it sweltering. A man with one tooth sticking out from what seemed like his lower lip stared him down. Baldwin flashed his FBI badge and hoped it would impress. It didn’t.
“We got a call that Christina Dale was seen here last night. Can you tell me what room she was in?”
The man stared at him, belligerence creeping up in his eyes, then dampening down like he’d stepped into a cold mental shower.
“Yuaa, she was here. Didn’t see with who. Came in all drunk and stupid like she always does. Gave her the key to the room on the end. She didn’t bring it back yet this mornin’. What’s all this about?”
“Have you been in the room?”
“Ain’t but the one key. I tolds ya she didn’t bring it back this mornin’. What’s all this? Did Christina do somethin’ stupid, get herself in trouble with the law?” The leathery bald head and absence of teeth gave the man a shrunken look, as if a headhunter had stolen in during the night and worked his magic on the man’s head, shrinking it down to portable size. Baldwin was almost staring but stopped himself.
“And you are…?”
“Call me Ishmael,” the man cackled. Baldwin stared at him until he finally stopped laughing and said, “It’s Jones.”
“Mr. Jones, did you see who she came with? Was it a man?”
“What, you think she’s one of those lesbos? ’Course it was a man. Practically a different man every night, seemed to me.” He sucked his tooth, the noise making Baldwin’s spine crawl.
“Mr. Jones, is there any chance you remember the particular man she was with last night?”
Jones sighed. “Prolly some young, good-lookin’ feller. She seemed to like them damn black Irish, brought ’em around more often than not.”
“Dark-haired men, you mean?”
“Black as coal. ’Course, I don’t see much. I don’t go spying on my folks.”
“Of course you don’t.” Lying sack of shit. Baldwin was ready to pull that tooth right out of the man’s mouth. “Were they in Christina’s car?”
“Nope. Don’t say as I know what kind it were, either. Just long and dark, that’s all. Mebbe silver. Never was much of a car man. Like me those tits and ass though.”
Baldwin watched the fan for a moment, biting his lip. If he were as old and wizened, he’d be bad-tempered,
