“No, thanks, I’m fine. Darlene already offered.”
“So then, what is it that I can do for you?”
“Like I said on the phone, I’d like to ask about your traveling employees.”
Sherwood leaned forward and started running a rake through a Zen garden. “Any in particular?”
Baldwin’s antennae went up. “Are there any in particular that you think I should be looking at?”
“No, no. I just wondered if you’d narrowed it down. We’ve got quite a few travelers on our rosters, as you can imagine.” Rake, rake, rake. Baldwin sensed the man was killing time.
“How about we narrow it down to your people who have traveled to the cities in question, the cities you’ve lost employees.”
“What cities exactly would those be?”
Baldwin gave Sherwood a long, level gaze and spoke as clearly as he could. “I’d appreciate it if you’d drop the act and tell me what I need to know.”
Sherwood leaned back in his chair, appraising. Baldwin just stared him down.
After a moment, Sherwood broke into a huge smile. “Just testing there, son. Wanted to make sure you was on the up-and-up, you know? Just can’t ever tell with folks these days. Now, you want to know about our travelers. Mostly, we send the girls on the road. Our marketing team only has one gentleman.”
“Jake Buckley?”
Sherwood’s eyes popped open. “Why, yes, as a matter of fact. Jake is one of the finest men I’ve ever had the privilege to know. One of the finest.”
“That’s great. Does Jake Buckley cover your interests in Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi, Georgia, Virginia and North Carolina? And has he been traveling in those specific areas recently? I’m aware that he was here in Nashville during some of that time. That’s all I need to know.” He sat back in his chair and waited.
Sherwood’s mouth drew into a firm line. “And I don’t think it’s wise to go around sullying the man’s name, if you know what I mean. He has a lot of very powerful friends…but that’s neither here nor there.”
“Mr. Sherwood, you don’t seem to understand. You’re in an interesting position. Several of the killer’s victims worked for your companies. The media hasn’t seized upon the connection, but rest assured, they will.”
Sherwood’s eyes narrowed, and Baldwin could see the wheels spinning. He picked up a pen and started twirling it, breaking eye contact as soon as he started to speak. Baldwin prepared himself for the lies to come.
“Now, Agent Baldwin, you have to understand. We’re a small company here, just trying to make the world a better place for some people that normally wouldn’t have the chances we give them. Do you understand that, son? It breaks my heart that we’ve lost three employees to violent deaths, it surely does. But could Jake Buckley be involved in those deaths? There isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of that, you mark my words.”
He leaned in close, ready to impart a great secret. Baldwin stayed put. “Buckley hardly knows what to do with a live woman. I can’t imagine he’d know what to do with a dead one.”
Sherwood leaned back, guffawing. “Naw, good ole Jake couldn’t have done this. He’s too twitterpated by that wife of his. He can’t afford to fuck things up. She’s got the money, not him. God knows I’m not paying him enough to live on.”
“How much are you paying him, Mr. Sherwood?” Baldwin felt pure disgust. Over the phone he sounded like a man seriously intent on helping with the investigation. Now it was obvious that he was just an ass.
“Aww, son, that’s neither here nor there. Isn’t much more than a couple hundred, give or take. How much they paying you FBI boys these days? Bet I could make you an offer that would blow your socks off. How ’bout it? Come work for me, personal security. I can make it worth your while.”
This was a fruitless endeavor. The man wasn’t going to tell him anything. If he were a bit more jaded, he would think Sherwood brought him in to gauge his knowledge of the cases and the company, but he dismissed that thought. No, this was just a guy who had some power being a jerk.
“That’s awfully kind of you, Mr. Sherwood, but I’m happy with my current position. I suggest you think about cooperating with me. It won’t take me long to procure a warrant for your records.” He stood and stalked to the door.
Sherwood just laughed. “You get a warrant, and then I’ll chat with you.”
“Count on it.” Baldwin grabbed the handle and threw the door open, then retraced his steps to the locked entrance that led to reception. He banged through it to find Darlene, smiling expectantly at him.
Seeing the fury on his face, she dropped the cutesy affectation and gave him a sympathetic smile. He realized she was older than he first thought, probably more like twenty-five.
“Sherwood being an ass again?” she asked with a sigh.
Baldwin nodded. “I don’t know how you stand him.”
“I don’t. Here. I have something for you.” She handed him a plain manila file folder. He opened it and read ITINERARY in boldface at the top. “Jake Buckley” was directly underneath. A quick scan showed that Jake’s travel had taken him all over the Southeast, confirming Baldwin’s suspicions. No more wasting time, and no need to get that warrant.
Baldwin looked up to see a tear in Darlene’s eye. But her voice was hard. “Nail him, if he did this. Nail him for me.”
Baldwin nodded, not knowing exactly what to say. He had the impression that perhaps Jake Buckley did know what to do with a live girl after all.
He took her hand, squeezing it gently, and sincerely promised to do just that.
Baldwin was finally home. The weather had cooled off after the storms, so he’d showered and defrosted a container of Taylor’s homemade vegetable beef soup. He settled in to wait for Taylor to come home. He was also waiting to hear from Grimes. The man should have called by now to let him know if there had been any reports of a missing girl in the Asheville area. He’d talked to the men on the ground in Louisville, and it was starting to seem like this may be a different killer. Though the girl they had found was a brunette that seemed to be in her late teens or early twenties, there was no visible cause of death, and she still had her hands. The Louisville police were desperately searching their databases and tip lines to see if anyone had reported a girl missing that fit the description of their Jane Doe, but there hadn’t been so far. Maybe they were in luck. If Buckley was their killer, he seemed to be taking a break.
Baldwin went to the kitchen, pulled a Guinness out of the refrigerator, popped the top and poured it into a glass, then walked back into the living room. He should call Grimes, check his status.
He dialed the number, and an unfamiliar voice came on the phone.
“Who is this?” the voice demanded.
“This is Special Agent John Baldwin with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Now, who are you?”
“I’m the one wiping blood off this damn phone so I can answer it. Do you know a Jerry Grimes?”
Blood? Shit, what was happening? Had Grimes managed to get himself into an accident?
“Yes, I do. I’m working a case with him. Can I speak to him?”
“Um, I’m sorry, sir, but you’re going to have to wait on that. I’m Detective Moss, Mike Moss, with the Asheville police. It seems your friend Grimes had a little accident with his gun. Shot himself in the head. I’m sorry, but he didn’t make it.”
Baldwin sat in silence for a moment. Accident. Blood. Gun. Head. None of the words added up, and he shook his head, trying to sort them out.
“Wait a minute. Are you saying Grimes shot himself, or was shot by someone else?” Baldwin was up off the couch. This was bad. Very, very bad.
“No, sir, he shot himself. We’re in the bar of the hotel that Mr. Grimes was staying in. It’s absolute pandemonium here. Apparently he’d been in the bar drinking for a couple of hours and just lost it. Started yelling and throwing his arms around, the gun went off right next to his right temple. I’m willing to bet that our M.E. will find a way to call it an accident, but I’ll tell you for true, he shot himself. Now, are you coming up here to claim the body, or what?”
“Whoa, man, slow down. I need something from you first, then I’ll decide what to do. Did Grimes have anything with him? Files, his briefcase? Anything?”
He could hear the man asking the question to the room. He came back on the line.
“Yeah, there’s a file that was sitting on the bar next to him, a manila folder with what looks like crime scene photos. And there was a picture on the bar, a real pretty little thing. Oh…” He got silent for a few moments. “The
