his widow . . . was difficult for Nic.”
“When are you expecting her sister to arrive?”
“Tonight. I’ve arranged for a doctor to fly in with her and to accompany Cyrene back to the States.”
When they arrived at the Powell suite, Derek could tell that Nic was still visibly shaken after seeing Cyrene Patterson. Even though she had freshened up and changed clothes, she still looked shell-shocked.
Nicole Baxter Powell was a strong woman who had excelled in her position as a special agent for the FBI. She was definitely all woman, but she didn’t have a silly, frivolous, or clinging bone in her body, like so many women he knew. But Nic had a kind heart. She genuinely cared about other people.
Derek lingered in the foyer with Griff, while Maleah and Nic went into the living room and exchanged hugs before sitting down on the sofa.
“I’ve arranged for you and Maleah to go with Richter in the morning for a meeting with the Chief Inspector and the inspector assigned to the Patterson case,” Griff said. “I don’t think you’ll have a problem getting whatever information you want.”
Derek nodded. “That’s good. Once we know the particulars of Errol’s murder, we’ll be able to compare them to the details of the other four murders.”
“I’m taking Nic home tomorrow. I didn’t want her to accompany me on this trip, but she insisted. Why she has to be so damn stubborn . . .” Griff cleared his throat. “She thinks she has to be in the thick of things, getting emotionally involved and putting herself out there in harm’s way.”
“You know you wouldn’t change her if you could.”
“Damn right, I wouldn’t.” Griff glanced into the living room at the two women sitting side by side, deep in conversation. “Like I said, I’m taking Nic home tomorrow. But I want you and Maleah to stay here a couple of days and find out everything you can.”
“Sure thing.”
“Richter will be staying on for at least another week or two, keeping tabs on the police investigation and doing some independent investigating. Holt volunteered to go to Cullman to follow up on things there with Winston Corbett’s murder. I think he, of all people, can persuade Ben not to try to do any investigating on his own.”
“Agreed. And I think once Maleah and I finish up here, we should return to Georgia,” Derek said.
“You think Browning really knows something about these copycat murders?”
“He knows something, but my gut tells me he doesn’t know as much as he’s pretending he does. Maleah’s willing to play his cat and mouse game on the off chance he actually does know something and will willingly or inadvertently share it with us.”
Griff moved closer to Derek and lowered his voice. “I plan to send Luke Sentell to London. He’ll be traveling wherever the rumors take him, on to France and Switzerland and Italy.”
“You haven’t told Nic, have you?”
“No, not yet. She thinks I’m obsessed with the notion that I’m the killer’s real target and this killing spree is somehow connected to my past . . . to Malcolm York.”
“Is she right?”
Griff didn’t respond immediately and then before he could reply, Nic called to them. “What are you two talking about in there?”
“I was filling Griff in on Jerome Browning,” Derek lied as he entered the living room area of the suite.
“What a coincidence,” Maleah said. “I was doing the same thing—filling Nic in on my visit with Browning.”
“I ordered dinner half an hour ago,” Nic said. “It should be here in the next few minutes.”
“Anyone care for a drink?” Griff asked as he headed toward the bar area.
The room telephone rang. Griff paused and stared at the phone. Nic and Maleah stopped talking.
“It’s probably room service calling about our dinner order,” Maleah said.
When she stood, obviously intending to answer the phone, Griff told her he’d get it. He picked up the receiver and said, “Yes, this is Mr. Powell.”
Whatever the person on the other end of the line said, Griff did not reply. Without uttering a word, he replaced the receiver.
“Who was it?” Nic asked.
Griff looked at her.
Derek suspected bad news of some sort.
“Griff?” Nic prompted.
“I don’t know who it was, but the voice sounded male.”
“What did he say?” Nic rushed to Griff’s side.
Reluctantly, as if he considered lying to his wife, Griff finally replied, “He said ‘If I don’t decide to kill her first, your wife will make a lovely widow.’”
Chapter 10
The Assistant Superintendent, the Chief Inspector, and Inspector Yates Thompson, who was in charge of the Patterson murder case, met with Derek, Maleah, and Brendan Richter. Derek seriously doubted that even the inspector would have agreed to this meeting if not for Griffin Powell’s considerable influence. How Griff went about getting what he wanted, Derek never asked, but he had a pretty good idea that his boss used whatever means necessary to achieve his desired goal.
After personally assuring them that everything humanly possible would be done to find the person who had killed Errol, the Assistant Superintendent shook their hands again, as did the Chief Inspector. Pretty much as he had thought, these two men had been commanded to put in an appearance, an order no doubt issued by the Commissioner of Police himself. But it was unlikely that they were expected to do more than that—show up, talk the talk, make assurances and appease the Powell agents.
“Inspector Thompson will answer any questions you have,” the Chief Inspector said. “He will cooperate with you in any way possible and will keep you updated on the investigation.”
Once his superiors departed, the tall, rawboned, ebony-skinned Thompson invited them to sit, which they did. But he remained standing.
“My orders are to cooperate with you,” Thompson said. “And naturally, I will follow the Chief Inspector’s orders, although I am unaccustomed to civilians involving themselves in police business.”
“We understand,” Richter said. “But Errol Patterson’s murder is no ordinary murder case.”
“So I have been told.” Thompson glanced from Richter to Derek and then his gaze settled on Maleah. “You were Mr. Patterson’s friends, yes?”
“Errol Patterson worked as an agent for the Powell Security and Investigation Agency, just as we do,” Maleah replied.
Thompson nodded. “I understand other Powell agents have also been murdered in the past few months.”
“Before Mr. Patterson was killed, yes, there were four others connected to our agency. We suspect all four deaths were the work of a serial killer,” Derek said.
“One victim was an agent, one a secretary, one the brother of an agent, and the fourth the father of an agent,” Richter told the inspector.
Thompson nodded again. “And these four people were murdered in a similar manner and you suspect the same killer in all three?”
“That’s right,” Richter replied, a note of aggravation in his voice.
Thompson tapped a file folder lying on his desk. “Mr. Patterson died almost instantly. His jugular was punctured, his trachea severed and his carotid arteries slashed.” He paused, as if waiting for one of them to say something. When they didn’t, he continued. “His wife found his body in the bathroom next to the tub which was filled to overflowing.”
Derek and Maleah looked at each other, but said nothing.
“Were the others killed in a similar fashion?” Thompson asked.
