He can handle it.
Cate’s phone vibrated in her apron’s pocket, and Mike’s name popped up on her screen. Cate strode behind the counter, through the kitchen, and out the back door, her phone clenched in her hand, subtle excitement vibrating in her bones.
“Mike?” she answered as she stepped into the quiet alley behind the bakery. “What’d you find out?”
“Good afternoon to you too,” he said.
Cate rolled her eyes.
“I knew you were invested in this case,” Mike told her. “You can’t resist a puzzle.”
“Just tell me what’s going on.”
“You were right about there being three graves. We’ve looked extensively, and I’m sure there’s no more . . . at least not at this exact site. Those three were in a perfect line—like we found at the original site—and we can’t see a hint of others beyond those.”
“Do we—do you need to bring in GPR?” she asked, referring to ground-penetrating radar.
“Not right now. Maybe later.”
“What was in them?”
Mike cleared his throat. “All three victims are female, and their remains are fully skeletal. The forensic anthropologist says they’re younger adults. Probably twenties and thirties. He’ll tighten up an age range later.”
“Any indication of cause of death?”
“Not yet, but he did notice knife marks on the ribs of one and a cracked skull on another.”
Cate nodded as Mike spoke. Jeff Lamb had done a variety of things to kill his victims on the stone altar. Cut throats, stabbings, blows to the head, asphyxiation.
“Lockets?”
“Yep. Two more. The faces are blurry as usual, but they’re clearly young women. Tessa is trying to compare them to some missing person photos, but it will take dental records to identify them.”
“Lamb did this, didn’t he?” asked Cate.
“No, I don’t think he did.”
“What? Why not?” It sounded exactly like Jeff Lamb to her.
“I saved the best for last. We found two quarters in one of the graves near the hip bones.”
“Where a pocket might have been . . .” Cate held her breath.
“The year on one of them is from five years ago.”
“And Jeff has been locked up for eight. We have an accomplice . . . or a fan,” said Cate. Her mind raced. Bryan Sowle was an option they needed to investigate.
No. Mike needs to investigate. Not me.
“We do. And I think while Tessa and our forensics expert work with the remains, you and I need to go to the Stafford Creek prison and talk with both Lamb and Sowle.”
Cate leaned against the rear wall of the bakery and looked up at the blue sky. At that very second she wanted more than anything to dive headfirst into the case. She wanted to match wits again with Lamb. Bounce ideas and theories off Mike.
A scent of chocolate and espresso wafted through the air, and her mind cleared.
That’s not my life anymore.
“I can’t, Mike. I’m done with that. And the FBI would nev—”
“I’ve already cleared it with Phillip.”
She blinked. “Like right now? You called him before you called me?”
“Correct.”
She wanted to fume about his high-handedness, but her pulse was beating too fast, her emotions building, torn between wanting to join and being scared of the consequences. “I can’t do the job anymore. I walked away for a reason.”
“I know why you left, Cate,” he said in a softer tone. “And I know the trauma has stuck with you. I don’t blame you one bit for stepping away. No one does. I probably would have done the same.”
“My edge is gone.” My confidence.
“This is just an interview. Nothing else. You don’t need an edge to talk to an imprisoned man. You know the case best, and you know him; you know how he thinks.”
True.
She’d worked many cases at the FBI, and some had stuck more deeply in her brain than others. Jeff Lamb had stuck. He was the killer journalists loved to write about. A popular man who seemingly had his life together. The guy who always got the girl, with his sincere smile and kind eyes.
Until someone pissed him off. Then the eyes went cold.
His eyes had also stuck in Cate’s brain. Icy blue. Unique. Startling.
“You can do this, Cate. I need you on this.”
“When do you want to go?” The words had rolled off her tongue before they’d formed in her mind. Her body was making decisions without her.
“Tomorrow. I’ll make the calls.”
“I want Henry to come with me.”
Mike paused. “Shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll get him clearance.”
“Thank you.” She ended the call, exhaled heavily, and continued to study the sky. Her emotions were a confusing jumble. Elation, anxiety, regret.
Why did I ask for Henry?
She didn’t need him to hold her hand.
Do I?
She hadn’t left the island since they had brought back Sam last winter. It’d been an unpleasant trip, with Cate feeling nauseated and off balance a lot of the time. Henry too.
If she had to leave the island, she wanted him with her. The feeling was visceral.
An icy breeze touched her neck, and she straightened, scouring her surroundings.
She saw nothing.
“Did I make the right choice?” she asked the empty air.
Silence.
But her conflicting emotions vanished and left her with confidence. She’d done the right thing.
“Thanks, Ruby,” she whispered.
6
“Room three,” Julie told Henry. “Sore throat.”
“Thanks.” Henry strode down the hallway of his clinic. Business had cranked up since the tourist season had started. More business was always good, but it made him feel rushed. He’d grown used to talking with his local patients for longer periods of time, catching up on what was going on with their families and businesses.
Oddly, all the locals seemed to have stayed healthy as tourist season kicked in. Now he’d go a few days without seeing a familiar face in his waiting room. The tourists brought him mostly sore throats, earaches, upset stomachs, and the occasional broken bone. His nurse, Julie, was an organizational queen. She thrived
