“I don’t know. Your hunches have seemed to be right on.”
“I’m still mad at myself for not checking out the lights that came in here last night. I might have caught the killer, or at least might have been able to identify his vehicle.”
“How could you know?” she asked. “You couldn’t.”
“I’m sure you are checking on this, but are there any women fitting the description of the dead women who have gone missing or found dead in any other states?”
“Yes, I sent out that request a couple days ago. I’ve heard from some, and they don’t have anything that might be related. I’m still waiting on a couple others.”
McCain reached into his shirt pocket. “Look at this. I found it not too far from the place where the killer parked his rig. Might be worth checking out.”
Sinclair took the little toothpick wrapper and looked it over. “Antonio’s? Do you know the place?”
“Yeah, it is a nice steakhouse on Yakima Avenue. Has a pretty nice bar too. It’s one of the popular night spots in town.”
“That shows you how much I get out. I’ve never been there.”
“I’ve been a couple times with some buddies, but as you know, doing the bar scene is not really my thing.”
“Well, if the killer frequents the place, we can at least check it out. But with no description of the guy, how do we even know who to ask about?”
“Unless you need to be someplace right away, we could swing by Antonio’s now. That way you can at least say you’ve seen the place.”
“Yeah, I’d be up for that. What about Jack?”
“We’re going right by my place. Let me drop him off and feed him, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Sounds good. I’d like to see where the famous Luke McCain lives.”
“Believe me, it’s not terribly exciting. But Jack and I get along just fine there.”
“Not to get too personal, but how does a good-looking guy with a good job and an average sense of humor not have a significant other?”
“Agent Sinclair, how would I . . . wait, you are asking about me, aren’t you?” he said with a smile.
She just stared at him.
“I know this sounds corny, but I just haven’t met the right girl, I guess. I lived with a woman when I was working on the west side of the state, but she had some issues that didn’t become evident until she was firmly entrenched in my house. And I’ve dated a few ladies over the past few years, but nothing has really hit the ‘this is her’ button.”
He looked at her, and she was looking back with a goofy grin on her face.
“What about you?” McCain asked. “How come an above-average looking lady with some smarts and, how’d you put it, an average sense of humor, isn’t married?”
“I got very close once. But the shithead decided it would be fun to have a little weekend fling with his ex-girlfriend. I’m an FBI agent, don’t you think I might find this out? On a whim, I did a little checking right before our wedding day and learned of his unfaithfulness. How’s the old saying go? Once burned, twice shy. Or is it once bitten, twice shy? Doesn’t matter, you get the point.”
“Understandable. Well, let me be honest with you. I think you’re very attractive, and once we get beyond this whole serial killer thing, I’d like to get to know you better. That is if you’d be interested.”
“Funny, I’ve been having the same thoughts. But let’s do get this asshole caught before we travel down the getting-to-know-you-better road.”
They talked a bit more about the girl, the turkey vultures, the game cart, and the human tracks.
“You think the boot tracks will match the partial track that I found up with the bones of the Miller woman?” McCain asked.
“I don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me. The crime scene people will definitely check it.”
A few minutes later they were pulling into his place. McCain climbed out of the truck and let Jack out the back door.
“Come on in,” he said to Sinclair. “I think all my dirty shorts and socks have been kicked under the bed. It will only take me a few minutes to feed Jack, and then we can be on our way.”
“You might want to wash your face and put on a clean shirt,” Sinclair said. “You look like you’ve been wrestling with a cougar.”
“Will do. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you,” he said and laughed.
McCain fed Jack, who wolfed his kibble down like it was the best tasting food he’d ever eaten. Then he freshened up, put on a pair of clean Wranglers and a Polo shirt, combed his dark brown hair and declared himself ready.
When they got to Antonio’s, the place was jumping. The music coming over the sound system was fairly loud, and the crowd noises made it even more difficult to hear.
“You want to grab a table?” McCain asked. “I can get you a drink.”
“You know what, let me look around for a bit, just to get a good idea what this place is, and who the clientele is, and then let’s go someplace else.”
“You got it.”
When they got back to McCain’s truck, he said, “I have a nice spring salmon fillet in my refrigerator. I was going to barbecue it tonight. I’d be happy to share it with you. It would definitely be nice to have some company. That is if you can stand a yellow Lab watching you eat.”
She laughed and said, “I’d love it. Run me to my car at the sheriff’s office, and I’ll follow you home.”
McCain grilled the salmon on the barbecue, threw a quick salad together, warmed some garlic French bread in the oven, and they ate on the patio. He made Jack lay down while they ate, so neither of them had to put up with hungry brown eyes staring at them.
“That was really good,” Sinclair said
