Batterson felt a rush of annoyance at the knock on his door. He had a few hard and fast rules, and one of them was to leave him alone when his door was shut. If it was an emergency, visitors were supposed to check in with his administrative assistant, who would call him before anyone was permitted to cross the threshold. And it was well known that the emergency better be dire, or else a tongue-lashing would probably be the result of disturbing the chief’s quiet time. Sometimes he just needed time to think. Life as a U.S. Marshal was fast-paced, and many decisions were made quickly and without much time to consider all the consequences. A few times a week, he liked to sit in his chair, stare out the window, and contemplate. Cases, people, and situations. This was the only time he allowed himself to be totally unavailable.
Outside of work he had only one other rule, but it was set in stone. Without it, he wasn’t sure he could face his job. The mind goes off at home. A few beers, fast food, some TV, and sleep. If he allowed the pressures of his job to follow him out the office door, he’d eventually lose his mind. Many times he watched normal people driving home at night and wondered what it would be like to do something else. To have a life that didn’t include gangs, drug dealers, violence, and death. Most people had no idea of the awful things that happened in the shadows while they ate dinner with their families and complained about their boring jobs. There was another world. A dark world based on deception. One that operated outside of civility and kindness. Even though a part of him longed to experience life without the horrible things people did to each other, he knew he wasn’t built for life in the light. He was called to the darkness, and there was no way out for him. Of course, his mother disagreed. A strong Christian, she believed he was called to fight evil. “You are the one God sends to people during the worst moments of their lives,” she’d told him. “He knows you’re strong enough to overcome the darkness. One day you’ll know it, too.”
“Come in,” he barked, glaring at the door.
The knob turned and Deputy U.S. Marshal Mark St. Laurent came in. Batterson relaxed a bit. Mark was not only a top-notch deputy Marshal, he was a friend. And he’d never break Batterson’s closed-door rule unless it was absolutely necessary.
“What’s going on?” Batterson asked.
Mark shut the door behind him and sat down in one of the chairs in front of Batterson’s desk. “Something’s up, Chief,” he said. The look on Mark’s face made Batterson’s chest tighten. “Just got a heads-up from Tally Williams.”
Williams was a lieutenant with the St. Louis P.D. He was friends with Mark and Mark’s fiancée, Mercy Brennan, another one of Batterson’s deputies. Tally worked closely with the Marshals. When the police couldn’t find dangerous perps, sometimes the Marshals joined forces with them. It could be a slippery slope—ego could get in the way. But with Tally’s help, the local police and the Marshals had formed a great partnership. Together they stood against the violent crime that infected the city.
“And?”
“Police in Kansas passed along some information. About a week ago, they found a body buried in Garden City, Kansas.”
Batterson’s eyebrows shot up. “Garden City? What are you saying?”
Mark took a deep breath before speaking. “They found Ann Barton.”
“Ann Barton? Gerard’s second victim? That’s great. I mean, as long as they can tie him to it.” Even though the news seemed good, Batterson could tell something was wrong. He sighed. “Okay, spit it out.”
“Her remains were in a cemetery.”
Batterson stared at Mark as if he’d just told him all the gangs in St. Louis had become friends and were holding hands and singing “Kumbaya” under the Arch. “What are you talking about? In what cemetery?”
“Someone else’s grave.” Mark pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and quickly looked it over. “A Dorothy Fisher.”
Batterson shook his head. Mark wasn’t making sense, and Batterson’s temper was starting to flare. “You need to explain this so I understand it. Now. Don’t leave anything out.”
Mark took a deep breath. “Okay. Sorry, Chief. The police in Garden City got a phone call. A tip about Ann Barton. That she was in Valley View Cemetery. With Dorothy.” He held up his hand to stop Batterson from letting loose a stream of expletives. “That’s all they said, Chief. So the cops went there, looked for every burial site that belonged to a Dorothy. One of them had a copy of the song ‘Blue-Eyed Angel’ staked on top of the grave. They got a court order to exhume the body. About a foot away from the vault that holds the coffin, they found the remains of Ann Barton. She was wrapped in several layers of plastic.”
“How in the world did they know it was her?”
“Well, their first clue was a necklace in the dirt. Not with the body, but about a foot above it. It was Ann’s. When she disappeared, Ann’s mother showed everyone a picture of the necklace. I guess Ann never took it off. Then they took the remains to the M.E. He checked the dental records and says it’s definitely Ann.”
“So Gerard stashed the body there all those years ago? Clever for a psychopath. So now we can charge him with Ann Barton’s murder.”
“Not so fast, Chief.”
“What? Please tell me we’ve got some kind of evidence this time.”
Although the body of Gerard’s first victim, Tammy Rice, had been discovered years ago in Kansas, the only DNA found was never identified. They tested her son, but it wasn’t a match. After Gerard was caught, his DNA was tested as well, but it didn’t match either. Authorities concluded it probably came from a friend of Tammy’s. Some kind of accidental transfer. Although Gerard had refused to give details of the killing, he’d accepted responsibility. Case closed. He was never tried for that murder since there wasn’t any direct evidence, but it was okay since they had him for Kelly O’Brien’s murder. That was supposed to be enough to keep him behind bars the rest of his life. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked out that way.
Mark cleared his throat. “There was a fingerprint. On the necklace. I think the killer accidentally dropped it. Probably planned to take it as a trophy.”
Batterson frowned. “Tell me it was Gerard’s fingerprint.”
Mark slowly shook his head. “It belongs to a man named Malcolm Bodine.”
Batterson felt his face get hot. They needed something solid so they could arrest Gerard again. His brow furrowed. “Bodine. Why does that name sound familiar?”
“You’ve got a good memory. His body was found in an alley almost six years ago. He’d been beaten and robbed. No one ever claimed his body.”
Batterson nodded. “I remember. I think it stuck in my mind because of his name.”
“It is unusual.”
“That’s not why. I grew up next to a family named Bodine. I was afraid it was one of them, but thankfully it wasn’t.” He leaned back in his chair and stared at Mark. “I take it there’s more?”
“I would say so.”
Mark paused for a moment, and the look on his face made the hairs on the back of Batterson’s neck stand up.
“They matched the DNA from Tammy Rice’s body to Malcolm Bodine. Or should I say the man who called himself Malcolm Bodine. Turns out the real Bodine died when he was young. This guy took over his identity. We have no idea who he really is.”
Mark’s words hung in the air like odd, empty bubbles. It took a few seconds for Batterson to understand what he’d said.
“I don’t get it. How can that be?”
Mark rubbed his face with his hands as if trying to wake himself up.
Batterson knew he wasn’t tired. He was as shocked as his boss.
“It means Gerard isn’t the Blue-Eyed Killer, Chief. It was this Bodine guy.”
Batterson suddenly found himself standing up, even though he didn’t remember getting out of his seat. “But that’s not possible.”
Mark also got to his feet and faced him. “It’s too much of a coincidence. Bodine couldn’t have just happened to know both victims. And remember that the blood evidence that linked Gerard to Kelly O’Brien’s murder has been discounted. The only thing left is her sister’s testimony. Weigh the memory of one terrified girl against DNA and fingerprints. Either Kate O’Brien got it wrong or Gerard was a copycat.”
“Where was Bodine when the O’Brien girls were attacked?”
“In St. Louis. His body was discovered a few days after that. He could have done it.”
Batterson plopped back down in his chair like a ragdoll, which was appropriate since that was exactly how he felt. “So now what?”
“I don’t know. There will be a detailed investigation. I’m not sure how this will affect Gerard. Until recently, he’s always claimed to be the Blue-Eyed Killer. Of course, now that he thinks he’s going to walk, he says he didn’t kill anyone. Says he confessed because he was coerced by the police.”
Batterson slammed his fist on his desk. “No one forced him to confess. He couldn’t wait to take credit for all those deaths. And I hate that stupid moniker. The press attaches names to monsters and makes them seem human. I blame them for Gerard’s fan club—and for that prison guard who tried to kill Kate.”
Mark didn’t say anything, just stood there and waited.
“Tony’s supposed to be bringing Kate O’Brien back to testify at a new trial,” Batterson said. “Now I wonder if there will even be one.”
Mark sat down again, too. “It will take some time to figure that out. We’ll need to hear from the D.A.”
“I suppose they’re trying to figure out who Bodine really is.”
“Sure, but so far no luck. His fingerprints and DNA aren’t showing up on any database. At this point, we may never know his real name. Maybe that doesn’t matter. I don’t know.”
“What’s Gerard saying about all this?” Batterson asked.
“Nothing. This is brand-new information. He couldn’t have heard about it yet. I’m sure you’ll be briefed at some point by our friends at the FBI, but Tally thought you might need the information sooner than later. Keep it to yourself as long as you can. I don’t want him to get in trouble for breaking protocol. The press is already sniffing around. Even if they find out about Ann Barton, the FBI is keeping Bodine’s name to themselves. They just don’t know enough about him to go public.”
“I will. Thanks for bringing this to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
As Mark got up to leave, Batterson had to remind himself that his deputy was getting married soon. Life couldn’t be all about what happened in the shadows. There were other things. “Got a date for the wedding yet?”
“Yeah. We’re going for September. Gives us time to get ready, and we both like the fall. Frankly, Mercy and I would be happy to elope, but Mercy’s mom wants to see her daughter married with all the usual pomp and circumstance.”
“How’s her mom doing?”
Mark smiled. “Good. After years of estrangement, she and Mercy are getting along pretty well now. It’s not something Mercy ever expected, but she’s starting to enjoy the changes. Took a while for her to trust it, though. We’re still taking it one day at a time.”
“That’s all you can do.” Batterson almost winced at his lame encouragement. What did he know about relationships?
“You want the door closed?” Mark asked.
Batterson nodded and watched as the door swung shut. He sat at his desk for a while, trying to figure out what to do next. Finally, he picked up the phone and called Tony.