Richard Batterson, Chief Deputy U.S. Marshal for the District of Missouri’s U.S. Marshals’ Office, sat looking out his window. It had been raining all day, and his mood matched the weather. Three months had passed since Darrell Fisher, the man behind the Blue-Eyed Killer, had disappeared. Law enforcement across the country had undertaken a huge manhunt, determined to bring an extremely dangerous man to justice. Just two hours ago, Batterson had received a call from Jack Watts, chief of the Marshals’ Kansas City office. The manager of a local motel had called to say Fisher was staying in one of his rooms. This wasn’t the first time someone had said they’d seen Fisher, but this situation was different. The manager was a retired cop. Someone local law enforcement trusted. Could it really be that easy? Was Fisher finally going to be held accountable for the lives he took and the deaths caused by those he’d manipulated?
As he waited for a follow-up phone call, Batterson tried to think of something else, but every time he did, his mind wandered back to the situation at hand. Batterson had seen a lot of criminals come to justice during his time with the Marshals, but this case was unique. Fisher was responsible for almost twenty deaths. Maybe more. There were a couple dozen other unsolved murders that the FBI and local police and sheriff’s departments wanted to lay at Fisher’s feet—if they could get him to confess.
When the phone finally rang, Batterson grabbed it like he was dying of thirst and it was a drink of cool water. Since he’d told his assistant not to let any other calls through except the one from Kansas City, once he’d picked up the receiver, he only said, “Yes?”
“It’s him,” Jack said.
Batterson let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. But . . .”
“But what? No buts on this one, Jack. Please.”
“Sorry, Richard. He must have known we were closing in.”
“No.”
“Yeah. Shot himself before we could nab him.”
Batterson swore under his breath. Not the outcome he’d wanted. Not only would Fisher get away without punishment, they’d never know if he was connected to the other murders.
“All right. Thanks, Jack. At least it’s over.”
“Maybe.”
Batterson rubbed his left temple with his free hand. Another headache. Great. “What are you talking about?”
“He left a letter.”
“So?”
“It’s addressed to Kate O’Brien.”
Anger bubbled up inside of Batterson like lava in a volcano getting ready to erupt. “Listen to me, Jack,” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t want the press to know about the letter. Keep it under wraps. I’ll talk to the FBI, ask them to do the same. Keep this from the public.”
“You can ask them. Not sure if they’ll do it.”
“All I can do is try. I think they’ll work with me. They hate this guy as much as we do.”
“You know she’ll need to see it someday.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Darrell Fisher’s done enough damage. I don’t want him messing with O’Brien again. Especially from the grave.”
There was silence from the other end. Finally, Jack said, “Okay, Richard, I hear you. Not a word from us.”
“Thanks.” Batterson put down the phone. If he had anything to say about it, that letter would never see the light of day. It was time to silence the Blue-Eyed Killer for good.
And that was what he intended to do.
Batterson straightened up in his chair and picked up the phone again. When his assistant answered, he asked her to open his door and gave her permission to put other calls through.
It was time to get back to business as usual.