Wayne pulled over on the shoulder of the highway and stared at me through his dark glasses. “Spill it, Powell.”
I petted the kitty in my lap and was rewarded with her purr of contentment. “I didn’t have a dreamwalk, but I had a flash of insight when I steadied myself with the doorknob. The killer touched it in a terrible rage. He hated so deeply it’s a wonder the knob didn’t catch on fire, because that’s how my hand felt, as if I’d just plunged it into a flame. I didn’t see him killing Marv or Bee, but there was a lethal sense about him I recognized from our previous cases.”
“A movie person is our killer? Did you see his face? Get a name?”
“Nothing that helpful. All I know is the killer touched the River House doorknob recently.”
“That’s no help at all, considering how many people are in and out of that house, unless you think Marv was the target all along and Bee was collateral damage.”
“I’m not saying that either. This was a crime of passion.”
“You profiling now? No way. Stringing those two up and draining their bodies of blood didn’t happen in a moment of rage. It was a premeditated act. The killer strengthened the railing ahead of time. This is malice murder from the get-go.”
His condescension poked holes in my patience. “Hey. I don’t choose the messages I receive. If there’s a grand plan in the great beyond, I’ve yet to figure it out. I’m relaying the information as I get it. I trust my information absolutely.”
Wayne stared out the windshield at the empty road ahead. “If what you’re saying is true, we have two killers on our hands. One driven by hatred, the other methodical and coldblooded. Two killers would make the logistics of stringing our victims up more feasible.”
“Makes sense to me.”
“Two killers . . .” Wayne’s voice drifted off.
I studied the thin clouds rimming the sky, wondering if LA or Ford were killers. On first glance, neither looked like they’d ever gotten their hands dirty.
Wayne shook his head, drawing my thoughts back to our conversation. “If word of two killers gets out, the GBI will take over my case. We can’t tell anyone about this, got it?”
“Got it.”
“I’ll let you in on a secret, Powell. I’ve never run across a killing team before, but there’s a first time for everything. We need to stop these guys, now.”
“Agreed.” I cleared my throat softly, chastened by the waves of violence rolling off the sheriff but unwilling to let him intimidate me. He was paying me for my opinion, after all. “I know you think this case has male written all over it, but Marv mentioned his stalker for a reason.”
Wayne eased back on the road and accelerated. “We’ll conduct due diligence on Cassie Korda, but I need to tighten our focus on our male suspects first. There were eight cars parked outside the actor’s local headquarters; no telling how many people were offsite right now. Reed Tyler will be all over me if I shut down the movie people for no good reason. I’ve been ordered to give them whatever they want. As far as the Tourism Office is concerned, Ford Morrison’s bunch is the county’s golden ticket to financial security. The movie will draw more film crews and incentivize tourists who want to see the location firsthand.”
“Then we’ll find a good reason to shut them down.”
An edgy silence filled the Jeep, making me squirm in my seat. I could almost feel the gears turning in the sheriff’s head as he worked something out. Something to do with me.
“You feeling all right?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Sure. Why do you ask?”
“You just did two woo-woo things in a row and didn’t pass out. Seems to me like you’re fit enough to go through those evidence bags right now.”
Busted. And I didn’t like it one bit. Except I did feel better. None of the bone-deep tiredness or sensory overload, and certainly none of the mental fog. Hmm. I didn’t understand what this meant, but I wasn’t pleased with Wayne’s take on the matter.
I gave him a long, considering glance. “You’re awful pushy.”
“Have to be. I’ve got twice as many killers to catch.”
Crap. He had me there. The sooner we caught these killers, the sooner the threat of the GBI busting in here would vanish. The sooner I’d feel comfortable about bringing Larissa home.
My phone buzzed again. I checked the display screen. Charlotte. I muted and pocketed the phone. “I’ll give it a go, but I can’t spend all day at the station. I have landscaping to do today, and a personal matter to address.”
He gave me a searching look. “What kind of personal matter?”
“My parents. My mom got some bad news.”
“Is she sick?”
“No. A friend of hers is.”
“Earlene Brown?”
It took me a moment to make the connection. Though Earlene Brown was Gentle Dove’s legal name, Mama only called her friend by her Native American name. “Yes.”
“Thought she looked different the other day.”
“Since when are you scoping out Gentle Dove?”
“Since she’s hanging out with you.”
“Oh.” Funny. I hadn’t realized my entire life was under police scrutiny. I stole another under-the-lashes glance at Wayne. At times, he had depth that surprised me. “And while we’re not talking about the case, I still need Stinger’s contact information. If I don’t get Larissa’s dog back by Saturday, she’ll be brokenhearted.”
“I’ll have Tamika pull it for you.” He switched on the radio to a rock ’n roll station and cranked the volume up loud enough to prohibit conversation.
Fine with me.
I could finally do a silent happy dance. The doorknob jolt signaled good news. My senses had rebounded. That was the best news I could’ve received. Getting that blast of killer energy had been unpleasant, but the between-the-lines message was clear. The dreamwalker was back in business. The thought of going through the evidence didn’t worry me anymore. If I was meant to get a reading, I would receive it.
All too soon, we were back at the cop shop. A knot of cars populated the visitor lot, including Charlotte’s vehicle. Had she been waiting here all day?
“Okay if I bring the cat inside?” I asked.
“No. I draw the line at four-legged animals.”
“Then forget about the evidence review. I have to head home. There’s no shade here and it’s too hot now to leave Bee’s cat in my truck.”
Wayne swore. “Bring it with you then. I need your help more than I don’t want a cat inside. But if it takes a dump, you’re cleaning it up.”
I held the kitty close. “I’ll keep her in the room with me. She has the sweetest disposition.”
We passed through the back door, and soon I found myself in a room with boxes and boxes of evidence. Wayne glanced at all the evidence bags and then at the cat.
“Gotta do something else with the cat,” he said. “Too much in here that it could get into.”
“You could put her in your office.”
“Not happening. Take her to Tamika.”
The office manager and the cat took to one another right away. When I explained the cat was orphaned and I didn’t know its name, Tamika offered to call local vets to find out about the animal. I thanked her and headed back to my task of trying to read evidence.
I donned gloves and touched the empty soda cans and chip bags. Nothing. I tried Marv’s shoes. Not even a little jolt from my inner eye. Bee’s deck shoes jangled my senses, but I got no flashes of insight. The only thing of note was that my rose tattoo itched more with each item I tried to read. Was Rose the demon sending me a message?
After an hour of opening evidence bags, touching stuff, then sealing the bags, I gave up halfway through. I sought the sheriff in his office. “I’m not getting a reading on anything.”
“Did you try the items the killer touched?”
“I tried items from the bedroom because I don’t know what the killer touched.”
“The ropes. The rails. The bodies.”
“Can I try that stuff tomorrow? Maybe that spike of bad juju from the doorknob used up all my extrasensory perception right now. I’m willing to come back tomorrow and start fresh.”
“In that case, a fresh start sounds good.” He pushed a small piece of paper over to me. “According to our records, Connor Simmons, aka Stinger, lives with his mother in the Gibson community.”
“Thanks.” I tucked the address in a pocket. “Let me grab the cat, and I’ll get out of your hair.”
He murmured something that sounded like “good luck with that,” but I ignored him. At the front, I saw the cat had taken up a perch beside the Plexiglas window to the lobby. Tamika looked sad when I approached.
“What’d you find out?” I asked.
“Bee used Dr. Tara for Ziggy. She’s three years old.”
“Cute name.”
The cat leapt down from her perch and climbed on Tamika’s shoulders. “Cute cat.” The dispatcher was all smiles.
I could hear the cat purring from across the room. Tamika liked the cat. The cat liked her. I already had a household of pets. “Would you consider fostering Ziggy until Bee’s brother turns up?”
Her brown eyes narrowed. “Not a good idea.”
“Oh. Sorry. I thought you two were really getting along.”
“We are. I wouldn’t give Timmy Ray a boa constrictor, much less a sweetie like this kitty.”
Hmm. “Chances are he won’t want the responsibility. Meanwhile, Ziggy needs a foster home. What do you say? Would you keep this kitty until I can find her a permanent home?”
“We used to have a kitty when I was a girl. I could try it, I suppose. What do I feed it?”
“I took some of Ziggy’s food and her litter box from Bee’s house. They’re in the sheriff’s Jeep. That should get you through a few days. If it doesn’t work out, please let me know, and I’ll come get her.”
“Excellent.”
Excellent indeed. I headed out, drove down the highway toward town, and noticed a boxy sedan on the shoulder. Not just any sedan. Charlotte’s car.
Had her car broken down? Why else would she be parked on the roadside in a heat wave? I stopped, backed up, and hurried to her car door. “Need a lift?”
Charlotte shoved her glasses higher on her nose and stared straight ahead. “I need a new best friend.”