Chapter 24
Savvy
“And what is this for?”
Lloyd McCormick, who’s been with the sheriff’s department since long before I came on board, is annoyed when I ask him to take his boots off. Chris, the crime tech Tessa showed up with earlier, prefers to take prints that way.
“It’s just for elimination. There were boot prints found in both these recent cases and we want to know which ones belong to law enforcement so we don’t waste time on those.
We’re collecting prints, even from those who weren’t at either of the sites.
They’ll be handy to have on record for everyone, like we do with fingerprints.
Makes life a lot easier for forensics,” I spin him the spiel I’ve used on everyone else.
So far the story seems to do the trick, although Lloyd still looks a bit put out.
After his boots are printed and handed back to him, he walks out on his socks, boots in hand, mumbling something about needing a shoehorn.
“Is that all of them?” Tessa inquires.
Thanks to Hugo, we have the prints of most of my deputies.
He made sure the parade was covered by rotating through all the guys he had on his schedule—including the volunteer deputies—sending them back to the office to get printed.
I got a hold of one of the guys who is off this weekend, and he showed up twenty minutes ago to get his done, which in itself makes me think he can be scratched off the list.
“Almost,” I inform her. “I haven’t been able to get a hold of KC Kingma yet, but he may be out of reach.
He likes his outdoor activities, so he could be out of cell phone range.
I could swing by his place to see if he’s home, otherwise, we’ll be able to find him tomorrow morning at the New Horizons Church. He’s a youth group leader there.”
“Sounds like a wholesome guy,” she observes, but she says it with a detectable edge. “Tell me about him. Young? Older? Married? Single? Straight? Gay?”
It’s clear what directions her thoughts are going in, but I’m having a hard time seeing KC in that light. He’s like a little brother to me.
And yet…
“Young. Our youngest deputy. Single, and I’m pretty sure he’s straight. He’s a good kid. Like I said, he runs the youth group at the church, I mean…”
“Surely you recognize religion isn’t necessarily a deterrent for depraved behavior,” she challenges. “Not when we have men of the cloth who turn out to be pedophiles and predators.”
I get her point, but I still find it difficult to consider KC as a violent killer. Although, he was with me that last encounter with Ben Rogers.
“Look,” she mitigates, recognizing the doubt on my face. “He’s probably a really nice kid and exactly the Dudley-Do-Right he appears to be, but so was Ted Bundy. Remember that evil can hide right under your nose.”
I scoff. “Boy, aren’t you a barrel of laughs today.”
She bends her head and presses her thumb and index finger against her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m tired and eager to get this case off my desk. It’s been so slow going, and now we finally have something to put our teeth into.”
“I hear you, but let’s not do that at the expense of my deputy,” I propose. “At least not without some evidence.”
“Fair enough. Do you have a space where I can set Chris up to upload what he has so far? And, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a look at the schedules and dispatch logs for the last few weeks, leading up to each of the murders, at some point.
But first I think you and I should pay Mr. Kingma a visit, see if we can convince him to come in so we can get a print off his work boots. ”
I grab my ball cap, my keys, and my cell phone, leave the crime tech in Brenda’s capable hands, and lead Tessa to my cruiser. I’m hoping like hell I’m not wrong about my young deputy, because judging from the determination on the agent’s face, she likes him for this.
“What motive?” I ask her when I get behind the wheel. “I can tell KC raised some flags for you, so let’s play this out. What could possibly have caused him to turn like that?”
She shrugs. “In my experience, it doesn’t have to be much.
Both sociopaths and psychopaths are sometimes able to fly under the radar for the longest time because they can be charming, and use it to manipulate.
Yet, something as simple as a careless remark, or a perceived offense can suddenly set them off.
Psychopaths tend to be a bit more detached and impulsive, but either can quickly turn to violence.
For sociopaths there is usually a reason they resort to extreme violence.
Psychopaths, however, might find satisfaction in the act of violence itself, and are therefore more likely to repeat behavior to elicit the same sense of gratification without any provocation. ”
She sounds like my psychology professor. One of my elective college courses was called The Mind of a Serial Killer. It was one of the most popular courses at the time, because of the TV show Criminal Minds. Everybody wanted to become a profiler.
She catches me looking over and immediately winces.
“I’m sorry, I was lecturing, wasn’t I? My kids always accuse me of doing that.” She shakes her head and returns her focus out the windshield. “I’ve always been fascinated by the human mind, and I have a tendency to talk too much when I’m into something.”
I flash a grin at her.
“No worries. Profiling always fascinated me too, but I have to admit, I don’t think I’d be cut out to chase killers day in, and day out. It invades every aspect of your life.”
She chuckles.
“Tell me about it.”
I pull up to KC’s apartment building behind the grocery store plaza, scanning the parking lot for his black Chevy Blazer, but I don’t see it.
“I don’t see his car, but I’m just going to knock on his door to make sure,” I announce as I turn into an empty parking space.
Tessa gets out of the cruiser with me and falls into step as I walk up to KC’s main floor apartment door. I ring the bell and knock a few times, but there’s no answer.
It’s Saturday, you’d expect a young guy to be out and about, enjoying his day off.
So why does the silence on the other side of the door feel foreboding?
Nate
My body is stiff from sitting hunched in front of the computer screen for most of the day.
At least the three-dimensional renditions of Savvy’s house are finished, both present and future versions.
I haven’t used the software in a while, so it took some time to relearn how to work certain things, but I was able to come up with two possibilities to maximize her living space and improve the flow of the house.
I’ve even priced them both, one option more expensive than the other.
Both would give her an open concept living space with a very similar kitchen layout.
In the more expensive version, I’ve included a large window wall at the back of the house to continue to flow onto the new back deck.
The most substantial difference is the addition of a vaulted ceiling, exposing the beams and trusses, creating the illusion of more space with the same footprint.
In both versions the bathrooms get a facelift, but the finishes are more elaborate and expensive in the second one.
And finally, I didn’t change the exterior much in the first one, just a nice door, a lick of paint, and a bit of landscaping.
But on option two I’ve added an enlarged, modern beam portico over the front door that leaves space for a bench or a small seating area and adds a ton of architectural interest to the property.
I’m actually pretty pleased with the way both options turned out. These plans don’t really change the footprint of the house, leaving it possible to add a larger main suite at some point in time, if that’s something she’s interested in doing.
A quick glance at my phone screen tells me it’s after five already, and I haven’t even changed out of the sweats I put on this morning. I should have a bit of time to hop in the shower and let the hot water work on the knots I put in my neck and shoulders before Tate gets back.
Twenty minutes later I head downstairs, properly dressed and feeling a lot better after a nice, pulsing water massage. Tate’s not here yet, so I check my phone to see if there are any messages, but there’s nothing new. Nothing from Savvy either, so I send her a quick message.
Just checking in. I’m taking Tate to the fest for a deep-fried dinner. ;)
Feel free to join us if you have time.
I don’t have to wait long for a response.
Sounds wholesome. I’m just heading back to the office to finish up something, but I can try to meet you guys a little later. Where are you going to be?
From what I remember, they usually have some kind of entertainment. If they’re any good, maybe we can listen for a while.
We’ll be hanging out around the bandstand.
She sends me a thumbs-up emoticon in response, and I tuck my phone in my pocket.
My laptop is still sitting open on the dining room table and I take one last look at my designs, making sure I have them saved before I shut down the computer and tuck it out of sight in the drawer of the TV stand.
I’m excited to show Savannah, but when she has time to sit down with me so I can explain what I envision.
Shit, ten to six and still no Tate. She’s cutting it close to the deadline I gave her this morning. I shoot her a text.
Ten-minute warning, kiddo. You’d better be on your way home.
To kill time, I turn the TV on and find my favorite news channel to get the latest updates on the state of the world.
As per usual, it’s pretty depressing, but I get caught up in a lively discussion around climate change.
It’s a subject that interests me. In my recent years building in the Nevada heat, I started introducing more and more alternative energy sources and maximizing the use of environmentally friendly materials where possible.
Hell, I even looked at an electric vehicle but, aside from the ridiculous price tag and the limited availability in heavy duty pickups, there simply isn’t enough infrastructure yet to support those vehicles.
I’ve only seen a few charging stations here in Silence, and once you get out of town… good luck finding any.
At the next commercial break, I try calling my daughter’s cell, but I’m bumped straight to her voicemail. I send another message.
You’re officially ten minutes late. Call me, now.
At six thirty I’m too restless to watch any more TV, so I turn it off. Then I dial the Battaglias. Maggie answers right away.
“Hey, Maggie. Is my daughter there by chance?”
“No. She was hanging out with Naomi this morning, and they were supposed to have a dance practice this afternoon. Naomi wasn’t feeling well, so she was dropped off at home, but as far as I know, the other kids were heading to the church hall. Was she supposed to be home?”
“Yeah. Six at the latest. I think I’m gonna head out and have a look at the church, see if maybe they’re running late.”
“Yeah, that’s always possible. Let me quickly check with Naomi to see if she’s been in touch with her this afternoon at all.”
A couple of minutes later she’s back. “No, she hasn’t. She just tried calling her but it goes straight to voicemail.”
“For me too. Okay, I’m heading out. Let me know if she happens to show up there or gets in touch with Naomi.”
“Will do. Let us know when you find her.”
I’m already halfway out the door to my truck when I hang up. The moment my phone links to the audio in my truck, I dial Carson’s father.
“Hey, coincidence. I was just about to call you,” he opens with.
That doesn’t feel particularly encouraging.
“Don’t tell me you’re looking for Carson?”
“I am, actually.”
“Fuck.” The profanity slips out before I can stop it. “I can’t get a hold of Tate; she was supposed to be home by six.”
Outside the truck, dusk is setting in and I don’t like it.
“Shit. Same for Carson. Where are you?”
“On my way to the church to see if—”
“Don’t bother,” he interrupts me. “I just came from there; the place is dark and locked up. I got hold of one of Carson’s buddies in the group and he said practice ended around four.”
Fucking four o’clock? Where the hell have they been for the past three hours?
Only one place comes to mind, and I pull an illegal U-turn in front of the diner.
“I’m heading to the park to look, where are you?”
“A step ahead of you. I’m already there.”