Chapter 17
T he harsh fluorescent lights of the small interrogation room buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow across the table.
Chloe sat across from Stacey, the reporter’s carefully layered facade beginning to fray at the edges.
Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest. Her jaw clenched just a little too hard.
Buddy leaned against the wall, arms folded, while Dawson sat beside Chloe, silent for now but radiating that quiet authority that made people talk.
Hayes paced in the hallway. It had been decided that Stacey would clam up faster than a speeding bullet if he were in the room.
That hadn’t gone over too well with Hayes.
He’d turned up his protective instincts, which had made Chloe turn to mush for a half a second, but she’d quickly recovered. She didn’t need any man’s protection.
But she’d admit—to herself—that she enjoyed the way Hayes wanted to keep her safe and spare her any more embarrassment or shame. But what was done was done.
“No more games, Stacey.” Chloe held the young woman’s gaze. “People have died, and another girl is missing. We need your source, and we need to know what else he’s fed you.”
“I know my rights. I don’t have to tell you anything.” She raised her finger. “Unless there was a moral or ethical or compelling reason to, or you’ve got a court order. Right now, I don’t see any of those.” She unfolded her arms and leaned back.
Dawson tapped a folder. “I’ll wake up the judge, and he’ll give me the warrant based on what I have.
But I don’t want to go that route. He just had a kid, and that will piss him off, much like how all this has cut my honeymoon short.
Hell, I barely got a wedding night. So, start talking, otherwise, I’m charging you with obstruction of justice. ”
“That’s bullshit,” Stacey muttered.
“You’ve been played,” Chloe said evenly, tapping a pen against her notepad. She glanced at Buddy, who nodded. Time to go for the jugular. “This wasn’t just a tip, Stacey. You’ve been used—by the killer.”
Stacey scoffed, but the sound rang hollow. “What are you talking about?”
“We know your source,” Chloe said evenly. “It’s the killer.”
Stacey’s chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. “That’s absurd.” Her voice wavered. “I don’t even know who my source is—it’s always been anonymous.”
“Right,” Buddy said, arms crossed. “And yet somehow this ‘anonymous’ source knew Chloe was related to one of the victims. Not just related—her twin. That wasn’t public knowledge. Hell, only a handful of people inside the Bureau knew that.”
“I got a tip,” Stacey snapped. “Then I did some digging. It wasn’t hard to figure out. Just because they had different last names?—”
“No one,” Chloe cut in. “No one except a small, vetted team knew about the missing fingers or that we’d linked multiple cases. That information didn’t come from a public tip. It came from someone who knew the truth.”
“And let’s not forget,” Buddy added, “Chloe wasn’t officially assigned to this case. That detail was never published. Neither was the timing nor the location of our last suspect pickup. You’re really telling us a random tipster just happened to know all that?”
Stacey’s eyes darted between them. “I thought it was someone in your department. A whistleblower. Someone who wanted to expose the truth. They implied that. Implied that someone wasn’t doing their job.
Implied that Chloe…and you…were trying to make a name for yourselves, and you weren’t doing things by the book.
Stories come about like that all the time. ”
Chloe leaned forward, her voice quieter but sharper.
“That’s what they wanted you to think. You didn’t get played because you’re a bad journalist, Stacey.
You got played because you’re the kind who’ll chase a story straight into hell if the headline’s big enough.
They knew exactly what bait to use.” Chloe raised two fingers.
“You get what looks like a great lead on a murderer, and a potential botched case by two decorated FBI agents. It’s sensational, and the killer is writing the narrative.
Controlling every detail, and using you to do it. ”
Silence.
“You really think the killer fed me everything?” Stacey whispered.
“We do,” Dawson said flatly. “So now, you’re going to tell us everything you know—because if you don’t, you won’t be walking out of here tonight.”
Stacey’s mouth trembled. “I don’t have a name.
It’s been burner phones and encrypted emails.
I don’t even know if I’m talking to a man or a woman.
The voice is distorted. Whoever it is, they fed me leads, all a little too detailed, too perfect.
That’s why I thought it had to be someone inside.
Another agent. Someone close to the investigation. ”
“I get there’s more,” Buddy said.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I was supposed to give you something—but not until tomorrow. They was specific about that. It had to be tomorrow.”
Chloe’s spine went rigid. “What kind of something?”
“A location. They told me there’s a shack in the Everglades—some kind of stash site. Said you’d find proof there. But they were going to check it out first…” She grimaced. “Yeah, I can see how this doesn’t seem right now.”
Buddy straightened. “Did they give you a name?”
“No. Just a nickname. They called him…‘the wrangler.’ Said you’d know who it was.”
“As if you don’t know that’s Trent Mallor,” Dawson said.
Chloe’s stomach turned. “Everyone in these parts knows that. Even I know that.”
“Don’t you think that one was a little too easy,” Dawson said.
“Not to mention, first, your source sends us to Cole. When that didn’t work, they sent you new intel, leading you to Trent.
If you had fact-checked any of that story, you would’ve known Trent was in this station when one of the murders occurred. A man can’t be in two places at once.”
With a shaky hand, Stacey reached into her purse and slid a folded piece of paper across the table. “The tipster told me to call Chloe in the morning. Tell her what I’d learned about Trent and his shack. Then go public.”
“Well,” Buddy said, scooping up the paper. “You’re not going public. Not now. That would be reckless.”
He reached for the door, but Dawson stopped him with a raised hand.
“Not yet,” Dawson said. “We might be able to use her.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Stacey muttered.
“We’re not asking you to like it,” Chloe said, collecting her things. “We’re asking you to do exactly what you’re told.”
Dawson turned to her. “We’ll feed her a new version of the story. Something to throw the killer off, maybe even draw him out—after we see what’s in this shack.”
“I like that,” Buddy said. “But it could be a trap.”
“My source knows you let Trent go.” Stacey slumped back in her chair.
“How do they know that?” Dawson glared.
“I emailed them right when I got here. I saw Trent leaving.” She shook her head.
“Because I honestly believed I was speaking to either another Fed, or maybe someone in State, or even another agency, I thought I was doing the right thing. They told me Chloe wasn’t leading the case, and that her presence compromised the investigation.
How would they know that if they weren’t a cop? ”
Chloe exchanged glances with Dawson. That was a legitimate question.
But it wasn’t an impossible answer to find.
If someone had called her office and asked for the person heading Violent Crimes, Murders, they wouldn’t get her.
They’d get Buddy. And if Chloe had learned anything in these last couple of weeks, it was that the Ring Finger killer was not only smart, he was always five steps ahead.
“I need all your email correspondence with your source, and I need that damn burner phone,” Dawson barked. “And don’t give me lip about needing a court order, because all it will take is a phone call, and the judge will grant it so fast it’ll make your head spin.”
“Fine.” Stacey raised her hands. “But I want an interview?—”
“Do not finish that statement.” Dawson closed his eyes for a few seconds, letting out a long breath. “There’s a room open at the Bed and Breakfast,” he added. “You’ll stay there under watch.”
“I’m not staying there,” Stacey said.
“There’s a killer on the loose, and you’re about to turn on him,” Buddy said. “Your life is in danger. Besides, we need to go over everything you have.”
Dawson opened the door, waving to one of his deputies.
“Bring her to my office. Take her cell and any other devices she might have. Start printing emails from her source. Go through the burner phone. Check the number, see if you can triangulate the calls.” After Stacey was led out, he shut the door and leaned against the wall.
Chloe turned to Buddy, a tight coil of dread in her chest. “If this is a trap, it’s a damn good one. Especially if she followed his instructions to the letter. But I don’t know what it’s a trap for. To set up Trent? Or lure us out there?”
“We need eyes on Dewey,” Buddy said.
“I can put Fletcher and Keaton on that. I need one of my deputies here, since I’ve got one drunk idiot in lockup.
Remy’s out on patrol, so I can’t send him, not unless something happens, and my other one, well, I can call him in.
” Dawson rubbed the back of his neck. “Either Buddy, or I, or both need to deal with Stacey, and keep those now staying at the B&B safe. Who knows what this killer will do next, but my other deputy can take over after I’ve seen what Stacey has. ”
“I want to see that, too,” Buddy said. “Maybe we can have her do a broadcast early in the morning, turning the tables on this asshole, if we haven’t caught him by then, because honestly, Dewey Hale possibly being Chloe’s biological father, doesn’t make him a killer.
It only gives us a reason to be concerned.
Maybe bring him in for questioning. We need more. We need fucking evidence.”