Chapter 3
3
CHANDLER
F ingers wrapped around the smooth edge of the chipped porcelain sink, I leaned forward toward the small mirror. A hollow man stared back at me, his eyes vacant and sad. Exactly what that bartender said earlier. Dark circles made my blue eyes more purple than clear. Inflamed red veins streaking through the whites didn’t help my strung-out look.
That was exactly how I felt. Strung out. But not on any drug or massive amounts of alcohol. No, I was strung out on life, my job eating at me case by case. The assignment before this was the worst to date. Anything dealing with kids was terrible, but finding them the way we did…. My reflection shook its head in disappointment. I didn’t find the bastard soon enough. Didn’t save those kids from the horrors they would live with for the rest of their lives.
That was what I had to live with too. The memory of their haunted eyes, blank expressions. Hell, maybe that was why my own gaze was so distant, haunted… sad.
Devastated was a better word.
Destroyed that I was never quick enough, always one step behind these bastards who I profile and help apprehend. Inadequate was how I felt most days. Lost, even.
Lost until those bright blue eyes met mine across the bar. Those eyes saw me, the tortured side I kept locked away. It was fucking unnerving.
I’d been told that was how some people felt under my watchful eye, but I’d never felt the same. Not even my own teammates had that effect. To feel stripped bare, everything I wanted hidden being exposed, left me vulnerable. Whoever this Ellie woman was, she was something special.
Someone special to someone else.
“Fuck,” I grumbled and shoved off the sink. “Get it the fuck together, Peters.” I attempted to make my inner voice as gruff and commanding as my friend Mathews’ for emphasis but fell short.
The hard exterior I had formed to perform in my job, to profile and track down the vilest of criminals across the country, fractured when we almost lost Mathews’ girl, Alta. It had been downhill ever since. That was a year ago. Fourteen cases later. Fourteen cases, twenty-five dead men and women, seventeen saved.
But did any of it matter? It was never enough. There was always someone else ready to come up with some new demented way to hurt another.
I scrubbed at my face. I couldn’t let myself go there again.
The soles of my feet stuck to the thin motel room carpet as I stalked toward the double bed that had a bedspread that looked older than me. The sudden urge to dig out my black light hit me, but I pushed it away. If I saw exactly what was on the bed, I’d never get any sleep.
And I needed sleep.
The stiff material bunched in my grip as I stripped the bed to put on the fresh set I always brought with me. Careful to keep the contact minimal, I tossed the lump of bedding in the corner.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I stared at the bare mattress.
Maybe it was just my eyes playing tricks on me from exhaustion and there really wasn’t a dark stain in the middle of it.
After blinking several times, the stain was still there. It was disturbing that annoyance filtered through me instead of surprise. Shit happened in motel rooms—I would know—especially shady, cheap-ass motels like the one which was destined to be my home until we caught the unsub. Destined because it was the only motel within a forty-mile radius from the police station.
Staying local helped submerge me in the case, allowing me to be available at any time for updates or when the next body was found.
Which it would. These killers didn’t stop on their own.
A grimace wrinkled my features as I glanced back at the mattress.
Sleep, yes. There, no.
Twisting, I tugged the small plastic chair from under the table and settled into the seat. The table wobbled on uneven legs under the weight of my elbow as I propped my head up and stared out the sheer yellowed curtains to the glowing Vacancy sign just outside the window.
The nights were the worst during solo assignments, which were becoming more frequent. At night there wasn’t anyone to commiserate with on the shitty lodging, no one to theorize on why the unsub did what he did. No one to laugh with or share the burden of the job.
A pang of loneliness ached in my chest. Heel of my hand to my pec, I pressed hard to ease the almost hollow sensation. Tonight was like a wake-up call. She showed me what I was missing with just a glance.
Acceptance. Understanding. Seen.
For the first time, a person’s brokenness didn’t invoke pity.
No, hers called to me.
The neon sign blurred, my lids heavy with sleep.
Not that any of that mattered with Ellie. She had someone else, and I would leave the moment this job was done.
We would never happen.
The last thought that slid through as I fell into a light sleep was of her knowing gaze and the spark of hope it spurred in my desolate soul.
The delicious smell of bacon and fresh coffee swirled on a gust of bitter wind, making my mouth water before I’d even approached the door. Loose gray gravel crunched under my boots as I wove through the twenty or so trucks parked in the lot beside the diner. Seemed most of the town was here.
The outside wasn’t much to look at with its peeling blue paint, dirty windows, and rotting wooden steps that led to an unsteady landing. But none of that mattered if the food was good.
Obeying Alec’s strange request, I ditched the suit this morning after a terrible night’s sleep and wore jeans, boots, and a long-sleeve Henley beneath my heavy North Face jacket. I didn’t fit in, except for the gun strapped to my hip, but at least I didn’t stand out as an FBI agent.
The thin glass door rattled beneath my grip as I tugged it open and stepped out of the cruel wind. DC was cold this time of year, but nothing prepared you for the whipping Texas wind. It was constant, biting through your clothes, chilling you to the bone in the winter and being a prick tease in the summer, blowing scorching air across your skin that somehow made you hotter.
I shook out of my jacket, dispelling the cold that had somehow found its way inside, as I scanned the cramped diner. Ten booths, all with faded and cracked red plastic benches, sat along the two walls of the dining room. In the center, eight tables were crowded together so tightly it was a wonder a waitress could slip through the chairs to deliver food.
A raised hand from the far back booth snagged my attention. All eyes were on me as I made my way to where Alec sat, his steaming mug of coffee cupped between his hands. I was used to the stares, mostly out of curiosity, but these felt almost hostile. No doubt everyone wondered who I was, why I was there, and when I was leaving.
I could answer that last part for them now—not anytime soon.
Alec slid from the booth bench and stood to greet me. I clasped his outstretched hand and gave it a hard squeeze, which he returned.
A little taller than me with broad shoulders and commanding presence even without his uniform, the man screamed authority. Much like my friend Mathews. I was the taller, leaner, thinker type. I could hold my own in any fight and was a hell of a shot just like any good Marine, but where I lacked the bulk like some of the other guys, I made up for it in analyzing situations in the blink of an eye and reading people to their core. Hence why I was a profiler for the Behavioral Science Unit division of the FBI.
I’d killed before, would kill again if needed, but helping prevent some sick bastard from collecting more victims was where I excelled.
“Peters,” Alec said with a somber grin. It didn’t pass my notice that he didn’t add the “agent” title. “You look worse for wear.” He waved a hand to the opposite side of the booth. “Thanks for coming so fast.”
I slid into the booth and shifted to get comfortable. “A message carved into a stomach will do that.”
He nodded as he lifted the brown ceramic mug to his lips for a quick sip. “Sick son of a bitch. He’s stepped up his fucked-up-ness with that one. Which, I have to admit, surprised the hell out of me.”
“Not much surprises me anymore,” I said, searching the diner for a server. An older lady in an old-school diner uniform caught my eye across the room. I waved her down and pointed toward Alec’s steaming mug of coffee. “Other than that, how’ve you been, man? We really need to stop meeting under these circumstances,” I joked.
“Hell yeah, we do. But I have a feeling after we nab this SOB, another will pop up in his place, bringing you right back to my great state sooner than later.” He paused as the waitress approached with an empty mug in one hand and a steaming glass pot in the other. She observed me with suspicion as she filled the mug to the brim.
“Who are you?” she asked while topping off Alec’s coffee. “Tourist?”
I held back a laugh. Tourist? Here? What in the hell was there to see in this town besides the largest collection of old beat-up Ford trucks?
“He’s with me, Sally. An old friend just stopping in for a while. We’ll take two of the specials, please.” He glanced around, lips pursed like he was searching for someone. “You here alone today?”
Her stiff hair didn’t move with the shake of her head. “Ellie’s in the back helping Cook with the rush.”
My ears perked up. Was the beautiful blue-eyed bartender from last night here?
“Great, thanks.” At the obvious dismissal—well, obvious to me—Sally turned to watch me again. Alec patted her arm. “If you don’t mind, we have a lot to catch up on. I haven’t seen him in a while, and, well, he’s having boyfriend troubles.”
Horror washed over her features, eyes wide. I smiled through the flash of annoyance. With a mumbled “I’ll pray for your soul,” she scurried away.
“Seriously?” I huffed. “What the hell was that all about?” The first sip of the scalding liquid burned the tip of my tongue, but I still forced it down, letting the bitter taste wake me up from the inside out.
Alec stretched his arms out long along the booth’s back. “Easiest way to get the biggest gossip in town out of earshot. No way would Sally want to overhear anything that could earmark her for hell in the afterlife.”
I shook my head. Smart but annoying. Not that it mattered what she or this town thought of me. Catching the unsub and getting home as fast as possible was most important.
“Catch me up to speed on the case.” I took another sip. “You mentioned you’ve been involved for seven months, now staying here….” I waved a hand between us as a signal for him to fill in the gaps.
Sighing, he rubbed a palm along his scruff-lined jaw. “The case was a shit show when I stepped in. The police chief here is… well, there’s no nice way to say it. He’s an ignorant, incompetent bastard of a man. The only reason he’s the chief is because he grew up here and everyone loved his father, who was the police chief before he passed.” Shaking his head, Alec looked toward the kitchen, then back to me, his eyes resigned. “Everything in a town like this is closely wrapped together. Nothing is separate. You’ll find that out as we dig into the lives of everyone here.”
I nodded. “Where are you staying while you’re here? I’m at the motel.” A part of me hoped he was staying closer to Waco. Maybe somewhere that didn’t house an old murder scene.
“Really? The one here in town?” He barked a laugh but quickly reeled it in when he caught my annoyed glare. “Sorry. No, I’m not staying there. I rented a place about ten miles east of here. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s furnished and has hot water. You should come stay with me.”
“No blood on the mattress?”
He grimaced. “Haven’t checked. It was an old widower’s who recently moved to Waco to be closer to his granddaughter. I offered to rent it from him seeing as no one is moving here with a serial killer on the loose.”
“Not any young, high-risk female, that’s for sure.”
“High-risk? Why do you assume that?”
I relaxed back, shifting when a spring from the cushion pushed into my lower spine. “None of the women have been reported missing. Their DNA isn’t in the database from a loved one submitting it hoping one day their lost mother, daughter, friend would be found. These women probably had high-risk occupations or hobbies. Drugs, hitchhikers, prostitutes, that kind of thing.”
A sharp gasp had me whipping around. I fought an eye roll and plastered a bland smile across my face to placate the shocked Sally, who’d be clutching her pearls if she was wearing any.
“There’s no one like that in this town. None of our men here pay for that kind of thing. They’re good Christian men and women. Chief Swann wouldn’t allow anyone like that to stick around.” After filling my mug, she turned and whispered another slew of scriptures about damned souls and homosexuality.
Great. I groaned and turned back to Alec, who was grinning ear to ear.
“I think she likes you.” I laughed and took a sip of my refreshed coffee. “I disagree with her on Chief Swann,” he said, practically spitting the name. “He’s a tool. But the locals, she was right about that. Anyone with the background you mentioned would’ve been noticed, and so far, no one has seen these women’s faces around town before they turned up dead. They would’ve been noticed before they were abducted, which solidifies my theory on The Church being key to this case.”
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves.” I sighed and rubbed at my brows. “Let’s get our food, go to the police station, then start tossing out ideas on where the victims came from.” Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply through my nose. “But you might as well go ahead and tell me what you know about The Church.”
“Knew you were here for them.”
The vinyl squeaked under my weight as I twisted in the booth, coming eye to eye with the woman from last night. Sitting like this, I was eye level with those suspicious blue eyes. Hell, she wasn’t much over five feet tall. Today she’d ditched the all-black outfit and now sported the same old-school diner waitress uniform as Sally, but hers fit a little different than the older woman’s. Ellie’s hugged her in all the right places and was a little too short to be considered modest. The Doc Martens didn’t really go with the uniform, but somehow she made it work.
Her disappointed gaze shifted from me to Alec, who appeared confused by the whole interaction.
“Two specials. Enjoy.” The cream-and-brown plates rattled against the table as she practically threw them down. Before Alec or I could get a word out, she was gone, shoving through the kitchen door like it had personally offended her.
“What was that all about?” Alec asked. “She’s normally beyond nice.”
I grimaced. “Ah, well, it might have something to do with last night.”
“Explain.”
“When I arrived, I needed a drink, so I stopped into the local bar. She and I talked, and for some reason, she assumed I was religious and here for The Church. Based on her reaction last night and just now, she’s not a fan of them?”
“Nope.” He tipped his face to the ceiling with a groan of frustration. “Damnit, Peters. You just pissed off the person I wanted you to meet this morning. Ellie is the only living example of what I’m talking about, why I suspect The Church is involved in all this.” I narrowed my brows and shook my head. “You see, Ellie there, the tiny, beautiful woman who just delivered our breakfast and cut you a go-to-hell look? She doesn’t exist.”
“Huh?” That was all that came to my mind to say. “Of course she exists.” And she looked good doing it, but I didn’t add that to the conversation.
“Not on paper or anywhere that ‘matters’ to the government. She’s why I believe The Church is involved, and as much as I don’t want it to, it means she’s involved in some way too.”
“Because she’s part of the cult.” Fuck, please say no.
“No.” Thank fuck. “But she was.” Damn. Not great. “Which is why I wanted you to talk to her. For you to understand where these victims could be coming from.” Alec grabbed his fork with more force than necessary and dug into his eggs. “Eat up. Then we’ll try to talk to her before going to the police station. But we need to ease into it. I’m not sure how she’ll take to you being FBI on top of already not liking you.”
He smirked at that last bit. Asshole.
I shoveled the food into my mouth, barely tasting the eggs and pancakes. The faster I ate, the faster I’d get to explain to the spunky woman that I wasn’t here for The Church and hopefully change her opinion of me. Why I cared so much, hell if I knew. But the idea of her thinking the worst of me made my stomach sour.
Hopefully she wouldn’t distrust me once she found out I’m an FBI agent.
Or hold it against me that I had a sudden, absurd crush on her after a thirty-minute encounter from the night before. Because that wasn’t creepy at all.
Only one way to find out.