Chapter 41
We were both overly tired, likely cranky, and didn’t say more than a few words on the drive back. Finally in St. Francis, Renz pulled up to the guard gate at our headquarters. With a nod of recognition, George pressed the button, opened the gate, and allowed us through.
Once we reached our respective vehicles, we said goodbye and climbed into our cars, but before I drove off, Renz called out for me to be careful.
I had a far longer drive home than he did.
I appreciated his concern, gave him a wave, then drove off.
In an hour, I would be in bed, sleeping away my Saturday.
It sounded wonderful, but reality told me it wouldn’t go quite that smoothly.
I wasn’t normally one to sleep during the day, even as tired as I was.
Then there was the fact that Kate and Amber would be home.
I was a light sleeper, and every sound would keep me from dozing off.
Finally, there was Taft. Monday morning, she would pull us from the case.
I wondered if I should tell Bill Gavin ahead of time or wait and see what happened.
Renz would tell me to wait since the PD was working the case, too, even though none of us had worthwhile leads.
As I drove, I thought about James Smith.
Maybe we’d gotten it all wrong. Maybe he did kill Torrie, and maybe his boat was moored at the marina last night.
Maybe he had an accomplice who drove their boat to the dock and let James out, then James wore his green backpack and climbed aboard his own boat.
As with the others, he took the boat out into the deep water and dumped Torrie overboard.
If he did have an accomplice, that would explain how he got to his boat without going through the dock gate.
A million ideas swam around in my head, but I had nothing to base my thoughts on. It was all speculation, and we couldn’t arrest, charge, and convict anyone on that.
I was certain Taft would swat away my ideas. After all, we had nothing to go on and other cases to solve. That would be that, and James Smith would disappear forever.
My question was why? We’d never found out the why unless it actually was that simple—serial killers didn’t need a why.
They killed for the power, the control, the rush.
Killing was their drug of choice, and they needed to keep feeding that urge.
I could only hope that if that was the case, James Smith would slip up sooner or later and be caught.
I finally arrived home at ten thirty and walked in the house to see two sets of bulging eyeballs glaring at me.
Amber leapt off the couch and planted her hand firmly on her hip. “Where the hell have you been?”
I groaned. “On a stakeout, Mom.”
She snickered. “Not funny, Jade. You could have called.”
“I texted you last night that I wouldn’t be home.”
“No, you sure as hell didn’t.”
I pulled the phone from my purse, found the text, and stared at it. “Oh.”
“Oh, what?”
“Oh, I forgot to send it. Sorry. Now I’m going to bed.”
“But—”
I held up my hand, walked down the hallway, and closed the bedroom door behind me.
With any luck, Amber and Kate would leave the house since I was safely home.
It was a beautiful day outside, and there were tons of activities they could do.
I just prayed that Amber wouldn’t start the rider and mow the lawn.
I plumped my pillow and snuggled under the lightweight summer blanket. Before I knew it, a knock sounded at my door.
“Sis, I made supper. Do you want to get up? It’s six o’clock.”
I groaned. “What? Six o’clock? I’ve been sleeping for five hours?”
“Yep. Do you want to eat with us? I made a homemade chicken pot pie.”
The sound of that perked me up. After a half dozen cups of gray coffee, a few candy bars, and smashed potato chips, I was ready for a healthy and delicious meal.
“Yeah, I’m up. I’ll be out in five.”
“Okay. Kate is setting the table.”
I rubbed my eyes to wake up but decided that splashing cold water on my face seemed like a better idea. After I did that, I slipped on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt then walked down the hall to the kitchen.
The pot pie sat beautifully in the center of the table with crusty bread stacked on a plate and butter off to the side. My stomach growled. A pitcher of iced tea and glasses were on the table too.
“That looks delicious.”
Amber chuckled. “Then sit down so we can dig in.”
“I want to apologize first. When I came home, I was snotty to both of you, and I’m sorry. You were concerned about my welfare, and I screwed up by thinking I sent the text when I actually didn’t.”
“No worries. You can tell us all about the stakeout over supper.”
“You won’t believe the night Renz and I had, and then when this morning came, it got even worse.”