Chapter 5
“Stay,” Grant ordered Avery.
“I’m not a dog,” she murmured.
“You know what I mean,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Stay low, stay quiet and most of all...” he met and held her gaze, “stay safe.”
She opened her mouth as if to protest and closed it again. “Okay. Now, go. I want to know what the bitch is saying while pretending to be me.”
“On it. And we’re getting you a phone as soon as I can break free. I don’t like that you have no way of contacting me if we should be separated.”
“I’m in full agreement. Since everything I brought with me went with the car, I have nothing.”
“We’ll work on that, too,” he said and pushed his door open. “I’ll be back as soon as I reasonably can. Lock the door behind me.”
“Just go,” she urged him and slid down in her seat.
Grant got out and closed his door. He waited until he heard the sound of the door locks engaging, then strode toward the trio of Agent Bradley, Sheriff Taylor and the imposter. Glancing briefly back at the rental car, his lips twitched.
Avery was still slumped low in her seat with only her nose and the top of her head rising above the dash. He hoped she kept her word and stayed where she was. The woman had a mind of her own and a habit of rushing headlong into danger.
At least, that’s how Grant saw it.
Her time undercover had proven she had patience and cunning; otherwise, she wouldn’t be alive today.
“Ah, there you are, Mr. Hayes,” Melissa Bradley said.
Grant nodded to the FBI Agent and the sheriff before turning to Avery’s doppelganger. “Agent Hart,” he said with a casual lift of his chin, while studying her face for any sign of guilt or fear of discovery.
The woman had a hell of a poker face and dipped her head slightly, acknowledging him like she knew him. She was good at the charade. He had to give her that.
“I got here as soon as I could,” he said. “Please, bring me up to speed on what we have here.”
“We haven’t identified the victim yet,” Sheriff Taylor said. “I don’t recognize her as being from around here.”
“I have our people in the San Antonio Field Office searching the National Missing and Unidentified Persons System for recent missing women who meet the victim’s characteristics. Given that victim number two was from San Antonio, they’ll start searching in a four-hundred-mile radius.”
They walked with him to where the latest victim lay in a bed of rose petals, her long dark hair spread out around her shoulders.
“Based on her level of rigor mortis,” the imposter stopped at the foot of the shallow grave, “she’s probably been dead ten to twelve hours, placing her time of death between one and three o’clock in the morning. That gave our killer the cover of night to position the victim.”
Grant stared down at the dead woman’s pale face. Tiny pinpoints of red and purple splotches marred her skin like the woman he’d seen in the M.E.’s office, indicating asphyxiation.
Then it struck him, and his heart constricted. She looked a lot like Avery with her black hair carefully draped around her shoulders. “Have all the victims had long dark hair?”
“So far, yes,” the Avery imposter said.
Grant tensed at her voice that sounded so much like Avery’s. He could understand how Agent Bradley would have assumed she was her FBI colleague.
Why would this woman impersonate a federal agent? What did she hope to gain from it?
Grant grit his teeth, fighting the urge to grab the woman and shake the truth out of her, to call her bluff and expose her for the fraud she was. But if there was even a slight chance she was working with the killer, she could lead them to him and possibly save the next victim.
He focused on the victim, studying how she lay, her presentation so similar to the woman in the M.E.’s examination room. The signs of asphyxiation were evident on her face. Her shirt lay open enough to display the letters carved into her skin, the dried blood dark, almost black.
WTD.
“Any guesses on what message he’s trying to get across?” the sheriff asked.
“What to do?” Agent Bradley offered.
“We the dead?” the imposter said.
“When they die?” the sheriff said.
“Yeah,” Grant said. “It could be anything. Have you called around to different florists to see if anyone has purchased a significant amount of rose petals or roses lately?”
The imposter nodded. “I checked in town and in the surrounding towns and didn’t find anything unusual.”
“What about rose gardens in the area?” Grant asked.
Melissa nodded. “I’ve asked around. There’s a garden club in Shadow Valley.
The ladies are proud of their roses. No one reported missing roses or petals.
” She stared at the woman lying among the rose petals.
“All three victims, so far, have long black hair and appear to be around the same build and height and roughly the same age. Early to mid-thirties. The killer seems to have something against women who meet that criteria.”
A chill snaked down the back of Grant’s neck. “Agent Hart,” he started, hating calling this woman by that name, “how tall are you?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Five feet seven inches.”
Melissa Bradley’s attention turned to the imposter, her eyes narrowing. “And you’re how old?”
The woman lifted her chin. “Thirty-four.”
The same age as the real Agent Hart.
Sheriff Taylor frowned. “According to the killer’s M.O., you could be his next victim.”
Grant’s thoughts, exactly. Or the real Agent Hart could be the killer’s next target.
He didn’t like that thought at all. Although he’d left her alone in the car with strict instructions to stay there, he knew Avery would break the promise if she saw anything suspicious or intriguing and thought it could be a clue.
His gut instinct was to sprint back to the car immediately to make sure she was still there.
Grant shifted his gaze from the dead woman to scan the area dotted with sheriff’s deputies, first responders and journalists. Was the killer among them? Was he watching?
“I have two of my deputies canvassing the area. Hopefully, someone saw something,” the sheriff said.
Grant glanced around, searching for nearby houses. There weren’t any close enough for a sleepless homeowner to casually glance out a window in the early hours of the morning. “Were the other victims found in similarly isolated areas?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” the sheriff responded. “No homes nearby, and they were left in the middle of the night, like this victim.”
“For now, we keep looking. Keep digging,” Agent Bradley said. “As careful as this guy has been not to leave a trace that will lead to him, he has to screw up sometime.”
The imposter Agent Hart squared her shoulders.
“I’ll get with the state crime lab and see if they’ve analyzed all the trace evidence found on the first two victims. It’s obvious he didn’t kill them where he left them.
There was no sign of struggle near the shallow graves.
He transported them from where he kidnapped them.
There has to be some trace evidence from his vehicle or from where he kept them until he killed them. ”
“As a profiler,” Melissa turned to Grant, “what do you think his next move will be?”
Grant stared down at the dead woman. “I don’t think he’s done. He’s making a statement.”
“To whom?” Sheriff Taylor asked.
“Good question,” Grant said. “Someone who wronged him in the past…?”
“Someone who looks like the victims?” Imposter Agent Hart asked.
Grant looked at the woman who could be Avery’s twin. “Yes. In which case, he might not have gotten to that person yet.”
“Do you think he could be targeting Agent Hart?” Melissa asked. “Could he be one of the criminals she helped put away in her work with the FBI?”
Grant nodded. “It’s possible.” He stared at the imposter. “Can you think of anyone you sent to jail as part of your job as an FBI agent who is capable of murdering women?”
The imposter met his gaze and held it. “I can think of a few,” she said without blinking.
“Then you need to make a list and check the records to find out if any of them are now free and their last known locations.”
She nodded. “I will.”
“It could be one of the cartel members you put away when you were on that mission we worked together in Maryland.” He waited for her response, knowing he was feeding her bogus information. He and Avery had never worked a cartel mission together in Maryland.
She nodded and glanced toward the victim. “I’ll look through prior assignments and let you know if any of them are possibilities.”
A flash of anger pulsed through Grant. The woman had sidestepped his direct attempt to fluster her.
“I’m headed back to the sheriff’s department,” Melissa said. “I need my computer, WIFI and phone reception.”
“I’m headed to my hotel and my laptop.” Imposter Agent Hart turned to Sheriff Taylor. “Let me know if your deputies find any witnesses.”
“Will do,” Sheriff Taylor said. “Ready?” he asked Agent Bradley.
She nodded. “Agent Hart, want to regroup at TJ’s Bar and Grill?”
The imposter nodded. “Seven?”
“Seven,” Melissa confirmed. “You’re welcome to join us, Mr. Hayes.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I have some loose ends to tie up for a colleague, so don’t wait on me.”
“Offer’s open,” Melissa said and walked away with the sheriff.
Alone with the imposter, Grant tried to think of something else he could say to trip her up. “Agent Hart—”
“Sorry,” she raised her hand. “I just remembered something I needed to ask Agent Bradley. Please, excuse me.” She sprinted after Melissa Bradley, leaving Grant staring after her.
Which was just as well. If she thought he was on to her at all, and if she was involved with the killer, she might make a beeline to him, to let him know her cover was about to be blown.
All the more reason to let her go.
And follow her.
As he slowly made his way back to his rental car, his gaze followed the fake Agent Hart to a black Jeep Cherokee with a Nebraska license plate.