“Annie, hi.”
“Hey, Mia. Sorry to call so late, I should have looked at the clock before I dialed. I was speaking with John about a case and he asked me to give you a call when we finished. He said you called him earlier, about a case you wanted to discuss with me?” Anne Marie McCall, one of the Bureau’s most respected profilers, was Mia’s first choice to work on this case.
“Right, I did. I have this case over on the Eastern Shore, maybe you heard about it? The killer is grabbing these girls off the street…maybe not off the street, we don’t know where he’s getting them or how, but he keeps them someplace and rapes them. At least we know the first one was raped repeatedly; the second one, she was just pretty much mush-”
“Whoa, Mia, slow down. You’re not making any sense,” Annie said. “You’re rambling.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Mia’s voice cracked. “It’s just so sad, Annie, and I thought maybe I could do the profiler thing, but not this case. Not this time. It’s too complicated. The killer’s too smart and if we screw up, another young girl is going to die. Maybe another one already has because we don’t have a clue-”
Annie interrupted, asking quietly, “Mia, are you all right?”
“Well, yeah, I’m fine, but these two vics we have…Annie, if you saw what he did to them…”
“Mia, what’s going on?” Annie hesitated for a moment. “It isn’t like you to fall apart like this.”
“I’ve never seen a case like this.”
“You’ve seen plenty of hard-core stuff over the years. I’ve worked with you on other cases.”
“Not like this,” Mia protested. “I’ve never seen anything this evil.”
“Mia, I have to ask…Have you been drinking?”
“I just had a little wine, while I was reading through the file.”
“How much?”
“Just a little, really.” Mia picked up the bottle and was surprised to find it was almost empty. No wonder her head was spinning and her focus was off. She took a deep breath. “I guess I didn’t eat as much as I should have today. I missed lunch, I missed dinner, then tried to snack on salsa and crackers, and I opened a bottle of wine to have while I was munching. I guess I lost track.”
“You do this often?”
“Of course not.” Mia forced herself not to snap. “I just got home late, and I was working my way through this file and just not paying attention. It’s all so sad, Annie. This guy is a demon. He’s a monster. This is one of the worst things I’ve ever seen.”
“Okay, tell me what you know.”
Mia stumbled through the case, unaware of how she was ambling this way and that. Finally, she said, “And he leaves these tapes inside the plastic wrap, all wrapped up inside with their bodies. You hear him talking to her, you hear his voice. And you hear her, Annie, she’s crying and telling her mother and father how sorry she is…”
“I see,” Annie said softly.
“Here, I’ll play it for you-”
“No, no, Mia, don’t put the tape on. Leave it for now. Close up the file and go to bed; you sound tired. We’ll listen to the tape when I get there.”
“I hate to ask you, it’s the weekend.”
“It’s okay. Evan’s working both days anyway. I’ll be there by afternoon so we can sit down and go over the case together.”
“Okay.” In spite of herself, Mia felt tears begin to well up again. “Maybe by two? I’ll need to tell Beck.”
“Who’s Beck?”
“He’s the chief of police in St. Dennis. I think he might be a very interesting man. Cute, in a hard-cop, all-business sort of way. Not that I’m interested in that type.”
“Of course not. Nothing appealing about cute, interesting, hard-edged cops who do their job.”
“Ha. You should know.”
“I do know. Now, do us both a favor. Don’t play that tape again. Just put everything in your briefcase and go to bed, all right? You need some sleep. And put the wine away for tonight, hear?”
I put it away, all right.
“Sure. Thanks, Annie.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Now go to bed.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Mia hung up the phone and slipped it into her bag. She closed the file and put it into her briefcase and snapped the lid. Took everything back into the kitchen. Set the plate with the remaining crackers on the counter and the empty wine bottle on the floor next to the trash can. Locked the back door and turned off the lights. She wouldn’t listen to the tape again, as she promised Annie.
She wouldn’t need to play it again to hear that tormented voice. It was there, in her head, amid the jumble of her own pleas for forgiveness.
Momma and Daddy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…
12
Mia waited patiently outside the manager’s office in the rear of the apparel store where Colleen Preston had worked. The national chain clearly catered to young women-there were racks of colorful summer merchandise and accessories. The store sold everything from straw hats and flip-flops to summer formal wear. At the glass counter to the right of the door, several of the employees gathered, speaking in hushed voices. Judging by their furtive glances in her direction, Mia assumed the topic of conversation was the reason for the FBI’s presence.
Clarise Holden, the store manager, appeared in the doorway, offering an apology. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Agent Shields. I was on the phone with the national office. We’re all so upset about Colleen…”
“Understandable. I’m sorry you weren’t notified directly. Hearing about it through the news has to have made it even harder for you and your employees.”
The store manager, a thin woman in her thirties, re sponded flatly. “It’s been a terrible shock to us all. Colleen was such a cheerful person, so nice to the customers, even the crankiest ones. She never complained about her hours or anything else.”
“Ms. Holden, are you aware of anyone who might have been bothering Colleen?”
The woman held up a hand laden with silver rings. “I already answered all these questions for Chief Daley. Have you spoken with him? I’m assuming you’re working with him?”
“I did read the statement you gave to the Ballard police,” Mia said circumventing the question. She had not contacted the local police, and had not spoken with Daley. “You told him you really didn’t know much about the private life of any of the employees.”
“That’s correct. And I still don’t. I’m sorry, but Colleen just came in here and did her job. She didn’t hang around before or after her shift, and we never had a conversation about anything that didn’t pertain to her employment here.”
“Was she friendly with any of the other girls who work here?”
“Danielle Snyder. They worked the same shifts and sometimes took breaks together.”
“I’d like to speak with her. Is she in this morning?”
“She is. I’ll get her, if you’ll excuse me.”
Mia moved her handbag from the floor to her lap to permit the older woman to open the door. Clarisse Holden stood in the doorway and waved to someone, then stepped back inside the office. A moment later, a young woman in her early twenties stepped into the room. She had red hair and blue eyes and freckles, and under other circumstances might have appeared perky.
“You wanted to see me?” she asked warily.
“Danielle, this is Agent Shields from the FBI. She wanted to ask you a few questions about Colleen.”
“I already spoke with the police,” Danielle told Mia.
“I know you did.” Mia turned in her chair to make eye contact with the young woman who appeared flustered. “But I wanted to talk to you for a minute about Colleen.”
“Okay.” Danielle nodded.
“We’re trying very hard to find the person who killed her, Danielle. I know you’ve been asked this before, but if you can think of anyone who might have been bothering her, someone she might have mentioned, even one time…”
Danielle shook her head. “She never said anything about that.”