“Do we know how Jackson ended up in Dutton last night?” Chase asked.
“We found a cell phone in his car,” Ed said. “Log showed he got three incoming calls from the same number yesterday and one outgoing to that same number.”
“So what exactly happened there?” Chase asked.
“I took Deputy Mansfield’s statement this morning,” Koenig said. “He said that they were notified the alarm at the pizza parlor had been triggered. Mansfield said he ordered the first responder to wait for backup before going in. Officer Cowell didn’t. Mansfield heard the shots as he drove up. He ran inside just as Lester Jackson shot Cowell. When Jackson pointed the gun at Mansfield, Mansfield shot him.” Koenig lifted his brows. “But Mansfield’s story doesn’t play. That’s why Felicity is here.”
“CSU recovered four weapons,” Felicity said. “Jackson’s.38, Sheila’s.45, and the two nine-millimeters belonging to Deputies Cowell and Mansfield. Deputy Cowell had been hit twice by Jackson’s.38. Either one would have killed him instantly. In fact, the first one did. The first one hit him in the throat, from about ten feet away.”
“The distance from where Jackson stood behind the counter to where Deputy Cowell fell,” Daniel said. “What about the second bullet?”
“He was dead when it entered his heart,” Felicity said, “from very close range.”
“So Jackson was standing at the cash register, shot Cowell the first time, then came around, stood over him, and shot him again.” Daniel shook his head. “Cold bastard.”
“Cowell hit Jackson in the arm,” Koenig said. “Sheila never fired her gun.”
Daniel remembered the haunting sight of Sheila sitting in the corner, both hands still wrapped around her gun. “She must have gotten scared or frozen up.”
“Jackson shot her twice,” Felicity said. “But from the angle, he wasn’t behind the counter. He was standing by the fallen deputy.”
“So Mansfield’s story doesn’t play,” Koenig said, “because he said he shot Jackson as soon as he came in the door because Jackson had just shot Cowell.”
“But Jackson wouldn’t have been behind the counter then.” Daniel rubbed his head. “So either Mansfield was wrong about the timing or he waited for Jackson to go back behind the counter to shoot him.”
Felicity nodded. “The bullet that killed Jackson came up at an angle. It was a straight in and out, so Mansfield was crouching when he fired.”
“And,” Koenig added, “the angle of the entry into Jackson says the bullet didn’t come from the door. Mansfield was crouched next to Cowell when he fired.”
“Why would he lie?” Talia asked. “Mansfield’s a deputy sheriff. He would have known the ballistics would tell the truth.”
“Because he expected it to be handled internally,” Daniel said heavily. “He expected Frank Loomis to be investigating, not us.”
Chase looked grim. “So we’re saying the Dutton sheriff is rotten?”
Daniel was still unwilling to accept that. “I don’t know. I do know nothing was done right on the Tremaine murder investigation. No photos of the scene, evidence stored improperly so it was ruined in the flood, no reports in the file. I think Fulmore might have been framed. At the very least, somebody’s hiding something.”
“And I wasn’t successful in getting the coroner’s report,” Felicity said. “Dr. Granville told me that his predecessor didn’t file required paperwork.”
“But it would be in the court records,” Talia said.
“It’s not,” Daniel told her. “I had Leigh pull the court transcripts and all the filed paperwork. She got it this morning. It’s a pretty empty file. None of that stuff is in there.”
“What about the prosecutor and the judge?” Talia pushed.
“Dead and a retired hermit, respectively,” Daniel answered.
“This doesn’t look good for Loomis,” Chase said. “I’m going to have to alert the state’s attorney’s office.”
Daniel sighed. “I know. But we still need to know what or who brought Jackson to Dutton last night. That person ties to the attempted hit-and-run yesterday.”
“Jackson’s one outgoing call on his cell was made right after Alex was almost hit,” Koenig said. “I think it was to tell whoever hired him that he’d missed.”
“We need to find out who that other number belongs to,” Chase said.
“I’ll work it tomorrow,” Koenig said, stifling a yawn. “Between being up all night watching Fallon’s house and working all day, I’m beat.” He poked Hatton, who’d nodded off. “Wake up, sweetheart.”
Hatton gave Koenig a dirty look. “I wasn’t asleep.”
“I already told Daniel what you found out about Craig Crighton,” Chase said. “If you don’t have any more, why don’t the two of you go home and get some sleep?”
“I’ll catch a nap,” Hatton said, “then I’m going back down to Peachtree and Pine to look for Crighton. I have a lead on one of his haunts. I’m going to dress for the occasion, see if I can’t blend in a little better than I did today.”
“I should go with you, then,” Koenig said. “Let me get a little sleep and I’ll go hobo, too. I’ll follow ten paces behind and watch your back.”
Chase smiled. “I’ll let the patrol in the neighborhood know you’re there and hobo.”
Felicity Berg also rose. “The bullet entry wounds on Jackson were all I had that was new, also. I’m headed out.”
“Thank you, Felicity,” Daniel said sincerely, and she gave him a small smile.
“You’re welcome. Don’t bring me any more bodies, Daniel.”
One side of his mouth lifted. “Yes, ma’am.”
When they were gone, Chase turned to Ed. “The hair.”
“Exact match to Alex’s DNA,” Ed said without blinking.
Daniel’s heart sank. Now he’d not only have to tell Alex about the hair they’d found on the bodies, he’d have to tell her that he’d taken her hair without permission.
“Crap,” Chase muttered.
“We should have told her before,” Daniel muttered back. “Now I’m up shit creek.”
“What did you do?” Talia asked.
“He took Alex’s hair for me to test without her knowing,” Ed said and Talia grimaced.
“Bad move, Danny. You are up shit creek.”
“You’ll think of something to tell her,” Chase said.
“You could try the truth,” Mary McCrady called from the end of the table. Chase gave her a disgruntled glare and she shrugged. “Just sayin’,” she said.
“Hell,” Daniel grumbled. “I should never listen to you, Chase.”
“But you always do. So now we know that whoever killed Claudia, Janet, and Gemma has access to hair from one of the twins. How?”
“An old hairbrush, maybe,” Talia said. “Who got Alicia’s things after she died?”
“That’s a good question,” Daniel said. “I’ll ask Alex. Talia, what do you have?”
“I talked to Carla Solomon and Rita Danner. Their stories agreed completely with Gretchen French’s. Everything was the same down to the whiskey bottle. When I got back, I helped Leigh go through the high school yearbooks and we identified the other nine victims. All went to three of the public schools between Dutton and Atlanta. Not one went to the private school the murdered women attended, so there’s no tie there.”
Daniel thought of his sister, Susannah, and wondered if there might not be just one victim who had attended Bryson Academy. I need to talk to Suze. Tonight.
“Are the other rape victims still living?” Daniel asked, and she nodded.
“Four have moved out of state, but the others are still in Georgia. I’ll need travel money to get out to the four out of state. So, Daniel, what happened up at the prison?”