She stared at the words on the screen again. They were important to the killer or killers.
But were they something every cop looked for in trying to solve a crime? Were they an MO?
In her job at ProEye she had access to databases that most people did not, since ProEye sometimes worked hand-in-glove with law enforcement. She decided to use that access right now.
She entered the database and filled in her request:
Do as I say, not as I do. Has that phrase turned up in any homicide over the last two months?
If nothing came back she could always modify the request.
She didn’t have to modify it though. Not the least little bit.
A police bulletin from the Fauquier County Sheriff’s Office showed up on her computer screen. A murder of one Daryl Oxblood, resident of The Plains, Virginia. It was about fifty miles west of DC and had fewer than three hundred inhabitants.
He’d been found nearly decapitated. And on a wall of his home had been written the words, DO AS I SAY, NOT AS I DO.
She sent Sullivan the link to the bulletin, with the email labeled URGENT.
She drummed her fingers on her desk and read through the rest of the bulletin while she awaited his reply.
Two minutes later her phone rang. It was Sullivan.
“Shit,” he said.
“Yeah, I know. But is it or isn’t it?”
“One way to find out. We go to The Plains, Virginia.”
“ ‘We’?”
“You found it. Can you come with me, today?”
“Let me check with my parents.” Great, Mick, you sound like a preteen who wants to go to the movies with a boy.
“I’ll wait to hear from you.”
Chapter 44
“I’m going with a police detective, Dad, I’ll be fine.”
Gibson’s parents had come over to watch the kids. Gibson had packed an overnight bag, and was saying goodbye to her father on the front porch of her house.
“I think you’re getting in this sucker so deep, you’ll never get back out.”
“One way of looking at it.”
“Is he picking you up?”
“Yep, in fact that’s him now,” said Gibson as Sullivan’s trim dark sedan pulled onto her street and turned into the driveway.
“You be careful, cop escort or not. I’m too old to be raising little kids. My knees and back are shot.”
She hugged him, surprising her father, and said, “I’ll call with my status.”
“You got your Beretta?”
“Of course.”
She got into the car with Sullivan, who flicked a hand in greeting at Gibson’s father. Rogers merely nodded back, his hands stuffed in his pants pockets as he stared down the police detective.
“Still looks like a cop,” noted Sullivan. “Intimidating.”
“My dad will look like a cop until he takes his last breath.”
They headed north and rode Interstate 64 to 95. At Fredericksburg they branched northwest onto Route 17. A little under three hours after starting their trip they were rolling into the little hamlet of The Plains.
“Don’t think they see many murders here,” noted Sullivan as they cruised along.
“I would hope not. Did you make a call?”
“Yeah. Someone from the Sheriff’s Office will meet us at Oxblood’s place.”
“What do we know about him?”
“Not much. He was around forty. Lived with his mother until she died. Then he kept living in her house. Did equipment repair work locally. Kept to himself.”
“They from The Plains?”
“Don’t know, but I’m going to ask.”
When they pulled into Oxblood’s drive they didn’t see a sheriff’s car. But a woman did come out from the house next to Oxblood’s. She was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. She looked weathered and tough.
They got out and introduced themselves and told her why they were there. She eyed Sullivan’s police credentials and nodded.
“I’m Barbara Cole. As you can see, I live next door.”
“You knew Daryl?”
“Yes, and his mother, when she was alive.”
Sullivan took out his notebook. “And her name was?”
“Cindy Oxblood.”
“How long has she been dead?” asked Gibson.
“Oh, four years now. Time flies.”
“How’d she die?” asked Gibson.
“Car accident, on the road coming in here. Don’t know how it happened. Critter might have run in front of her. She went off the road and the truck flipped. She wasn’t wearing a seat belt, unfortunately. Not sure she would have survived anyway. Cab was crushed from the impact.”
“Do you know where they moved from?” asked Gibson while Sullivan wrote all of this down.
Cole screwed up her features. “I think I recall her saying the west coast. Oregon, yeah, Oregon.”
“She ever mention her husband? Any other kids?”
“No, and I’m not one to pry. I don’t like talking about my ex, either. Just makes me feel stupid all over again.”
Gibson smiled at the woman’s frankness. “I feel your pain,” she said, drawing a glance from Sullivan.
“And you found Daryl?” asked Sullivan.
“Me and the other gal.”
“What other gal?” said Gibson sharply.
“She was here taking a survey and had an appointment with Daryl. She knocked on his door but he didn’t answer. She came to my house and we went over there together. That’s when we found Daryl.” She shivered. “Still have nightmares about it. Been keeping my door locked and my gun under my pillow ever since.”
“I’m sure. Can you describe the woman?”
Cole did so and Sullivan wrote it all down while Gibson listened intently.
“There was no mention of the woman in the police report,” said Sullivan.
“Yeah, she had other appointments to get to and didn’t want to get involved. She lit out of here before the cops showed up. So I didn’t see any need to mention her.”
“Can you tell us anything else about her? What she said. The car she was driving.”
“Think the car was a rental. Looked like one that you get at the airport. She was thin and tall and pretty and real put together, if you know what I mean. Nice clothes, carried herself real well.”
“Did Daryl seem like the type who would make that sort of an appointment?” asked Sullivan.
“He would if they paid him, or gave him free stuff.”
“What was she taking a survey on?” asked Gibson.
“She said with people who didn’t have an online presence, or some such. The company she worked for was sort of researching those types, I guess to figure out how to sell them stuff another way. I think every day about chucking the whole internet and going back to the way it was, but I never seem to get there.”
“Did she act suspicious at all? Nervous?”
“No, nothing like that. She just seemed like she was out here doing her job. Look, she didn’t have nothing to do with what happened to Daryl. She knocked on my door. I had to get my spare key to Daryl’s house to let us in. When we found him, we were both shocked, let me tell you. I came close to throwing up and she didn’t look much better.”
“And then she left?”
“She needed to get going. And she couldn’t tell the police anything I didn’t.”
Gibson looked at Sullivan, who shrugged.
He looked at the door to Oxblood’s place. There was no police tape there.
“Local cops finished up in there?” he asked.