“That’s the bottom line, isn’t it? Finding out who these girls are and helping to bring closure to their families.” He took another sip of wine and added, “Someone needs to pay for what he did to them.”
“If we can identify the significance of the tattoos, there’s a good chance we’ll be able to determine where these girls came from. Then maybe we can figure out who they are and how they got from there to here.”
“It should only be so easy.”
“Easy? Not on your life.” She tilted her glass in his direction. “But I promise you, the payback will be huge. When you look into the eyes of the parents of these girls and tell them the man who did this to their daughters has been captured and will be punished, that their daughters can rest in peace, you will know it was worth every hour you spent, every bad lead that you followed, every toe you stepped on along the way.”
“I can’t argue with you. I’ll speak with Malone in the morning, see if he agrees, see if he wants to talk to Sheridan himself or if he’s okay with me taking the lead here.”
“What are the chances he’ll toss this to the Bureau as part and parcel of the other investigation?”
“I’d be real surprised. I think he’s going to keep this totally separate, and frankly, I think he should. For one thing, we all believe the killings are not related. For another, he’ll want to assure the more prominent citizens that the deaths of their daughters merit the attention of the FBI. These other girls, maybe not. Which is okay with me. I want to handle this case myself.”
“What will you do if Sheridan doesn’t want to bring that investigation into the county?” she asked. “What are the chances he’ll want to permit the local departments, the locals where the bodies were found, to work the individual cases?”
“If I know Sheridan, he’s going to weigh this very carefully from a political angle. If he thinks there’s a chance his office can track this guy down and make a collar, he’ll jump at it. If he thinks it’s a long shot, he’ll put me off until he thinks we have something.”
“Then we’ll have to get him something.” She leaned back in her seat to permit the waitress to serve their entrées. “And we’ll start with the tattoos. As soon as we get an ID on them, you’ll have something to take to him. In the meantime, you have all the resources of the FBI at your disposal. Use them.”
“Sheridan hates the FBI, you know.”
“I know.” She grinned. “But it’s going to make him look really good if he can hold a press conference and assure the county movers and shakers that he’s brought in the best the feds have to offer to take this killer down.” She pounded her fist lightly on the table for emphasis.
Evan laughed at her attempt to mimic the D.A.
“That’s all good for tomorrow’s agenda, but no more shoptalk. Tonight is ours, and I want to enjoy every minute of it with my girl.”
“Well then, let’s eat up and head home early.” She smiled and toyed with her fork. “The night, as they say, is still very, very young…”
11
“Dr. McCall, I’m surprised to hear from you so soon.” Art Sheridan had grabbed the phone as soon as he heard who was on the other end of the line. “Should I be encouraged?”
“A little optimism is always good,” Annie replied. “And in this case, warranted. I have the lab results from the Bureau. I’d like to go over them with you. When would be a good time?”
“How soon can you get here?” He sat up straight in his chair, hopefully anticipating a break in this god-bloody-awful case. Praying for one.
“Fifteen, twenty minutes.”
“You’re still in town, then. Terrific. I’ll be waiting. Okay if we have Chief Malone and Detectives Crosby and Weller in on this?”
“Certainly, whomever you feel you need. You might want to include the three agents the Bureau sent up as well,” she replied. “I’ll see you soon.”
The D.A. buzzed for his secretary without bothering to hang up the phone. “Lois, I need Malone, Crosby, and Weller here in fifteen minutes. No excuses.”
He stood and went to the window to look out. Those damned news vans were everywhere. Outside the courthouse, in the parking lots, down the side streets. He knew a press conference was overdue, but he had nothing, not one bone to toss to the reporters who badgered his every move once he stepped out of the safety of his office. They followed him home, had even followed him to his son’s softball game last night. He knew he owed them, but wasn’t about to speak until he had something real, something legit. He’d seen too many D.A.s make asses out of themselves on television by calling conferences when they had nothing to talk about but yesterday’s news. He wasn’t going that route. Never let it be said that Arthur M. Sheridan wasn’t smart enough to learn from the mistakes of others. When he called the press in, he’d have something solid. End of story.
Still, he was hoping that day was close at hand. He was up for reelection in November and was looking forward to blowing out the competition, a man he’d gone to law school with and had never liked.
“Sanctimonious ass,” he muttered to himself. The mere thought of his rival always brought out the worst in him. Now, he would be just the type to call a premature press conference just to get his pretty face on national TV one more time. Well, Sheridan wasn’t going to play that game.
The D.A. just hoped that whatever the FBI had was something he could use, and use now. The pressure was mounting daily. Even his wife had gotten into the act, since their children attended the same private school as one of the victims.
“Honestly, Art, I’m afraid to show my face at Northgate. Everyone wants to know what you’re going to do about this monster who killed the Fuhrmann girl. Everyone’s scared.”
“Everyone should be scared,” he’d told her at the time. Christ, like we’re dragging our feet here…
“What’s going on?” Chris Malone stuck his head through the doorway.
“Come on in. Where are Crosby and Weller?”
“Crosby’s on his way in, Weller is right behind me.”
As if on cue, Jacqueline Weller tapped on the door, then entered without waiting for an invitation. She was tall, plain, humorless, and a decent detective with lofty ambitions. She’d been at the job three years longer than Evan and had earned the respect of everyone in the county. Those who knew such things whispered her name as a possible successor for Sheridan once he moved up the ladder.
“Jackie, take a seat.” Sheridan motioned to the five matched chairs that had been arranged in a semicircle around his desk. “We’re going to be joined by Detective Crosby and the profiler the FBI sent us. Apparently, she’s received the results from their lab and is eager to share with us. I’m hoping she’s going to be bringing us good news.”
“I suspect she’d merely fax it if she didn’t have something solid,” Malone observed. “She doesn’t seem to be the type to waste her time.”