The questions will be taken as accusations, as instruments of blame by even the most sensible. At a time of grief, of self-recrimination, we may have to get heavy with members of his family to identify the person.
If I am wrong, none of this will play well in the media or coffee shops. When the public hear how the police and FBI harangued grieving family members for something they didn’t do, there will be a closing of doors and a withdrawal of information and cooperation.
FBI man or not, Doenig is a human being. Like me he won’t want to be the one to raise the subject with distraught relatives, even if I am right.
We are given a temporary reprieve by the appearance of Darla. She points at Doenig. ‘Chief Watson is on line three. He wants to speak to you.’
Doenig takes the call while I hover, unsure whether or not I should leave the room.
Darla stays, so I do the same.
It’s a one-sided conversation, filled with ‘I sees’ and ‘okays’.
He hangs up and turns to me. ‘You were right. After hearing the news Yarwood’s wife called her parents. The father told Chief Watson he’d found Oberton but didn’t dare call it in.’
‘Now the link has been confirmed we’d better get Norm’s family rounded up as soon as we can.’
68
I toss my keys onto the counter and brew a strong coffee, intent on washing the taste of failure from my mouth.
The last three hours have been spent chasing after Norm’s cousin. Doenig’s trace revealed her cell hadn’t left home after returning from her work.
He’d contacted her work colleagues, while I had banged on the neighbours’ doors until I got a response.
Neither of us had learned anything useful.
Fearing the worst for her, Doenig had picked the lock on her door and led the way through her house with his gun drawn.
The empty bottle of wine on the counter had given me hope – she may just be asleep and dead to the world. Doenig pushed each door open and shone his penlight into every room with the same result. Or lack of it.
Finding no sign of the woman, we switched the lights on and looked for clues as to her whereabouts.
Her cell was on the armrest of a chair, but when we tried to access it we found its battery dead. A tablet lifted from a table had been accessible. Her Facebook status was last updated at five twenty and complained about a busy day being a terrible way to prepare for a date.
I found a charger and plugged in her cell only to find it locked. Doenig had contemplated taking the cell so a tech expert could access its secrets but until we knew for certain she was missing he decided it was a step too far.
Her purse and cell being left at the house was enough for me, but he’d be bound by a set of unbreakable rules. You don’t become a special agent by being a loose cannon or habitually breaking the rules. The position is awarded to the most diligent and robotic of their ranks. Individual brilliance will help, but the main criteria will be team ethics, sound investigative procedure and an ingrained willingness to follow orders.
He justified not taking the cell by saying he could have someone tap into it and retrieve any information on it.
It was a compromise, but I accepted it as he was the one holding all the cards. One act of serious insubordination from me and I’d be out on my ear. Not something I was prepared to allow. Not only was I pursuing the killer for the families of those he’d killed, I was seeking justice for the victims, for the two friends he’d killed.
After finishing my coffee, I stretch out on my bed and wait for my restless mind to slow. Tomorrow will be another long day and I have a feeling when Norm’s cousin is found, things will get a whole lot worse.
69
The insistent ringing of my cell wakes me. My sister’s name on the display is worrying. Whatever she’s calling for won’t be good. Calls before six are never anything but bad news.
‘Jake, I’m scared. I’ve just found a body on the lane behind my house.’
Her words shake the sleep from me. I don’t bother to think of anything beyond the safety of my family.
‘Don’t bother calling the police. Get Ted and go to the station in person. Whatever happens, stay put until I arrive.’
A minute later I am dressed and calling Mother. She doesn’t answer so I keep trying as I leave the apartment and climb into my car.
She picks up when I’m halfway to her house. I tell her to get dressed and wait for me, then ring off before she can start asking questions.
I run three red lights on my way across town, but traffic violations are the least of my concerns. Right now all I care about is making sure my family are safe.
Mother’s door is open when I get there. She’s dressed in dark green velour sweats and has the kind of expression which inspires gargoyle sculptors.
‘I’ve spoken to your sister, young man.’
I’d hoped to be able to break the news myself, but it seems events have conspired against me. The ‘young man’ at the end of her sentence as telling a sign of danger as the hissing clatter of a rattlesnake.
‘Good. Then you’ll know we need to move right away. Where’s Neill?’ Her husband is a good man but lacks any sense of urgency. The only time I’ve known him to show anything approaching hurry was when he’d had diarrhoea a few years back.
‘He’s upstairs getting dressed. He’ll be a minute.’
I know his idea of a minute, so I go to the foot of the stairs and look upwards. There’s no sound of movement. ‘Neill. Get down here at once. This is serious.’
Perhaps my shout will do more good than any of Mother’s nagging. Over the years he’s shown an impressive immunity to her exhortations for rapidity.
Mother has followed me. There’s a fire in her eyes which threatens to become an uncontrollable forest blaze.
‘Do you really think so little of us that you’re happy to risk all of our lives by continuing with this ridiculous charade?’ The heat of her anger is counterbalanced by the arctic intensity of her tone. ‘It’s bad enough you running around playing detective but what about the rest of us?’
I don’t give her an answer. There isn’t one that can explain how important this is to me without further angering her. As this isn’t a good time to inform her of my deputation, I give Neill another hurrying shout.
‘Tell me, Jacob. Do you think it’s any kind of coincidence that the day after you’re lauded in the local paper as the man to identify a serial killer’s pattern, your sister finds a body and puts you and your family into the killer’s sights?’
It was my first thought after realising I had to make sure Mother and Sharon were safe. It’s been my only thought ever since.
The macho part of me welcomes the thought of coming face to face with the killer, but the more realistic side of my nature tells me it’s a fight I will probably lose.
Whoever this person is, he’s organised, resourceful and knows lots of different ways to kill.
Mother interprets my silence as contrition and hammers her point home with a series of demeaning attacks on my sanity, my failings as a son and somehow ends up back on the tired old subject of grandchildren.
Neill’s footsteps as he comes downstairs act as a welcome interruption. His lined face shows puzzlement at the disturbance and raised voices.
‘C’mon. I need to get you to the police station as soon as possible. That way the police can keep you safe.’
Hearing the words come out of my mouth I realise what I’ve just said and the subtext behind it. Mother and Sharon will be kept safe along with their husbands. I won’t be joining them. My place is continuing the investigation.