dead. “You have to keep an eye on the woman for me.”
Until he got out and he could do it himself. She would lead him to Blackwell. In his mind, she was all tied in with the pain. He’d about died of it on the trip from the woods to her house.
She hadn’t looked like much—disheveled, hair plastered to her head, wet from the snow, eyes wild. She’d smelled like paint. And just thinking of paint made his body pulse with pain all over again. He felt the blood run out of his head. He drew a slow breath to steady himself as he blinked.
“ Dammit, Jack—”
“ What do we have?” he cut Bing off. “Doesn’t being half-dead earn me the right to some answers?”
A bleak look settled on the captain’s face. “The DNA, if the lab can make it work. A generic el cheapo sheer shower curtain with no other fingerprints than yours and Ashley Price’s. Shoe-print casts, size twelve, men’s. Pattern not in the shoe-print database. But we have a fair idea of the shovel used to dig the grave; standard-issue army-entrenching tool, triangle tip, one side serrated.”
His lips narrowed for a second. “The kicker is, I was sitting just up the road, handing out a speeding ticket. I saw Ashley Price drive by.”
“ Who else?”
“ The snowplow for one. And the mailman. Old Arnie Martin drove by too. Mrs. Smutzky. Couple of cars I didn’t recognize. I was paying attention to the people I was ticketing.” He rubbed his hand over his knee. “We canvassed the area as soon as you were found. Nobody reported seeing any strange cars pulled over in the hours before you were discovered.”
Jack nodded while he gritted his teeth against the new wave of pain that washed over his body. Whatever drugs they’d given him were wearing off. Good. He wanted to be able to think clearly. He wanted to remember.
“ Is someone watching the Price woman?”
“ Forget her,” Bing snapped. “She had nothing to do with this.”
I’ll be the judge of that.
He had a lead after all these years, a living, breathing, tangible link to Blackwell. He held on to that thought with everything he had. She might have fooled Bing, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to fool him.
“ Let it go. That’s an order.”
He looked his captain in the eyes, preparing for a shit storm as he said, “Shannon Sullivan, the third victim, was my sister.”
A long, tension-charged moment passed as Bing stared at him. “So this hobby of yours is not a hobby. It’s personal.” His expression darkened as he put two and two together. “I don’t believe in coincidences, not in one this big.” His voice sharpened. “Have you followed Blackwell here? Is that why you showed up at my department last year, asking me for a job? You knew something?”
Jack said nothing as the man’s hands fisted on his knees.
“ You knew there was a damn serial killer in my town, and you said nothing to me?” Anger heated the captain’s voice.
“ I wasn’t sure. I was trying to figure it out.” He’d be damned if he apologized for it. “Blackwell killed my sister.”
Bing pushed to his feet, jaw tight, eyes flashing, about as pissed as Jack had ever seen him. “I can’t talk to you about this right now. I’m gonna strangle you if I stay. Hell, I liked you, Jack. You’re a fine detective, one of the best I’ve ever worked with. But you crossed a line here.”
He wasn’t sure he cared at this stage.
The captain stalked to the door but then stopped to look back with a scowl. “You sure it was Blackwell?”
“ One hundred percent.”
A muscle ticked in the man’s face. “Brady Blackwell, one of the most wanted serial killers of the decade, confirmed in Broslin. You know what this means? Freaking FBI all over my town.”
Jack’s jaw clamped tight. He needed to get the hell out of here before the FBI mucked up every clue and lead. Before Ashley Price could disappear.
He glanced around. “Where are my badge and my gun?” A sick cold spread in his stomach.
“
Until he got out and he could do it himself. She would lead him to Blackwell. In his mind, she was all tied in with the pain. He’d about died of it on the trip from the woods to her house.
She hadn’t looked like much—disheveled, hair plastered to her head, wet from the snow, eyes wild. She’d smelled like paint. And just thinking of paint made his body pulse with pain all over again. He felt the blood run out of his head. He drew a slow breath to steady himself as he blinked.
“ Dammit, Jack—”
“ What do we have?” he cut Bing off. “Doesn’t being half-dead earn me the right to some answers?”
A bleak look settled on the captain’s face. “The DNA, if the lab can make it work. A generic el cheapo sheer shower curtain with no other fingerprints than yours and Ashley Price’s. Shoe-print casts, size twelve, men’s. Pattern not in the shoe-print database. But we have a fair idea of the shovel used to dig the grave; standard-issue army-entrenching tool, triangle tip, one side serrated.”
His lips narrowed for a second. “The kicker is, I was sitting just up the road, handing out a speeding ticket. I saw Ashley Price drive by.”
“ Who else?”
“ The snowplow for one. And the mailman. Old Arnie Martin drove by too. Mrs. Smutzky. Couple of cars I didn’t recognize. I was paying attention to the people I was ticketing.” He rubbed his hand over his knee. “We canvassed the area as soon as you were found. Nobody reported seeing any strange cars pulled over in the hours before you were discovered.”
Jack nodded while he gritted his teeth against the new wave of pain that washed over his body. Whatever drugs they’d given him were wearing off. Good. He wanted to be able to think clearly. He wanted to remember.
“ Is someone watching the Price woman?”
“ Forget her,” Bing snapped. “She had nothing to do with this.”
I’ll be the judge of that.
He had a lead after all these years, a living, breathing, tangible link to Blackwell. He held on to that thought with everything he had. She might have fooled Bing, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to fool him.
“ Let it go. That’s an order.”
He looked his captain in the eyes, preparing for a shit storm as he said, “Shannon Sullivan, the third victim, was my sister.”
A long, tension-charged moment passed as Bing stared at him. “So this hobby of yours is not a hobby. It’s personal.” His expression darkened as he put two and two together. “I don’t believe in coincidences, not in one this big.” His voice sharpened. “Have you followed Blackwell here? Is that why you showed up at my department last year, asking me for a job? You knew something?”
Jack said nothing as the man’s hands fisted on his knees.
“ You knew there was a damn serial killer in my town, and you said nothing to me?” Anger heated the captain’s voice.
“ I wasn’t sure. I was trying to figure it out.” He’d be damned if he apologized for it. “Blackwell killed my sister.”
Bing pushed to his feet, jaw tight, eyes flashing, about as pissed as Jack had ever seen him. “I can’t talk to you about this right now. I’m gonna strangle you if I stay. Hell, I liked you, Jack. You’re a fine detective, one of the best I’ve ever worked with. But you crossed a line here.”
He wasn’t sure he cared at this stage.
The captain stalked to the door but then stopped to look back with a scowl. “You sure it was Blackwell?”
“ One hundred percent.”
A muscle ticked in the man’s face. “Brady Blackwell, one of the most wanted serial killers of the decade, confirmed in Broslin. You know what this means? Freaking FBI all over my town.”
Jack’s jaw clamped tight. He needed to get the hell out of here before the FBI mucked up every clue and lead. Before Ashley Price could disappear.
He glanced around. “Where are my badge and my gun?” A sick cold spread in his stomach.
“
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