Waking the Dead Part 22

"That's right. Guy disappeared one night when he went out to pick up a few groceries for his wife. Never showed up at any store we could discover. No one ever saw him again. You got something on him?"

"Maybe." Quickly she filled him in on her background, the investigation she was working on, and the DNA samples she'd taken from the remains. When she'd wound down, the man on the other end of the line was silent for a moment.

"Raiker Forensics? Why does that sound familiar?"

Releasing a quick breath of impatience, she used her temporary ID card to open the morgue's back entrance and hurried to the lab. "It's headed by Adam Raiker. He was . . ."

"The Mindhunters. Yeah, yeah, I remember now. Read about your outfit not too long ago. Saw something about your case on the news." A new note of respect had entered the detective's tone. "You think you got Livingston in that batch of bones you all pulled from the cave up there? Because I've got to admit, I always figured the guy pulled a fast one and took a hike."

Pushing open the door to the lab, she lifted a hand to acknowledge her a.s.sistant's greeting and sat down to the desk in the corner. "You think he disappeared on purpose?"

"Made it look good if he did . . . but, yeah. Thought it was possible. At least that's what I'd have done if I'd been him. Livingston was loaded, but his wife, excuse my language, is a cla.s.s-A b.i.t.c.h. And he had a no-good son who was bleeding him dry, bailing him out of one sc.r.a.pe after another. If it'd been me, I'd have run fast and far."

If Livingston turned out to be involved in this case, she'd have a name to go with the bones of male E. The approximate age and stature of the remains matched the physical description of the missing man. But they were a long way yet from making that determination. "You wouldn't happen to remember whether he attended UCLA, would you?" The mascot of UCLA had been one of the images on male E's scapula.

"Now how in h.e.l.l would you have known that from looking at some bones?"

Excitement balled in the pit of her stomach. Gomez went on. " 'Course my memory is s.h.i.t these days, so I wouldn't have recalled that, but I reviewed the case file before calling you back. Got it right here on my desk."

"Could you take a look in it and see if it includes any copies of credit card statements?"

"I had copies made for the last two years before he disappeared. What are you looking for, exactly?"

"Check for a billing to a resort of some kind in Oregon months before his disappearance. The only victim we've identified so far had stayed in the vicinity eight months before she disappeared." She waited, barely breathing, for several minutes as he flipped through the contents of the file on the other end of the line.

"Yeah, okay, here's something." The knot in her stomach tightened as the man began to read. "Payment to a place called Blue River Cabins eleven months prior. Must be some place in the mountains, huh? I remember his wife saying they took separate vacations because he was into hiking and kayaking and she liked the beach. Anyway there's more here. Got a couple smaller payments to places in Sisters. McKenzie Bridge. Some gas receipts, and then one other charge to a place in Eugene. Called Oregon Outdoors."

The reference to Zach's business gave her a jolt. But both of the identified victims had come to the area to enjoy nature. It wasn't surprising that they'd hire a company like his.

Although they had no DNA reference sample match yet, the rest of the details were sounding eerily similar to the disappearance of Marissa Recinos. "How much money did you say was missing from his account?"

"Several accounts, actually. And it was just shy of a million. His wife was plenty p.i.s.sed about it, believe me. We didn't discover it for several days, and then she was initially convinced he'd taken off, just like I said. But eventually she changed her mind. Said he'd never have been satisfied leaving her the bulk of their money and taking only that much for himself."

"Did you trace it?"

"Tried." She could hear the continuous ringing of phones in the background that reminded her of every visit she'd ever made to a police squad room. "We dead-ended. Bounced us around to one overseas account after another in a half a dozen countries before fizzling."

She thought hard. Cyber theft wasn't her area of expertise. "But if Livingston didn't show up in a bank to wire the monies, they had to be done online, right?"

"Yeah. The banks indicated the money had been transferred with Livingston's personal information, but there was no evidence of the transaction on his personal computer. Whoever planned the transfer was slick."

Cait had heard enough. "Can I get you to fax those credit card statements to me?" She gave him the fax number. "What are the chances you could also obtain a DNA reference sample match from one of Livingston's relatives? Maybe his son?"

"Shouldn't be difficult to get that." Gomez's voice was heavy with irony. "He's serving a ten-year stretch at Cor coran for possession with intent to deliver. His DNA is on file with the California Department of Corrections."

Chapter 16.

"Kristy has finished with the comparisons on the garbage bags, with the exception of the one kept by the crime lab. She's got two possible matches. One to the brand name Sowell's, a biodegradable bag that's been on the market for seven years. The other to Caston's." Cait pa.s.sed out the sheet detailing the results to Andrews and the dozen deputies collected in the conference room at the sheriff's office. "I've included the list of the samples she compared and where they were collected from. I suggest more brands be picked up for testing, and this time concentrating our focus on stores in towns closer to the vicinity of Castle Rock."

Barnes looked at a dark-haired deputy on his left. "Hank, you and your team can continue on that." The man nodded silently.

"We follow every lead, but I want the highest concentration of manpower at the two resorts that showed up on credit card statements for the two victims Fleming has identified," Andrews put in. Just an hour earlier Cait had determined the DNA profile in the database for Raymond Livingston shared five markers with that of Paul Livingston. The remains of male E now had a name. "You pull in every employee for an interview. Show the pictures. It's been years since the victims were guests at these places, so you're going to have to spend some time. Go over employee histories and get the owners to give you a list of any former employees who would have been working at the time the two disappeared."

"Kristy will have the results from the remaining paint samples finished within the hour. I don't doubt we'll have a match for you." Cait had delegated the remainder of the task to her a.s.sistant after her conversation with Gomez that morning. "Wouldn't hurt for another team to be ready to track down that lead, as well."

"Sutton, you can stand by and wait for those results. Your men will follow up." It didn't escape the notice of anyone at the table that Barnes had usurped Andrews's role of relegating duties to the chief members of the investigation.

"Now that we've determined at least two of the victims visited the area where their remains were eventually found, we have reason to focus more closely on people in that region." Cait caught the sheriff's gaze. Held it. "If the killer lives in the vicinity, and it's looking increasingly like he does, that focus is going to make him very nervous."

"So he might make a mistake."

"Or feel cornered." She shifted her gaze to encompa.s.s all the personnel in the room. "He's killed eight times. That definitely makes him dangerous."

"Understood," the sheriff said brusquely. "Every officer here will exercise the utmost caution. I'll want progress briefings by the end of shift from team leaders."

There was a sc.r.a.ping of chairs as the detectives and deputies departed from the room. When only she, Barnes, and the sheriff remained, Cait said, "What about Lockwood? Do you still have people looking for him?" The roamer had never been found in the searches she and Zach had made. In light of the most recent developments in the case, continuing the search for him didn't seem to hold the priority it once had. But like Kesey, he could have seen something that related to this case.

"Yesterday evening a ranger discovered a body of a man in the forest north of Highway One twenty-six." Andrews drummed her fingers on the file folder in front of her with Cait's most recent report of her findings. "No ID, and the animals and insects had gotten to him, but there's enough left of his face to be fairly certain it's him. He also had a couple items in his lean-to with the initials B.L. on them. The ME figures heart attack or aneurism, some time in the last week."

In the last week. Which meant if they had happened to find him, he would have already been dead.

"All right." She started to rise, but something in the sheriff's expression alerted her. "Is there something else?"

Andrews and Barnes exchanged a gaze. Cait felt all her senses go on alert. "Crime lab contacted me today. They have a match on the thumbprint they took off the garbage bag."

Mystified, she sat back down. Wondered at the edge of tension in the room. "From one of the elimination prints?"

The other woman nodded. Picked up the file folder to fan her face as it began to flush. "The print belongs to Sharper."

There was a viselike squeeze in Cait's chest. It took effort to take a breath, survey the two impa.s.sively. "I suppose it's to be expected. He said he'd looked inside one of the bags."

"That wasn't in his original statement."

"In the statement he was asked if he touched the bones." Like anything else she read, details of that doc.u.ment were imprinted on her memory. "He didn't. But no one asked if he'd handled the bags." It had been the sort of mistake made during questioning that Raiker would never tolerate from his employees. "He told me he had when I took his prints."

Again that look of shared knowledge between the two. And it was starting to irritate her. "Climbers wear gloves, don't they?" Barnes asked.

"Climbing gloves don't have fingers in them. They protect the palms while still allowing dexterity for grasping finger holds." Cait's voice was cool. Her pulse was thudding in her ears. Trepidation pooled in her stomach. It was easy enough to see exactly where this was going. And like a train wreck, she was helpless to stop it.

Barnes leaned forward. His mustache had filled in a little, more rusty colored than the remaining hair on his head. His brown gaze was unblinking. "How close do you think Sharper comes to fitting the profile you developed for the UNSUB?"

All those years of donning masks for her photo shoots came in handy now. She could be certain her expression remained professional even as nerves were scampering up her spine. "Superficially, there would be some similarities. Given his time in the military, he may have acquired training in various kill techniques. There's acidic soil on his property, although the sample I took wasn't an exact match for the sediment found in the bottom of a couple of the bags."

"And both of the identified victims went missing in the time he's been back in the area," Andrews put in.

Cait inclined her head. "With another six set of remains to be identified," she reminded them. "But once you get past the superficial qualities-qualities that are probably shared with several others in the region-I don't find him a probable match for the offender."

Andrews sat back, folded her arms over her chest, still grasping the folder. "You don't? What about the fact that he found the bodies in the cave? And that his clients stumbled on the last one? We know he did business with Livingston when the man vacationed in the area."

"What would his motivation be for 'accidentally discovering' them?" Cait argued. "Chances are those bones could have sat in that cave for years longer if he hadn't brought them to your attention. While it isn't all that unusual for an UNSUB to deliberately insert himself into an ongoing investigation in some way, it's hard to believe one would do so when it looked for all intents and purposes as though he was getting away with the crime."

"He may have done it to prove he's smarter than we are." At her look, Barnes lifted a shoulder. "We had that a few years ago. An arsonist was burning places down and leaving us notes. Finally caught him with the help of a handwriting expert."

Irritation was starting to take the place of her earlier panic. "With an arson, you already had evidence of the crime. In this case the killings could have remained undetected for much longer. This isn't Hollywood. It's actually more rare than you'd think to have serial offenders deliberately engage the police. The act is about their compulsion, whatever drives them. It's not about us."

Andrews shrugged, clearly unmoved. "It should be simple enough to check out his alibi for the days the two victims disappeared."

Cait doubted there would be anything simple about providing alibis for dates three and five years ago, respectively. "Obviously you'll want to talk to him. We should follow up with all the businesses in the area that showed up on the victims' credit card statements. But I think you're wasting your time focusing on him as the UNSUB. As a matter of fact, after speaking to Gomez this morning, I'm wondering if we're dealing with more than one offender."

Cait watched the dismayed look pa.s.s between the two and wondered if she should have waited before bringing this up. She hadn't worked through all the angles of the theory yet, although it was beginning to make a great deal of sense to her.

"Your earlier profile didn't mention that possibility." Andrews tapped the edge of the folder on the table in a rhythm that immediately set Cait's teeth on edge.

"I said it would be a developing doc.u.ment. It changes as more information comes to light. And if money turns out to be the motivation for the homicides, rather than the act of killing for itself, the picture of our offender changes."

Barnes c.o.c.ked his head. "How so?"

"Marissa Recinos disappeared from Seattle. Paul Livingston from LA." She raised her brows, but when neither of them commented, Cait went on. "That's a lot of area to cover. Someone has to do the actual kidnapping. The money transfer. The kills. The disposal. Whoever set up the offsh.o.r.e accounts is good enough to have stumped law enforcement in two different states. That suggests a highly evolved individual with advanced training and knowledge in that area. A very different personality type from the offender who disposed of the bodies. The second person is also organized, given the degree of planning that goes into the disposals. But his planning shows signs of being rooted in emotion, drawn probably from a traumatic experience in his past." She paused a moment, because she hadn't completely had time to thoroughly think through the description. "Offender two may also be the one to do the actual killing."

"How can you know that?" Barnes's tone was more curious than questioning.

"When it comes to profiling, very little is known." Cait wished she'd brought in the bottle of water she'd bought on her way here this morning. Her throat felt like she'd been gargling with sand. "I'm just drawing conclusions based on the evidence as it presents itself. But supposing there are multiple UNSUBs, there has to be something that draws offender two more deeply into the crime. Offenders that act as a team are often careful to be sure one is just as guilty as the other. An equal division of labor, if you will. It helps build trust that one won't turn in the other. He can't, or he risks incriminating himself, as well. Disposing of the bones hardly carries the same danger as stealing funds or homicide."

"But that inequity is exactly what I would expect to find if, say, it were a man and woman working together," Andrews argued. "It wouldn't be unusual at all for the female in the team to be at lower risk, although she helps somehow in the commission of the crime."

Nodding, Cait replied, "True. But if one of the offenders is female, it's my guess she's the brains. The one behind the money transfers, simply because it's difficult to imagine a woman hauling those bodies up to Castle Rock in the middle of the night."

Stubbornly, Andrews said, "Painting those images seems more feminine to me. But you may be right about there being multiple offenders." She shot a look at Barnes. "I'll want a list of all Sharper's known acquaintances since he's been back in the area."

"He grew up around there," the deputy reminded her. "He likely knows most everybody."

Ignoring his words, Andrews went on, "And see what you can find out about his finances. He happened into a great deal of money in the last few years, I'm told."

There was a quick vicious twist in Cait's gut. "The property he's building his house on is worth approximately a million dollars." She wasn't sure if the shock in their expression was due to the number or the fact that she knew about it at all. "I looked it up in the courthouse records. He said he was the sole beneficiary of his grandfather's will. I'm sure you can acquire details of the probate."

"I'll do that." There was a light in the other woman's eyes that she didn't trust. "I want a go at him before he has a chance to prepare. So I'd appreciate it if you don't let your relationship with the man blind you to his possible guilt. I don't want him tipped off that I'll be talking to him."

Every organ inside her ground to a halt. Brain. Heart. Lungs. Then they restarted with a lurch that had the blood pulsing like a sprinter through her veins. "My relationship with him?"

Barnes studied a nonexistent spot on the wall while the sheriff spoke. "It's come to my attention that you and he may have become . . . closer recently. I have to be sure that isn't going to affect your ability to remain objective."

She welcomed the temper that fired at Andrews's words. It was infinitely preferable to the self-doubt, the all-encompa.s.sing fear that had all but paralyzed her earlier. "If you're asking if I've slept with him, the answer is yes. But my brain happens to function independently of my s.e.x organs." The deputy flinched a little in the face of her frank language. But it was the sheriff she was addressing. Barnes may have been the conveyor of that little message, but it was Andrews who was twisting it to suit herself. "I've never given you any reason to question my professionalism. But if you've got doubts now, say so." Even she could hear the dare in her words. She stared at the sheriff, their gazes doing battle. And it was small comfort when, at the end, it was Andrews who looked away.

"Don't be so d.a.m.n touchy. I was just saying . . ."

"I know exactly what you were saying, Sheriff." Cait stood, more than ready to leave. "You made it clear enough. Rather than focusing on Sharper, you'd do better to run the records on locals in the area. Anyone with a history of violence. I know for a fact that Rick Moses, at least, recently got out of prison."

"We're on that. Moses served time for vehicular manslaughter." Without a breath, the woman shifted back to her original topic. "I thought you could come with me when I talk to Sharper today."

She'd rather chew gla.s.s. "There are still a couple detectives I haven't heard from yet. I'm going to contact them again and then interview the owners of the businesses that showed up on the victims' credit card statements." Cait pushed back her chair and rose, seeing the skim of Andrews's eyebrows and not giving a d.a.m.n. Regardless of the sheriff's inferences, she'd provide any information she had in her possession about the case, whoever it might point to. But she wasn't up to interrogating the man. Not when she could vividly recall the hours she'd spent wrapped around him last night. This morning.

Professionalism was one thing. She gathered up her files and headed for the door. But she'd be lying if she claimed anything in her training had prepared her for getting involved with a man who was a possible suspect in the case.

It was midafternoon before Cait nosed her vehicle toward McKenzie Bridge. She'd checked out the businesses that had shown up on Livingston's statement first, a couple gift stores in Sisters. As she'd suspected, it was nearly impossible to jog people's memories about a tourist that had been a customer over three years ago. Employees at the businesses had come and gone. And none of those she'd talked to had recognized his picture.

It was difficult to believe she'd have any better luck in McKenzie Bridge, but she was determined to conduct those interviews as well before the day ended. She'd wanted to meet more of the locals there anyway, she reminded herself, slowing behind a county dump truck filled with gravel. There was a more urgent need for that now after finding out that Recinos had stayed in the area.

She'd managed to make contact with a Detective Mark Holder in Nevada that morning, and she could now officially discount his missing person case. New evidence had recently come to light, and Gary Smith's wife was now suspected of killing her husband and cremating him in the family's mortuary business. Which was a macabre ending any way you looked at it.

There was still no response from Sergeant Hal Cross of Idaho, but she'd left yet another message. And considered, again, that she was going to have to relook at the list of missing persons she'd formulated. She'd deliberately concentrated first on subjects from neighboring states, but it was time to branch out farther. It was still hard to believe the UNSUB-or, if her newest theory was correct-one of the UNSUBs had traveled hundreds of miles to kidnap the victims. But the offender was proving much more daring than she'd originally believed.

Her cell beeped, indicating an incoming text message. Keeping her eyes on the road, Cait felt around in her purse until she retrieved the cell. It was another minute before traffic thinned enough for her to risk a glance at it.

PICNIC AT MY PLACE TONIGHT. REAL FOOD.

She dropped the phone on her lap as if it burned. Obviously Andrews hadn't caught up with Zach yet. It was doubtful he'd be in the mood to issue invitations after spending a few hours in the sheriff's company. As a matter of fact, Cait had an all too clear mental picture of exactly how he'd react to the questions the woman would be leveling at him.

It was still plenty fresh in her mind what it had felt like to be on the receiving end of the sheriff's interrogation this morning.

Not for the first time that day, she considered Andrews's implication about Cait's objectivity. Without knowing it, the woman had unerringly put her finger on the b.u.t.ton guaranteed to elicit all the old self-doubts about her judgment in men. Doubts she'd never considered in the course of her job. In that area, at least, her instincts didn't fail her.

She'd discounted Sharper when she developed the profile. Before she became involved with him. But it was easy to question those conclusions now, with the sheriff's questions still fresh in her mind.

Rather than bothering with a map, she relied on familiar landmarks to find her way back to McKenzie Bridge. When she saw the General Store up ahead, Cait knew exactly where she was. She took the next left toward the small town.

Andrews was wrong about Sharper. And it was professional opinion rather than emotion that told Cait that. Even the evolving theory that they were looking for at least two UNSUBs instead of one ruled him out in her mind. The man was a loner. While it was plain he had friends and was well liked by people in the area, he wasn't the type to join forces with another in something as twisted as the crimes they were investigating.

If Zach Sharper were going to kill eight people, she'd be willing to bet he'd do it alone. And he d.a.m.n well wouldn't invite the sheriff to his disposal site to show off his handiwork.

Certainty accompanied the thought. Almost enough to completely alleviate the sneaky little sliver of doubt Andrews had unleashed this morning.

Doubt that reminded her that it wouldn't be the first time she'd been wrong about a man. Her track record in that area was dismal. But just because she'd chosen men for years who were interested only in arm candy, didn't mean that this time she'd hooked up with a serial killer.

Cait pulled up to the curb on Main Street and put the vehicle in park. She'd made mistakes in her life. And maybe-a chill broke out over her skin as the echo of that long-ago gunshot sounded in her mind-maybe she'd started the mistakes at an early age. Undoubtedly the trauma when she was eight had factored into a years-long habit of choosing the wrong men for the wrong reasons. But she'd broken that pattern long ago.

And Sheriff Marin Andrews wasn't going to convince her any differently.

The glare from the afternoon sun was still strong, so she kept her sungla.s.ses on as she got out of the vehicle, locked it, and rounded the hood toward the sidewalk. There were people out and about. Little cl.u.s.ters chatting in front of the ice cream shop and the post office. Others loitering outside the shop windows, peering in. Whatever impact the murders had had on the area, business seemed brisk this afternoon, with most storefronts boasting a steady trickle of customers through their doors.

Because it was closest, Cait ducked into the ice cream shop first, her gaze going to the wait staff at the counter. She knew immediately they'd be no help. Both were teenagers, a boy and a girl, and neither would have been working age three years ago when Livingston had been in the area, much less Recinos.