Ashes, Ashes, They All Fall Dead Page 8

  “When was he reported missing?” Tessa asked.

  “Yesterday afternoon he went for a walk and never came home. Lily, his wife, called me last evening, around supper time. She figured he ran into some friends and got caught up talking, and that’s why he was out so late. But when he didn’t come home for supper, she knew something was wrong. I sent some of my deputies up here this morning to go door to door looking for him. Earlier today a farmer cut through this shortcut in the woods between his property and the grocery store and found him, just like you saw him.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Tessa said.

  He gave her a curt nod.

  “I noticed his clothes were folded and sitting at the edge of the clearing when we got here,” Matt said. “What do you make of that?”

  “What I make of that is the sicko who threw a Molotov cocktail at him wanted to make sure we knew who the victim was. He left John’s wallet and credit cards. The only thing missing was his driver’s license. Whoever killed him did take at least fifty dollars. Lily said John doesn’t carry a lot of cash but always has fifty dollars as his emergency money. There’s no cash in the wallet now.”

  Tessa noted the Molotov cocktail and missing driver’s license. She’d have to ask Detective Jimenez if Sharon Johnson’s license had been missing, and whether there had been any signs of broken glass at her house to indicate a Molotov cocktail was used.

  “Chief,” Matt said, “you mentioned Mr. Crawford was retired. Was he strong and healthy? Could he have fought off an attacker?”

  Tessa noted Matt didn’t sound like he was holding his breath anymore. She risked a quick breath through her nose and realized the air was much more tolerable now. With the body gone, the rancid odor of burned human flesh was thinning and being driven away by the warm breeze filtering through the pine trees.

  “He was a big guy, over six feet. Brawny. He could hold his own. Whoever took him out had to be a big, strong guy too.”

  Tessa didn’t necessarily agree with that statement. She could take down plenty of guys much bigger than her, and had, on numerous occasions, in the self-defense classes at Quantico. And if Crawford knew his attacker, he might not have felt threatened until it was too late to defend himself.

  “I know the coroner may not have any conclusions yet, but did he mention any obvious signs that your father-in-law might have been shot, or perhaps stabbed?”

  The chief crossed his arms. “You mean did the perp kill John before he set him on fire?”

  She cleared her throat. “Yes, sir. That’s what I’m asking.”

  “I don’t know. I pray to God the answer is yes, but so far no one has come forward saying they heard any shots. And we didn’t find any weapons nearby, or shell casings.”

  “You’ve searched the area for footprints, taken impressions, canvassed the area looking for witnesses?” Tessa asked.

  “We’ve processed this scene, searched the woods, and are canvassing the neighborhood right now. I’m the law in Charleston, which isn’t exactly a small town, Special Agent James. My men and I are thoroughly trained in crime scene investigation procedures. We know what we’re doing.”

  “Of course, my apologies. I wasn’t trying to imply otherwise. I’m just checking the status of the investigation. Did Mr. Crawford know the victim in Charleston, Sharon Johnson?”

  “I can’t think of any reason the two of them would have met. Priceville isn’t exactly a tourist town. The main industry here is farming. The only people who come through here are migrant workers and the two thousand or so folks who live here. John rarely drove to Charleston, and even then it was usually to see his daughter and me. No, I can’t think of any reason the two would have met.”

  His shoulders slumped and he suddenly looked much older than his forty-five or fifty years, as if the weight of what had happened had just become too much for him to bear. “Please tell me you have an idea who did this.” His voice broke on the last word.

  Again she chose the kinder, more evasive answer. “Our investigation is in the early stages. We can’t make any conclusions yet, but comparing notes on the Johnson case and this one will help us determine if they’re related to our original investigation.”

  “And just what is the original investigation? You’ve yet to share anything about that with us, other than that you thought the Sharon Johnson case might be related.”

  If she told him she had a bunch of letters with names on them—and nothing else—things could turn ugly really fast. The chief was hurting, and he was desperate for a lead. If he knew how thin her investigation was, he’d probably order her right out of his city, and give her boss an earful as well.

  “I’ll have to speak with my boss to see how much information we can share.”

  He frowned, not at all pleased with her response.

  “Chief,” Matt said, “I believe Special Agent James may be able to verify a link between these cases once we go to your police station, assuming we can have access to the Internet.”

  Some of the animosity drained from the chief’s expression. Instead, the light of hope burned in his gaze.

  False hope, more likely than not. Tessa wanted to punch Matt.

  “Of course,” the chief said. “You can follow me back there right now.”

  “If you don’t mind,” Matt said, “we’d like to stay here for a bit, get a feel for the area to help us profile the killer.”

  Tessa’s mouth dropped open. What the hell was he doing? She wasn’t a profiler.

  The eagerness on the chief’s face was heart wrenching. He’d just lost someone he loved and Matt was lying to him, acting like he had the answers the chief so desperately wanted, like they were on the verge of an important breakthrough.

  “Sounds good,” the chief said. “You need anything, let one of my officers know. I’ll wait for you back at the station.”

  “Thanks.” Matt shook his hand and patted him on the shoulder.

  The chief shook Tessa’s hand as well, then headed down the trail into the trees, his small entourage following behind. As soon as they were out of sight, Tessa whirled on Matt.

  “What the hell was all that about?” she demanded. “We can tie the cases together if we just have access to the Internet? Really? And what was that about a profile? I’m not a profiler. And if you think Casey’s going to approve the expense of bringing one down from Quantico without way more evidence than we have right now, you’re sadly mistaken. Seriously, what kind of game are you playing? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re dealing with real people here, with real feelings. You can’t just build their hopes up like that when we don’t have—”

  “Are you going to finish this tirade anytime soon?”

  She sputtered to a halt and blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

  He didn’t even give her the courtesy of looking at her. Instead, he punched some buttons on his cell phone screen.

  “Have you even been listening to what I said?” she asked.

  “Kind of hard not to, the way you were screeching.” He punched a few more buttons.

  Screeching? He thought she was screeching? How could she have ever thought herself attracted to him? He was willful, stubborn, arrogant—

  He turned his phone around and held it up for her to see.

  She took a halting step forward. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “If you think it’s the results from the first regional scan on my computer, then yes, it is. There are six hits. Johnson and Crawford, of course, in South Carolina. Then two in North Carolina and two in Georgia. The postmarks aren’t from the same zip codes where each victim lived, but there’s a definite pattern.” He pointed to the map on his screen. “This vic was killed here, and the killer mailed a letter there, but not for the same vic. The letter was for this other vic, who was killed here. But that vic’s letter was mailed over here.” He slid his finger across the screen. “And then the killer—”

  “Hold it, hold it. Wait. Back up. You’re telling me you’ve loc
ated six different fire-related deaths whose victims match the names on six of our letters?”

  He lowered the phone. “Yes.”

  “And they’re all in the South.”

  He smiled and put his phone away. “Yes, last I checked, Georgia and North Carolina are in the South.”

  Tessa didn’t care that he was teasing her. She was more concerned with making absolutely sure she understood what he was telling her and didn’t jump to any conclusions she’d later regret.

  She raised a shaking hand to her brow and tried to focus on what he’d told her. “You’ve found a pattern where he kills a victim in a particular place but mails the letter for a different victim while he’s there.”

  “That’s what I’m telling you, yes. It’s early yet and we have a lot more to research. And other victims to find, but this is one hell of a coincidence, and I’m not much of a believer in coincidences. I think we’re onto something.”

  Tears started in Tessa’s eyes. She’d been convinced since last night that she’d most likely destroyed her one chance to find the killer, and at the same time destroyed her career. And suddenly everything had changed. In the span of a few minutes, Matt had given her back everything he’d taken from her when he’d destroyed the letter at the lab. Laughter bubbled up in her throat and she knew she must be smiling like a fool, but she couldn’t help it.

  “You did it, Matt.” Her voice came out a choked whisper. She cleared her throat. “You did it. In little more than a day, you’ve done what we couldn’t do in months, years. You’ve found the thread to unravel the killer’s game. This is the breakthrough we’ve been looking for.”

  She didn’t remember throwing herself at him, but suddenly she was in his arms, laughing and crying at the same time. She looped her arms around his neck and looked up into his wide-eyed gaze, then planted a kiss right on his lips.

  She drew back and framed his face with her hands, giddy with happiness. “Thank you, Matt. Thank you, thank you, thank you. You’ve saved my career. And you’ve saved lives! Casey can’t deny this is a real case anymore. He’ll have to get involved, throw some resources at finding the killer. And we’ll stop this bastard before he hurts anyone else. How does that feel? How does it feel to know you just saved someone?”

  His arms tightened around her waist and he pulled her against his chest. “It feels pretty damn good,” he whispered. And then he kissed her.

  Not the quick peck she’d just given him. A real kiss. A hot, wet, knock-every-rational-thought-out-of-her-mind kind of kiss. His mouth moved against hers in a sensual onslaught, nipping, tasting, teasing, before his tongue swept inside and consumed her with his heat.

  Desire flooded through her and she whimpered against him. She stroked his tongue with hers and he groaned, deep in his throat. He slid his hand down over the curve of her bottom and lifted her until she cradled his growing hardness against her belly. He held her so tightly she felt every beat of his heart against her breast. His breath was her breath, drawing her in, stoking the fire inside her into a growing inferno.

  He gyrated his hips against hers in a sinful movement that spiked across her nerve endings, tightening her belly into an almost painful knot of tension. Every movement of his hips, every slant of his lips, every thrust of his tongue stoked her higher, and higher, coiling her nerves into one tight knot of desire, ready to explode.

  Nothing had ever felt this good.

  Nothing.

  Ever.

  The tiny voice inside her, the one she’d ruthlessly quashed as soon as his lips claimed hers, suddenly yelled a loud warning. Stop this madness!

  Her eyes flew open. This was Matt making her feel this way, on the brink of a climax when all he’d done was kiss her. Matt. Good grief, what was she thinking? He swiveled his hips again and she nearly died of pleasure.

  No, no! This had to stop.

  Convincing her traitorous body to respond to her mind’s commands was the hardest thing she’d ever tried to do, because every cell, every nerve ending wanted to stay exactly where she was. Pressed up against Matt’s delicious, hard, warm body.

  His twenty-four-year-old body to her thirty-year-old one.

  This was insane, a recipe for disaster. She had to stop, now, before she pulled him down to the ground and demanded that he make love to her right this very minute.

  She broke the kiss and shoved out of his arms.

  FRUSTRATION WASHED OVER Matt as he watched the passion fade from Tessa’s eyes. Her ample chest heaved as she struggled to draw a normal breath. He wasn’t in much better condition himself. His heart was beating so fast he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. And his pants had grown so tight he was afraid one brush of his jeans against his erection might push him over the edge. He’d certainly kissed his share of women over the years, but he’d never experienced anything like the kiss he’d just shared with Tessa.

  And if he had to guess, by watching how shocked she looked, neither had she.

  He didn’t know why he’d kissed her. No, that was a lie. He’d wanted to kiss her since the first time he’d met her. He’d certainly intended to kiss her, eventually. But he’d wanted the moment to be perfect, planned, so she’d be just as ready as he was, with no regrets afterward. Now was not that time, but unfortunately, the second she’d thrown her sexy little body against his, the blood had pumped to a part of his anatomy that didn’t care that the timing was off. And even though alarm bells were going off in what was left of his brain cells as he kissed her, he’d been helpless to stop.

  Now, as he watched her eyes narrow and her lips tighten into a thin line, he wished he could take the last ten minutes back and put a tighter rein on his libido.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  Whatever yardage he’d gained by helping her find a lead in the case had just rolled back into negative territory. He didn’t even know if he was still in the game.

  “That shouldn’t have happened.” Her voice was low, accusing.

  “You’re right. It shouldn’t have. My apologies.”

  She blinked, surprise causing some of her anger to fade. Maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t done irreparable harm to his chances.

  “Apology accepted.” She cleared her throat and checked her braid.

  One of these days he’d free all that luscious red hair, and he wouldn’t apologize afterward.

  “We, ah, need to contact Casey,” she said. “Are we through here?” Her face flushed an adorable light pink. “I mean, is there anything you want to check out at the scene, or in Priceville, before we head back to Charleston?”

  “No.” He resisted the urge to tease her about what he wanted to “check out.” That would be a mistake. She needed time to come to terms with what had just happened.

  Not too much time, though, he hoped, because once his consulting contract was over, he wouldn’t have an excuse to be around her anymore.

  Then again, if Casey was going to come into the investigation now, he might decide he didn’t need Matt anymore and cancel the rest of the contract. That was a sobering thought. How could he stay close to Tessa and make her realize how good they could be together if he didn’t have an excuse to be near her? His mood took a nosedive as he walked her back to the car.

  TESSA GLANCED AT Matt, sitting beside her at the desk they’d been relegated to in the Charleston PD squad room. He was typing on his laptop, acting as if nothing amazing was going on around them, while she was nearly bursting with excitement. She was trying to stay patient as she waited for her boss, but the waiting was killing her.

  When she’d spoken to Casey on the phone, she’d told him about Matt’s special search program that had led them to the Sharon Johnson crime scene, and from there to the John Crawford crime scene. She’d also relayed the information Detective Jimenez had confirmed for her, that broken glass at the Johnson house could have been from a Molotov cocktail. As to whether Sharon’s driver’s license had been taken, that couldn’t be confirmed since her purse hadn’t been found. But Casey had
agreed with Tessa and Matt’s conclusions—the odds of the Johnson and Crawford murders being related to the letters were too high to ignore, especially after Matt’s program had found so many other potential cases related to other letters. Casey was all in. He’d already flown into Charleston, and a team of agents from the Savannah office was due to arrive any moment.

  John Crawford’s body had been found less than six hours ago, and already a special task force was being established. Higher-ups were flying in from Quantico and field offices from every state where a letter had originated. The “Ashes Killer,” as the Quantico muckety-mucks were already calling him, would soon be behind bars. He didn’t stand a chance against the brain trust the FBI was assembling.

  Casey was deep in conversation right now with the Charleston police chief at the front of the squad room, along with the unit chief of BAU-2, the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit that focused on crimes like serial murder. There were all kinds of important people going in and out, drawing on white boards, comparing notes. And yet Matt was ignoring everyone in the room, completely focused on his computer screen.

  Tessa leaned toward him. ”Do you know who that is?” She pointed to the man who’d just walked up to Casey.

  Matt glanced up, frowned. “Can’t say that I do.”

  “He’s the head of the BAU at FBI headquarters. I can’t believe he’s here. This is huge, huge.”

  His mouth quirked up in a half smile. “You’re really excited about all this.”

  “I shouldn’t be. It feels so wrong, when people have died and more lives are at risk. But if I find this guy, if I stop him, it’s a guaranteed promotion. I could have my pick of jobs. I might even get my own field office. This is the kind of case that can make, or break, a career.”

  His smiled faded and he punched some more keys on his laptop. “And if you got a promotion, you’d be willing to leave Savannah?”

  “Of course.”