The Watcher

“Yeah. I’ve got Josh on it until you get back here.”

“Were all three women brunettes?” Nic asked as she absorbed the facts.

“There were three other murders?” Griff asked.

Nic laid her phone on her chest, glowered at Griff and told him, “Yes, there were three more. Now, will you please shut up until I finish talking to my boss!”

“Nic?” Doug called her name.

She lifted the phone to her ear. “I’m here. I had to swat a pesky mosquito.”

“To answer your question, no, they were not all brunettes. The first one, killed back in April, was blonde. The second one, killed in May, was a redhead, but the third one was a brunette. She was killed in late June.”

“Then her hair color may not have anything to do with his choice. It may not play a part in his new game the way it did in the BQK murders.”

“There is a connection between the women, other than the fact that they’re all young,” Doug said.

“And that would be?”

“Five of the four women were athletes.”

“Interesting. We already know that Gala was a tennis pro and Kendall was a former Olympic silver medalist in the long-distance running competition.”

“Dana Patterson was a gymnast and Candice Bates was a rodeo athlete.”

“And what was the fifth one?”

“Angela Byers was an Atlanta police officer.”

The wheels in Nic’s mind turned at lightning speed. “My guess is that Angela Byers was in tiptop physical condition. We can check it out, but I’d bet my pension on it.” Nic took a deep breath. “What all five women definitely have in common is the fact that they were physically fit. For whatever reason, our killer either wants or needs only women in their physical prime.”

Chapter 6 (#ulink_8aa715cf-4376-5193-856c-f68601e61c84)

Anxious to know every detail of the information Doug Trotter relayed to her, Griff waited impatiently for Nic to finish her conversation. From listening to her side of the exchange, he surmised that Gala Ramirez had not been the first kill and that three other women’s murders fit the same MO.

Nic looked at Griff and wiggled her fingers. “I need a pen and paper,” she said as she held the phone sideways to prevent her boss from overhearing her request.

Griff hurried to a built-in desk, opened a drawer, and grabbed a notepad and paper, then slid the pad into Nic’s lap and handed her the ink pen. She nodded her thanks, then began writing rapidly as she straightened the phone and said, “I’ll get to Atlanta as soon as possible. Want to give me the names of the officers I should contact and where I can locate them?”

Griff watched while she continued writing furiously, nodding her head occasionally and giving simple, one-word replies. Finally, just as his patience wore thin, Nic said goodbye, closed her phone, and slipped it into her pocket.

“Well?” Griff asked.

“Doug unearthed some information that led him to believe there have been five connected murders, not two.”

“And?”

“The bureau is looking into each. He’s contacted the various law enforcement agencies in the affected states—Georgia, Virginia, and Oklahoma. He’s also contacted the field offices in those areas. He wants me to go to Atlanta before I return to D.C.”

“No problem,” Griff told her. “I’ll just have Jonathan file a new flight plan and we’ll head for Atlanta instead of Knoxville.”

“I don’t remember inviting you.” Clipping the ink pen to the top of the thin notepad, she looked directly at Griff. “Doug told me to go to Atlanta. He didn’t say anything about bringing you along with me.” She pressed the pad to her chest. “As a matter of fact, he disapproves of your involvement up to this point.”

“Tough.” Griff had no intention of letting Doug Trotter shut him out. He didn’t take orders from the bureau and although he tried to cooperate with all law enforcement agencies, he always did what he believed was in the best interest of everyone involved. He felt a special need to assist the victims’ families and to see that justice was served. Of course, it wasn’t always the type of justice he would prefer. His type of justice would be swift and deadly. No mercy whatsoever for vicious murderers like Cary Maygarden and his unknown partner, who had already begun a new killing spree.

“Look, Griff, it’s not going to work, our partnering up. Not now. It’s only a matter of time before this case is official FBI business. And when that happens—”

“You know that I’ll either be one step ahead of you or one step behind you. It doesn’t make sense for us not to cooperate.”

“I’d ask you to stay out of this and allow the proper authorities to handle the matter, but I know you won’t listen to anything I say.” Nic clutched the notepad to her chest with both hands, as if she were determined that he not catch even a glimpse of the info she’d jotted down during her conversation with Trotter. “You’re going to do whatever you want to do and damn the consequences. You want to solve this case and be the big dog in the news. You want everyone saying what an amazing PI Griffin Powell is, how he’s doing law enforcement’s job for them.”

“Do you honestly believe that I get involved in these cases because I like the publicity?” Good God, she really didn’t know him at all, did she? But then, he probably didn’t know her any better and might be judging her as unfairly as she was him.

“Are you saying you don’t love the publicity?” She snickered mockingly. “Odd, huh, that you wind up with your picture in the paper on a regular basis. If it’s not a story about Griffin Powell on the trail of a killer, then there’s one about your appearance at the latest highbrow social event with some gorgeous heiress on your arm.” She huffed. “Admit it—you love being in the public eye.”

Griff glanced at the notepad she held so protectively. She tightened her grip on the edges of the pad, eased it away from her chest, turned it over, and laid it in her lap. She pressed her folded hands down on top of it.

“I like solving crimes,” he said. “I like helping put criminals behind bars. I like doing what I can to stop evil people from harming others.”

“Then become a police officer, join the FBI, or get a law degree and—”

“There are enough police officers and lawyers”—he looked her square in the eyes—“and enough FBI agents. And you’re all required to work within the system, to follow the rules and walk the straight-and-narrow. Sometimes that works. Sometimes it doesn’t. I have the freedom to cut a few corners, to sidestep a few rules. Sometimes my way works better. Sometimes it doesn’t.”

“What is it with you?” she asked. “Why do you care? If it’s not for the thrills and the publicity, then why do it? You’ve got more money than God, so why not enjoy your playboy lifestyle and not get your hands dirty with murder and mayhem? I’ve never understood why you opened a PI firm in the first place.”

“Why I care is a personal matter,” he told her. “And because I do have more money than I could spend in several lifetimes, I have the means to help other people. Powell’s takes all kinds of cases, from people like Judd, who can pay dearly for our services, as well as from people who can’t pay us a dime. It doesn’t matter to us—to me—as long as we do our job.”

“So, you want me to believe that the Powell Agency is some philanthropic organization and you’re the benevolent benefactor?”

“Believe whatever you want.”

Nic looked down at the notepad in her lap. “This is information you’ll find out sooner or later.” She flipped the pad over. “I’ll share this with you, and then I need to get off your plane and book a reservation on the next commercial flight out of here for Atlanta.”

“As soon as we can get airborne, I’ll have Jonathan fly us to Atlanta.” Before she could protest—and she was on the verge of doing just that—he held up a restraining hand, asking her to wait. “Once we’re in Atlanta, we’ll go our separate ways. You’ll investigate for the bureau and I’ll find a way to look into things on my own.”

She hesitated, apparently considering his offer.

“Fly with me and you’ll not only be more comfortable, but you’ll arrive in Atlanta much sooner,” Griff told her.

She released a heaving sigh. “Oh, all right.” When he smiled, she added, “But once we get to Atlanta—”

“You can take a taxi and go to headquarters alone, talk to the police and the SAC at the Atlanta office, while I check into a hotel and get a good night’s sleep.”

She eyed him skeptically.

Using his index finger, he drew an invisible X on his chest. “Cross my heart.”

She nodded agreement.