Devoted in Death (In Death #41)(45)

“Evidence of torture, of binding?”

“Broken bones, cuts, bruises, some burns. But… they ruled it an accident. Burns could’ve come from him smoking whatever he managed to smoke, or his campfire. Breaks and cuts and bruises from the fall. We got a report a cabin had been broken into. Lock smashed. A few things taken – not really what Little Mel tended to take – and like I said, he never broke in. They found a little blood, and it was his, so it looked like he’d gone on in, just cut himself on something. Not a lot of blood. But we didn’t find anything that was missing in his collection, or along the way he’d have taken if he’d gone up that ridge and taken a fall.

“It could’ve happened that way, he broke in, cut himself, was maybe careless on the track and fell. You can see the logic to it, if you didn’t know him. But just over a week later, a boy went missing up in Missouri.”

“Noah Paston.”

“Yes, ma’am – Lieutenant,” he corrected. “You’ll have to give me time to break a lifetime habit. No question he was taken. There was no accident there. And clear signs he’d been bound, cut and burned and smashed up. A young, athletic boy and poor lost Little Mel don’t seem to have much in common, but they were both alone, both in what you’d call remote areas, both with cuts, burns, broken bones. I couldn’t let it go.

“I can show you the list I have, the names and locations I’ve been putting together since last August.”

Arkansas, she thought. It fell right into her route. “I’d be interested in that, in comparing it with my own list. Not updated,” she repeated when he glanced toward her board. “Not just with Jayla Campbell, but with the possible victims I put together last night. Is Ava Enderson on your list?”

“She surely is.”

When she named more, he shut his eyes like a man who’d found home, nodding, just nodding until she came to Jacob Fastbinder.

“That one’s a heartbreaker. Jennifer – Ms. Fastbinder – she’s pushed all she can push on it, but he doesn’t fit the FBI’s victimology. And like Little Mel, it reads just as easy as an accident.”

“Do you know her?”

“Never met, as such, but we’ve had a number of conversations and correspondence.”

“I intended to contact her today, request she allow the body to be exhumed and transported here to our forensic anthropologist.”

“If you’d let me talk to her, I think I can make that happen. I don’t suppose you could have a look at Little Mel.”

“Are there remains to look at?”

“He’s buried in the family cemetery, like his mama wanted.”

“Having two would give DeWinter comparisons,” Eve considered, and made the call on the spot. “We’ll take him. I need to speak with my commander, but we’re going to take both of them if you can pull it off.”

“Little Mel’s mama’s going to take more talking to than Jennifer Fastbinder, but I can be persuasive. I’m hoping I can persuade you to let me have another cup of this coffee.”

Eve wagged a thumb at the AutoChef. “Do you know how to work one of those?”

“They’re about the same wherever you go.”

“Then help yourself. Take it back to the lounge – can you find it again?”

“I’ve got a good sense of direction.”

“Start persuading. I need some time here to do the same, then I’m going to set up a conference room. When are you due back in Arkansas?”

“I’m on my own time. I took leave.”

That put a hitch in things. “Does your chief know you’re here, what you’re doing?”

“He does.” Banner poked at the AutoChef. “He doesn’t see this the way I do, but he’s given me a lot of room. And I’ve got leave coming.”

“Okay. Go work on clearing the exhumations, and I’ll work on getting the forensics here.”

She sat, and when he’d cleared the room, did a quick and thorough run on him before she contacted Whitney’s office and asked for a window.

10

Whitney sat at his desk, the city he served spearing up through the window at his back. His big hands rested on the arms of his chair; his eyes, dark and keen, stayed on Eve’s as she briefed him.

He wore command as he wore his suit – a good fit with clean lines. While she spoke, his wide, dark face remained impassive.

“And this deputy traveled here from the Ozarks on his own time and dime because the searches you ran were flagged by him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And he did this – at the base – because he believes a war vet with PTSD, with a history of substance abuse and antisocial behavior was one of the victims of the spree killers currently being sought by this department, others, and the FBI in spite of the ruling of his own ME – and the subsequent determination of accidental death by the FBI.”

In blunt, logical terms it didn’t ring the bell, but…

“The local ME in this case is also the town doctor – a GP. I checked, and she’s only worked on a handful of murders in seventeen years. The FBI has profiled these unsubs, has cemented their victimology. So far they’re not very flexible about thinking outside those lines. Deputy Banner’s vic is on the route I’ve speculated independently, as are several others both Deputy Banner and I have on our separate lists. They didn’t start with Tennessee, Commander. The Nashville vic is only the first we can determine had the carved heart. And the gaps between killings are inconsistent – until you fill them in with the names both Banner and I have added.”