Soul Possession(19)

The utter callousness, the fact that the killing was sport for some son of a bitch who got a thrill from hunting down a defenseless woman, filled him with rage.

The girl’s final moments had been filled with pain, terror, and the helpless realization that she was going to die. This time the shot wasn’t from a distance. No, judging by the marks on her knees and the position of the entry wound, the bastard had caught up to his captive, made her kneel, and then shot her execution style.

Or maybe he’d never turned her out for the hunt. Maybe he was changing his game up. But then he’d complained in his phone call to Rick that the woman hadn’t been a challenge. Maybe she’d refused to run. Maybe she’d realized the futility. Or maybe she’d simply given up.

The crime lab had marked off a wide perimeter, and beyond it, other police officers searched meticulously for something, anything, the killer could have left behind. Sooner or later he had to f**k up.

But the bastard even picked up his shell casings, and the bitch of it was, he either had the lightest feet known to man or he covered his tracks extremely well, because they could find absolutely no disturbance in the soil or the forest floor. Only blood and footprints and disturbance from the victim.

She was a pretty girl. Looked like a college student. A good twenty years younger than the last victim. Her blue eyes were glassy and fixed in death, her hair smeared with blood. Truitt shook his head and heaved out a frustrated sigh. Sometimes his job sucked.

Soon she was packed in a body bag and carried to where the coroner’s van waited. The scene was wrapped up, and as dusk settled over the woods, Rick and Truitt dragged themselves along with the other volunteers toward their vehicles.

They were dirty, tired, and disheartened.

Truitt’s mood only got blacker when he saw the news vans parked around their vehicles. The chief was already fielding questions and it looked well on its way to becoming a circus.

“Let’s get the f**k out of here,” Rick muttered. “Pick up a six pack or five and get wasted.”

Truitt didn’t argue.

As they climbed into Rick’s truck, Truitt’s cell phone rang. When he glanced down he recognized the number and his gut tightened.

“It’s Bull,” he muttered to Rick. Hell, he had probably arrested Jessie. Just what they needed to cap an already stellar day.

“Cavanaugh,” Truitt barked into the phone.

“Truitt, it’s Bull. Look man, I think you should come by the station. I know you’ve had a long day but I think you’ll be interested in knowing this.”

Truitt sighed. “All right. We’ll be there ASAP.”

He shoved the phone back into his pocket.

“He wants us to come to the station.”

Rick’s lips thinned. “Great. Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any worse.”

They rode back into town in silence, passing through the smaller communities, many of which had been homes to the women victimized by the Big Thicket Killer.

When they finally pulled up outside the station, it was well past dark. Truitt was starving and he had a date with a case of beer.

They got out of Rick’s truck and Truitt stared up the steps to the entrance.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“Come on. Let’s get it over with,” Rick said sharply. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

They walked through the door and Rick waved when the dispatcher cheerfully greeted them.

“Hey guys, Bull’s in his office. He’s been waiting for you.”

“Bull seems a bit eager to shove Jessie down our throats,” Truitt said in a terse voice.

Rick’s lips tightened but he didn’t say anything as they walked down the long hallway to Bull’s office on the end. Bull was behind his desk up to his nose in paperwork. When he heard Rick and Truitt he looked up and then put down his pen.

“Have you made an arrest?” Rick bit out.

“Yeah, I have.”

Truitt’s lips curled up into a snarl. “Okay, so why did we need to be here? You couldn’t have said this over the phone?”

Bull leveled a stare at him. “Jessie didn’t do it. She was telling the truth.”

Rick went still. Truitt’s heart started to pound harder.

“Okay, wait,” Rick began. “You made an arrest. Just yesterday she was all but convicted in your eyes. What changed?”

“Have a seat. You’ll need to see this.”

Bull swung around and aimed a remote at the television monitor a few feet away as Rick and Truitt lowered themselves into chairs.

As they watched the news story that all but painted Jessie as a convicted killer, Truitt’s fingers curled into tight fists.

“What the hell was that?” Rick demanded. “Where the f**k did they get their information? Who’s the goddamn leak?”

“I don’t know,” Bull said. “Chief’s pissed. Hell, we’re all pissed. Nobody here likes to see the goddamn news blabbing shit before we’re ready.”

“Son of a bitch,” Truitt swore. “So she didn’t do it and now that doesn’t matter because everyone will think she did.”

Bull held up his hand. “We’re doing damage control. We have a confession. The chief is going to handle the press conference himself to say that an arrest has been made, charges will be filed, and that Miss Callahan was instrumental in the department’s discovery of the true killer.”