Cold & Deadly (Cold Justice: Crossfire #1)(77)

He laughed. She noticed a red patch of skin when he rolled up his sleeve.

“A bit of both, I suppose. I applied for the job when the last pastor moved away and was lucky enough to be chosen. I’d had a position as a deacon in Connecticut before this.”

“Good pay?” Ava asked with a smile. You really did get more from people when you were friendly.

He shook his head. “Terrible, but I get decent accommodations included, and it really is a beautiful part of the world.”

“Even with a serial killer in the graveyard?”

“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” The pastor’s tone was mocking rather than sanctimonious.

“Very Christian of you.” Ava smiled and washed up her glass and put it on the counter to drain. Then she went over and sat at the small table and pulled on gloves to page through the visitor book. You couldn’t be too careful.

The first entry in the book was dated four years ago. “Do you have the books for the years before this?” she asked. “Specifically, ten years ago when Galveston was first buried?”

He straightened. “I don’t know. They should be around here somewhere. Let me look for them.”

“Ever heard of a woman called Caroline Perry? Or a guy named Karl Feldman?”

Elgin frowned. “No. Should I have?”

“Just curious.” Ava started leafing through the book, working backwards. The answers were somewhere. It was just a question of figuring out where.

*

Dominic didn’t want to leave the graveside until the coffin was up and open and he was staring at Peter Galveston’s rotting corpse. But as he watched Ava follow the clergyman who could barely keep his tongue in his mouth, Dominic didn’t want to leave her alone with the guy either. That was more a personal preference than a professional one so he stayed where he was. Apparently, Mr. Loner had gotten used to his beautiful shadow over the past few days.

Get a grip.

Ava Kanas didn’t need his protection. She’d taken down dangerous fugitives and drug dealers and that was just in the last week. Hell, she’d taken on the mob at an age where most kids were playing dress up. What had he been doing at age seven? Probably crying because his mother was dead and then crushing his brother at Mario Kart.

He drew his attention back to where the digger was lifting bucket upon bucket of heavy black soil out of the ground. The noise of the machinery meant it was impossible to carry on a normal conversation. Two more federal agents arrived, probably to check out the proceedings. It wasn’t every day they dug up a serial killer.

Dominic used the time to center his thoughts about the case.

This killer had planted C4 in Chavez’s speedboat and sent a pipe-bomb to Sandra Warren that had maimed her husband. He, or she, did not care if other people got hurt. They didn’t care if kids got hurt.

If it was Caroline Perry then what was her motive? What was her connection to Galveston?

Dominic raised his gaze to the tombstone and read the inscription. Older sibling. Parents. Nothing for Peter except his name, date of birth, date of death. The man had been an only child after the early demise of his brother. Dominic would bet the farm that Peter had had something to do with that premature death. Psychopaths did not like competition for attention.

The guy had had plenty of friends, but they’d all scattered like roaches after he was shot and claimed they had no idea about the man’s murderous pastimes. They were probably telling the truth. Most of them. The FBI had never been able to connect any of them specifically with his crimes.

Dominic walked around the obelisk and rocked to a halt. Someone had left the bastard a teddy bear. It was an expensive make, he knew that from the label on the foot. Who the hell left a serial killer a stuffed toy? Someone who loved him, that’s who.

He took out his cell phone and snapped a photograph and sent it to Lincoln Frazer. A minute later he got a call from the man.

“Where is that?” Frazer asked.

“Peter Galveston’s grave.”

“Give me the GPS coordinates.”

Dominic texted them and waited silently on the line.

Frazer finally came back to him as the digger hit something solid in the earth with a slight thump. The people around the grave jostled in excitement.

“Alex Parker managed to isolate a cell phone number that had been active around the bar in Fredericksburg, Van’s house, and the area where Caroline Perry’s body went into the water. It also pinged the tower nearest your house a couple of times. Parker checked, and it pinged the tower nearest your current location on several occasions over the past year.”

“Send me those dates.” He needed to show the pastor a photo of Perry, see if the guy recognized her. “Where is the phone now?”

“Hasn’t been turned on since Tuesday night. Around the Medical Examiner’s time of death for Perry.”

“What does the teddy bear tell you?” Dominic asked the profiler.

“That someone had strong feelings for Galveston and wanted to prove someone loved him. Probably a female.”

Dominic grunted. Men didn’t tend to buy teddy bears for loved ones—unless it was for a child. Galveston’s parents were both dead.

“This could be the work of more than one person,” Dominic stated.

“At this stage, with this many agents targeted, the UNSUB definitely had help,” Frazer agreed.