Profile of Retribution: FBI Profiler Romantic Suspense (Profile Series #3) Page 9

  It was then that Cameron noticed Anthony’s hand was wrapped in white gauze. “What happened to your hand?”

  “Oh, I burned it last night when I threw a match on some paper under kindling in the fireplace. Hurt like a bitch.”

  Cameron heard the front door open and then shut. Justin Andrews, dressed in his state police uniform, entered the room. Bobbie jumped out of her chair to hug him.

  Justin nodded at Cameron. “I saw your SUV outside. Good to see you.” He shook Cameron’s hand, while Bobbie rushed to the kitchen for another glass of sweet tea. Moving next to Anthony’s chair, he placed his hand affectionately on the older man’s shoulder. “So what’s going on?”

  “Anthony was just telling me how he burned his hand when he lit his fireplace kindling last night.”

  Taking an openly protective stance, Justin focused on Cameron. “So you think Anthony is the guy who torched the Lucas mailbox?”

  “I didn’t say that. But I would like to know where Anthony was last night around midnight.”

  Bobbie came back into the room and handed Justin a glass of sweet tea. “I can tell you where he was. He was lying next to me snoring to beat the band. I know the time because I rolled over to look at the clock and saw it was twelve-thirty. I pushed Anthony onto his side to stop the snoring and went back to sleep.”

  Anthony’s face flushed with anger. “You got a lot of nerve coming here with your insinuations and questions. Where were you cops when those animals took my Destiny? Where were you when my daughter needed your protection?” He stopped to glance at Justin. “Not you, Justin. I didn’t mean you.”

  Justin followed Cameron out to his vehicle.

  “Don’t you want to ask me some questions, too? I’m certainly not a member of the Lucas family fan club.”

  Hands in his pockets, Cameron leaned against his vehicle. This was one of those days he hated his job. He was just adding to their pain, with questions he was forced to ask to eliminate them as suspects. “How are you, Justin?”

  “Are you asking as a friend or as a detective?”

  “Friend. I already cleared you as a suspect. You were on duty last night.”

  “Were you surprised it wasn’t me who vandalized the Lucas place? I have just as much motive as anyone else. Certainly, just as much as Anthony or Bobbie.”

  “No. We’ve been friends for a long time. It just wasn’t your style.” Both men stared at their feet, not knowing what to say. Finally, Cameron cleared his throat and said, “I haven’t talked to you since the funeral. How are you?”

  Justin shrugged his shoulders. “I have good days and bad days. Mostly bad. I can’t get Destiny out of my head. I can’t stop blaming myself for what happened. When I saw she hadn’t arrived at the church for rehearsal, I should have waited for her in my car in the parking lot. But I didn’t, and I lost the one woman I’ll ever love.” He swallowed hard as if biting off tears.

  “I’m sorry, Justin. If there’s anything I can do…”

  “If you can’t bring her back, then no, there’s nothing you can do.”

  “If you ever need to talk, just call, we’ll meet for a beer or something.”

  “I have someone to talk to. I’ve been seeing a counselor for three months. Not sure it’s helping. Not sure anything will.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Snowflake

  The highway was engulfed in a thick white and gray soup. He’d already passed two accidents, one a head-on collision. But the dangers of driving in heavy fog wouldn’t stop him from where he needed to go, where he went every Friday.

  When he reached his destination, he turned onto a two-lane dirt road and drove until he reached her gravestone. Easing out of the truck, he went to the back and pulled out a wooden bench. Carrying it, he walked past several graves until he came to the twenty-by-ten-inch granite marker that held her name, along with her date of birth and death. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could afford. He wasn’t rolling in money like the Lucas couple.

  Placing the bench across from her grave marker under an oak tree, he returned to his truck for a bag of mulch. With his hands, he spread the organic material around and under the bench. Then he backed up a step to admire his work. He’d never been much of a wood worker but he’d found a plan for a bench, and had worked on it in the garage for the last two weeks, sawing, nailing, sanding, and staining. Proud of the finished product, he sat on it to test it out. The fog filled the air with moisture, and it clung to his hair and clothing, creating a cold, dewy sensation on his skin. Satisfied with the bench, he pulled out a rag from his back pocket and wiped the moisture from the gravestone.

  “Good morning, Snowflake. It’s been a week since I visited, but you’re on my mind and in my heart every day. I hope you like the new bench. Made it myself, if you can believe it. I thought it’d be nice to sit a spell each Friday when I visit. Maybe others would like to use it, too. It’s nice out here if you can call a cemetery nice. The land is flat and surrounded by a corn field. Real peaceful here. It gives meaning to the phrase ‘rest in peace.’”

  Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he checked his surroundings and was thankful for the fog. It kept the other mourners away and gave him privacy.

  “The other day I was thinking about that time we were in Walmart and you said you were craving grilled steak. But when we got to the meat department, the price was way too high and I didn’t have the money. So I pushed the cart to Dairy to pick up a gallon of milk and forgot all about the steak. After I paid for the groceries, I shoved the cart to the truck and unloaded the groceries while you got inside. Half-way home, you started giggling, and I asked you what was up. You pulled up your shirt and there was the biggest steak I’d ever seen plastered against your stomach. I gave you the lecture of your life about stealing. You just listened, not saying a word. Then when we got home, you shot out of the truck and fired up the grill. Later, I had to laugh, your face smeared with steak sauce and that mischievous grin on your face. You were always a rebel, Snowflake. Of that, I can testify.”

  Unspoken sorrow was a living thing and filled his heart with unbearable pain. As quickly as it came, it left, and in its place was the anger that consumed him.

  “I haven’t stopped seeking justice for you. Never will. I will make the Lucas couple pay for what their sons did to you. I won’t forget. I promise.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Interviewing Victims’ Families

  Cameron sat in his office, staring at his phone, dreading the call he was about to make. Sometimes detectives are like dogs, they didn’t like other dogs pissing in their area. He wondered if Wayne Griffin of the Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Department was one of those detectives.

  Wayne Griffin was the most dedicated investigator he knew, one of those people who was destined for police work. The last time Cameron saw him was at a task force meeting that convened to stop the Gamers’ killings in Shawnee County. Wayne was there because he was convinced the truck stop murders he was investigating in Indianapolis were connected to the Gamers. He was right.

  Wayne had brought five photographs to the meeting; each a young prostitute who had lost her life by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Most of the girls were in their late teens. Wayne had gotten to know each of the victim’s families intimately, which is why Cameron needed to call him. There was no way he’d start interviewing these families until Wayne Griffin knew about it.

  Lifting the receiver, he plugged in Wayne’s work number. The detective answered on the first ring.

  “Wayne, this is Cameron Chase. How are you?”

  “Probably the same as you, cases up to my ears, and no time for anything. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m working on a case, and I need to talk to the families of your truck stop murder victims. The ones Evan and Devan Lucas killed.”

  “What kind of a case would involve them?” An edge of suspicion laced Wayne’s voice.

  “We’ve had a couple of vandalism—�
�

  Wayne cut him off. “Vandalism? Are you nuts? You want to talk to my families about a vandalism case?”

  My families? Seemed like Wayne was one of those detectives who didn’t like other detectives pissing in his area. He didn’t want Cameron within a country mile of his families, and that was too bad, because they had to be interviewed. “The vandalism was focused on Bradley and Tisha Lucas, the parents of the men who killed our victims.”

  “So how are you connecting the vandalism to my families? It wasn’t like the case didn’t get media attention. Hell, it was on national news.”

  “Our suspect left notes that indicated he was seeking retribution for the death of his loved one. His behavior is escalating, and I want to stop him before he hurts the Lucas couple.”

  Wayne paused for a moment as if he were thinking the whole thing over. “I can’t think of anyone in my victims’ families who would have done anything like this. I talk to them every couple of weeks, just to check in to see how they’re doing. They’re still grieving, and in a lot of pain. I just don’t want you to dredge things up and get them more upset than they already are.”

  “It’s not something I look forward to, but I have to do due diligence and interview each of them.”

  “Yeah, I understand that.”

  “Listen, if you want to go with me…”

  “Not necessary. But I’ll call each one and give them a heads up. Give me a day before you contact them.”

  Cameron agreed and ended the call. He understood where Wayne was coming from, he had emotional attachments to victim families, too. He empathized with them as much as Wayne. He couldn’t imagine how he could go on if a member of his family were murdered. But then, this was a part of his job. The part he liked least.

  He had one more call to make, and that was to Indiana State Police Detective Robynn Burton. She, too, attended the task force meetings, and each time he saw her, it was difficult to keep his attention away from her full, sexy mouth and deep hunter-green eyes. Robynn was smart, savvy, and sexy, which made it hard for him to concentrate on work instead of plotting to get her into his bed. She was attracted to him, too, he knew it. What he didn’t know was why she wouldn’t go out with him.

  He left a message on Robynn’s voice mail, and then read and answered emails until his telephone rang.

  “This is Robynn Burton. I got your message.” Her voice was all business and sexy as hell at the same time.

  “Thanks for returning my call. I need a favor.”

  “What kind of a favor?”

  “I’d like you to interview one of the suspects for a case I’m working. It’s a conflict of interest situation.”

  “What’s your case, and who’s your suspect?”

  “Someone is targeting Bradley and Tisha Lucas for retribution of their sons’ murders. There has been some vandalism with notes left behind.”

  “The Gamers? Evan and Devan?”

  “Right. I need to interview each of the victims’ families, which means Kaitlyn Reece will need to be questioned. She’s engaged to my brother, Gabe.”

  “Yes, it would be conflict of interest. I can see your problem. I have a heavy caseload this week, but I could do it next week. How about Wednesday at ten?”

  “That would work.”

  Pausing for a second, she added, “Cameron, I don’t want to interview her at your office. Where does she live? I’d rather talk with her there.”

  “Kaitlyn lives with Gabe in the main house on our property. I’ll email you directions. Do you want her phone number?”

  “Yes, I’d like to talk to her directly about my visit. One more thing, Cameron, I’d like to talk to her alone.”

  There was one more word that could be used to describe Robynn Burton, and that was unpredictable. Maybe that was part of his attraction, that she could surprise him. Although this was more of a disappointment than surprise, because he wanted to see Robynn. Any excuse would do—even her interviewing his brother’s fiancée. What kind of selfish bastard did that make him?

  Cameron made breakfast plans with Gabe. It didn’t take a crystal ball to predict how his brother would react to the news Kaitlyn would be interviewed, along with the other victims’ family members. He’d be livid. Hopefully, in a public place like Mollie’s Cafe, Gabe wouldn’t try to kick his ass. Cameron had lucked out that Kaitlyn’s mother lived out of state, or she would have to be interviewed, too.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Gabe

  Sitting in a booth in Mollie’s Cafe, Gabe nursed his third cup of coffee and wished he were home in bed. The past two weeks had been a no-sleep marathon, and it was catching up with him. And not in a good way. Doing surveillance to catch a cheating spouse was lucrative and exhausting at the same time. Ted Brown’s wife was either innocent of duplicity, or she was the most cunning cheater he’d ever tracked. So far he’d followed her to the public library for a knitting class, the Hoosier Sports Bar for drinks with her girlfriends, the gym where she had a yoga class, and various other places that did not include a significant lover. Just to make sure she wasn’t sneaking out of the house after Ted went to sleep, he’d spent his evenings until two in the morning parked near their house.

  Rubbing the back of his hand over his unshaven face, he checked his watch and then the door again for his brother. A couple of guys who looked like farmhands came in, but no Cam. He’d better have a good reason for dragging him out of bed when he could have talked to him over breakfast at home.

  Anthony and Bobbie Cooke entered the cafe. When they looked in his direction, he waved, but they both shot him a nasty glare and then looked away. What the hell? Soon a waitress led them to a table near the window, where another couple sat waiting for them.

  Mollie came by to refill Gabe’s mug, and Cameron slid into the booth across from him.

  “Took you long enough. Where have you been?” The lack of sleep made him grumpy and ill-tempered.

  “Sorry, Gabe. I had to stop over at the Steel Horse Biker Bar…”

  “It’s a little early for booze, Cam.”

  “Very funny. Someone thought stealing the safe in the back of the bar was a good idea last night.”

  Gabe smirked. “What kind of an idiot steals a safe from a biker bar? That’s a good way to reduce your life expectancy.”

  “Exactly.”

  Mollie arrived with a hot cup of coffee for Cameron and a couple of menus. “Hi, Cam. Nice to see you.”

  Cameron nodded and then dived into his menu making Gabe grin. Cameron and Mollie had broken up a long time ago, and he was still avoiding her. The whole situation belonged in an “Avoiding a Bad Breakup” class as a “Don’t Do” example.

  Gabe was starving. “I’ll take my usual, Mollie. Scrambled eggs, bacon, blueberry pancakes, and hash browns. I’ll also take a dozen of your chocolate-chocolate-chip muffins to go. Kaitlyn loves them.”

  Cameron placed his menu on the table. “I’ll take the same thing, even the dozen muffins. I have to see Bryan Pittman later and he loves those things, too.”

  Mollie paused for a second, pencil in air, and then composed herself. She wrote down the order and headed for the kitchen.

  Cameron groaned and lowered his head. “Did you see that?”

  “See what?”

  “The way she looks at me. Her eyes are swimming in guilt. I just don’t know what she feels guilty about. Does she feel guilty about hurting me, or does she feel guilty getting caught with Brody in his hospital bed? I mean the guy had just come down from surgery and was still under the effects of the anesthesia, and she’s got him in a lip-lock? Who does that?”

  Gabe quickly lifted his mug to his lips to prevent Cameron from seeing the grin that threatened to spread across his face. “I wish you two would just talk about what happened and move on.”

  “I have moved on.”

  “Oh, so you’re seeing someone? That’s news to the brother who lives in the same house.”

  “Not exactly, but I’m working on it
.”

  “Good to hear.”

  Gabe gestured with his head to the other side of the restaurant. “Anthony and Bobbie Cooke are sitting over there by the window. They gave me the oddest look when they came in. Wonder what’s going on with them?”

  Without looking back, Cameron shrugged and wouldn’t meet his eyes. “No clue.”

  Gabe eyed his brother with suspicion. “You didn’t question them about the Lucas vandalism, did you?”

  “Damn it, Gabe. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m the sergeant in charge of the detective unit. How could I not talk to them? How could I not talk to any of the Gamers’ victims’ families?”

  Then it came to him. “Oh, no. Is that why you wanted to meet me away from the house? You’re going to do an official interview with Kaitlyn, aren’t you? You’re going to treat her as a suspect?” When Cameron didn’t respond, Gabe went on, the warning tone in his voice deep and angry. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! You actually think Kaitlyn, the animal and nature lover, could kill a living being and coat a rock with its blood, and then hurl it through the Lucas’ window like a football? Oh, and I read about the mailbox fire. Can you actually see Kaitlyn, in the middle of the night, stuff their mailbox with gasoline-soaked rags and toss in a lighted match? Really, Cam?”

  “I don’t tell you how to do your job, Gabe. I’d appreciate the same in return.”

  “How can you accuse the people who are hurting the most from what Evan and Devan Lucas did? How can you dredge up all this crap? Can you not see how much pain Kaitlyn is in? She lost her only sister and she’s mourning for her. The other families of the victims are doing the same for their loved ones. Kaitlyn doesn’t think any of them would resort to vandalism to extract some sort of revenge. She says the whole group is so submerged in grief they can’t think of anything else.”