“She’s on her way. Should be there by one.”

“And she knows she’s working with me?” He never made small talk.

Jerrod paused a moment. “Why wouldn’t she want to work with you?”

He selected his words carefully. “We disagreed on investigative methods in Kansas City.” They’d also slept together.

“Can you work with her?”

“Yes.”

A beat of silence pulsed through the phone.

“That’s all that matters,” Ramsey said.

“How is she since the accident?” Nevada asked.

“I’m not going to lie, the accident changed her. She’s lost weight, and there’s a limp.”

Heaviness coiled around him. “She’s meeting me at the barn where the body was found, correct?”

“Yes,” Ramsey said. “I need a team player, Nevada. You know better than anyone that the members of my team are called upon to work as a unit. They need to know each has the other’s back.”

“Crow’s independent as hell.”

“So I’ve gathered. We’ll talk next week, and you can tell me if I should hire her or not.”

Nevada watched as the paint crew moved into his office. A good word from him would land Macy a spot on Ramsey’s team. But he knew better than anyone that the job would take a piece of her soul. “Will do.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Monday, November 18, 8:20 a.m.

Macy concentrated on her gait. One step. Two step. Ramsey was watching and no doubt second-guessing his decision to give her a try.

When she pushed through the doors of her building, her shoulders relaxed, and she took a deep breath. She passed through security and walked to her office in the basement.

She hated the windowless space. It was a reminder of her Texas screwup and a glimpse into her future if she didn’t crack the case in Deep Run. The possibility of doing real work was exhilarating, and she was anxious to grab what she needed and get the hell out into the field.

“Macy, have a look at this.”

Macy turned to the young woman sitting in front of a computer screen. Andrea Jamison, or Andy to the basement dwellers, was a pleasant young woman who never minded hours in front of a computer screen double-checking or inputting data. Slightly round with brown hair and thick-framed glasses, Andy had a wicked sense of humor and, in a showdown of bar shots last weekend, had handily beaten Macy.

“What do you have?” Macy’s tone was unusually abrupt.

“Don’t we sound testy,” Andy said. “Did the boss man on the mountain reject your request to work with his team?”

Andy’s cubical was filled with pictures of her mom and dad and three older sisters who were all tall, slim, and married. There was also a collection of Star Trek figurines, which Andy had divided into the Originals, the Next Generation, and whatever nonsense incarnations had followed. Macy ignored Andy’s odd obsession with science fiction because she’d turned out to be pretty cool and dedicated to a job she did very well.

“He’s sending me to a small town called Deep Run,” Macy deadpanned.

Andy’s charm bracelet rattled as she swiveled around in her chair and folded her hands primly on her desk. “Do tell.”

Macy recapped the case details. “Now all I have to do is crack the case.”

“Just in time for the holidays?”

Macy glanced toward a paper turkey someone had pinned on a central bulletin board. “We agreed not to discuss the holidays.”

“Turkey time means family, which equals drama.” Andy turned toward her screen and typed in “Deep Run.” “I don’t have anything in my system from their sheriff’s department.”

“Not surprising, given the DNA wasn’t tested until a few weeks ago.”

“When you get down there and you’ve gone through the case files, fill out a ViCAP form and send it to me. I’ll have a look around. Serial offenders rarely stop unless they’re dead, injured, or imprisoned. And we know your guy isn’t in prison.”

A year ago, if someone had said she’d be filling out forms to catch bad guys, she’d have laughed. She still had her doubts, but she wouldn’t turn her nose up at more help. “Will do.”

“I’m serious, Macy. Get me the info. Police work isn’t all Serpico shit and dark alleys.”

“Serpico? Have you been streaming old movies again?”

Andy shrugged. “I’ve got a thing for the seventies right now. But I’m serious, Macy. Send me the stats.”

“I really will.” Macy turned to her desk and grabbed extra yellow legal pads, pens, and the picture she’d taken with her sisters before she’d left Texas. She hefted the backpack onto her shoulder. “I’ll see you next week.”

“No cowboy shit. Don’t forget your leg stretches. Be safe.”

“Roger, Mom.”

Nevada stood in front of the county board of supervisors panel in his uniform. His starched collar rubbed his skin and fueled his impatience as he stood beside six eager, fresh-faced kids from Valley High School’s National Honor Society. As a photographer snapped pictures, he forced a smile and held up the school’s newly awarded antilitter certificate.

As the kids smiled, Nevada’s thoughts drifted back to his visit to the Turner home yesterday. The purpose of the visit had been to notify Jeb Turner that the medical examiner had identified his daughter’s remains.

The instant Turner had opened his front door, his expression had shifted from mild curiosity to pain. The man had understood immediately why Nevada was there.

Tobi Turner hadn’t been Nevada’s first death notification, but as the old man had wept, he’d felt gutted and angry and prayed he could find the girl’s killer.

“Sheriff, can you hold the plaque a little higher?” the student photographer asked.

“Of course.” Nevada couldn’t remember the last time he’d been around kids who weren’t abused, beaten, or dead.

As the kid took a dozen more pictures, Nevada kept smiling. He wanted this dog-and-pony show over.

When the group finally broke up, he grabbed his gear, ready to change and get back to working the Turner case. The board of supervisor’s chairman, Sam Roche, cut off his exit. Sam was a retired university professor who’d settled in Deep Run and had been on the board five years.

“Sheriff Nevada, how’s your investigation going?” Sam asked.

“It’s progressing.”

Sam frowned and dropped his voice a notch. “The board is concerned about this case. The optics aren’t good. Who’s going to send their son or daughter to the local university or relocate a business in Deep Run if we can’t promise law and order?”

“Deputy Brooke Bennett and I have been in constant contact with the forensic lab in Roanoke, and I’ve also reached out to the FBI’s profiling team.”

“FBI?” Sam asked.

“If you want this case solved quickly, then we can’t ignore the truth. We had a serial offender who operated in this area in 2004.”

“What’re the chances that this person is still here?” Sam asked.

“I have no way of knowing,” Nevada replied. “I’m still trying to determine if we’ve identified all his victims.”

Sam held up a hand. “There could be more?”

The naive question would have been amusing if this weren’t so damn serious. “Not all women who are raped report the crime. Yes, there could be more.”

Sam rubbed a hand over his thinning gray hair. “The media is calling me for a comment. I’m not sure what to say.”

“I strongly advise you to not speak to them,” Nevada said. “The FBI agent will be here in a few hours, and she and I will coordinate communications to the public.”

“What about Greene?”

“What about him?” Nevada was still pissed about Greene’s inaction on the DNA kits. If the lazy, dumb son of a bitch had made an attempt to solve the rapes in the summer of ’04, he might have saved Tobi Turner’s life.

“I don’t want the FBI taking over the case,” Sam said. “I don’t need the world thinking we can’t manage our own problems.”

“The bureau doesn’t take over.” He’d never taken credit for the cases he’d solved. Instead, he’d always stood off to the side when local law enforcement had made an announcement to the media. Now Nevada was the local guy and was on the receiving end of the FBI’s help.

“Just stay on top of this.”

He would swallow every last bit of his pride and accept whatever help was offered to catch this killer. He owed that much to Tobi Turner and the rape victims. “I will.”

“You’ve chased killers like this before?” Sam asked.

“Too many.”

“I never thought we’d see something like that here.”

“No one does.”

Men like Sam ran for the board because they cared about economic development, ribbon cuttings, and policy meetings. They never bargained for high-profile rape and murder cases. “Keep me updated, Sheriff Nevada.”

“Will do, Supervisor Roche.” He strode out of the office and to his car. He checked his watch. A couple of hours left before Macy would arrive.