Scene of the Crime: Black Creek. Carla Cassidy
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Nest Fine Dining Restaurant was comprised of semicircular booths covered on the outside with a faux strawlike material that gave them the impression of nests.
Mick requested seating by the front window and they were led to one of the “nests” where they could be seen by people out on the street while they enjoyed their meal.
It took only a few minutes for them to order a glass of wine and then select their meal from the menu, which offered meals for two to share.
When the waitress left, Cassie leaned toward Mick. “Did you notice anyone suspicious? Anyone paying special attention to us?”
He couldn’t help but smile at the eagerness that lit her eyes. Only somebody like him could get excited about catching the attention of a killer.
“I didn’t notice anyone.”
“I don’t think we have a tail,” she replied. “I guess since the murders were accomplished in the cottages where the couples were staying they decided not to put a tail on us when we’re out in public.”
“That’s the same conclusion I came to,” he replied.
“If the first two murders were about two weeks apart, then our killer should be ready to pop off again.” She paused as the waitress arrived at the table with their drinks.
“Tell me, Cassie, what made you choose to become an agent?” he asked once the waitress had gone. In the time they’d spent together working previously they’d never really had a chance to talk about their personal lives.
They’d worked the case hard and then had celebrated with the fall into her bed. She’d then kicked him to the curb and there had been no time for really getting to know each other. He figured this was as good a time as any to find out more about her. Maybe sharing a little bit between them would loosen her up a bit.
She neatly aligned her silverware next to her plate before looking at him and replying. “Unlike a lot of people who enter law enforcement, I didn’t have any family members who worked in the field and none of my family had ever been victims of a violent crime. It was the discipline that drew me, the knowledge that there were definitive rules to adhere to and set procedures to follow. I like that in life. I like structure, both in my professional and in my private life.”
“I kind of figured that out about you,” he replied dryly.
“What about you?” She reached out and grabbed the stem of her wineglass. He noticed that her fingernails were short and neat and appeared to be painted with clear polish.
She was definitely low maintenance when it came to personal appearance, so unlike the woman who had stolen his heart and then shattered it years ago.
He shoved away thoughts of Sarah. She had no place in his thoughts anymore. She didn’t deserve to be in his thoughts at all.
“Actually, I joined the academy to escape three older sisters who, when I was young, tried to transform me into another sister and now all think they are my mother.”
She smiled, a quick gesture that lasted only a moment. “Your mother is gone?” she asked.
He nodded. “A long time ago. She died of cancer when I was seven. My dad worked hard to take care of things, but the maternal stuff all came from my sisters. Dad passed away three years ago from a heart attack and since then my sisters have all stepped up their mothering of me. What about you? You have family somewhere?”
“None,” she replied without hesitation. “What do you think about our unsub? Maybe his parents got a divorce when he was young and he blames them for ruining his life so now he’s killing newlywed couples before they can become Mommy and Daddy and screw up another kid’s world.”
Mick didn’t miss how smoothly she’d deflected the conversation away from anything personal about herself and back to a professional topic. “Maybe, who knows? Maybe he just likes what he does and we’ll never know a motive that makes any kind of sense to anyone. Maybe he just does it for the thrill of it.”
She frowned thoughtfully. “Those are the hardest kind of killers to catch, but I don’t think that’s what we’re looking at here. The fact that he’s already established a pattern in his victimology tells me there’s a reason for the murders, and we just need to crawl into his head to find it.”
“It’s not our job to get into his head,” Mick reminded her. “Our job is to hope that he gets us into his head and sees us as his next victims.”
“There’s no question that we’re his type. I just hope that there are a lot of brunette women on the streets over the next couple of days. That would definitely make it easier for him to spot me. I want him to make his move on us as quickly as possible.”
Mick reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Trying to get rid of me so fast?” He didn’t wait for her reply. “Just remember that the better we play our parts the faster we’ll make it happen and then you won’t have to pretend that you’re in love with me any longer.”
The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the waitress with their food. While they ate they kept the conversation neutral, mostly talking about the sights they’d seen earlier while strolling down the streets. Several times Mick tried to learn a little about her past, about her parents and where she’d come from, but she deftly managed to respond to his questions without giving him any real answers.
There was a mystery in the depths of her eyes. He sensed secrets in her past, and as far as Mick was concerned there was nothing so inviting as a woman with many layers.
The next couple of days or so should be very interesting, he thought as he eyed Cassie across the table. He wanted to learn a little more about her, unpeel some of the layers to expose the woman beneath the efficient, anal-retentive agent, and if that wasn’t enough, he had a killer to bring down.
* * *
HE WATCHED THEM from across the street, the dark-haired man and the petite blonde eating dinner at a table near the window of the restaurant.
They were perfect.
They were just what he liked.
And they were FBI agents.
By now, Matt and Janice Campbell, who ran the Sweetheart Suites, would have told half a dozen friends all about the three agents who had checked into the suite next to Mr. and Mrs. Crawford and the audio equipment they’d installed in that cabin. Of course, Matt and Janice would have sworn each and every person they told to secrecy, but there weren’t many secrets in Black Creek.
Three FBI agents holed up in a cottage and two more pretending to be newlyweds, and they all were here because of him.
To catch him.
A thrill swept through him, warming his heart, which had been cold for a long time. FBI agent or not, the woman definitely stirred him. She appeared so fragile, so dainty and small of stature. He could imagine the silky feel of her pale blond hair entwined with his fingers, imagine the horror of her blue eyes as she realized she was about to die.
The very sight of her whirled a rage through him that had been born two years ago and had only been sated twice since then, and that had been when he’d killed those other two couples.
Clenching his hands into fists at his sides he watched as she picked up her wineglass and took a sip. It tickled him that he knew they were playing a part specifically to trap him.
He was sure they’d studied all the facts of the other murders, memorized each and every detail of his handiwork. But he’d been good. He’d been very good. He’d left nothing behind to identify him, no trail for them to follow.
And now they thought they were one step ahead of him, dangling the perfect bait right before his hungry eyes. Yes, that definitely amused him.
He knew they were expecting him to strike in their room, just like he’d taken down the others. They would believe that when danger came it would appear at their cottage door late in the evening.