Manhunt. Carla Cassidy
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marked the territory as his own for the duration of his stay, a stay he’d told Mary would be indefinite.
Maybe he looked like an old boyfriend who’d dumped her, or a cheating ex-husband. He knew for sure he’d never seen her before in his life. Nick had a knack for remembering faces. He wasn’t always great with names, but faces he never forgot and he was positive he’d never seen Alyssa Whitefeather before in his life.
He dismissed her from his mind as he returned to the bedroom and finished unpacking his clothes. When he’d emptied his suitcase, he turned to the briefcase. He walked over to a small table covered with a blue gingham tablecloth that sat in the corner with a window on either side.
He moved the vase filled with fresh-cut flowers from the center of the table to the top of the dresser, then set his briefcase on the table and opened it.
Inside were copies of files from the Cherokee Corners Police Department…the reasons he and his team had been requested to come to town. His two-man team would arrive tomorrow, the date when the chief of police, Glen Cleberg, was expecting them.
A serial killer was terrorizing Cherokee Corners, and after four murders, Chief Cleburg had finally called the FBI for help.
As a criminal profiler, Nick had seen more than his share of evil. As a man he’d tasted the horror of evil in his personal life. That particular horror had begun to fade with the passing of time.
Grief over Dorrie’s ugly death didn’t fill his every waking hour as it had in the days and weeks after her murder, but the rage had never left him.
He refused to allow the grief or rage to take hold of him now. He had a job to do here, and in order to do it to the best of his ability he had to remain unemotional and detached. In order to be successful he had to attempt to immerse himself in the life, the mind and the very evil of the murderer at work in this place.
One of the reasons Nick had decided to come a day earlier than his team was because he knew how important it was to get a feel for the town, for the people where a serial killer was at work. He liked giving himself a little time to soak up the local ambience before he dived into the task-force work.
With this thought in mind he opened the first file folder. He’d already read them all half a dozen times, but he’d continue to reread them until he had every fact, every piece of evidence and every nuance of the crimes completely memorized.
If his stomach hadn’t started protesting the absence of food, he probably would have sat at the small table in the corner of the room halfway through the night.
When he could no longer ignore the emptiness and rumbling, he looked at his wristwatch, surprised to realize it was almost seven o’clock.
As Mary had led him to his room, she’d given him a quick rundown on the bed-and-breakfast routine. Breakfast was served in the main dining room between the hours of six and nine in the morning.
The front door was locked at ten o’clock but the guests were given a key to the back door, where they could come and go as they pleased no matter what the hour.
The amenities that came with the room, not counting breakfast itself, were fresh flowers in the room daily, fresh-squeezed lemonade, sun tea and cookies every afternoon on the veranda and turndown service at night if requested.
At the moment Nick wasn’t interested in anything other than dinner. The burger he’d had at noon had been great, so he decided Ruby’s was the place for dinner, as well.
He left the of all the establishments on the street. The August heat created a rather unpleasant odor in the alley as he passed several trash bins that likely contained spoiled food.
He followed the alley around the square, noting entrances and exits as he walked. All four victims of the killer had been left at various points in the center square. The alley made an easy, accessible escape route for the killer.
When he reached the back of Ruby’s restaurant, he walked around the side of the building, from the alley to the front sidewalk and the door.
Ruby still stood at the cash register and her broad face beamed when he walked through the door. “Ah, a repeat customer. That’s a good sign,” she said.
He grinned. “It was a piece of great apple pie and I’m hoping you offer something equally as appetizing for your dinner meals.”
“You look like a steak man. We’ve got a great sirloin meal in the evenings. And you’re in luck, most of the dinner crowd has thinned out, so you can have your choice of a table or a booth.”
Nick quickly perused the place. “A table,” he said. The tables were in the center of the room.
“You got it.” Ruby left the register and grabbed a menu from a stack, then led him to a small table for two. “This all right?”
“Perfect.” He accepted the menu from her and smiled his thanks.
“How about a cup of coffee to start you off?”
“Sounds great.”
Moments later Nick sat at the table alone, sipping his coffee while he waited for his steak dinner to arrive. If the cops in the town were as friendly as the other folks, it would make Nick’s time here much more pleasant.
A young couple sat next to him and he couldn’t help but overhear the argument they were engaged in.
“You promised me no more evening meetings until after the killer is caught,” the young woman said, her voice emotional.
“I know, honey, but tonight can’t be helped. It was the only time Mr. Maynard could meet with us.”
Nick tuned out the conversation, but it intrigued him nevertheless. It was the first time he’d heard anyone mention the killer that plagued the town.
He could understand the fear of the women in town…fear for their male friends, boyfriends or husbands. So far all the victims had been males between the ages of thirty and forty. They’d been stabbed to death and left naked in a public area around the center square.
The steak was grilled to perfection and the baked potato was just the way he liked it, smothered in real butter and sour cream.
As he ate, he found himself wondering how well he and his team would be greeted by the local law enforcement. Even though it had been the Cherokee Corners chief of police that had requested their help, that didn’t mean the locals would be particularly pleased to have outsiders working the case.
The bad blood between FBI men and city officers had become almost mythical in the passing of years. Usually, everyone managed to work together without ego or territorial battles in order to solve a particular crime…usually, but not always.
It would be interesting to see what kind of welcome they’d receive here in Cherokee Corners. Hopefully, it would be a good one and he wouldn’t have to worry about internal politics or other such nonsense. All he wanted to do was solve this particular case and return to Tulsa and the hunt for the killer named Murphy who had stolen his life.
He was lingering over coffee, when Ruby approached him and motioned to the chair opposite his. “Mind if I join you for a minute?”
“Not at all,” he replied, grateful for a break from his own thoughts.
“Steak okay?”
“Perfect. I think this is going to be my favorite place to eat while I’m in town.”
Ruby nodded and grinned. “Best place in town…although I might be a slight bit prejudiced. Did you get settled in at the Redbud Bed-and-Breakfast?”
“I did, and thanks for the recommendation.”
Ruby nodded again, but the smile that had decorated her face fell away. “Cherokee Corners is a nice town. We got a good bunch of people here, a nice mix of Native Americans and white folks. We accept each other and live together in peace.”
Nick wondered where she was going with this