“You’re going to investigate?” Quinn said.
“Yes ma’am. I am. I’m heading up a task force to look into these three cases to determine if they’re connected as your articles are claiming, or if they’re random with similar markers before we go down the road of labeling this a serial killer incident.” He held up his hand to keep her from protesting. “Your editor and I have already been discussing this and how it’s already leaning in that direction with the missing jewelry that you left out of the articles as trophies. Thank you for that.”
“No. Thank you, Agent Street. I can’t tell you how appreciative I am that finally someone is stepping up and taking an interest in these three women. I’m just sorry it has taken it escalating to three before something is being done.”
“That we know of at this time. There could be more if this is a serial killer case. Or, he could just be getting started. His pattern is one every two years it looks like. Although he strayed off course with Heather Randall. His MO changed. He didn’t date her like he did Sandy or Barbie.”
“You’re right. He didn’t. He only flirted with her,” Quinn said. “As for Sandy Cranston, I don’t have much to share. Only what I wrote about in my article. I was hoping to pay a visit to her parents to talk to them and maybe learn more. Her mother was reluctant to say much on the phone when I interviewed her. I’m not sure if it was the pain of dredging up the past or perhaps her husband didn’t want her talking to me. Of course, I’m not sure. I thought I’d go there in person and sit down with them both.”
“That’s a good idea,” Sheraton said. “Get Burrows to go with you.”
“That’s what Grimm suggested,” Quinn told him.
“Grimm?” Agent Street said.
“My bodyguard, but we’re presenting him to the public like he’s my college boyfriend with whom I’ve recently reunited. I’m not sure if Sheraton has told you or not, but I’ve received a death threat and was almost run over by a car while walking home from town the other evening. Someone doesn’t want me doing these articles,” she explained.
“No, we hadn’t discussed this. Have the local authorities done anything toward finding who is responsible?” Street asked.
“They’ve investigated without any results yet, and the officers who came out assured me they have been doing their job in trying to find Barbie Martin, but their leads have all gone cold,” Quinn said.
“After two years they would. It will be even harder to find Sandy Cranston.” Street shook his head and reached into his suit pocket, pulling out a business card. “Call me if you have anything new and I’ll be in touch if I find anything on my end.”
“Will do,” Sheraton said.
“Thank you, again,” Quinn said.
Once he was gone, she took a deep breath, let it out, and turned to her boss with a big smile. “I thought when I saw you talking to him this was trouble, but I’m so glad I was wrong. We’re finally going to get some results.”
“Don’t go counting your chicks before the eggs hatch. He said he was going to investigate. It doesn’t mean he will immediately find anything. If this guy is smart he will have hidden these women well. We can hope against all odds that they are still alive in a bunker somewhere, but more than likely he’s buried each in some obscure location.”
Quinn’s smile faltered as the reality of what Sheraton was saying set in. Agent Street and his task force had their work cut out for them, and it would be her job not to mention it in her articles, but to dig up as much info as she could in the meantime to give him leads for the search. The last thing they needed was for this perverted soul to know they were on to him and for him to go digging up the bodies and moving them.
She inwardly cringed at the thought of bodies. She preferred to think of these women still alive, as Sheraton first said, in a bunker somewhere, but even that option brought about horrific outcomes of what they might be going through at the hands of this sadist.
“I better go look at the Sandy Cranston file and get her parents' number to see if I can set up a time to go meet with them. Did Logan say if he would be dropping by today?” she said.
“He didn’t, but I’ll give him a call and see what his availability window is for you. He’s been trying to give us as much of his spare time between cases,” Sheraton said.
“Okay. Thanks.” Quinn went to her desk, retrieved her laptop bag, and headed to the conference room where Grimm was with her coffee.
As she set up her laptop she filled him in on Agent Street and what he wanted.
“That sounds great. So, you were wrong about him being bad news,” Grimm said.
“Yes, and I’m glad. Now, let’s hope that when I contact the Cranstons they will be receptive to us coming out to see them. Sheraton is going to get in touch with Logan Burrows about him going with us.”
“Did you happen to mention to Sheraton about the black hoodie guy who was on your property this morning?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I was so excited by the news that the FBI was starting a task force that it slipped my mind. Hard to believe something like that would, but it did. I can go do it now.”
“You work. I’ll go tell him. I’m ready for a refill on my coffee anyway. I’ll bring you another on my way back.”
“Thanks.”
She opened up the Cranston file notes and began skimming Burrow’s report before she made the call. She wanted to be prepared for any possible roadblocks Mrs. Cranston might throw at her. And having what was said fresh in her mind was the best defense.
It was already half past ten, so she felt safe in making the call. Anna Cranston answered on the third ring. “Hello, Mrs. Cranston, this is Quinlan Moynahan with the Altoona Observer. Do you have a few moments to speak with me?”
