“Yes. Before I pulled it free,” Quinn said. She gave them both her business cards. “If you need to reach me about anything concerning this don’t hesitate to call.”
“Unfortunately, other than the brick and note, there isn’t much more we’ll need. You didn’t see anything other than someone running away. We’ll see if we can collect a footprint in the woods that might help us match a suspect. But otherwise, we’ll have to see if we get lucky here.”
“In other words, I shouldn’t hold my breath?” she asked.
“Probably not. In these incidents, unless there is a repeat occurrence, we don’t usually catch the perp unless their prints are in the system,” the officer with the camera said.
“We’ll also check with your neighbors on the off chance they saw anything, but it’s early in the morning. They were probably just getting started for the day or having breakfast. Most likely not at their windows,” the officer bagging the evidence offered.
“Thank you both. Dr. Mayhew and his wife would be up at this time of the day,” Quinn said as a car pulled into her drive. “That’s my editor to pick me up for work. If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to lock up so I can get going.”
“We’ll finish up here and be on our way,” the officer with the camera said. “And for the record, we have been taking the Barbie Martin case seriously. There just haven’t been any new leads.”
“Even now that the Heather Randall case matches in so many ways?” Quinn asked.
“That’s in Lewistown. We don’t have jurisdiction to investigate there.”
What a cop-out!
Quinn arched her brow and nodded before going to grab her messenger bag and lock it up. When she returned Sheraton, was out of the car talking to the officers and he wasn’t alone. There was a man with him that looked familiar. He had his back to her, but she had a feeling she’d met him before and when he turned, she knew she had. He was the Creswell’s private investigator, Logan Burrows. What was he doing here and with her editor?
She crossed her arms over her chest and walked over to where they were all gathered near her damaged car.
“Hello again,” Burrows said.
“Hi. Any new leads?” she asked.
“Yes, I dropped by the newspaper looking for you, and Sheraton suggested I come along when he told me what happened. I’m concerned about you, Quinn. You need protecting.”
She laughed. “I’ve been on my own for years, Mr. Burrows. I can take care of myself.”
“Not if you’re getting threats like this. I know a man, an old military buddy of mine, who has a team of guys who protect these matters. Let me give him a call. I’m sure he could send someone out to advise you on what to do if things escalate,” Burrows said.
She shook her head. “I don’t think one threat warrants hiring protection.”
“Quinn, listen to him.” Sheraton left the officers and walked over to her. “I won’t stand around while you put your life in danger writing these articles. I want to get to the bottom of what’s going on around here as much as you, but I will pull you from these stories if you get another threat or there’s another attack against you. Is that clear?”
“I’m not a wilting violet. I can take care of myself. I assure you both,” she stressed.
“I’m sure you can, but not when we have a possible serial killer here.” Sheraton glanced over his shoulder after saying that to see if the officers had heard him.
She swallowed. “I thought we weren’t going to call it that. It was only our suspicion with two cases so far. And not much more to go on.”
“Yeah, that was before I talked to him this morning,” Burrows said. “You won’t believe what I’ve dug up.”
Grimm Stallings drovehis Jeep Wrangler Rubicon to the headquarters of the Wolf Agency in Leesburg, Virginia from his apartment in Bethesda, Maryland to meet with his leader, Kenneally in person. He was rarely called in for a face-to-face meeting, but the phone call he’d received that morning sounded urgent, so he’d packed his bags as ordered and headed in to find out what his new assignment was going to be.
The two-story office building stood among others along Barnard Avenue, and he parked in the reserved parking for agency customers before going inside.
Lovell, the office attendant, greeted him at the door when he entered the building as if he’d sensed his arrival. He escorted him up the narrow stairs to the offices.
Through the glass wall, he saw their computer guru and intelligence whiz, Channon, sitting behind her curved desk of displays typing away on her keyboards, headset on. Lights were dimmed giving off a somber mood and soothing music drifted through her open office doorway. She glanced up, smiled at him, and went back to work.
Kenneally’s office door was closed.
“Wait here,” Lovell instructed to an array of couches. “He’s in a meeting, but should be finished shortly. Can I get you anything while you wait?”
“I’m good.”
