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“Yeah, plenty,” Ty said. “And if we were in New Orleans or closer to the Mexican border or even in the desert, I’d name them, but we’re in the Bible Belt for Christians. Most likely if a religion has been twisted by a killer, in this region, it’s going to be Christianity at the foundation. Could have some jacked up mixes but unlikely. I’d prefer to start with the cornerstone then work outward.”
“So this could be a metaphor of some kind,” Fiona noted.
“Possibly. I need to know more about the victims to help me discern if religious undertones are involved.”
Violet stood. “And I need the victimology to work a more solid profile.” Technically, they could call out a behavioral analyst from Quantico to join their task force, but most team members of the SCU division had at least one agent who had gone through training at the FBI to build profiles. The South Division had one: Fiona. She’d never worked in the BAU, but she had been trained. Violet had done work in forensic psychology—and there was her inner self who easily thought ominous thoughts—and preferred victimology over profiles, but she could do either.
Asa rubbed the back of his neck. “Owen, see if you can’t find us some sort of geographical pattern to pinpoint where the killer may live or work in relation to the cave. I want to know where they underwent the torture. And why this cave.”
“The location of the eye removal probably isn’t too far from the cave due to the risk and the fact this place is isolated,” Owen said as he moved toward the opening of the cave. “I’m gonna survey the woods. If I’m not back in twenty minutes, send out a search party,” he jested.
“If you get lost, you’re the worst geographical profiler ever to navigate the earth,” Ty said.
Owen waved him off and exited the cave.
“I want to see where the other bodies were located,” Asa said.
“We’ll need a command post too,” Fiona added.
After they finished examining the cave, they reentered the dusky evening, and Violet smacked into someone. “Sorry.”
“Hello, Violet.”
“John? What are you doing here?”
John Orlando wasn’t surprised to see Agent Violet Rainwater on the scene. The case was bizarre, and Violet’s job was all up in the whackadoo. John had seen some crazy things as a detective with the Louisville PD before moving three years ago to Memphis and working in the Missing Persons Unit. Occasionally he was faced with gruesome scenes, but not like when he worked homicide. Now he helped families get closure. Like he’d been helped when his late wife went missing.
“I got a call from a friend at the Louisville field office. Said a few women had been found in a cave and it related to a case I’m close to.” John wasn’t one to flash around his wife’s tragic death. The sympathy card wasn’t his game. Pity eyes and weak pats on the back fell flat each and every time.
Callie wouldn’t have liked that either. She’d been independent, tough as nails and in love with her agency. Been with the DEA almost twelve years before she died. That last year of marriage had been their toughest. Stella had been only three months old and Callie wanted back in. Back undercover. Indefinitely.
Scads of bad memories surfaced since he’d been here on the scene.
“Oh.” She paused. “Well anything you can tell us will help. How long has your vic been missing? Do you think it’s one of the women in the cave?” Violet brushed a long dark strand of hair that blew in front of her face. His gut squeezed like it always did when he encountered Violet. The last time was three months ago when a case he was working connected with hers. The first time was a year ago when she came to him about looking into a few missing persons from over thirty years ago. Never explained why. And he never asked. He understood the need to keep things private, but they’d had several conversations about missing persons, one of them over a lunch he’d wished had gone longer.
John avoided eye contact by scratching his left temple with his right hand. This wouldn’t stay hidden. He should have known this. “She’s not missing anymore.”
“John.” Asa greeted him with a hearty handshake. “How’ve you been and what brings you to this scene? To Kentucky?”
His chest squeezed and heat ballooned across his brow and ears. He motioned them to a more private area to keep their conversation confidential. “Uh...my wife, Callie, was DEA. Went undercover in Slate, Letcher and Harlan counties almost four years ago. Meth ring. Big money. Big circulation. She went missing six months into the assignment.” He’d never forget that phone call.
John, it’s Greg. Callie’s missing.
“Another agent, Greg Bigsby, was undercover with her. And he’s still under. Some sting operations take years—you know this.” He was hemming and hawing. “Two weeks after she went missing, the DEA found her in an old abandoned mine on the outskirts of Crow’s Creek. She’d been...” Even now it was too difficult to talk about. “She’d been beaten up, strangled. And her eyes had been sewn shut. Postmortem.” Thank You, Lord. From the scuttlebutt, these newest victims had been sewn up prior to death and had been missing their eyes. At least Callie hadn’t suffered that.
“I’m sorry,” Asa said. The others gave condolences.
Except for Violet.
“What exactly are you here to do?” she asked.
That he didn’t mind sharing. “Initially I came to help determine if whoever killed these women killed Callie, but I’d like to help in the investigation if possible. I have some time saved up I could use.”
Fiona and Asa exchanged knowing glances. A fine line separated revenge from justice. Asa pawed his face. “I—”
John held up his hand. “I’m not here on a vendetta. I’ve made peace with Callie’s death. Forged a new life. But one more hand on deck can’t hurt, can it? I have inside contacts here,” he said in a whisper. “Greg is still trying to compile evidence to put a guy they call Whiskey away. I think he’s behind Callie’s murder, and he might be behind your victims’ deaths too. I’m not here as a vigilante.”
Asa’s jaw twitched, but then his eyes acquiesced. “I’m down an agent in my unit. Fiona filled the other spot. Budget cuts. You’re right. I could use a helping hand, especially if the locals won’t take kindly to us.”
