girlfriend.”
I nodded, as I watched my husband open the door of the Chevy for Agent Yung and hold it while she arranged herself in the passenger seat. Then he closed the door behind her and walked around the car. He stopped for just a second to run his gaze over the street—for a second I could have sworn he looked straight at me—before he opened his own door and slid behind the wheel.
“Better get ready,” I told Charlotte. “He takes off like a bat out of hell.”
She nodded. “Where do you think they’re going? Left or right?”
My money was on right—toward the interstate and the road to Sweetwater, but— “I guess we’ll find out.”
The Chevy reversed out of the parking space and took off. I sincerely hoped—with only a little malice—that Agent Yung was hanging onto the door handle and barely avoiding peeing her pants.
“Don’t let them get too far ahead,” I told Charlotte as the Chevy headed past us and down the street. “The way he drives, we’ll lose them.”
Charlotte nodded. She was already moving backward out of the space while I watched the Chevy in the mirror.
By the time we’d gotten turned around, they were out of sight down the road. “Step on it,” I told Charlotte, “and let’s see if we can catch them.”
She obliged, and the little hybrid took off like a shot down the street.
I had kept watching until I couldn’t watch anymore, and hadn’t seen them turn off the main drag, so I kept Charlotte going straight. And every time she slowed down a little—because neither one of us is used to speeding through residential areas—I exhorted her to go faster. As a result, we caught sight of the Chevy after a couple of minutes, up ahead of us and halfway to the interstate.
“Probably taking her to see the crime scene,” I said. “That had to be why she’s here. The serial killer case.”
Unless she, too, had seen the video of Rafe. And—still believing he was a criminal—had rushed to Columbia to tell Tamara Grimaldi that she was employing an imposter.
That would have been an interesting conversation to sit in on, if so.
But more likely she was here to consult on the serial killer case, and hadn’t known Rafe was here until he walked in.
I wished I could have seen her face when that happened, too.
“What serial killer case?” Charlotte wanted to know. “You didn’t say anything about a serial killer.”
“I didn’t? Must have been an oversight on my part. The body that was dumped yesterday is the last, or the latest, in a series of eighteen victims this guy has claimed.”
“God,” Charlotte said, and shuddered. The little hybrid did, too. Compared to my sturdy Volvo, and Rafe’s even sturdier SUV, I felt like I was riding in a tin can.
She shot me a look. “You said ‘claimed.’ How does he claim them?”
“Oh.” Not sure I wanted to go into the details of that, because it was unpleasant and because Charlotte, like me, was a gently-bred Southern girl, who was supposed to be ladylike and squeamish. “He numbers them.”
“How?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” I admitted. “I haven’t seen the body, or looked it up.” The information was probably online. Unless this was one of those pieces of info the police hoarded, to use against the bad guy when they caught him. Although if that were the case, surely Grimaldi wouldn’t have told me about it. “The word Grimaldi used was ‘carved.’”
“God.” Charlotte turned a shade paler.
“I know. It’s icky.”
She didn’t say anything else, and I added, “They’re signaling. Better slow down.”
We watched the Chevy zip out of sight on the right. The hybrid came to a crawl as we approached the spot where the Chevy had vanished.
And yes, it was as I’d thought. We were near the interstate, and the SUV had taken a turn into the parking lot of the truck stop. As we crept closer, we saw it come to a stop toward the back of the lot, near an overflowing dumpster.
“Go over there,” I told Charlotte, waving my hand in the opposite direction. “Find somewhere to stop where we can still see what they’re doing.”
She rolled off in that direction, obediently. I kept my eyes on the Chevy, and saw both doors open. Rafe and Agent Yung got out, and headed for the dumpster.
And then disappeared behind the dumpster.
My eyes narrowed. Not—I swear—because I thought they were doing anything untoward behind it. If Rafe wanted to make out with Agent Yung he