it was likely related to the statutory rape he’d committed here in Columbia, and if so, the girl’s—or boy’s—family hit the top of the suspect list.
I tilted my head to look at her. “Do you feel like we’re getting anywhere? Or just turning over rocks, looking for slimy things to crawl out?”
“A lot of police work is turning over rocks and looking for slimy things,” Grimaldi said. “But these are two reasonably strong strings to pull. All in all, I think we’re making progress.”
Good to know. “Any idea when Rafe is expected back?”
“I imagine it won’t be long,” Grimaldi said, with a glance at the clock. “He’s been gone all afternoon.”
She glanced at the door. “In fact…”
Yes, I heard him, too. And so did Carrie, it seemed. She started gurgling louder and kicking her feet harder. When the half-open door opened further, with a knock that was perfunctory at best, my daughter squealed at the sight of her daddy.
“Hi there, pretty girl.” He bent and tickled her feet before turning to me. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Grimaldi and I have been hanging out,” I said, and tilted my head back for the quick kiss he dropped on my upturned mouth.
Not until all that was done, did Rafe greet his boss. And not in a very subservient manner, either. “What are you getting up to with my wife?”
“We’ve been to Damascus and Columbia High.” Grimaldi nodded him into the second chair in front of the desk. “This guy’s first victim was local. A Damascus woman who was picked up at the same truck stop where the latest victim was dumped. We—” She glanced at me, “thought we’d do some digging into the cold case.”
Rafe leaned back on the uncomfortable chair. I guess Grimaldi had picked them so people wouldn’t linger long. “Any luck?”
Grimaldi updated him on Frankie Matlock and Mr. Jurgensson. “Laura Lee didn’t take Latin, and there’s nothing to indicate she was the student he misbehaved with. But there’s no reason she couldn’t be, either. They were there the same year.”
Rafe nodded. “Even if she was, that don’t mean nothing. She could have, like you said, misbehaved with a teacher when she was sixteen, and gotten killed when she was thirty-three, and there’s no connection.”
“Of course,” Grimaldi said. “What’s new on your end?”
“Yung’s a pain in the—” He glanced at me and changed what he’d been about to say to, “butt.”
“It was probably disappointing to her when you turned out to be a hero and not a criminal,” I said.
He grinned in my direction. “Not so much a hero. But I’m sure she was looking forward to catching me red-handed. Too bad.”
“Did she give you a hard time?” Grimaldi wanted to know, not that there was much she could do about it if Agent Yung was. Yung didn’t work for Grimaldi and wouldn’t be open to taking orders or suggestions from that quarter.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle. She tried to get something going with Bob—him being a good old Southern boy and all—but he wasn’t having it.”
I hid a smile. No, acting the hotshot FBI agent with the sheriff wouldn’t have won her many points. He isn’t a Southern bumpkin and wouldn’t have agreed to play one for her. He is a gentleman, though, so I imagined he’d probably been more pleasant than perhaps she deserved.
“Once we got that straightened out,” Rafe added, “she consented to give us all a presentation of the case as a whole, from Victim One down through the line. She presented the FBI profile—”
Grimaldi arched her brows, and he shook his head. “Nothing we didn’t expect. Most likely male, most likely white, most likely between fifty and fifty-five, but could be younger or older by a decade or more. Most likely a long haul trucker, but don’t disregard other folks who move up and down the interstate—”
“Who else moves up and down the interstate?” I injected, and they both glanced at me. Down in the car seat, Carrie kept gurgling and trying to chew on her toes. I deduced she’d probably start asking for food soon. She was getting pretty close to the age when we could start feeding her solids—or semi-solids—and that would help her stay full longer, and would keep me from having to nurse every couple hours around the clock.
“Bus drivers,” Rafe said, and Grimaldi added, “But it’s hard to find the time to murder women when you’ve got a schedule and a bus full of passengers to get somewhere on time.”
Rafe