Drained (Edgars Family #6) - Suzanne Ferrell Page 0,43
believe Kirk F’s Nana is already planning to spend another night.”
“She’s something else,” Paula said, with a little smile through her tears. “She asked every person, even the housekeeper…what their name was, what their job was…and if they even acted like leaving the room without washing their hands…she’d order them to do so.”
“See? You’re going to be in good hands and can get through one more night.”
Paula’s face fell a little. “I hate putting you all out like this. Taking you away from your homes. I’m not really worth it.”
“Stop that,” Brianna ordered softly, but firmly, gripping her hands and looking straight into her eyes. “You are too worth it. You are a kind, smart woman. Someone who volunteers and gives back to others. And most importantly, you’re my friend. I don’t ever want you to say or think you’re not worth anything. You are. You hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Paula said, with that ghost of a smile again.
“Good.” Paula squeezed her hands again, then moved to the chair and her laptop. “Now, you get some rest while I plot the places you said Art visited on a map. Maybe after your next breathing treatment you can tell me about the other volunteers at the soup kitchen.”
Paula wiped her eyes and blew her nose, lowering the bed a little and closing her eyes. “Why are you doing this? Tracing Art’s movements?”
“Because he’s your friend, and Stanley’s,” Brianna said, opening a map of the city.
“Yes, but it’s…your detective friend’s job…to find out who did it. Not yours.”
“Because someone once tried to hurt me and do evil things to other women, and someone cared enough to find the answers,” she said, her heart once again remembering Abby, her family, and Aaron coming for her. She just prayed that she’d be able to help Aaron figure out who had murdered Art before some other vulnerable person was killed.
13
“Thanks for talking with me, Special Agent Smith,” Aaron said. He’d moved his laptop into the squad’s empty conference room to have this conversation in private, without noise or distraction. He’d emailed the man Jake Carlisle had suggested he talk to and they’d set up a time to talk.
“Since this isn’t a formal request why don’t we dispense with the formalities,” the voice on the other end of the phone said. “Just call me Carson, Aaron. Our mutual friend said you had a case you’re worried might be more than it appears?”
“There’s only one body that we know of so far…” Aaron started.
“One body?” Carson asked, sounding skeptical.
“That we know of,” Aaron repeated, not taking offense at the other man’s skepticism. Who could blame him? Serial killer by definition meant there was more than one victim. “It’s the situation and condition we found him in that suggests to me that the killer’s done this before.”
“And you think now that he’s showing off his work, he’s evolving into something more gruesome?”
“Yes.” Aaron quietly exhaled a sigh of relief that Carson understood his fear. And it was fear. This was his city, his people. He feared a predator was using it for his own personal hunting grounds and no one was safe. Given that Art was homeless, the most vulnerable people were at risk. “We found our victim—”
“Don’t tell me anymore,” Carson interrupted him. “I don’t want my mind cluttered with your thoughts or observations. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I don’t think you know what you’re doing. I just want to take a very objective observation of everything. Fresh unadulterated eyes, so to speak.”
Aaron swallowed down his own ire at being cutoff and shelved his pride. This wasn’t about him, his experience or how brilliant he might think his gut was. This was about finding a sick murderer. “I understand.”
“Do you have pictures?”
“We do. A beginning forensics file and by this evening the Medical Examiner has promised me a preliminary autopsy report. Toxicology will take another day.”
“Send me what you have,” Carson said, then rattled off his email address. “I’ll take a look at it and we’ll talk later. This a good number for me to reach you?”
“Yes, this is my cell.” Aaron opened up his email and started loading up files to send the FBI special agent. “This might take a few emails with the number of pictures we took.”
“We have a secure data sharing program. I’ll send you the link. The more you can send me, the better. And I forgot to ask Jake what city you’re in.”