Dreaming Death (Krewe of Hunters #32) - Heather Graham Page 0,50

And if this thing can be solved, it might only be temporary.”

“Would I have to go to court?”

“At this moment, we still haven’t proven anything,” Stacey said. “But...” she added, looking at Keenan, hoping he would finish her statement.

He smiled at her. “We can get you protected. We need to find out who he was talking to.”

“I know he’s seen her before, too,” Peggy said, “and I know his wife knows that he saw Billie, too. But it wasn’t his wife he was talking to about Billie that day.”

Keenan pulled out his phone, looking at her. “Do you have to go back to the office for any of your personal belongings?”

“I...uh,” she said and then paused, looking at him a bit in wonder. “No. I have my personal laptop in my bag. There are works in progress, but...no. Nothing of mine is there. But you don’t understand. They have my address. They can find me. I can’t afford—”

“I’m calling my superior,” Keenan explained. “We’re going to put you in a safe house.”

“Have I—have I given you enough to warrant that kind of protection?” Peggy asked. “I may be an idiot, I may not be in any kind of danger, but if he suspected that I heard—that I’m talking to you... Well, he said that Billie was a bitch and needed to be taken care of, and now she’s dead. I’m really scared.”

Keenan excused himself and left the table. He put a call through to Jackson and quickly explained the situation.

“I’m not sure how many times we can go this round. The police haven’t the kind of funding to watch every frightened woman in the DC area. You feel that Colin Smith is somehow involved?” Jackson asked him.

“It seems likely.”

“And yet you think that the killer is considering Stacey as his Mary Kelly, too?”

“She received the kidney. He obviously knows that she’s on the case—and he knows where she lives. But, Jackson, this woman, Peggy Bronsen, is terrified.”

“We’re also watching Cindy Hardy, Tania Holt—Billie Bingham’s assistant—and six terrified sex workers. Not to mention the two maids, but they’re doing fine, loving protective custody. I guess Billie wasn’t that great an employer. And despite the crime-scene investigators’ best efforts, we have nothing from Billie’s house... I suppose I shouldn’t say that. We have hundreds of prints, enough to keep CSIs working for days to come. And fluids. In fact, we’re awash in evidence that needs to be sorted through and may mean nothing at all. But so far nothing at all in the basement that would lead to the murderer. We’re doing our best to stay low-profile with the media, of course, since whoever is doing this wants to generate the hysteria of a madman imitating Jack the Ripper.” He paused and his sigh could be heard over the phone. “Thank God for Adam Harrison that we’re well funded, because overtime on this case is going to be killer. Ahem. Bad choice of words.”

“Jackson, if this is a case of organs being stolen, then a doctor has to be in on this. Doing the killing? Possibly. Although, as in the old case, it must be someone with a knowledge of anatomy. Surgeon?”

“Angela has been searching for local doctors who are involved in organ transplants.”

“What about databases on people who need organs? If someone has suddenly come off a list, they might have been the recipient of an illegally acquired organ.”

“True, and yes, we’ve started a search. If they’re getting these organs out of the country, though, it’s not going to be so easy. Anyway, as to now. Can you bring Peggy Bronsen to headquarters with you now? Detectives Crandall and Channing are here. Maybe it’s time to look at the case from Jean’s side, review everything that they have on the first murder.”

“Right. Have you seen the video yet?”

“They just got here, and we’re getting set up. Fred and Jean have gone over it. But we have better equipment. Bring Ms. Bronsen, and come on in.”

“Will do,” Keenan promised, and hung up.

He watched Stacey talking at the table with Peggy.

Stacey had a talent that many a seasoned agent still lacked: an ability with people. She honestly liked others and cared about them. It came through, and they responded to her.

“I was wrong, Jackson,” he murmured aloud. And he smiled, thinking of his partner’s appeal and the way she had stumbled over his words when the questions she had asked had become personal. “I was wrong about her!” That time, he just thought