So she didn’t have on shorts or pants. The shirt was long. She had on panties and now really wasn’t the time for modesty.
But then, she hadn’t cared about modesty in years. Not really. She’d stopped caring after Romeo.
“Hyde’s working this shift. He sent me after you.” Kenton kept his eyes on Monica’s face. “He saw the surveillance footage from the airport. Got one of the techs at SSD to monitor every second of that video. He saw Sam.”
Monica rocked forward. “Did he see the killer? Did he—”
“Oh, yeah.” His lips pursed. “And get this shit. The bastard was wearing a deputy’s uniform. Hyde thinks he knew where the cameras were located, and he had his hat on, pulled low so we couldn’t see his face.”
A deputy’s uniform. She shoved back her hair. “He could have stolen that uniform. He took a doctor’s scrubs when he went after Laura.” They thought he had. Maybe…“This guy is good at blending in.” The cell phone had been at the sheriff’s station, right there in the midst of all those deputies.
And who was working every crime scene? Deputies.
Davis worked hard at keeping his men and Melinda apprised of every development in the case. There wasn’t a move they’d taken that the deputies didn’t know about.
“Something else you should know.” Kenton’s eyes bored into her. “Kyle West is a dead man.”
Monica shook her head. “No, we talked to his aunt, she—”
“Jon called from the SSD. According to the records he’s found, Kyle West was killed in a one-car accident six months ago.”
“His aunt didn’t know, and the sheriff didn’t say anything about his death when we asked about Kyle.” Didn’t make sense.
A shrug. “What can I tell you? The man is dead.”
Then that put her back with her growing suspicion that the killer was very close indeed.
“Hyde said you’d know what to do. Seems to me we either got us a bastard dressing up like a cop—”
Not a cop. A deputy. “Or…” Monica said quietly, “one of Jasper’s finest is killing and making us all look like fools.”
A killer who’d been right there with them, for every step of the hunt. Watching…
Watchman.
Monica shoved open the glass door at the sheriff’s station. Four a.m. Who’d be there?
“Agent Davenport?” The sheriff came out of his office, rubbing his eyes, looking dead on his feet, with a red mark on his cheek and a long, thin wrinkle on his forehead. “What are you doin’ here?”
She glanced over at the fax machine. A pile of papers lay scattered on the floor near them.
Luke crossed the room and started gathering up the papers.
“Oh, shit, he hasn’t taken another one, has he? Not another—”
Luke whistled. “Damn. It says here that May Walker was institutionalized twice in the past ten years.” His eyes met hers. “She was schizophrenic.”
That would explain her medications. And the woman’s affect had been off, her responses too slow, and her anger had stirred too suddenly.
He rose, reading the pages. “May was told about Kyle’s death a week after it happened.” He shook his head. “She told the officer to keep the body and, ‘bury it wherever the hell you want. Just don’t make me see it.’ ”
And she’d forgotten to tell them? Or just hadn’t remembered the guy’s death? With a diagnosis of schizophrenia, there was no telling. If May had been having hallucinations, well, maybe she actually believed that Kyle was still alive.
“Kyle West?” Davis muttered. “Wait—ain’t he our suspect?”
Luke held up a grainy photo for Monica. The same grainy license photo they’d accessed through the Department of Motor Vehicles before and given to the deputies. The image showed a guy with glasses. Too-long hair. An angular nose and weak chin.
“Not anymore,” she muttered. But if it wasn’t Kyle…“Why didn’t Sheriff Martin tell us this?” Yes, okay, she could see May not being fully aware if she’d been off her meds, but Sheriff Martin should have known about Kyle’s death. Informing local authorities was standard procedure. He had to have known.
And Martin had to know that they’d find out the truth. The guy knew the system. A search would turn up Kyle’s death certificate.
But he’d held back that information about Kyle. And that part, well, it was damn interesting.
She’d remembered that dark night with Jake Martin… had he been just pretending? Had he really remembered her, too?
He’d gone to Angola, the prison that housed Romeo. A prison he visited every month. And the killer kept throwing Romeo up in the case. “It’s all about Romeo,” she muttered. Damn him, why couldn’t he stay buried?
“Romeo?” Davis straightened. “Dammit, I’m tired of hearing about him. My f**k-up, coming back to haunt me.”
Monica stiffened. Her gaze lifted, slowly, and locked on the sheriff. “Run that by me again.” His f**k-up?
“You don’t know?” Luke’s rough whisper.
But she didn’t look his way. Monica was too focused on the Sheriff. His lips pressed together, and for a minute, she wasn’t sure he’d answer her. Then Davis said, “The Romeo Killer grew up here in Jasper. I met him when he was just a kid, when he was mutilating pets, and I—”
The Romeo Killer grew up here in Jasper. That was all she heard. Her face flashed ice cold, then pin prickles of heat shot beneath the skin.
“You didn’t know.” Luke spoke slowly.
Monica managed to shake her head. She hadn’t wanted to know. Not a damn thing. She’d made a point of staying away from all the Romeo case files. She hadn’t wanted to learn what made that ass**le into the freak he’d become. After she’d gotten away from him, she’d never wanted to see him or hear about him again.
At the Academy, she’d even dodged a few profiling classes because she hadn’t wanted to sit there and hear Romeo’s crimes re-told to everyone.
Buried my head in the sand. Pretended he didn’t matter.
“Are you…” A hand brushed her shoulder. Sheriff Davis. “Are you all right, agent?” Real concern rumbled beneath the words.
No, no she wasn’t all right. She’d been so focused on protecting herself and hiding her past that she’d been blind. So blind. “That’s the link.” She spun away from him and his comforting hand. Her gaze shot to the victim board. Sally. Patty. Laura. Jeremy. She hurried forward, read their profiles again. All born in Jasper. Just like Romeo.