Taken. Lori L. Harris

had she seen tonight?

      In spite of her condition—the wet hair, the muddy clothes—she was striking. As she lifted the blanket, using it to wipe the rain from her face, her chin quivered and her hold on the blanket seemed to intensify.

      Watching her, he recalled what it had been like to be called out in the middle of the night to preside over tragedy. This was the part of police work he was thankful to have left behind.

      These days, by the time he became involved with perpetrators or victims, most of the heartache, the fear, was carefully concealed behind pride or belligerence. The insight left him unsettled.

      The man moved to meet Rick. There was nothing welcoming in his face or in the extended hand, just the required professional greeting.

      “Detective Langley.” Langley’s hand dropped. “I assume you have something for me. Besides the notes. Something that you felt compelled you to drive all the way out here to deliver personally.”

      “Actually, I thought you might have some questions for me. We both know that a favorable outcome is only possible if you move fast. You don’t have time to wade through years of reports.”

      Langley cocked his head as he jabbed his hands into the pockets of the slicker. “I won’t need to. At least not tonight. Kenny Lennox is on his way out here. You may recall that he worked the original investigation, right alongside your father.”

      “And the case went cold two years later. What Kenny had, what you’ll be using in the next few hours to make crucial decisions, is two years’ worth of investigation notes, of interviews that led nowhere. The information I have is much more current—”

      “But no more conclusive. If it was, I wouldn’t have needed to call you tonight, would I?”

      Even though Langley looked ready to throw Rick out, Rick wasn’t giving up.

      He had positioned himself so that he could watch the woman over Langley’s shoulder. Langley hadn’t even been living in Charleston when the previous murders had taken place. Was it possible that he just hadn’t asked the right questions? That she knew more than she’d already revealed?

      He refocused on Langley. “My father believed that there was a Charleston connection. Kenny Lennox didn’t. Last theory I heard out of Kenny’s mouth was the kidnappers were just passing through.”

      The woman suddenly took several steps toward where two crime-scene techs spread a second tarp next to the first. Rick knew what was about to happen—if there was a body beneath that pile of dirt, it was going to be dug up.

      Did the woman know who was in the grave, then?

      When Rick glanced at Langley, he realized the detective was also watching her. As his gaze reconnected with Rick’s, Langley’s face tightened. “I appreciate your bringing out the records and your offer to help, but my men can take it from here.”

      “You do realize that the Midnight Run victims were younger than your witness over there? They were all in their late teens.”

      Even as he said it, Rick was thinking about an officer who had just walked out of the woods thirty or so feet to the east of them. Langley had his men still searching the woods. Why? What were they looking for? More victims that were still alive? Or more graves?

      “I’m aware that the previous victims were in their late teens. And that the crime scene eight years ago was less than a mile from here. And that the spot where your father was found was even less than that.” He wiped at his face. “This is an official investigation. I don’t need you mucking this up to further your own agenda.”

      Langley waved over the officer Rick had noticed seconds earlier. “I’ll have one of my men accompany you back to your car to collect those files. I’ll have them copied and get the originals back to you by morning.”

      Langley’s cell phone rang. As he checked the caller ID, the lead detective moved away, turning his back in dismissal before actually answering.

      The officer Langley had motioned over continued toward them. There was no way Rick was leaving now. When he arrived, Rick held out his car keys. “It’s the silver Explorer at the back of the line. The boxes I brought for Detective Langley are on the backseat.”

      The officer glanced toward his superior as if wanting some indication that this was why he’d been called over, but Langley’s back was turned and he was still on the phone.

      After several seconds more of obvious internal debate, the officer took the key ring. “Silver SUV, right?”

      “Three boxes.”

      As soon as the officer walked away, Rick’s gaze swung to the woman. She continued to stare at the tarp.

      Was he really the kind of son of a bitch who would use the victim of a crime to further his own agenda?

      As it turned out, he was.