While the Savage Sleeps (21 page)

Their reign had ended.

Cameron had no idea what had caused it, or why it occurred, but he knew it was powerful, knew that something within him had changed. Something remarkable.

He placed his gun back in the drawer and slammed it shut.

All the color in the world slowly began to bleed back in, the gray areas dissolving, leaving behind something of great beauty.

That thing was life.

Chapter
Forty

Albuquerque, New Mexico

Midnight had come and gone.

Dark clouds lifted apart, then separated as the earth spun its way toward dawn. Sunlight emerged between them, its sharp rays igniting the skies, igniting the world.

Such a beautiful morning. Such a sharp contrast to the way Kyle felt. During the past several days, she’d been sleep-deprived, had the daylights scared out of her, and still had no idea why Bethany had invaded her life. All she knew was the little girl needed her help and needed it badly.

It was just before five o’clock, and Kyle had a full day ahead of her with patients scheduled all the way through; yet, there she sat in bed, wide awake, still trying to figure out this complex mystery involving the little girl who seemed just as mysterious.

Bethany,
she thought.
Pretty name
. Kyle wondered where the girl had been living when she died. Albuquerque? Perhaps somewhere even farther away, maybe even another country? Not only did she not know where Bethany had lived, she also had no idea
when
she lived—or died. Without a time of death, checking state records by first name seemed futile. Things would have been so much easier if she could just find two pieces of information that connected in some way.

Kyle sat up in bed and yawned. Then she heard something.

You’re exhausted, Kyle. Your mind’s shot … now it’s getting the best of you
.

But the sounds were just loud enough to convince her otherwise.

Barely audible, yet enough to get her attention, the volume began to climb; once it did, Kyle knew the sounds were real.

She could hear people talking, several of them, the low, rumbling hum of voices whirling through the air. Kyle tried to focus so she could hear the conversations. Within a few seconds, the sound increased even more, and the words became clear.

A man’s voice: “Let’s get moving, everyone. We only have a few minutes left before it wears off. Let’s get this right.”

Then a female voice: “Too late, doctor, he’s beginning to come to.”

“
Already? Shit. Sedate him. Do we have another?”

“
I think we have Lewison, just up the hall. He’s been parked for a week now. Not sure how responsive he’ll be.”

“
Lewison? I thought he died already.”

“
Nope. Almost, last week, but he recovered. Don’t ask me how. Looks like
that
cat’s got
ten
lives.”

Laughter all around.

“
The timing’ll be right if we grab him fast. But he’ll only be good for one more round,” the female voice said, then added, “It won’t be long before he expires.”

“
Okay. Sedate this one, and park him up the hall. Bring Lewison back in. And let’s be quick about it. This is a time-specific procedure. We don’t have all day.”

“
Yes, doctor.”

The sound of people stirring about, metal clanging against glass, and the low rumbling of more voices.

Then, another voice, one Kyle had grown accustomed to hearing: Bethany’s.

“
Time is running out,” she whispered “You only have three more days.”

Chapter
Forty-One

Sheriff’s Station

Faith, New Mexico

“
Some kid’s in your office,” Cameron said to Frank while they stood in the hallway.

“
Look again,” Frank replied, nodding toward the door, “It’s no kid.”

Cameron did and realized Frank was right. The person sitting behind the desk, acting as if she owned it, was a woman, barely four-foot-ten, wearing jeans and sneakers, with mousy brown pageboy-styled hair.

When the two walked in, she glanced up from the folder, almost as if they’d interrupted her, then quickly went back to her reading.

“
Meet Special Agent Margaret Kazlowsky,” Frank said. Then he leaned in closer toward Cameron and mumbled, “
Fed
.”

“
FBI,” she corrected, raising her hand while turning a page. “Here for the party.”

“
Party?” Cameron asked. “Didn’t know we were having one.”

“
Judging by what’s been going on around here, I’d have to agree with you.” She dropped the folder onto the desk, stood up, then walked toward them. “What you
have
—excused my Polish—is a bona fide cluster-fuck.”

“
That one of those fancy technical terms they teach you back at Quantico?” Frank asked.

“
Nope,” she replied. “That’s an opinion. “Take it for what it’s worth.”

“
Well, you know what they say about opinions,” Frank replied. “They’re kinda like assholes. Everyone’s got one—everyone thinks everyone else’s stinks.”

Margaret swallowed her words, then flashed a smile, the kind a person gives when they think they know something that someone else doesn’t. “Look, fellas, just between you and me, as far as the bureau’s concerned, I’m only here to investigate the Champion murder. That’s it. You know how that goes. The folks up in D.C., Quantico—all of them—well, let’s just say they’ve got their panties pulled into a tight little wad over this. They want answers, and they want ‘em quick. Of course,” she added, “there’s no rule saying we couldn’t help each other out.”

“
And how would that work?” Frank asked.

“
It’s easy,” she said with a shrug. “A little bit of give and take. You know … two agencies lending a hand, like neighbors helping neighbors. Know what I mean?”

They knew exactly what she meant.

Frank walked back around to his desk, sat down. “Look, I appreciate your offer, Ms. Kazlowsky, but I think we’ve got things under control on our end.”

“
Beg your pardon?” she said, stifling a laugh. “From where I stand, things are far from under control. No offense meant, of course.”

“
None taken, of course,” Frank said. “Think you can do better?”

Not saying that,” she cautioned.

“
Then what exactly
are
you saying?”

“
Like I mentioned earlier, I’m here strictly to look at the Champion girl. But at the same time, if I just
happened
to stumble across information, information you could somehow use …”

“
And visa versa,” Cameron said.

“
Visa versa. Absolutely,” she replied with a solemn nod.

“
All right,” Cameron said after giving it a moment’s thought. “I’ll bite. You’ve looked over the cases. Give us
your take.”

Recognizing the challenge, Margaret said, “Here’s how I see it. You got different murders, and when I say different, I mean
different.
Not a snowball’s chance in hell any of them were committed by the same person. I’m just not feeling it.”

“
You’re not telling us anything we didn’t already know,” Frank said. “We came to the same conclusion—”

“
Not so fast there, cowboy,” she said, hand raised, looking down toward the floor. “Wasn’t done yet. What I was about say, is, I think they still
could
be related.”

“
Related how?” Frank asked. “Like they were all working together? Because we’ve already floated that theory as well—it sank.”

“
Didn’t say that,” she warned. “Didn’t say that at all.”

“
Then what
are
you saying?” Frank asked.

“
What I’m saying—what I
think
—is there’s a connection. Now, what that connection is, well, it’s hard to say … right now, anyway. But I do feel like there
is
one—though a conspiracy theory might be pushing things a bit further than I want to go. However, I
can
say this: You got a peaceful town—or, at least, had one—suddenly going all ape-shit in a hurry … well, it just doesn’t happen. Not like this. Not this fast.”

“
So what do you think’s going on?” Cameron asked.

Margaret walked back to Frank’s desk, flipped the folder open, twisting her head sideways to read it. “This first murder, the one with your deputy. Anything new there?”

Cameron shook his head.

Margaret looked at the wall, thought for a moment, then alternated her gaze between the two men. “Something sorta odd about it.”

“
What is?” Frank asked.

“
You’ve got a seasoned deputy, been on your force a decent amount of time, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “In good physical shape too, tall, athletic. To get at him, it had to come as a complete surprise—either that or he knew the suspect … or maybe both.”

“
And knowing the suspect could create a possible motive,” Cameron said.

“
Yeah. There’s that,” she said, nodding. “And then there’s something else, too. My guess is it’s a male, a pretty strong one too—had to be in order to overcome your deputy, even if he
did
take him by surprise, even if he knew him. Once that first hook landed on his neck, the adrenaline would be pumping. He’d put up a hell of a fight, and it would have taken a lot of strength to control him.”

“
Okay,” Cameron said, “What else?”

She flipped through a few more pages. “Profile-wise, I’d say he’s probably in his mid-to-late twenties, probably unmarried, and probably local.”

Cameron looked at Frank, slowly nodding. Both knew what the other was thinking.

“
Okay,” Cameron said, “So you’ve made your point—rather well, in fact. What would you need from us?”

The smile grew more confident. “Exactly what I just gave you: your insight, information—anything—pertaining to the Champion murder.”

“
I can do that,” Cameron said. “The senator and I have been in close contact.”

“
Yeah. I know that…” She stopped herself. “I mean, I’ve
heard
something to the effect.”

“
Bet you have,” Cameron said.

She shrugged. “It’s my job to know these sorts of things.”

“
So where do we go from here?” Frank asked.

“
Let me get busy on this,” she said. “Let me poke around town a little, start putting some things together, speak to my people up in Quantico, too. I may be able to work up a better profile on your cop killer.”

“
Okay,” Cameron said, “but do me one favor.”

“
What’s that?”

“
Keep things on the down-low if you can. This town’s up to its ass in alligators. An FBI agent snooping around and asking questions—that’ll just give ‘em more to be nervous about. And we can’t afford that right now.”

“
No worries there. I’m real good at flying under the radar—w
ay
under. It’s one of the benefits of being vertically challenged. People hardly ever notice me, that is, unless I open my mouth.” Then she giggled.

Cameron and Frank laughed too.

“
If you need me, I’m staying over at the Graybill Motel on Third Street.” She reached into her back pocket, pulled out a card, passed it to Cameron. “Cell number’s on there. Meantime—completely unrelated here—can you tell me where a gal can go to get some good Mexican food ‘round here? I’m starving, been craving it ever since I got here. Must be a southwest sorta thing. Hit me as soon as I rolled into town.”

“
Felice’s,” Cameron said, “over on Main. Doesn’t get any better than that.”

“
All righty then. Once I get some fuel, I’ll be ready to roll.” She gathered her things, looked at Frank, looked at Cameron, gave a single nod.

Then she was out the door.

Chapter
Forty-Two

Roses Are Red florist shop

Faith, New Mexico

Judith Hedrick always
opened her store at precisely nine o’clock each morning and had been doing so for more than fifteen years. In a world filled with inconsistencies, it was one thing that always remained the same. You could set your watch to it.

Until today.

By ten o’ clock, the doors were still locked tight, lights still off, and Judith was nowhere to be found. Concern quickly turned to worry for employees and friends; it just wasn’t like her.

Judith was a perfectionist. Along with her impeccable punctuality, she was also meticulous about her shop, paying close attention to the smallest details. All one had to do was set a foot inside to see first-hand why her talent and creativity translated into great business success. Her name had appeared in two national magazines, both of which highlighted her stunning arrangements.