The Wreck by Marie Force Page B

else. The crime scene officers left to do a perfunctory investigation
at the accident site, which had been compromised by the work Carly had done
there earlier. But Michael instructed them to check anyway.
    After they left, he came into the house
through the back door. They had taken a sample of Carly’s fingerprints to rule
out hers on the note she had picked from the wildflowers on Tucker Road.
    “Do you have a number where I can reach
your parents?”
    “A call from you will terrify them,” she
wrote. “I’ll ask Caren to call them, if you don’t mind.”
    “Of course. That’s fine. It’s getting
dark. Where are you headed from here?”
    “Just to Caren’s.” Her sister’s house was
less than a mile from their parents’ home.
    “I’ll walk you.”
    “That’s not necessary,” Carly protested.
    “I said I’ll walk you.” His face
was set in a stern expression that made her smile.
    “Thank you.” Carly hated to admit she was
grateful for his insistence. If someone was in fact watching her, it wouldn’t
hurt to have the chief of police serving as her escort.
    Michael checked the deadbolt on the back
door one last time. He waited while Carly locked the front door and then
extended his arm to her. “Madame?”
    With a grateful smile for the man who, in
another life, would’ve been her father-in-law, Carly hooked her hand through
his arm and let him walk her the short distance to her sister’s house.

Chapter 9
    M ichael sat in the police station
conference room that had become the command post for the unfolding
investigation. Photocopies of each piece of evidence were tacked up on a
bulletin board. A large map of Rhode Island, Connecticut, and Massachusetts
occupied most of one wall. Four red pushpins indicated where each of the recent
sexual assaults had occurred.
    Five smaller blue tacks marked the
locations where the notes had been found—three in the cemetery and the two
discovered by Carly. A yellow pin marked the unsolved carjacking in Pawtucket,
which had characteristics that mirrored the recent attacks with one distinct
difference—the carjacking victims had been murdered.
    Since most of the pins were clustered
around tiny Granville, Michael, the other chiefs, and the state police officers
on the task force had concluded a sexual predator, who was also possibly a
murderer, was living among the citizens of his town. The conclusion infuriated
the man charged with keeping Granville safe. That someone he knew could be
capable of these crimes was unimaginable to him.
    The fourth red pushpin was located just
over the border in Connecticut. Since the case now involved multiple states and
jurisdictions, the task force members had agreed to call in the FBI. They were
meeting with federal agents in the morning.
    Matt Collins came into the room. “Mike? I
thought you had left.”
    “Oh, hey,” Michael said. “What’s up?”
    “We got the labs back on the new notes.”
    “Let me guess? Nothing?”
    Matt’s expression was grim when he said,
“Right. Just Carly’s prints on the one from Tucker Road.” He used blue pins to
add copies of the latest notes to the board. “They’re still working on the
partial footprint.”
    “I hate to admit I’m actually relieved the
feds are on their way.” Under normal circumstances, he would resent the
intrusion.
    “We’re out of our league here,” Matt
agreed.
    “It’s someone we know,” Michael said,
feeling the need to say it out loud.
    Matt sat down on the other side of the
conference table. “Yes.”
    Michael studied the map intently.
    “What’s on your mind, Mike?”
    “I just wonder…”
    “What?”
    Michael finally took his eyes off the map
and focused on his friend. “This is between you and me.”
    “Of course.”
    “I also want to be clear that I’m
speaking as a police officer and not a grieving father.”
    “You’re thinking there’s a connection
between our perp and the accident, aren’t you?”
    “Hear me out on this,”