“I aim to please.” The attentive waitress turned to Adeline with a little less enthusiasm. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything else, hon? We have a special on those whole wheat pancakes.”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
When the awestruck waitress had scurried out of earshot, Adeline turned to Wyatt. “There’s one thing we haven’t discussed.”
His gaze collided with hers. “There are a lot of things we haven’t discussed.”
That wasn’t what she’d meant and he knew it. “About the case.”
He cradled his coffee in both hands, stared into the cup as if he would rather look anywhere than at Adeline. “What specifically have we not discussed?”
“The message he wrote on the photo.”
“‘One dead princess, two to go,’” Wyatt acknowledged.
Adeline nodded. “Assuming Prescott is thedeadprincess and I’m one of the two to go, that means there’s another victim out there.”
“Agreed, but there’s no way to know who she is. I’ve worked up a list of the similarities between you and the victim.” Wyatt set his mug aside and pulled a notepad from his jacket pocket. Every cop carried one. “Both in your thirties. Blond hair, blue eyes. Same general body type and size. Both born in Mississippi. Prescott’s an attorney, you’re in law enforcement. And that’s where the similarities end. That doesn’t give us a lot to go on as far as narrowing down potential victims.”
“Then we focus on what we have. Serial offenders typically hunt in familiar territory, which would make him a local or someone who comes through the area fairly often.”
Wyatt scratched a note on his pad. “With the movement of goods in and out of our port, we get plenty of repeat visitors.”
Yet Adeline just didn’t see this as a classic serial offender case. There was no clear strategy to his work. Not yet, anyway. “Why pick me? I live several hours away in a whole other state. I haven’t lived in Mississippi in a hell of a long time. It’s not like I’m the only blond, thirty-something, female cop between here and Huntsville.”
“We have to assume,” Wyatt suggested as he cut a piece of Danish with his fork, “that there are other similarities between the two of you that we’re simply not aware of or that only he sees.”
Adeline hated that she watched with such interest as he popped the bite of cheese Danish into his mouth.Focus, dammit!“I want to know why Prescott was here. Where I grew up. That point has to be significant somehow. I didn’t get an invitation to comeherefor no reason. The place is relevant somehow.”
“With that in mind,” Wyatt said, setting his fork aside, “logic would dictate that the third victim has or will soon receive the same type of invitation.”
“She could be here already. A resident of the area. Someone who was drawn here by the news. A reporter or staff member of a newspaper or magazine.” Adeline didn’t have to ask to know that an influx of reporters and curiosity seekers would be or had been hanging around town. The other so-called princess could have been lured here in some similar manner. If that was the case, the would-be vic had apparently been smart enough to stay at one of the other lodging options. Adeline remained the lone guest at the Shady Oaks Motel.
“We find the connection between you and Prescott,” Wyatt reasoned, “and we’ll know where to look for the third vic, maybe even for the perp.”
“If he doesn’t nab her first.”And kill her.Adeline hoped like hell that Cherry Prescott was still alive, but her instincts were saying otherwise. If Prescott was alive, she wouldn’t be for long. Until someone else was reported missing or they heard from the perp, Adeline had no way of knowing if she was next on his agenda.
Whatever the case, there was another victim out there ... somewhere.
9
8:30 a.m.
Wyatt watched Adeline as she paced the perimeter of what had been the Prescott crime scene. The yellow tape was gone now since multiple sweeps by the forensics techs had revealed nothing in the way of evidence.
It was as if the lady had gotten out of her car and disappeared into thin air.
No signs of a struggle. Her car had been parked on the side of this lonely stretch of road deep in the woods. The one detail that stirred suspicion was the open driver’s side door. When she’d gotten out—or was dragged out—of her car, she’d left the door open. That was likely the sole reason one of his deputies had called in the parked vehicle that rainy evening. A car left on the side of the road wasn’t necessarily an indication of foul play. With the price of gasoline, drivers attempting to stretch every gallon often ran out. Other times mechanical problems required that the vehicle be left behind for a time. Wyatt suspected that the door had been left open on purpose, to ensure notice was taken well before the vic would otherwise have been reported missing.
There had been no blood inside the car. No indication of foul play whatsoever. The keys were in the ignition and the vehicle had started without hesitation. The tank had been more than half full.
The driver had simply vanished.
Adeline crouched down to inspect something on the ground. She’d scarcely changed at all. Same wild mane of blond hair. Same intense blue eyes and sharp tongue. Still as ornery as ever. Tough as hell in spite of her size. No more than five four and a hundred pounds.
His gut tightened. He knew every inch of her body by heart.
She pushed to her feet. He braced ... as if she might have heard his thoughts. She strode farther along the perimeter. A smile haunted the corners of his mouth. Still walked like a man—or tried to. She couldn’t really pull it off considering that cute little butt had a sashay entirely of its own.