“BB’s always in trouble,” Elena said.
Elena leaned her body into Mrs. Shepard as she stared at Melina with large brown intelligent eyes that all but swallowed up her face. The kid was smart, but life had taught her how to be practical. She might have been relying on Bonnie, but now she had clearly figured out the Shepards had her best interests at heart.
“Don’t worry, Mom and Dad. You and I will have a nice visit, and I’ll fill you in on all the details. For now, I’ve got to get back to work. You shouldn’t have any more interruptions, but if you do, call me.”
“I will,” her father said.
She kissed her mother and then her father on their cheeks and held out her flat hand for Elena. “Give me five?”
The girl’s eyes softened, and she raised her hand ready to smack it toward Melina’s. Just as Elena was about to connect, Melina jerked her hand. “One more time. Be quick this time.”
This time the girl’s little hand connected with Melina’s with a hard smack. “Good job. See you all soon.”
“Can we do bubbles?” Elena said.
Ramsey nodded. “I’ll get a case of them.”
Elena smiled.
Melina was grateful Ramsey was driving. Her nerves were shot, and she did not release the breath she was holding until they pulled out of her parents’ neighborhood.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Outstanding,” she said.
“It’s understandable that Bonnie upset you.”
“I’ve been living with Bonnie leaving me on the roadside since I was five years old. Don’t worry about me.”
“On the positive side, I like your parents.”
None of the other agents had met her parents. “I’ve always kept a firm line between my private and professional lives. Now that line is blurring.”
“Both your parents look like they can take care of themselves.”
“Dad’s in his late sixties. He’s recovering from a fall off a ladder he had no business being on.”
“How’s he handling retirement?”
“Getting old sucks, but he’s tough.”
“Yeah. I could see that. He misses the excitement of the job. He’s not worried about going to the mat or pulling his weapon. But he’s worried about you, your mother, and Elena.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“He sees that. But he wants to be needed by you and your mother.”
“How would you know? You’re the lone wolf type.”
He was silent for a moment. “Not by choice, but the job gets in the way.”
She was one to talk. She shared her morning coffee with the neighbor’s cat. “Does that bother you?”
“It never did until recently.”
The car grew silent.
“Your parents look like they’re bonding with Elena,” he said.
“If Mom has it her way, Elena is going to be a part of their home for good.” Melina had been replaced, but in a good way. Her parents needed that little girl as much as Elena needed them.
“You really okay?” he asked.
The stress and adrenaline spike had pricked the underside of her skin. “Hearing Bonnie talk about Elena and love in the same breath churns up memories. When I was a kid, I must have thought she did love me.”
“Maybe she did. But self-preservation runs deep in Bonnie Guthrie.”
“Maybe she did love me enough to keep me out of foster care. But she’s not the kind of mother who deals with a difficult child well for long.” This was a conversation she should have had with her adopted mother, but oddly it was easier to share with a near stranger. “Bonnie was lying when she said I got out of the car on the side of the road and ran off.”
“She doesn’t want a child abandonment case on top of everything else.”
“She is a survivor, first and foremost.”
“She was surprised when you mentioned the call from the diner,” he said. “She recovered pretty quickly, but it was there.”
“I saw that, too.” She watched as the houses moved past her and the residential road fed into a bigger one. “She’s protecting Sonny. And he’s still the little boy who wanted Bonnie to love him. Love and need tangled up and knotted in a tight ball with anger,” she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Thursday, August 27, 8:00 p.m.
Ramsey drove, feeling Melina sink deeper into her thoughts as she sat in silence. He rifled through his best comforting words of wisdom, but they all fell short of the mark. He wanted to help her but did not know how.
Her phone rang and she sat forward, clearing her throat before saying, “Agent Shepard.”
He noted a shift in Melina’s body language as she tilted her body forward.
“Text me the address. We’re on our way.”
In a blink, her melancholy mood had vanished, and he was glad she sounded more like herself. “What is it?”
“911 call came in at 7:15 p.m. A woman reported a break-in. The officer who visited her realized this wasn’t an ordinary B and E. The intruder drew a warm bath and left behind a pair of garden shears.”
“What?”
“Yeah, looks like Bonnie is pressing Sonny’s buttons.”
Ramsey increased his speed and rerouted to the new address. The home was very similar in construction to the last victim’s house. One story. Brick.
“I have Sandra Wallace’s DMV picture,” Melina said.
He glanced at the picture. Wallace was thirty-eight, blond, and buxom. “Our guy is sticking to his pattern.”
“Yes, he is.”
Out of the car, Ramsey followed Melina up the front steps and into the house. They were met by an officer at the front door who introduced them to Sandra Wallace. She could have been Bonnie Guthrie’s younger sister.
“We came as soon as we heard,” Ramsey said. “Can you walk us through the evening? When did you arrive home?”
“It’s like I told the other cop. I came in the door with my guy and saw a light on in the bathroom. My friend went to look and found the tub full and the window open.”
“Who is your guy?” Melina asked.
“His name is Perry Nelson. I met him at the club last night.”
“What club?” Melina asked.
Sandra tucked a curl behind her ear. “Red’s Saloon.”
“Red’s?” Ramsey asked. “On Union Street?”
“Yeah,” Sandra said. “I’m a bartender there.”
It was not coincidental that their other victim had spent time at Red’s. “Have you known Perry long?” he asked.
Sandra shook her head. “No, and after tonight, I don’t care if I ever see him again.”
“Why is that?” Melina said.
“He got real freaked out when he saw the shears. Thought I had something kinky planned for him. I tried to tell him I had nothing to do with it, but he wouldn’t listen. He split.”
“Do you have his contact information?” Ramsey asked.
“I know where to find him. He’s a bartender down the street at the Boot ’n’ Scoot.”
“He leaves and then what?” Melina asked.
“I called the cops. Then I sat in my room, cradled a baseball bat, and tried not to lose my shit.”
“When did the police arrive?” Ramsey asked.
“Pretty quickly. They seemed interested when I told them about the shears. And I didn’t touch anything while I was waiting. Your boys in the forensic van just showed up about a half hour ago. And now I got FBI and TBI in my living room. What the hell is going on?”
“Evidence suggests that a person we’re looking for may have broken into your house,” Melina said.
“What gave it away, the tub or the shears?” Sandra asked.
Instead of answering, Ramsey fired back with, “Was there anyone else in the bar last night who might have chatted you up or suggested a date?”
“Sure. There are always a few guys each night. Flirting helps with tips, and every so often I do like to spend a little one-on-one time with the cute ones.”
“Other than Perry, was there anyone else?” Melina pressed. “Someone who made an impression.”
“There was a guy. Real cute. I thought we might hook up. But he didn’t come back today.”
“Did he have a name?” Melina asked.
Sandra chewed her fingernail as she tried to recall. “I don’t remember. It was real busy that night.”
“What did he look like?” Ramsey asked.
“Good looking. Kind of tall like you. Strong build.”
“Caucasian, African American, Hispanic?” Melina asked.
“He was a white guy. I’d say in his midthirties.”
“And this was the night before?” Ramsey asked.
“That’s right. The bar has security cameras if that helps.”
“It could a great deal,” Ramsey said.
“If we don’t get a clear picture of him, would you meet with a sketch artist?” Melina asked.
“Yeah, I guess. Who the hell is this guy? I mean, should I be worried?”
“We haven’t quite figured that out yet,” Melina said. “But we think he’s very dangerous.”
Sandra looked toward the bathroom where a technician was dusting the doorknob for prints. “What’s the deal with the shears?”
“Still working on that,” Ramsey said, dodging the question. “Mind if we have a look around the house?”
“Be my guest.”