He related what the detective had told him. “Those are the highlights. Bottom line, Barker knew all three of those women were abducted on nights with blood moons, same as Crissy. He sat on that information.”
Beth looked over at Mitch, who said, “We knew about the Galveston case, and it seemed a dead end. Never heard anything about the two from 2018, so nobody followed up.”
John said, “If Gayle Morris reached out when she learned about Crissy, I’m sure the departments in Jackson and Shreveport did, too. They would’ve been seeking a connection because both were still without a suspect. But if they contacted Barker, he didn’t act on it. He wanted to button up the Mellin case and get his promotion.”
Beth took a deep breath, blew it out, and asked, “What happens next?”
He took a step toward her. “I busted his face up, but that’s nothing. What happens from here is going to be implosive. God knows how it’ll turn out, but it’s not gonna be pretty. I’ll catch the backlash, and that’s fine. I kinda look forward to it.
“But, trust me, you want no part of it. Fly back to New York today. Convince the new producer to delay the broadcast of that episode. Warn him that if he airs it as scheduled, and the believed facts of the story turn out to be wrong, his show will lose all credibility, and his tenure will be the shortest in the history of the network. Mitch will drive you to New Orleans and put you on that four o’clock flight.”
“No way in hell.”
He looked down at the floor and swore viciously.
“Told ya,” Mitch muttered.
John shot him another dirty look.
“Listen,” Beth said to John, “I started all this when I contacted you. I’m not going to abandon you with a problem that originated with me.”
“You didn’t originate it. Barker did. And now he knows there’s going to be hell to pay.”
“I’m seeing this through.”
“It could cost you.”
“Or cost another victim her life.”
He scrubbed his face with his hands, then tried to stare her down. He looked over at Mitch, who merely shrugged. Then he came back to her. “All right. Never say I didn’t try.”
“Noted. Now, back to the immediate future.”
“We get out of sight. We relocate to the fishing camp and start digging through all my files as well as yours. All your research notes, every idea, theory, prediction you’ve ever entertained about there being a serial criminal with a moon fetish. If he exists, we’ve got less than forty-eight hours to identify and find him.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he beat her to it. “Before you say yes, you need to understand that I’m untethered, unofficial, a free agent.”
“Which means what, exactly?”
Mitch said, “Means the shit’s about to hit the fan.”
On the elevator ride down, John explained to her Mitch’s work for the DEA. “It was sheer happenstance that we were in that bar at the same time.”
“What was your fistfight over?”
“Nothing. It was all for show. It made Mitch look like a badass to those creeps he’s trying to nail.”
“And John needed to blow off steam,” Mitch said.
She looked at John. “I had surrendered and left. You should have been relieved. Why did you need to blow off steam?”
Mitch snickered, but before he could respond, the elevator stopped on the ground floor. “I’ll bring the truck around and meet y’all at the exit on the north side. It’ll be a quick stop. Be ready to roll.”
“Security camera?” John asked.
“Partially obscured by a canopy.”
“What about your license plate?”
“Fogged out.”
“Good. Let’s do it.”
Mitch flipped up the hood of his sweatshirt and loped toward the lobby. John and Beth went in the opposite direction. They didn’t encounter anyone as they made their way past empty conference rooms and a small workout facility.
When they reached the specified door, John reached over and pulled up the hood of Beth’s jacket, then did the same with his slicker. Seconds later, Mitch arrived in a pickup truck that truly was a p.o.s.
He made quick work of stowing her roll-aboard in the bed of the truck and covering it with a tarp while John helped her into the cab, where there were only two seats. “Sorry,” he said. “You’ll have to sit on the console.”
“What about a seat belt?”
Mitch answered her question as he climbed in, engaged the gears, and took off. “Drug dealers don’t believe in them. Just hold on tight to John. You won’t mind, will you, John?”
“Just drive, Mitch.”
“What about your car?” Beth asked John.