LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Five

      On the way to help with a murder case was not the way Bree had envisioned taking her first airplane ride.

      When Tanner had come in from talking on the phone his face had been pinched and tight.

      “That was Whitaker. He’s in Dallas and has a serial killer on his hands. He needs help.”

      She’d just nodded. She didn’t like that their conversation would have to wait, but knew Tanner’s job was always important. “When do you leave?”

      “Actually, it’s more you he needs than me. He has a killer sending some sort of live footage of the murder scene and their tech team can’t figure out from where. He’d like for you to take a look.”

      She hadn’t even been sure how to respond. The police wanted her to help with a case?

      “You don’t have to go, of course,” Tanner said when she hadn’t answered.

      “No. I want to help.” Just the thought of being at a strange police department by herself, even with Whitaker around, was daunting. She shrugged. “I just don’t do well with people. You know.”

      He pulled her against him. Thank goodness. Maybe she hadn’t broken their relationship with what she’d said earlier. “I’m going to call the sheriff and get the time off so I can go with you. I wouldn’t ever send you alone. Plus, it’s in Dallas. I don’t even like you being in the same state as Jeter, much less the same city. I don’t care how locked up he is.”

      Tanner had arranged all the flights and details. He had even been excited for her when he’d realized this was her first time on a plane, taking the requisite picture of her from the airport terminal. He’d held her hand when the plane had hit a little turbulence. He’d talked to her and given her what few details he’d had about the situation.

      Even though everything seemed okay on the surface, Bree knew it wasn’t. Because of what she’d said this morning.

      Score another point for the girl incapable of appropriate emotions. She didn’t know how to make this right, and it wasn’t going to get any easier while trying to help solve a murder.

      Richard Whitaker was there to pick them up from the Dallas airport. He shook Tanner’s hand and smiled at Bree, knowing her well enough to understand she wouldn’t want to touch anyone unless she had to. She’d learned how to act appropriately around others, but it still didn’t come naturally.

      She gave him a little wave. “Hey, Whitaker.”

      “Thank you for coming.” He walked with them out to his car.

      “So what exactly is going on?” Tanner asked as they drove into downtown Dallas.

      Whitaker took a deep breath. “We had two bodies on two different sides of town.”

      “What was the cause of death?” Tanner asked.

      “They had both drowned.”

      “Are you sure that’s even a serial killer?” Bree asked. “People can drown in just two inches of water.”

      “Believe me,” Whitaker said. “I would not have brought you out if I wasn’t sure we had a killer on our hands. Yes, the cause of death was drowning. Both victims weren’t in water when they were found, but they had water in their lungs.”

      “Definitely drowned then,” Bree muttered.

      Whitaker nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “They were both found in boxes—almost like coffins. Both were restrained in the box by both wrists and ankles.”

      “Someone filled it with water while they were trapped there?” Tanner said.

      Whitaker nodded sharply. “Yes.”

      Tanner let out a curse. “Did you find out about them because of the footage the killer sent you?”

      “No, that’s new. Both victims were found by civilians. One in some woods off the highway about ten miles south of town. The other, Shelby Durrant, was found on the north side of town in a restaurant that had been closed for renovations.”

      “You know her?” Bree asked.

      Whitaker shrugged. “Not very well, but we grew up near each other. She was ten years younger than me, so I never actually hung out with her. She was just one of the neighborhood kids, you know? She was still chained in that damn box when they found her.”

      He cleared his throat. Bree and Tanner both gave Whitaker a minute to collect himself.

      “Any connection between the victims?” Tanner asked.

      “Nothing that we’ve found so far. Both were female, about five foot three, roughly a hundred pounds. Shelby was twenty-two, an African American college student at Dallas Nursing Institute. Victim number two was in her midforties, Caucasian, married, with no kids. Her name was Kelly Quinn. She worked as a bank teller. Nothing we’ve been able to find ties them together in any way.”

      “What do you need me to do?” Bree asked.

      Whitaker looked at his watch as they pulled up in front of the Dallas police station. “That’s going to become very obvious in about twenty-two minutes.”

      As they got out of the car she looked over at Tanner, but he just shrugged. Evidently he didn’t know any more than her. Twenty-two minutes was oddly specific.

      Whitaker signed them in at the front counter of the station and led them past a number of uniformed officers’ desks to the back section of the building, where it was much quieter.

      He opened a door leading out of those offices and everything changed.

      People were buzzing around everywhere. This was obviously command central for the case. Multiple pictures of the two dead women hung on a large bulletin board. Some of them were from when they were alive. The others, definitely more painful to look at, were the bodies in those boxes Whitaker had told them about.

       Dead.

      They kept moving past the pictures into a large conference room. The entire back wall was made out of screens and had a half dozen computer terminals sitting right in front of them. At least ten people were surrounding the terminals.

      Everybody was talking at once, vying to be heard. This was the situation Whitaker

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