LITMIR.BIZ

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too.”

      Riley said, “Have your people take pictures of these. We’ll send them to Quantico and have our technicians run them through our database.”

      Cullen stood with his arms akimbo for a moment, taking in the scene with what seemed to Riley almost like a sense of satisfaction.

      He said, “I’ve got to say, this is a new experience for me and my guys. We’re used to investigating cargo theft, vandalism, collisions, and the like. Murders are few and far between. And something like this – well, we’ve never seen anything like it before. Of course, I guess it’s nothing really special for you FBI folks. You’re used to it.”

      Cullen got no reply and he fell silent for a moment. Then he looked at Riley and her colleagues and said, “Well, I don’t want to take too much of your precious time. Just give us a profile, and my team will take it from here. You can fly back home today, unless you really want to spend the night.”

      Riley, Bill, and Jenn looked at each other with surprise.

      Did he seriously think they could wrap up their work here that quickly?

      “I’m not sure what you mean,” Riley said.

      Cullen shrugged and said, “I’m sure you’ve figured out something in the way of a profile by now. That’s what you’re here for, after all. What can you tell me?”

      Riley hesitated for a moment.

      Then she said, “We can give you a few generalizations. Statistically, most murderers who leave the body at the scene have a prior criminal record. Over half of them are between the ages of fifteen and thirty-seven – and over half are African-American, employed at least part time, and have at least a high school education. Some such killers have had prior psychiatric problems, and some have been in the military. But …”

      Riley hesitated.

      “But what?” Cullen asked.

      “Try to understand – none of this is really useful information, at least not at this point. There are always outliers. And our killer is starting to look like one already. For example, the kind of killer we’re talking about usually has some kind of sexual motivation. But that doesn’t seem to be the case here. My guess is that he’s not typical in a lot of ways. Maybe he’s not typical at all. We’ve still got a lot of work cut out for us.”

      For the first time since she’d arrived, Cullen’s expression darkened a little.

      Riley added, “And I want her cell phone rushed to Quantico. And the other victim’s cell phone as well. Our technicians need to see if they can get any information out of them.”

      Before Cullen could reply, his own cell phone buzzed and he scowled.

      He said, “I already know who that is. It’s the railroad administrator, wanting to know if he can get the trains moving again. The line has got three freight trains piled up and a passenger train running late. There’s a fresh crew ready to drive away the train that’s still sitting on the tracks. Can we move the body yet?”

      Riley nodded and said to the coroner, “Go ahead, get her into your van.”

      Cullen turned away and took the call, while the coroner called his people together and got to work with the body.

      When Cullen got off the phone, he seemed to be in a genuinely sour mood.

      He said to Riley and her colleagues, “So I guess you folks are going to make yourselves at home for a while.”

      Riley thought she was starting to understand what was bothering him. Cullen was positively looking forward to solving a sensational case, and he hadn’t expected the FBI to rob him of his thunder.

      Riley said, “Look, we’re here at your request. But I think you’ll be needing us – for a while longer anyway.”

      Cullen shook his head and shuffled his feet.

      Then he said, “Well, we’d all better head on into the Barnwell police station. We’ve got something pretty unpleasant to deal with there.”

      Without another word, he turned and headed away.

      Riley glanced at the body, which was now being loaded onto a gurney.

      She wondered …

      More unpleasant than this?

      Her mind boggled as she and her colleagues followed Cullen back the way they’d come.

      CHAPTER SIX

      Jenn Roston was seething as she turned to follow her colleagues away from the crime scene. She trudged through the trees behind Riley and Agent Jeffreys as Deputy Chief Jude Cullen led the way toward the parked vehicles.

      “Bull” Cullen, he calls himself, she remembered with contempt.

      She was glad to have two people between her and that man.

      She kept thinking …

      He tried to demonstrate a blood choke on me!

      She doubted that he’d been looking for an excuse to grope her – not exactly, anyway. But he sure was looking for a chance to show physical control over her. It was bad enough that he felt the need to mansplain the blood choke hold and its effects to her – as if she didn’t know all about it already.

      She thought they were both lucky that Cullen hadn’t actually gotten his arm around her neck. She might not have been able to control herself. Although the man was ridiculously muscular, she would most likely have made short work of him. Of course, that would have been pretty unseemly at a murder scene and would have done nothing to promote good relations among investigators. So Jenn knew it was just as well things hadn’t gotten out of hand.

      On top of everything else, now Cullen seemed to be pissed off that Jenn and her colleagues weren’t going away just yet, and that he wasn’t going to hog all the glory of solving the case.

      Tough luck, asshole, Jenn thought.

      The group emerged from the trees and got into the police van with Cullen. The man said nothing as he drove to the police station and her FBI companions were quiet too. She figured that they, like her, were thinking about the grisly crime scene and Cullen’s comment about having “something pretty unpleasant to deal with” at the station.

      Jenn hated riddles, maybe because Aunt Cora was so often cryptic and threatening in her attempts at manipulation. And she also hated living with the sense that something in her past could destroy her present dream-come-true of being an FBI agent.

      When Cullen parked the van in front of the police station, Jenn and her colleagues got out and followed him inside. There, Cullen introduced them to Barnwell’s Chief of Police, Lucas Powell, a middle-aged man with a sagging chin.

      “Come with me,” Powell said. “I’ve got the guys right in here. My people and I just don’t know how to deal with this kind of thing.”

      Guys? Jenn wondered.

      And what kind of “thing” did he mean?

      Chief Lucas Powell led Jenn, her colleagues, and Cullen straight to the station’s interview room. Inside, they found two men seated at the table, both wearing neon yellow vests. One was lean and tall, an older but vigorous-looking man. The other was about Jenn’s own shorter height, and probably not much older than she was.

      They were drinking cups of coffee and just staring at the table.

      Powell introduced the older man first, the younger man second.

      “This is Arlo Stine, the freight conductor. And this is Everett Boynton, his assistant conductor. When the train stopped, they’re the ones who had to walk back and find the body.”

      The two men barely looked up at the group.

      Jenn gulped. Surely they must be terribly traumatized.

      There definitely was “something pretty unpleasant” to deal with here.

      Interviewing these men wasn’t going to be easy. To make matters worse, they weren’t likely to know

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