Page 92 of Pretty Broken Dolls
“We found her wallet and jacket, but nothing else. Her car appears to be untouched, but Rob is going to dust for foreign prints inside and out.” McGaven paused and a serious expression crossed his face. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” he said, glancing up on the deck.
“Sure.” Katie led her partner to the other side of the complex near a group of trees. The darkness began to settle over the property, but she could still see McGaven’s grave expression. “What’s on your mind?”
“I saw you talking with Campbell.”
“Yeah, he was just making sure we’re doing our jobs.” She tried to make light of it, but in truth, it bothered her. His attitude. His insinuation.
“You know that I’m not one to ring the panic button.”
She smiled. “C’mon, Gav, spit it out. What gives?”
“After you told me what he discussed with you at the diner the other day, the more I think about it, something seems fishy to me.”
“Fishy?”
“Yeah, I don’t like how we were roped into this situation and how he sits on his throne watching us—you know what it reminds me of?”
“What?”
“It’s like he’s…it’s like he’s pulling the strings. Everything in my gut says so. Especially after I saw him today.”
Katie began, “I know—”
“Just do me a favor, take extra precautions, okay?”
“Okay,” she said.
“I mean it. Otherwise, you’re going to have someone sleeping on your couch until this investigation is over.”
Katie laughed. “I’ll be fine.” She had her own concerns, but now hearing McGaven’s voice, she was apprehensive. “Really, I’ll befine. And I’ll be careful.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Thursday 0915 hours
“Okay, thank you,” Katie said as she pressed the end button on her cell phone. “Just confirmed with Mrs. Dorothy Winchell we can talk to her this morning, she will be home until 1p.m.”
“How did she sound?” McGaven asked.
“Strong, but a bit weepy—but that’s understandable with what she’s going through.” Katie shuddered, remembering what it was like when her Uncle Wayne came to the house to tell her that her parents had died in a car accident. So many emotions erupt and keep coming, but you find strength somehow. “She wants us to do whatever we need to do to find her daughter’s killer.” She read through her notes. “Mr. Winchell died four years ago from cancer. There are no other family members. She’s still in Darla’s childhood home. We might be able to find out more about her and maybe how she might’ve come into contact with her killer.”
McGaven was printing out lists from his database, trying to corral names and people that could be of interest from the fairgrounds.
“You ready for a road trip?” She tried to sound upbeat. In reality, she’d had a difficult time sleeping last night. She kept running through the strange conversations she’d had with Agent Campbell, thinking of the times she now knew he had been following her, and wondering how many other times he might have been watching her without her knowing.
“Always ready.”
“How are those lists?”
“Long and tedious. Breaking them down, running down backgrounds, crossing some off. And I know there must be aliases mixed in the group.”
Katie stood up and slipped on her jacket. “I still think there could be a reason that the fairgrounds location was chosen to display the body. Some connection. It could mean something to the killer—whether it’s a fond memory or a terrifying one. Something…having to do with the Ferris wheel in general, maybe an accident or something that happened near the ride?”
“There are all types of people on this list, every age and background; it makes you wonder if people work carnivals and fairs because they are hiding from something.”
“You know, Gav, that’s a great point. How far did you get with your search on accidents at fairgrounds?”
“Not far. I didn’t have time to check on the fire you mentioned,” he said, following her out of the office.
