Page 9 of All He Takes
"It's more than we had before we got here," Ken said. "Hopefully we'll find more answers at the antique shop."
"The police should still be there." Nicky pressed harder on the gas, tempted to speed, but kept herself at a steady pace. They were almost there.
Ken's phone began to buzz, and he quickly answered it. "This is Agent Walker." He put it on speaker so Nicky could hear.
"This is Chief Gammage of the Pine Grove PD," he said. "I was informed to call you in case we came up with any more hits on photographs found at other antique stores in town."
Nicky's chest tightened, and Ken had an intense look on his face.
"And?" Ken pressed.
"Nothing yet," Gammage said through the phone.
"Chief Gammage, this is Agent Lyons," Nicky cut in. "Please keep your personnel looking. I need you to call in troopers and get them to branch the search out to other towns too. There could be way more of those photographs out there."
"Roger that, agents," he said.
The call ended, and Ken tucked his phone away. Nicky bit her lip. She really hoped that the killer wasn't planting these photos all over the country, or else this might take a lot longer.
"What are you thinking?" Ken asked.
"Just worried about how far this has stretched out," Nicky said. "We've only found two photos here, at the same store in Pine Grove, so let's hope he's sticking to this area."
"True, or we'd have a lot of other towns to search," Ken said. "And that doesn't even take into account the fact that the killer could be planting these photos in other states. If he's staying in a small town, then he has a much smaller victim pool."
"I suppose you're right," Nicky said. "But at least we won't have to search the entire continental U.S. Paris Conner was from Miami, right?"
Ken went into the files, flipping through pages. "That's right. Her parents are realtors and own a hell of a lot of property over there."
Nicky bit into her lip. "So how did a photo of her body end up in Northern Florida, at some antique shop in a small town?"
"I hope we find out, Lyons."
As soon as they pulled into the parking lot of the antique shop, they could see the car that belonged to the police officer who'd been stationed outside. He was probably inside, talking with the owner. The sign of the store was an old, weathered, wooden board, with the words HARRIET ANTIQUES painted in large, bold letters. The paint had faded over time, but the letters could still be discerned, each one carefully painted to achieve a vintage look. Surrounding the sign were rows of rusting iron signposts that used to hold old street signs, and behind it was the antique shop itself, a small brick building with numerous windows and quaint awnings.
Ken and Nicky got out of the car and walked toward the store, not wasting any time to go inside. The bell on the door dinged, and Nicky was instantly met with the musty, woody smell of the antique shop. There was fading damask wallpaper, blue and yellow, on the walls. There were many things inside, ranging from paintings to vases to china to a sofa.
The owner was an elderly man with pale skin and a thick head of white hair. He didn't look like he'd ever stopping smiling a day in his life. Across the counter from him was a young officer in a standard blue uniform.
"Officer, thank you for your assistance," Nicky said, holding up her badge. "I'm Agent Lyons FBI."
The officer shook her hand and nodded at Ken. "Of course. I'm Officer Jim. This is the owner of the shop, Mr. Dumond."
"Delighted to meet you," Mr. Dumond said. "I'm not used to so much... anxiety in the store."
"I'm sorry for this, sir," Nicky said. "We're hoping you can give us more information on what happened."
"Of course," Mr. Dumond said. "I'm happy to help in any way I can. I've been living in Pine Grove since I was a little boy. To think something awful happened to one of the young women here is just terrible."
Officer Jim stepped out, leaving Nicky and Ken to talk to Mr. Dumond alone.
"Actually," Nicky said, "we can confirm the identity of one of the victims, and she was not a Pine Grove resident." She paused to take a deep breath. "It's possible that the killer took the photo elsewhere, then came to town to plant it here."
Mr. Dumond's eyes grew wide. "So, do you think it was one of my customers?" he asked.
"At this point it's still too early to tell," Nicky said. "But I do want to go through some of your photographs to see if we can find any more."
"Of course," Mr. Dumond said. He stepped behind the counter and took out a small box. "The police already went through most of them, but I kept the photos here, just in case the police wanted to look at them again."
