“We’ll do what we can, Cheryl,” Warren said as Nowakowski nabbed the keys and exited the room. “Where was the last package you sent going to?”
Colt expected her to say Sturgis or Rapid City.
Instead she said, “Taos it’s someplace in New Mexico.”
“Fuck,” Colt hissed, reaching for his phone, he yanked it out and called Feb.
“Hey,” she answered.
“Baby, who do you know in Taos, New Mexico?”
“What?”
“Who do you know in Taos, New Mexico?”
Her voice went guarded and she asked, “From the list?”
“Anyone, Feb. Do you know anyone in Taos or around there?”
“Yeah,” she told him, “Reece is there.”
Fucking shit.
Colt turned to the table behind him, pulling his pad and pen from his inside jacket pocket, he asked, “Reece his first name or his last?”
“Last.”
“First name?”
“Graham.”
“Got a number? An address?”
“Colt –”
“Number, Feb. Hurry, baby.”
“Hang on…” she went away, probably checking her phonebook on her cell, and Colt flipped up the leather cover to his pad, put it on the table and bent over it, pen ready when she came back. “Five seven five, triple five, two zero zero two.”
Colt took the numbers down and repeated them then asked, “Would he have one? An address? A place he gets mail?”
“Sure, he rents a place. Don’t have his address on me, it’s at home.”
“Thanks honey, see you at six.”
“Colt, is Reece in –?”
“At six, Feb, I have to go. Right now.”
She hesitated then said, “Right. Six.”
“Later, baby.”
Her voice was shaking when she said, “Later, Colt.”
Two days ago her shaking voice would scare the piss out of him. Now he knew she’d pull it together.
Colt flipped his phone closed and looked at Sully.
“Victimology is wrong,” he said to Sully, pushing his phone in his pocket and tearing the paper off the pad. “He’s not going after Grant because Grant never fucked her. He’s going after anyone who fucked her.”
“This Reece guy?”
“Was he on the list?”
“Nope.”
Colt headed to the door, Sully trailing. “That’s because he’s an ex-lover and he never did anything to her.”
“But he’s wreaking vengeance for her,” Sully said as they hit the hall. “He told us himself.”
“He’s wreaking his vengeance, not vengeance for her. Angie never did her wrong, not really.”
“Why the fuck would he kill her then?” Sully asked.
“Who the fuck knows?” Colt answered and he stopped at Rodman who was hitting a button on his phone. “This is the next victim’s phone number,” he handed Rodman the paper. “Taos, New Mexico. Graham Reece. He’ll be renting, not a long term resident and likely workin’ a bar.”
“Sheckle’s been sending gift packages,” Rodman surmised, hitting buttons on the phone, the paper held up in front of him, his eyes scanning, multitasking.
“Only person Feb knows in New Mexico, they’re close.”
“He do her wrong?” Rodman asked.
“Nope, he just did her. Lowe wants to erase from the earth anyone who touched her,” Colt answered.
“She needs to make a new list,” Rodman said.
“She does, only name left on it would be mine.”
Rodman blinked at him then mouthed, “Voicemail.”
“I’ll run a check, see if I can pull up an address or employment records on Reece,” Sully said and hoofed it to his desk.
“Graham Reece,” Rodman said into the phone, turning and starting to walk away, “this is Special Agent Maurice Rodman of the FBI. You’re not in trouble and I need you to call this number the minute you get…”
Colt stood there alone in the bullpen which was filled with activity all around and he didn’t have a fucking thing to do but wait.
*
An hour later Cheryl Sheckle sat in a chair across the room, her purse in her lap, her arms wrapped around it, her head turned to the side, her face set in stone.
She’d pulled her hair back in a ponytail and she’d taken off all her jewelry, every last piece. If she could, he knew, she’d change her clothes, erase the Feb Impersonation that’d been forced on her, start finding the way back to herself.
Colt saved the file on Amy Harris he was finishing, got up and walked over to Cheryl. She didn’t indicate in any way that she knew he was approaching except her body grew stiffer with his every step.
“Got a ride home?” he asked, standing over her. The Audi had been impounded.
“Mom’s comin’.” Short, precise, neither word she wanted to say.
“She gonna be awhile?”
“Probably.”
“Want coffee?”
She looked at him, tipping her head back, her eyes hitting his before she clipped, “No.”
“Get up, Cheryl. There’s a place a coupla blocks away from here. I’ll buy you a coffee and you’ll want a brownie from there. At least a cookie. You can call your Mom and tell her to pick you up there.”
“So, what? You’re Mr. Nice Guy?” she snapped.
Colt shook his head and said, “Same guy done us both wrong. I thought least we could do since we share something like that, somethin’ neither of us wanted to share and it was neither of our choice, we could share a great coffee and a fuckin’ good brownie. That would be our choice and, trust me, it’s worth the walk.”
He saw her jaw work as she clenched her teeth through making a decision.
“Better’n sittin’ around here,” she finally mumbled as she stood, hitching the purse on her shoulder.
“Place’s called Mimi’s Coffee House,” Colt said as he passed a Sully who had his brows raised and his eyes on Colt. “Call your Mom. Just a couple blocks up from the Station.”