chapter Five
It was well before dawn when Seth sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee at his elbow and the files of the two murders in front of him. Sleep had been difficult and he’d finally decided to forget even trying to get up.
There were so many things about these cases that bothered him, starting with his number-one witness. Although no other memories had returned to Tamara for the rest of the day, he’d been pleased by the little bit of progress they’d made during lunch.
They’d finally returned home at dinnertime after having walked most of Main Street several times. By the time they’d gotten back here and eaten dinner Tamara had pled exhaustion and a headache and had gone to her room.
Seth had almost been grateful that she’d removed herself from his presence. He’d been far too aware of her all day, smelling her scent, watching the play of emotions that crossed her beautiful features. He’d fought a simmering desire for her all day long and had felt like he drew his first real deep breath when she went to her room.
He had to stop looking at her as an attractive female and instead stay focused on her as a potential victim and the best opportunity they had to catch a killer.
He took a sip of his coffee and studied the file containing everything about Rebecca Cook’s murder. There was no question that Sheriff Atkins and his team had had their work cut out for them investigating the young woman’s death. Most of the teenagers and young adults in town had been at the party at the dunes.
There were reams of pages of interviews contained in the file and Seth flipped through each one, unsurprised to find that the three young men who had been on the dunes the day Tamara had been uncovered had also been party attendees.
As he moved on to the file with notes and interviews and the official reports on Vicki Smith, two things caught his attention. The first was that Sam Clemmons, the young man who had been like a frozen statue at the scene with Tamara, had also been present when the other two women had been found at the dunes. What were the odds of him being there when three bodies were uncovered? He knew the sheriff had interrogated the boys after Tamara had been found, but he hadn’t seen the interview transcripts yet.
Vicki Smith had been a pretty, thirty-year-old brunette who had worked as a waitress at the Golden Daffodil and at the time of her death had been dating the owner of the restaurant, Henry Todd. Todd had been questioned but despite his intimate relationship with the victim the authorities had been unable to tie him to Vicki’s murder or find any kind of a connection between Todd and Rebecca.
The only thing all three victims had in common was dark hair. The first two victims had been natives of Amber Lake and so far it appeared that Tamara had simply been passing through.
What had happened to her between the hours when she’d had dinner in the café and the next day when she’d been found in the sand dunes? What horrors was her amnesia attempting to protect her from remembering?
Linda had spoken to him for a little while the night before about post-traumatic stress and all that it could entail for Tamara.
She’d even suggested it might be healthy for Tamara to meet with the professional the doctor had recommended to discuss her amnesia and whatever else she might be experiencing due to her trauma. Seth intended to ask Tamara this morning if she needed to see a counselor or somebody else, even though so far she’d declined.
In the meantime, he intended to pick apart each and every report and interview from the two murders and make a list of people he intended to reinterview personally.
There were only two official entrances to Deadman’s Dunes that provided a small parking area for the off-riders to park. On the day that Seth had arrived and gone to the dunes, he’d parked at the main entrance on the north side. The other way in was on the west side of the sand.
Rebecca’s body had been found almost directly in the center of the dunes, where the area was a flat run for riders to test their speed before hitting the hilly mounds again.
Vicki’s body had been found close to the west entrance and Tamara’s on the east side of the dunes. It didn’t matter what any of it meant to Seth. What he needed to find out was what the dunes meant to the killer.
At six-thirty, he got up from the table, grabbed some of his clothes from the hallway closet where he’d moved them from the guest room and then headed for the bathroom to get ready for the day.
Minutes later as he stood beneath the shower spray his thoughts returned to Tamara. It was strange, he knew nothing about her past, nothing about the life experiences that had made her who she was, and yet he felt as if he knew a wealth of information about her just from the hours they’d spent together.
Her political beliefs jived with his, she had a wicked sense of humor that he enjoyed and there was softness to her spirit that made him want to be strong for her.
He liked the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, how her eyes lit up just before a smile curved her lips.
They’d spent part of yesterday at the discount store where she bought a basketful of clothing and miscellaneous items to call her own. If you could tell a woman’s personality by the things she bought, then Tamara was definitely low maintenance.
Seth had paid for everything and she’d insisted that when she had access to her bank account again she would make it right with him.
He didn’t care if she ever paid him back. She hadn’t spent that much money and the pleasure that had ridden her features as she picked out things for herself had been worth every penny.
He stepped out of the shower and grabbed the awaiting towel. As he dried off he thanked the stars that he’d packed a pair of dress slacks and a short-sleeved dress shirt. Today he wasn’t going into the sheriff’s office as Seth Hawkins on vacation in jeans and a T-shirt, but rather as Special Agent Seth Hawkins, dressed for business. He’d already let Sheriff Atkins know that he meant business when he’d called him the night before to set up a meeting with Atkins’s team.
Dried and dressed, he clipped his badge onto his belt, added his shoulder holster and gun and then pulled on a lightweight jacket. He not only wanted the local law enforcement to know that he was ready to roll, but also everyone he interviewed that day that they were facing a professional.
He nearly yelped in surprise as he opened the bathroom door and almost ran over Tamara. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her and then together they headed for the kitchen where they wouldn’t disturb the others who were still sleeping.
“You’re up early,” he said, noticing that the blue-and-white blouse she wore emphasized not only the bright blue of her eyes, but also her small waist. A pair of white shorts showcased the length of her slender legs and Seth felt a slow burn begin in the pit of his stomach.
“I should be up early,” she replied as she headed for the coffeepot. “I went to bed at the crack of dusk last night.”
“Did you sleep well?”
She finished pouring herself a cup of the coffee and then turned to face him. “I’d love to tell you I tossed and turned with memories whirling all through my brain, but the truth is I slept hard and deep and without any dreams, at least none that I remember.”
She took a sip of her coffee and above the cup her gaze slid over him. “You look quite official this morning,” she observed as she lowered the cup from her mouth.
“I’m heading into Atkins’s office for the day. I’m meeting with his entire team and going to do some interviewing.”
“Do I need to be there?”
He shook his head. “Not today. Are you comfortable just hanging around here with Samantha and Linda? It’s Linda’s day off, so you won’t be alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
“Linda has my cell number. You’ll call me if you think of anything new?”
“You mean like the name and address of the killer?” she asked wryly. “I promise you’ll be the first to know.”
He grinned at her. “Good, and I’d like to officially invite you to dinner tonight at the Golden Daffodil.”
“Is this someplace I might have been?” she asked.
“Or where someone you might have encountered is,” he replied. He watched the apprehension that raced across her features. “But it’s not all business,” he hurriedly added. “The food is supposed to be excellent there and I’d like to have you as my dinner date.”
The apprehension on her face transformed to something pretty, something half-yearning. “I’d love to be your dinner date,” she said, her cheeks with slightly more color than normal. “What time should I be ready to go?”
“Why don’t we plan on around six-thirty.” He backed toward the kitchen door. “And now, I’ve got to get out of here and down to the sheriff’s office. I’ll check in later.”
He escaped out of the house and into the fresh early-morning air, wondering what in the world he had just done pretending he and Tamara were going out on a date tonight, wondering why the idea of being out on a date with her filled him with the same kind of wistful longing he’d momentarily seen in her eyes.
He started his truck and clenched the steering wheel with a sense of determination. For the past couple of days he’d felt more like a babysitter than an investigator. As much as he enjoyed spending time with Tamara, as much as he hoped she’d regain her memories and solve the crime for them all, they couldn’t just sit around and wait and hope that that might happen.
It was time to get to work...the tedious grunt work that usually solved crimes. They couldn’t depend on Tamara another minute. They needed to attempt to find the killer the old-fashioned way until Tamara was at a place where she could help them.
If he discovered that Atkins’s team couldn’t keep up with him, that they weren’t up to his kind of investigation, then he would contact Director Forbes and request a couple more men to form a task force. He was hoping to work well with the locals, but he wouldn’t hesitate to call in reinforcements if necessary.
As he stepped into the low, flat building that served as the sheriff’s headquarters, he smiled at the woman behind the desk at the same time that he heard Tom Atkins’s voice coming from a back room. The sheriff didn’t sound like a happy camper.
“You can go on back,” the woman said as Seth flashed his badge. “They’re all there waiting for you in the conference room...last doorway on the left.”
As Seth walked down the long corridor that led to the back of the building, he realized from the sound of things that Tom Atkins was definitely having a temper fit.
Seth opened the door to the conference room and a dozen pairs of eyes turned his way. The dozen deputies were seated in chairs at a long conference table and Atkins stood at the head of the table, his chubby face flushed with residual anger.
“Agent Hawkins,” he greeted Seth. “Please, join us.”
Seth slid into a chair next to Deputy Raymond Michaels, the man who had brought him the files the other night.
“Have you seen the morning paper?” Tom asked Seth.
Seth shook his head. Linda didn’t have the local newspaper delivered and Seth hadn’t ventured out to find one that morning. A paper was slid in front of him and he stared at the front page in irritation. The headline read: The Sandman Attempts to Bury Another. There was also a grainy picture of Tamara being lifted out of her sandy grave by Seth. He scanned the accompanying article, his irritation growing as he realized it named not only Tamara but also himself and the fact that he was in town visiting Linda. The article had been written by Jeff Armando, reporter at large.
He looked back at Tom. “It would appear there’s a mole in the room.”
“And there’s nothing I hate more than moles,” Atkins replied as he directed his gaze to his men. “And if I find out one of you talked to Jeff, then I’m going to have your hide.”
“Have you spoken to this Armando to see how he got the information?” Seth asked.
Atkins’s frown deepened. “He has a right to protect his sources and all that First Amendment crap. Now, let’s get to work, but don’t think I intend to let this news item go. I’ll get to the bottom of it one way or another. Now, reports.”
A young man with sandy-colored hair spoke up. “Deputy Aims and I spent all day yesterday checking out all the motels and anyplace that rents rooms to see if Tamara had registered anywhere to spend Monday night here in town. She wasn’t registered anywhere.”
“So, she either intended to just pass through or check into a nearby motel without a reservation,” Atkins said.
Another deputy spoke next. “Jack and I checked out all of the abandoned buildings, barns and sheds on the north side of town for the missing car. Obviously we didn’t find it. We plan on doing the south side today.”
Tom nodded and looked at Seth. “When you called me last night Tamara had remembered eating at the café. Has she remembered anything else?”
“No, but I’ve been thinking about the timeline on her particular case. We know she ate dinner at the café and then was found the next afternoon in the dunes. What we need to find out is if she was seen anywhere else in town by anyone during those hours.”
He glanced toward the sandy-haired deputy who’d reported earlier. “We know now that she didn’t register at any of the motels and we can assume that she meant to leave town after dinner. But if she was taken by somebody immediately after she ate at the café, that means somebody kept her someplace alive until he took her to the dunes the next afternoon.” Seth didn’t even want to think about what might have happened in those missing hours.
“So we need to check around and see if anyone saw Tamara after the café,” Raymond said. “Can’t we get her driver’s license photo copied to pass around?”
Atkins nodded. “Already done. I have photos up here for all of you to carry throughout this investigation.”
Seth’s admiration for Tom grew a notch. Initially when he’d met Tom on the dunes Seth had feared Tom was an ineffectual small-town putz who didn’t know his butt from his elbow, but Tom was proving Seth wrong. So far, Seth was impressed with both the sheriff and his team of deputies.
Seth listened as Tom gave his men their duties for the day and then the room cleared, leaving only Tom and Seth. The lawman moved from the head of the table to sit across from Seth.
“Surely you knew that you couldn’t keep two murders and another attempted one out of the public eye forever,” Seth said.
Tom raked a hand through his thinning hair. “Nah, I knew it would eventually all become public. But it ticks me off that it’s possible one of my men talked. The article had too much inside information for me to think anything else. It even mentions the amnesia thing.”
Seth looked down at the newspaper. “That information could have been leaked by somebody at the hospital. The photo looks like it was probably taken with a cell phone. Have you talked to the three guys who were there when she was found?”
“I did an initial interview with all of them, but I’ve got them all scheduled to come in today to talk to you. I figured you’d want to interview each of them so Ernie Simpson is going to be here at nine. Jerome Walker is coming in at noon and Sam Clemmons is scheduled for three. I’ll set up more interviews with some of my other potential suspects for tomorrow.”
Seth leaned back in his chair and frowned. “The Sandman. I hate it when the media gives the killer a moniker. Usually makes the perp feel more powerful, more important.”
“I hate everything about this case,” Tom replied.
“According to the reports I’ve read on the other cases, Rebecca Cook had only been dead four to six hours before her body was found early afternoon on the day after the party. We don’t know for sure when she went missing from the party.”
Tom nodded. “She lived with two roommates who said it wasn’t unusual for Rebecca to hook up with somebody and not come home for a night, so they didn’t think anything about it when she didn’t come home after the party.”
“And we don’t know how long Vicki Smith was missing before she was found in the dunes.” It was more a statement than a question.
Once again Tom nodded. “True. She lived by herself. She worked her shift on a Saturday night and Sunday was her day off. Nobody saw her on Sunday and her body was found Monday in the early morning. The coroner set her time of death sometime Sunday night.”
“So, it’s possible our perp kept her someplace for a while before he took her out to the dunes,” Seth said thoughtfully. “Tamara had to have been kept someplace, too, before she wound up in the dunes. We need to figure out a place where a person could keep another without anyone knowing about it. Tamara remembers hearing the scrape of a shovel in the sand. She remembers the sound of being buried alive.” Seth’s heart twisted as he thought of what she’d endured.
Tom’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh, God, that’s horrible. Does she remember why she didn’t fight back? Why we didn’t find any defensive wounds on any of the victims? I mean, how does a man get a woman to simply lie down in the sand and be buried?”
“I don’t know, it’s got to be a drug of some sort, like succinylcholine or something like that,” Seth replied.
“Succinylcholine?” Tom frowned.
“It’s a drug that paralyzes the muscles. The victim would remain conscious and mentally alert, but would be unable to move. The body breaks it up quickly so it wouldn’t be evident in a blood test. Unfortunately, it’s also a drug that stops the heart after several minutes, so that can’t be the method he uses. These women were paralyzed but their hearts were still beating.”
“So we need to add everyone who works at the hospital or in the medical field in town to our list of potential suspects,” Tom said, a new weariness in his voice.
“Not necessarily,” Seth replied. “Although it makes sense that the killer would have some sort of medical background. Still, you can learn about and obtain almost anything on the internet these days.”
“I just hope Tamara gets her memories back soon. Otherwise I’ve got to be honest with you, I’m not sure we’ll solve these murders before he hits again,” Tom said.
“It does appear he’s on a timeline of thirty days or so,” Seth agreed.
“And we don’t know if his miss with Tamara will make him act again soon or if we have the luxury of three weeks or so before another body shows up.”
“Hurry up, you little punk.” Deputy Raymond Michaels’s deep voice drifted in from the corridor.
“Stop pushing me,” a younger voice complained. “I’m not doing anything wrong so keep your hands off me.”
Tom stood. “It sounds like your first interview subject has arrived. You know when I interviewed the three boys from the dunes on the night Tamara was found they all were tested for any kind of trace evidence, but we found nothing unusual on any of them.”
“I know, and I hope you don’t take offense of me needing to speak to them again for my own investigation.”
“No offense taken,” Atkins replied.
Seth stood as well, ready to try to find answers that might stop a killer, the answers that might free Tamara from her amnesia and allow them both to get on with their lives.
He didn’t think about why that thought caused a vague sense of dissatisfaction to slide through him. He was an FBI agent and this was nothing more than an assignment. He wouldn’t allow Tamara to mean anything to him except as part of a case that needed to be solved.
* * *
THE GOLDEN DAFFODIL was dimly lit at a quarter to seven when Tamara and Seth walked in and were greeted by an attractive blonde working as hostess.
“Table for two?” she asked with a smooth, practiced smile. Seth nodded and she grabbed a couple of menus from beneath her desk and motioned for them to follow her.
Samantha had insisted Tamara borrow a little black dress and a pair of high-heeled sandals for the meal out and now seeing the upscale interior and the formal attire of the waiters and waitresses, Tamara was grateful that she’d dressed up. She was also conscious of some of the other diners eyeing her with interest as they made their way to the table.
Seth had come home from his day at the sheriff’s office with just enough time to quickly shower and change his clothes before leaving for dinner. They’d scarcely had a chance to talk and she was eager to hear over dinner what he might have discovered during the day.
The hostess led them to a smoke-glass-topped table that boasted a slender vase with a bright yellow daffodil in the center. “Your waitress will be here shortly,” she said as she handed them each a menu.
“You look very nice,” Seth said once they were alone.
“You clean up pretty well yourself,” Tamara replied. Seth wore a pair of black slacks and a short-sleeved gray dress shirt that made his eyes almost silver in the dim room.
That was the sum of their conversation when the waitress stepped up to their table. “Good evening,” she said with a bright smile. “My name is Kelly and I’ll be your server for the evening. Can I start you off with an appetizer?”
“No, thanks, but how about two glasses of the house wine?” Seth said with a look at Tamara for confirmation. “Red or white?”
She nodded. A glass of white wine sounded wonderful.
As the waitress left to get the wine, Tamara opened her menu, but her gaze remained on Seth. “You had a long day.”
“Definitely. Let’s get our orders in and then I’ll tell you all about it.”
Fifteen minutes later, with orders placed and wine delivered, Tamara looked at Seth expectantly. “Let’s talk about your day first,” he said. “I need to take a few minutes to decompress before I tell you about mine.”
She took a sip of the wine and then set the elegant glass back on the table. “I had a fairly quiet day. Linda and I had a nice lunch together and then she showed me some of the photos in your family album. You were a cute kid. I played with Scooter and Samantha for a lot of the day. Your niece is a sweetheart and that puppy is just too sweet for words. The only real excitement that happened all day was when Steven Bradley stopped by.”
Seth frowned. “Steven Bradley?”
“You remember, the young guy in charge of all things animal in Amber Lake,” she replied with a grin. “He said he just wanted to check in to see how Scooter was adjusting to his new home, but I have a feeling he might have a bit of a crush on your niece.”
Seth’s frown deepened. “He’s got to be in his mid-twenties. He’d better not have a crush on Samantha.”
Tamara smiled at his instant protectiveness. “I don’t think you have to worry, Samantha definitely isn’t interested. If she were, then you’d have cause to be concerned. Anyway, he was only there a few minutes. He played with Scooter, asked Samantha about his appetite and some other doggy questions and then left.”
“Did you see the paper this morning?” he asked.
“I saw it, not my best angle.” She shot a quick glance around the restaurant and then looked back at Seth. “I think probably most of the people in here saw the morning paper. I feel a bit like I’m on display.”
Seth’s jawline clenched. “Yeah, Tom wasn’t happy with all the information that was in the article. He thinks there’s a leak in his department.”
“From what I read, I’d say he’s right.” It had been strange that morning when Linda’s neighbor had brought the morning paper by. Seeing the photo of herself, being the front-page story had been unsettling.
“The Sandman.” She shook her head. “The monster now has a name. Unfortunately the biggest thing that happened today was what didn’t happen...no more memories resurfaced.”
“If I had my way you’d never have to remember what happened to you,” Seth said softly. “We’d solve this crime without you, you’d get all your memories back except the horrible ones and life would go on. And you’d never have to think about the sand or Deadman’s Dunes or Amber Lake again.”
Her heart squeezed at his words and for a moment she couldn’t speak around the lump that formed in her throat. There was such a wealth of caring in the sentiment he’d just voiced and it shot straight to the hollowness in her heart.
“Thanks,” she finally managed to say, “but I doubt if it’s going to work that way unless you got a bunch of clues during the day today.” She could tell by the expression on his face that it probably hadn’t been a productive day, but before he could reply their meals arrived, delivered by a handsome, dark-haired man who introduced himself as Henry Todd, the owner of the restaurant.
“I couldn’t help but recognize you,” he said to Tamara as he set her plate before her. “I just wanted to personally come out and tell you how sorry I am for all that you’ve been through. Our town obviously hasn’t been nice to you.” Tamara fought the urge to squirm beneath his intense gaze.
He stood too close, invading her personal space and she was grateful when he finally stepped away from her side and turned his attention to Seth. “And I understand I have an appointment with you tomorrow morning at ten to discuss some things.”
“That’s correct,” Seth replied and Tamara noticed that his eyes were slightly narrowed and the color of hard flint. “But in the meantime we’re both starving and I’ve heard the food here is amazing.”
Henry smiled in obvious pleasure. “I personally oversee the menu and everything that leaves my kitchen. This might be a small town, but everyone deserves the best that food has to offer.” He took another step back. “And now, please enjoy. Your meal is on me tonight.”
“That’s not necessary,” Seth replied coolly.
Henry smiled at Tamara. “For the beautiful lady, I insist.”
Tamara watched as he sauntered back toward the kitchen, pausing long enough to stop and put his arm around their waitress and say something to her before disappearing into the kitchen.
She felt Seth’s gaze on her and turned to look at him. “He’s a real smarmy charmer,” she said drily. “I wonder if he makes all the women he’s around feel like they need to shower off?”
“Not your type?” he asked as he picked up his fork and knife to cut into the steak on his plate.
“I like my men with a little less swagger and a lot more substance.”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “You could tell that he’s arrogant and superficial just by that brief meeting with him?”
Tamara picked up her own fork and knife to begin damage on the beef fillet in front of her. “Must be a woman thing,” she replied. “He reminds me of my ex-husband, Jason.”
Her utensils clattered to the table as she stared at Seth. “Oh, my God, Seth, I remember Jason.” She paused a moment, allowing her mind free rein. “I remember bits and pieces of my marriage.”
She leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes as memories assaulted her, flashing in her mind so fast, so furiously she felt ill.
* * *
THE SANDMAN. HE LIKED the name they’d given him. It sounded mysterious and, in this case, crazy scary. It sounded like the stuff of nightmares for children, but there were no kids in the town of Amber Lake who needed to fear him. In fact, he liked kids, unlike his old man who had hated kids...hated him.
He could still hear the sound of his father’s boots on the front steps when he got home from work. He could tell by the weight of those footsteps against the wood if it was going to be a good night or a bad one...and most nights were bad.
Any small infraction of one of his father’s endless household rules resulted in a beating. It was rare they completed a meal without his father backhanding him for one thing or another.
It was funny, when he’d finally grown up and left his mother and father’s house, he’d realized he hated his father, but he hated his mother far more.
Mothers were supposed to love and protect their children, and she’d done nothing to protect him. She’d turned a blind eye to the abuse, leaving him to feel afraid and powerless in a volatile childhood.
But now he had all the power. He was the Sandman and nobody could touch him. When he’d first seen Rebecca Cook, he’d recognized his destiny. There had been something about her that had reminded him of his mother when he’d been young and the rage that he’d fought against for most of his life had finally reached maturity.
Rebecca had been his first and Vicki Smith had been his second. He hadn’t known the name of the dark-haired beauty he’d encountered at the rest stop just outside Amber Lake, but he’d known the moment he’d seen her that she would be his third.
He should have taken her right to the dunes that night, but he hadn’t. He’d waited until midafternoon to take care of her and it had been his first mistake...one he wouldn’t make again.
That mistake had allowed her to live. Tamara Jennings. He hadn’t known her name when he’d buried her in the sand, but he knew it now. He also knew she had amnesia. It was an interesting dilemma...he couldn’t be sure what she saw or heard during her time with him, couldn’t know for certain if she could identify him or not.
It really didn’t matter. He intended to rebury her as soon as the opportunity presented itself to him. He didn’t want to give her time to remember. She had been his chosen third victim, the woman with dark hair and something special that had ignited memories of his mother.
Yes, she was his chosen one and nothing had happened since then to change his mind.