“Ten-four.”
I draw my .38. I’m running full out when something tangles at my feet. Wire, I realize, and then I’m falling. I reach out to break my fall, lose the grip on my gun. My hands plunge into mud. I land on my stomach hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. I turn over, kick off the wire—a freaking tomato cage—and scramble to my feet. Scooping up my weapon, I lurch into a run.
My breaths come hard and fast as I scale the fence. I can hear the blood roaring in my ears. I shine the Maglite ahead, and see an ocean of corn. I burst into the first row. Mud sucks at my feet as I sprint to the next row. Husks slash at my face as I run down the row, pop into the next, continue on. I run blindly for several minutes, hoping to intercept my quarry. But he’s nowhere in sight.
Finally, I stop, my lungs burning. “Damnit.”
I nearly jump out of my skin when my cell phone beeps. I snatch it up with a cross utterance of my name.
“What the hell happened? I’ve been trying to call—”
Tomasetti. I close my eyes, try to steady my breathing. “Suspicious person at the crime scene,” I pant.
“You alone?”
“Backup’s on the way.”
“Kate, goddamnit . . .”
“I’m okay.” I’m out of breath. Too pissed to talk. “I’ve got to go.”
He starts to say something else, but I disconnect. I tell myself it’s because I’m standing in the middle of a cornfield soaked to the skin with an unknown subject in the area. But I’m honest enough to know that at least part of the reason I don’t want to talk to him at this minute is because I need him. Such is the nature of our relationship. The thought of needing anyone scares the hell out of me.
Shining the Maglite in the direction from which I came, I see my muddy tracks being slowly eroded away by the pounding rain. A voice barks over my radio. “This is 289. I’m 10-76 the Plank farm, 10-77 five.”
Glock, I realize and hit my mike. “Ten-fourteen heading west through the cornfield west of the house. See if you can intercept at Hogpath Road.”
“Ten-four.” The mike crackles. “You okay, Chief?”
“That’s affirm.”
By the time I reach the house, I’m dripping wet. The entire front of my uniform is covered with mud. Chunks fall off my boots as I cross to the Explorer. I’m cold and royally ticked off as I yank open the door and grab my rain slicker. I’m shrugging into it when headlights wash over me.
I look up to see T.J. emerge from his cruiser, Maglite in hand. He approaches me at a jog, his expression concerned. “Damn, Chief. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Quickly, I tell him about the journal and seeing the subject at the door. “I gave pursuit. I might have caught him, but I fell, lost him in the cornfield. Glock’s going to try to intercept on Hogpath Road.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“I didn’t get a good look.”
He pauses. “You think it was the killer?”
The experts say a large majority of killers return to the scene sooner or later. I’ve seen it happen myself a few times in the course of my career. This time, however, the scenario doesn’t make sense. “My Explorer was parked in plain sight.”
He shines the beam over my muddy uniform. “I’ve got a jacket in my cruiser. . . .”
The chirp of my radio interrupts. “Two-eight-nine.” Glock’s voice crackles. “I’m 10-23 Hogpath Road.”
I hit my mike. “Any sign of the subject?”
“Negative.”
“Damnit.” The son of a bitch could have exited the cornfield at any point, gotten into a vehicle, and fled the scene. The rain will eradicate any tracks. “Take a look around. See what you can find.” I sigh. “We’ll come back at first light.”
“Roger that.”
Shaking my head, I brush at the mud on my jacket. “Damnit.”
T.J. looks thoughtful. “You think the killer might’ve come back for the journal, Chief?”
“It crossed my mind.” His expression becomes concerned, and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. “We need to keep the scene secure. I want a more thorough search of the house and outbuildings first thing in the morning.”
T.J. nods. “Look, I came on duty later than everyone else. You want me to stick around?”
“That would be great. Thanks. Keep your radio handy, will you?”
“You bet.” He looks around. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go through the journal tonight and see if Mary Plank identifies a boyfriend.”
He seems to consider that a moment. “You think the boyfriend killed the whole family?”
“I don’t know. But he just became my number one suspect.”
CHAPTER 11
“That sounded urgent. Is everything all right?”