Vince pulled one of the cocktail napkins on the table closer to him, drew a pen from his jacket pocket and began to write. He pushed the paper to Rocky. “Ellen Cahill. Give her a call. She’s with Douglas Marine. I represented the firm recently, and she and I became...friends. We had dinner, then she went home. I had a quick drink at the bar before joining her at her place—I wanted to arrive there a little later so that it would look as if we’d had a business dinner. She’s married, as I said, but separated at the moment, figuring things out. I’d rather you not— Well, I hope you can keep it under wraps. Anyway, I even saw her newspaper deliveryman in the morning. If you don’t believe her when she tells you I was with her all night, I’m sure you can find out his name and check with him.”
Rocky accepted the napkin. “Thanks,” he told Vince.
“Be discreet—if you don’t mind.”
“I will,” Rocky said.
“Well, what would you like to eat?” Vince asked him.
Crow, Rocky thought.
But had he ever believed it was Vince?
They were desperate for clues—real clues, solid clues.
“You look depressed,” Vince told him. “But I’m not sorry. I’m really not a killer. What have you found out? Wait, you can’t answer that. I wish I could help. Have you learned anything you can share?”
Rocky shrugged and leaned back. “You’re distantly related to Devin’s friend Brent Corbin.”
“Yeah?” Vince asked. “Your other suspect? The guy who had her phone?”
“Yes, although to be honest, I don’t think he did it, either.” Rocky shook his head. “You have a legal mind. You’ve dealt with the good, the bad and the ugly. Why do you think someone would kill, then stage the victim so ritualistically?”
“The crimes aren’t sexual in any way?”
“None of the women have been molested, no.”
“The key has to be the ritual. The murders mean something to the killer,” Vince said.
“What, though?”
Vince drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Damn, Rocky, don’t you think that finding Melissa the way we did had an effect on all of us? I’ve never forgotten it. I can still see her lying there. It’s crystal clear in my mind’s eye. Hell, sometimes, I can’t remember what I had for breakfast in the morning, but I remember that sight as if it were burned into my mind.” He went silent for a minute. “The victims weren’t all from here, right?”
“Barbara Benton was from Ohio, but she had family here back when the witch trials were going on. And our Jane Doe...who knows? I’m guessing she wasn’t from the area or someone would have stepped forward to identify her by now, but until we know who she is I can’t be sure.”
“And they were killed like Melissa was?”
Rocky arched a brow at him.
Vince shrugged. “The details aren’t in the news, but you know how it goes. A cop says something even if he’s not supposed to, and lawyers are good at picking up the gossip. What I’m curious about is why the killer stopped for all those years.”
“You tell me—what’s your take?”
“Maybe the right people weren’t around to kill,” Vince said. “Like you said, you still don’t have an ID on the one woman, right?”
“Nope,” Rocky agreed. “But Carly Henderson was around here all those years. And how the hell would he even know Barbara Benton existed?”
“Maybe... Oh, hell. I don’t know. I’m an attorney. My job is to take the truth and put a spin on it that helps my client. You have to deal with the truth as it is—naked and ugly.” Vince looked at his watch. “Got to get back to work. Check out every word I said, Rocky. You’ll find the naked truth.”
Once Vince was gone, Rocky paid the check and stood. He didn’t call the number that Vince had given him. Instead, he pulled out his phone and found the company address. The offices were on the wharf, within easy walking distance of the hotel, and he headed straight over.
Old figureheads, ships’ wheels and pirate flags decorated the reception area. A pretty blonde woman sat at the front desk.
Rocky didn’t produce his credentials; he asked to speak with Ellen Cahill. The blonde arched her brows in surprise. “I’m Ellen Cahill.”
She smiled and he wondered if she saw in his eyes that he was somewhat surprised that Vince could have tried to pull off his date as a business dinner if Ellen was a secretary.
“I’m a paralegal,” she explained. “Subbing for the receptionist. I thought you might be by and figured that I’d rather meet you at this desk myself.”
Rocky smiled and offered his hand. “I’m Craig Rockwell. You knew I was coming?”
She nodded and rose to take his hand. “Yes, I’ve heard all about you. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And thank you for not making calls and just... Well. I don’t know where my future is going. But I am separated now—just not advertising what I’m doing.”
“I guess you know that I’m an agent—in town because of the murders?”
She nodded somberly. “Yes.”
“There was a murder the other night—the woman had been at a bar where you and Vince were the same night.”
Ellen Cahill shuddered. “I know! I heard. That’s so horrible!”
“Well, I guess I came to stress just how careful you need to be.”
Ellen nodded fervently. “I know! And Vince has been wonderful. Thankfully, we were together that night and he called me earlier today—I won’t be going home alone again until this whole thing is over. Thankfully that night...” She paused and flushed and started over. “That night, I left alone. But then, we were together when it was all happening. When I was talking to Vince today, he said that he won’t let me be alone again!”