Winter Kill - lanyon Josh (электронные книги без регистрации TXT) 📗

As far as he could see, the only real grounds for suspecting Berkle were that he had opportunity and he didn’t like the FBI.

Okay, and eyewitness testimony.

But eyewitness testimony from a highly unreliable source.

Adam had been so sure though.

That certainty was convincing. But that was probably due more to the force of Adam’s personality than solid evidence against Berkle.

Berkle had never shown enough interest in his fellow humans for it to seem likely he’d bother killing them.

Rob picked up the photo of Dove Koletar and Buck Constantine, studying it idly. People changed a lot in thirty years…

This was another piece of the puzzle that didn’t make sense. Not that he couldn’t use it to put together a workable scenario for murder.

The only gay kid in town turned out to not be the only gay kid. Buck had killed him to keep his double life secret.

Except why kill Dove once he’d decided to leave Nearby? Wouldn’t his leaving mean the problem was solved?

Ah. But what if Dove wasn’t leaving? What if Buck had murdered him and written the note to make it look like… No. That was getting way too complicated. That was the territory of those TV shows about murder in cute little cottages where the flower boxes were watered with the blood of the local inhabitants.

No. Dove had been leaving. So why kill him? Why kill him then?

Because the killer didn’t want him to go?

Rob considered Dove’s murder from this new angle.

Okay. Maybe. Except it was difficult to imagine Buck Constantine so passionate, so desperate he’d commit murder. He’d never struck Rob as particularly emotional.

He’d also never struck him as particularly gay.

Not that Rob was a big believer in gaydar. Yes, sometimes sexuality was obvious, and sometimes not so obvious, but you still knew. And sometimes you had no clue. But Buck…Rob would have been willing to bet money that there was not a gay bone—or boner—in Buck’s body.

And yet here was written proof.

Frankie rapped on his half open door. “Get your coat. We’re taking the FBI to dinner. They think we’ve got two serial killers on our hands, and they want to talk over the cases.”

“Not me,” Rob said. “I’ve got plans.”

“Robbie, you’re my second-in-command. I want you there tonight. These feebs already think we’re a bunch of dumb hicks. We need to impress—”

Rob looked past her shoulder and called, “Night, Agent Kennedy!”

Frankie jumped, whirled to see the empty hallway, and turned back to Rob. Her expression was sour. “Damn it, Haskell.”

Rob grinned. He wasn’t kidding though when he said, “I’ve been up since four thirty-five on sheriff’s business. I’m going to talk to Bill Constantine and then I’m taking the rest of the night off. So put that in your pipe and smoke it, Frankie.”

She glowered at him. He met her look calmly.

“I suppose you think I won’t know what you’re going to get up to this evening?”

“Now you’re making me blush,” Rob said. “My mother used to knock first.”

As Frankie began to splutter, he offered her the photo of Dove and Buck. “Does this look like Buck Constantine to you?”

Frankie took the photo. Frowning, she examined it. Her eyes widened. “Where did you get this?”

“Dove Koletar’s mother sent it to me.”

“Where would she get it?”

Rob shrugged. “No idea. Is it Constantine?”

“Hell no.” Frankie met his eyes. She looked flabbergasted. “This is Buck Berkle.”

“Buck Berkle? You mean Bert Berkle?”

Frankie nodded. She was staring at the photo again. “My God,” she murmured. “So I guess it was true.”

“Bert Berkle who tracks missing hikers for us? That Bert Berkle?”

Another absent nod from Frankie.

“Then why the hell does it say Buck on the back of that photo?” Rob demanded.

“That’s what we called him. That was his nickname in school. Buck Berkle. He was captain of the football team.”

“Berkle was? Well, why doesn’t anybody call him Buck now?” Rob questioned. He felt aggrieved that this vital piece of information had been withheld.

“Why doesn’t anybody call me Peaches?” Frankie retorted. “Nobody keeps their high school nickname.”

“Uh…true. Still. I can’t believe this is Berkle.” Although, as Rob took the photo back from Frankie, he had to admit the boy with Dove looked more like Berkle than Constantine. He’d never seen Berkle without a beard before. That was what had initially thrown him. “You’re saying he was captain of the football team? That doesn’t sound like Berkle.”

“He was different back then. Well, sort of. He was always kind of a loner, but not like he is now. There was a kid whose parents did beat the hell out of him at every opportunity. That mother of his was a fishwife.”

Whatever that meant. “So Berkle was—is—gay?” That was a shocker. Although, come to think of it, he could more easily believe it of Berkle than Constantine.

“I—there were rumors about him,” Frankie said. “Nobody believed them. But I can’t believe—why, he used to bully Dove. He used to push him around. I saw him shove him once.”

When she looked up, her eyes were frightened. “All this time,” she whispered.

Chapter Fourteen

Adam was shaving when he heard the knock on his cabin door.

He put his razor away—he was nearly packed for the flight home, so he wouldn’t have to waste a minute of tomorrow morning’s time with Rob—and opened the door.

Jonnie stood on the front stoop. Her smile was tentative. It faded at Adam’s expression.

He turned away and she followed him inside.

“Adam…”

“When were you going to tell me?” he asked over his shoulder. He shrugged into a clean shirt.

“Wait a minute,” Jonnie said. “If you think this was something I’ve been keeping from you, you’re wrong. Kennedy talked to me about joining BAU4 not long after we were partnered. I turned him down. I liked working with you and I was leaving after the wedding anyway.”

“Why didn’t you tell me Kennedy approached you?”

“What would have been the point?”

He frowned. “I think that’s obvious.”

“I was turning down a job we both know you’d have given your eye teeth for. And it would have bothered you a lot to know I’d been invited to join Kennedy’s team and you weren’t.”

Adam flushed. “I’d have been glad for you. You don’t believe that?”

“Yes, you would have. And you’d have insisted on me taking the position too. And I didn’t want it. I was happy where I was.”

“Morgue patrol?”

“Oh come on, Adam.” Jonnie sounded irritated. “I liked working with you. And I like living in Southern California and so does Chris. None of those things would influence your decision, but they did influence mine. And I planned on resigning anyway.”

He finished doing up his shirt buttons. “But here you are.”

“Yes.” She drew a deep breath. “True. Because when it came down to it, I wasn’t ready to stay home all day and I couldn’t think of anything I’d find as satisfying or challenging as working for the Bureau. And it happened that Kennedy still had a position on his squad. But the decider was that Chris is getting transferred to Quantico. So it made sense for a lot of reasons.” She said more quietly, but still earnestly, “I was going to tell you when you got back. I had no idea we were going to end up working the same case.”

“We’re not. Russell and I are being sent home tomorrow.”

Jonnie bit her lip. “I know. It’s all Russell’s fault. If Sam kept you on, he’d have to keep Russell, and he hates snitches.” She added with a touch of maliciousness, “That’s the one bright side. Russell was so sure he would be invited to stay. You should have seen his face when Sam said he wasn’t needed.”

Adam pictured that and smiled reluctantly.

Watching him, Jonnie said, “Sam’s hard to read, but I think he’s impressed by how far you brought this case on your own.”