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“And you heard what they were talking about?” Gabe presses.
He shakes his head quickly. “No. Warden Bradshaw always hangs up before anyone can hear his calls, especially when he was talking to her. I only heard her name occasionally right before he’d disconnect the call. I don’t know what they talked about, specifically.”
“You know each other well enough that more than one employee mentioned it,” I tell him, offering a fake smile. “If you want me on your side, don’t bullshit me.”
Bradshaw pulls back with a scowl, and before he can answer, we’re interrupted by a woman approaching us through the maze of parked cars, holding a cell phone in front of her as far as she can reach.
“Agent Gideon! Warden Bradshaw! Can you give us an update on the missing serial killer Alastair Constantine and the woman he allegedly abducted during the breakout?”
We glance at each other, and I can feel this already spiraling out of control when the warden speaks. “Are you interviewing us on a smartphone?”
“It’s a livestream,” the girl says, shoving the phone closer. She peers around from behind the device, and when I can see all of her face I vaguely recognize her from around town. I think she was at the last press conference. “Beverly Heather. Reporter at Large.”
“We aren’t answering any questions via livestream, Beverly,” I tell her, holding up a hand. “If you have a lead, report it to the tipline.”
“So neither of you have a comment on the missing woman? She’s an old victim of Alastair Contantine’s, according to my sources!”
My brow twitches. That’s technically correct, but I’m not about to tell her that. Bradshaw mimics me, partially covering his face before shoving past us. “I’m not commenting on this case!”
He hurries away but Beverly stays. Sighing, I start towards my car, not looking forward to whatever is happening.
“So you don’t care at all about the victim?” she presses, following behind me. She’s short, her head barely reaching my shoulder, and I ponder how old she is as we head through the lot. “The people deserve to know what’s being done to protect the citizens of Citrus Grove! You’re not going to protect Constantine when he’s apprehended; you’ll throw him back into the penitentiary without a fair trial! The Slayers are ready to assist him, but we can’t find him with the FBI getting in our way. You aren’t giving a mercenary like Constantine the respect he deserves!”
Oh lord, she sounds like one of those crazed fans. I haven’t had to meet many Slayers yet.
“There’s no fair trial for a convicted killer,” I groan, biting my tongue before I say anything else. “He’s already gone through the justice system. We are only looking to return him to the cell he abandoned.”
“The Slayers can do better, you know! Protect the lives of the citizens here and let us save Constantine instead, Agent. We will take him where his talents can be respected.”
Of course the girl wanting to talk outside of the PD is a little mental.
When I reach my SUV, I take a quick look around the lot. I don’t see any press, so they’ve either decided to give up on this case for now, or this girl just somehow happened to find me. Now that Alastair’s been missing for weeks, the reports are becoming less frequent, but if people like Beverly start going rogue and live streaming, following my agents around this couldreach the national news. All the work we’ve done to keep things on the down-low won’t matter.
Opening the door of the vehicle makes a barrier between us, and Beverly huffs. “We the people are not going to be ignored! We deserve to know if we are safe in our homes at night.”
Beverly, you are way off the mark.Not only is she a bit mental, but I’m struggling to follow if she’s for or against Alastair at this point. “If the killer was nearby we believe there would be more carnage closer together, not two bodies in seven weeks. If you are looking for news, Ms. Heather, I suggest checking with the stations the next time we have a press report.”
I slam the door shut, and she walks up and taps on my window. The tint on the SUV works well, and I doubt she can see much of anything as I start the engine. She’s apparently not used to stalking someone in their car. I would’ve circled around and come at them from the bumper so it would be hard to close the door on me.
“You can’t deny the truth! The Citrus Grove Slayer lives! The Slayers are ready to support our savior. With his blade we can ascend to our final form!”
Oh, so Beverly is fucking crazy. I shake my head and start to reverse, tapping the dashboard so the side mirrors close into the sides of the vehicle.
Beverly might fantasize about reaching her final form, but she’s clearly not ready to get run over. She steps back once she realizes I’m leaving with or without her moving. By the time I’ve reversed out of my spot and started toward the exit, I’m already on the phone. She trails me for a moment, then brings her phone back up—probably having a great time capturing my license plate for her livestream viewers.
“Hey, boss man,” Finley Soto says, her chipper voice echoing in the car. “What can I do ya for?”
“Soto, is there anything trending online about Constantine right now? Maybe connected to the name Beverly Heather,” I supply.
“Ah,” she replies. “Heavenly Beverly. Looks like a newer account, links to a personal one on socials that’s mostly pictures of beaches and flowers. Oh, I see, she’s trending for supporting the Citrus Grove Slayer.”
I replay what she said as I drive back to the house. “She made it sound like she didn’t like Alastair. She alleged that the person who’s traveling with him is a victim he abducted.”
Soto snorts. It’s nice to talk with her. I haven’t relayed as much to Soto in the past few weeks. Jensen’s done a lot of that, since Tyler and Gabe spend a lot of our brainstorming time arguing. Trying to figure out the thought process of a serial killer is tricky business, but those two give me a headache every time they get into it. Arguing amongst ourselves won’t solve the case, or help me find Alastair or Porscha.
“Heathers videos are mostly of her calling the police into question,” Soto continues. “No surprise there, she looks like she’s anti everything.”
“She called Alastair the Slayers’ savior,” I continue with a frown. “With his blade, we can ascend to our final form. This shit is trending? How long has that been a thing?”