Page 112 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

George sat at his desk, paperwork sprawled out before him like the disarray of his thoughts. Since returning from Monroe’s, the station was eerily quiet. The usual hustle and bustle was replaced by a heavy sense of dread.

He glanced at the photograph of his father perched on the corner of his desk. A man who’d been a pillar of justice and integrity. More so than ever, the legacy of his father weighed on George’s shoulders tonight.

The Casquette Girl killings had baffled George from the beginning.

He’d thrown himself into the investigation, working tirelessly to piece together clues, yet the puzzle remained incomplete.

Each dead end felt like a personal failure, a disservice to the memory of his father, who had solved impossible cases with grace and determination.

George's father had always been his guiding light, a beacon of hope in the murky waters of law enforcement. But now, as George faced the gaping chasm of these horrific crimes, he felt the sting of inadequacy.

The mountain of evidence from the Monroe property offered no solace, only a reminder of how little progress they had made .

He rubbed his temples, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.

George knew his father wouldn’t have given up, wouldn’t have lost hope.

He had to find a way to honor that legacy, even if it meant digging deeper into the darkness of the case.

The thought of the victims haunted him. He owed it to them, and to his father's memory, to keep fighting.

This will not be the case that breaks me.

Creed strode into the room, nodding at George. He eagerly joined the young FBI agent, hoping he had some good news to share.

“How’d it go with Fontera?” asked George.

“As expected. He’s lawyering up,” Creed replied.

George swore under his breath. “Did you get anything useful out of him before he asked for his attorney?”

"I personally brought him in for questioning, but he hasn't given us anything useful so far. He's claiming he hasn't had contact with Monroe in years and has airtight alibis for the recent victims."

George frowned, frustration mounting. "These alibis check out?"

"Yeah. Fontera’s a long-haul truck driver now, and according to the GPS tracker on his rig and his phone, he was in completely different states during the times the cemetery victims were found," Creed replied.

George chewed his lip, thinking. "There’s gotta be something we’re missing.”

“I wish there was, but Fontera checks out. Law abiding citizen, husband, father of two.” Creed shrugged. “I’m not sure he’s got anything for us, but I’m holding him for 48 hours. Maybe a night in lockup will loosen his tongue."

George balked, his frustration rekindled. "That's the plan? Keep him in lockup? We have nothing! Monroe is out there. We have to find him before he strikes again."

Creed pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’m aware of the objective, Detective. I’m also aware you expended every resource at your disposal at the Monroe property today and came up without a single lead. From what I see, my analysts are the only ones making any progress around here. ”

“They found something?” asked George.

“Nothing solid yet, but ever since Dr. Gray suggested we look into Louisiana’s transplant list we’ve been connecting the dots.

Seems a number of patients waiting for donors have been solicited by the same anonymous graymail that we’ve traced back to suspicious organ trade chatter between two screen names. ”

“What are the screen names?”

Creed looked like he wasn’t going to divulge that information, but then he spoke. “Xavier and Vonegut5. Mean anything to you?”

George shook his head.

“Then like I said, you’ve got nothing.”

“We found a mountain of evidence at the Monroe property,” George argued.

“Right, but are you any closer to finding Monroe?”

“Dr. Cruz and your agents are examining the body we found in the attic. I think she’s Monroe’s first kill. If we can get an ID, I think we can establish a clearer profile that will help us pinpoint Monroe’s whereabouts.”

“That’s a lot of ifs , Detective. I think we’re going to do it my way now,” Creed sneered. “Let me know when your ifs provide any real leads. Until then, consider yourself and your department dismissed. The FBI is taking the lead from here.”

George shook with indignation as he watched Agent Creed saunter away, taking the investigation with him.

Over my dead body!

George let the full weight of the situation wash over him. Creed might be right. George was no closer to finding Monroe and he had no solid leads, but this was his city. He knew it better than anyone. And it was his responsibility to keep his people safe.

Too many had perished on his watch already.

No more.