Couple Killer (Violet Darger FBI Mystery Thriller Book 9) by L.T. Vargus & Tim McBain

Author:L.T. Vargus & Tim McBain [Vargus, L.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Smarmy Press
Published: 2022-03-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 43

Darger sensed a feeling of excitement and optimism ripple through the crowd of law enforcement officers on the scene. They’d found something. A piece of hard evidence.

But she tried to remind herself it was best to remain cautious. The gloves could lead to something. Or not. They’d need to wait and see.

The coroner arrived a few minutes later, assessing and recording the official time of death and performing a preliminary examination of the body. After that, Silas Heemeyer’s limp body was bagged in white plastic and taken to the morgue to await the full autopsy, though Darger doubted there would be any surprises. It was obvious he’d died of two gunshot wounds to the head, just like the others.

Gravel crunched under Chief Fleming’s boots as he turned to face the two agents.

“I’d like the two of you at the hospital to talk to Carrie Dockett when she wakes up,” he said. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

“We don’t mind at all.” Loshak glanced at Darger, who nodded in agreement. “We’ll head out right now.”

“Excellent,” Fleming said. “And I’ll keep you posted on any developments here.”

Darger and Loshak trudged back down the road to where they’d parked, ducking under a fluttering strand of crime scene tape. The media had arrived by now, a cluster of news vans and reporters waiting on the other side of the barricade.

Out of the corner of her eye, Darger watched one of the reporters catch sight of them, her head swiveling around in an almost comical fashion.

“Heads up,” Darger muttered to her partner. “We’ve been spotted.”

Loshak’s eyes moved slightly, so that he was looking at the reporter with his peripheral vision.

“Let’s get to the car,” he said. “But don’t run. We don’t want to trigger her chase instinct.”

Darger snorted at that. She knew he’d meant it as a joke, and yet they really did resist the urge to run, as if they were truly being pursued by a predator. Instead, the two of them started an awkward speed-walk to the car, ignoring the reporter’s attempts to get their attention.

By the time the woman reached them, Loshak already had the car in gear and was pulling away from the shoulder. The reporter waved her arms, still desperately trying to engage them. Loshak turned, smiled, and waved back, as if they were merely exchanging a polite greeting.

Darger chuckled.

A short drive delivered them to the St. Vincent’s parking lot, less than five minutes away. Another forty seconds of walking moved them inside.

Coming from the grimy, blood-smeared scene, the bright white interior of the hospital was almost blinding. Darger’s shoes squeaked over gleaming tile floors.

They found Kirby lounging in a chair outside of Carrie Dockett’s room, guarding her as Chief Fleming had instructed. Leafing through a Sports Illustrated as he did.

“Is she awake yet?” Darger asked.

Kirby lowered the magazine, his face now peering over the top in a way that made Darger think of a Prairie Dog’s head poking out of its burrow.

“Nah,” he said, chomping on a piece of gum.

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