Not Well (A Camille Grace FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 3)

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

As Camille stepped onto the elevator, she heard quickened footsteps behind her. As she stepped in and turned around to press the 2 on the wall panel, she saw Scott Palmer hurrying towards her.

“Hold the doors, would you, Grace?”

Camille grinned at him as she placed her hand against the side of the door. Palmer hurried forward and joined her in the elevator. It was quite clear from his tousled hair and heavy breathing that he’d been running late this morning and doing everything he could to make it in to work on time. Somehow, though, he still had the sun-tinged skin and messy-hair that looked cute—the kind of man that could literally roll out of bed and come to work still looking like a treat.

“I take it McCutcheon called you about the new case?” Camille asked.

“She did. Around eleven or so last night. Did she give you any details?”

“None. I’m just as in the dark as you are.”

“Great,” he said, doing his best to straighten out his hair by looking in the murky, steel reflection of the control panel. “This should be a fun meeting, then.”

“Can’t be too urgent if she allowed it to wait until this morning,” Camille pointed out.

“True.” He was finished with his hair by the time the elevator came to a stop, dinging and sliding the doors open. Camille stepped out first and Palmer followed closely behind. “You think we walk in together like this, or is it a bit cheesy?”

“Depends,” Camille said. “How does McCutcheon feel about punctuality?”

“Good point.”

Palmer sped up, blasting ahead of Camille and turning left into McCutcheon’s office ahead of her. Camille hurried a bit but not to the comical lengths Palmer had shown. When she entered the office, Palmer was already taking a seat in one of the two chairs in front of McCutcheon’s desk.

“Good morning, Ms. Assistant Director,” Palmer said with a smile.

“Same to you,” McCutcheon said. She then nodded with a smile to Camille as she entered the office. McCutcheon was reading something on her laptop and scribbling information down on a legal pad to her left. “I should have the two of you out of here fairly quickly. I’ve got everything we need to get started on this; the details are a little strange yet very specific.”

“What is it, exactly?” Camille asked as she took the other chair.

“So far, we’ve got two victims. No ID on the first one yet. All we know for sure is that it’s a male, he was found in the Mississippi River, and there is suspected strangulation involved. But the most recent one was found last night around nine o’clock and has been identified as twenty-three year-old Brittany Gable. She was out on a riverboat with a bachelorette party last night. She was also found in the river, with signs of strangulation around her neck.”

“How far apart were the bodies found?” Camille asked.

“We’re looking at a difference of two days. In terms of geographical space, the bodies were found exactly ninety-one miles apart from one another. Brittany Gable was found floating in the water just twenty miles outside of the city.”

“Have any statements been taken from the other women at the bachelorette party?”

“Yes, and I’m including all of that in the case package I’m about to send you. And frankly, until we get this first victim properly identified, the bachelorette party may be your only viable avenue.”

“Have our guys already got access to the first body?” Palmer asked.

“The State PD is transporting it as we speak.” McCutcheon drummed her fingers on the edge of her desk and looked nervously at both of them. “Two bodies in the river, one of which we know came off of a riverboat. Being that we’re rapidly coming up on the peak time for tourist season, I can’t stress enough how important it is that this case be closed as soon as possible. I would have called you in last night, but we’re just getting all of the details necessary to really get started…to have any links at all. The public gets scared and it reflects on the tourists. And if the word about this gets out before we’ve wrapped it, it’s going to also start affecting tourists. When that happens, we get pressure from people like governors and committees, and I’d love to avoid that. I know it sounds very backwards and uncaring, but it’s the sad truth of the matter. If tourist season is hit in any way, local businesses are going to suffer. And I don’t need to tell you who state representatives are going to be looking at, right?”

“So then we should start right away,” Camille said.

“Check with my assistant for print copies of the files. The emails were sent the moment you stepped into the office. But really, I think you can save a lot of time by heading to the Fourth District police station. Two of the girls from the bachelorette party are scheduled to be there at nine o’ clock. And given the sensitive nature of this case, I feel pretty certain the police captain will gladly let you run it.”

“Anything else?” Palmer asked.

“No. If this turns out to be a longer case, I would like you reporting back to me every twelve hours or so. I’d like to have something to tell the governor or his minions if they do decide to call and breathe down the bureau’s neck.”

Needing no further guidance, Camille and Palmer excused themselves. In total, they’d spent less than five minutes in the office. It was unlike most of Camille’s experiences back in Alabama. Her supervisor there had been a bear of a man that felt that every bit of information needed to be drilled into the heads of his agents before he sent them out. The same meeting she’d just had with McCutcheon may have taken half an hour.

“Question,” Palmer asked when they got back into the elevator. “What kind of bachelorette party takes place on a riverboat?”

“There’s booze on riverboats,” Camille said. “What do you have against riverboats?”

“Nothing. Just seems a little lame to me.”

“Well, it was early in the night. Maybe it was just one stage of a much larger night out.”

They were both opening their emails, scanning through the PDF of the case files they’d been sent. There were transcripts of the interviews the police had conducted with some of the women at the bachelor party as well as a few others that had been on the boat. But even a quick glance told Camille that very little of it would help.

“You want to get the print-outs from the assistant?” Palmer asked. “I’ll get a car and meet you out front.”

Camille nodded and they split up at as they stepped out of the elevator. Camille continued to scan the documents as she walked, scrolling through the bit of information they’d been given. Potential strangulation, both found in the river, and the victims were different genders. At face value, the murders spoke of intent and purpose. Unless it was a very strong coincidence, the similarities suggested these weren’t random murders—that the killer had some sort of purpose or reason in mind.

This was both good and bad. Good because if they found the reason, it made the killer a bit easier to find. And bad because if they couldn’t discover the reason, they were already a very big step behind.