anything missing.”
“The underwater equipment,” Joe prodded.
“Oh, yeah.” Bubba ran to a door and threw it open. “It’s gone. Who told you that I’d been robbed? Have you got the stuff? Do I have to identify it?”
“Not until we find it.” Joe was kneeling on the floor, examining a stain. “Get the forensic team in here, Julian.”
“Blood?” Julian nodded as he checked out the stain. “Our man could have done it on one of the spears.”
“If it’s his blood.” Joe glanced around the room. “Overturned stool a few yards away. Could have been a struggle.” He turned to Bubba. “You said no employees were on the premises last night or early this morning?”
“I didn’t say that. I said no one was here now. Gil Weber is caretaker and leaves about eight in the morning.” He was looking at the blood. “Gil’s an ex-Marine. I wouldn’t have hired him to guard the place if he couldn’t take care of himself.” Bubba took out his phone. “I’ll call and see if he saw anything.” He hung up a few minutes later. “No answer. But maybe he’s asleep. He works all night. That blood can’t be his. If he was hurt, there would be a trail of it, wouldn’t there? Just a couple drops, then he’s gone?”
“Maybe.” Joe turned and left the shop. He stood there and stared thoughtfully out at the muddy pond. He glanced at Bubba, who had scurried after him. “Tell me, is it common for your prehistoric friends to cluster all together like that?”
“No, they generally like their own space. They have to have a reason. Why are you—” Bubba’s eyes widened in his suddenly pale face. “Oh, shit.”
* * *
“JOE’S BACK.” EVE LAID DOWN her pencil and went to the window to watch Joe get out of the sheriff’s car and bend forward to talk to the dark-haired young man in the driver’s seat. “It’s been a couple hours. I thought that he’d be here sooner.”
“He might as well have been here,” Catherine said ruefully. “We haven’t gotten far in this sketch.”
“We’ve determined shape of the face and the nose,” Eve said. “That’s important. That scuba hood is messing things up. It’s very tight and completely hides the hair. Even the hairline would be helpful. Whether it’s receding or full. He could even have a widow’s peak. You couldn’t tell anything about that part of his face.”
“I thought I’d be more helpful,” Catherine said with frustration.
“You will be,” Eve said. “You’re distracted. You want it too much.”
“Yes, I do. I want it now. ” Catherine looked at Joe as he came into the house, and she asked, “What’s the word? Do they think they’re going to get prints?”
“They have prints, but they probably belong to the eighteen-year-old kid he stole the truck from in New Orleans.”
“Damn,” Eve said.
“But we may still have his fingerprints,” Joe said grimly. “He grabbed that motorboat, a wet suit, and a tank from an alligator farm about fifteen miles from here. The equipment was in the equipment room in the back of the gift shop. He broke in and stole a few knives, a speargun, and the suit.” He paused. “Evidently the caretaker, Gil Weber, surprised him at it and they struggled, and he apparently knocked him out, then tossed him in the alligator pond.”
Eve shuddered. “Dead?”
“He didn’t have a chance. I hope he drowned before the gators got to him.”
“So he’d already killed before he even tried to get Jacobs,” Catherine said.
“Probably unintentional,” Joe said. “But he didn’t hesitate when he was discovered.” He frowned thoughtfully. “He thinks very fast and follows through. When he found out where his target was going to be, he examined his surroundings and pulled together a plan that would allow him to kill Jacobs and give him his best chance to survive and escape. He must have caught a glimpse of that alligator farm on the way here, and everything clicked in his mind.”
“I
“The underwater equipment,” Joe prodded.
“Oh, yeah.” Bubba ran to a door and threw it open. “It’s gone. Who told you that I’d been robbed? Have you got the stuff? Do I have to identify it?”
“Not until we find it.” Joe was kneeling on the floor, examining a stain. “Get the forensic team in here, Julian.”
“Blood?” Julian nodded as he checked out the stain. “Our man could have done it on one of the spears.”
“If it’s his blood.” Joe glanced around the room. “Overturned stool a few yards away. Could have been a struggle.” He turned to Bubba. “You said no employees were on the premises last night or early this morning?”
“I didn’t say that. I said no one was here now. Gil Weber is caretaker and leaves about eight in the morning.” He was looking at the blood. “Gil’s an ex-Marine. I wouldn’t have hired him to guard the place if he couldn’t take care of himself.” Bubba took out his phone. “I’ll call and see if he saw anything.” He hung up a few minutes later. “No answer. But maybe he’s asleep. He works all night. That blood can’t be his. If he was hurt, there would be a trail of it, wouldn’t there? Just a couple drops, then he’s gone?”
“Maybe.” Joe turned and left the shop. He stood there and stared thoughtfully out at the muddy pond. He glanced at Bubba, who had scurried after him. “Tell me, is it common for your prehistoric friends to cluster all together like that?”
“No, they generally like their own space. They have to have a reason. Why are you—” Bubba’s eyes widened in his suddenly pale face. “Oh, shit.”
* * *
“JOE’S BACK.” EVE LAID DOWN her pencil and went to the window to watch Joe get out of the sheriff’s car and bend forward to talk to the dark-haired young man in the driver’s seat. “It’s been a couple hours. I thought that he’d be here sooner.”
“He might as well have been here,” Catherine said ruefully. “We haven’t gotten far in this sketch.”
“We’ve determined shape of the face and the nose,” Eve said. “That’s important. That scuba hood is messing things up. It’s very tight and completely hides the hair. Even the hairline would be helpful. Whether it’s receding or full. He could even have a widow’s peak. You couldn’t tell anything about that part of his face.”
“I thought I’d be more helpful,” Catherine said with frustration.
“You will be,” Eve said. “You’re distracted. You want it too much.”
“Yes, I do. I want it now. ” Catherine looked at Joe as he came into the house, and she asked, “What’s the word? Do they think they’re going to get prints?”
“They have prints, but they probably belong to the eighteen-year-old kid he stole the truck from in New Orleans.”
“Damn,” Eve said.
“But we may still have his fingerprints,” Joe said grimly. “He grabbed that motorboat, a wet suit, and a tank from an alligator farm about fifteen miles from here. The equipment was in the equipment room in the back of the gift shop. He broke in and stole a few knives, a speargun, and the suit.” He paused. “Evidently the caretaker, Gil Weber, surprised him at it and they struggled, and he apparently knocked him out, then tossed him in the alligator pond.”
Eve shuddered. “Dead?”
“He didn’t have a chance. I hope he drowned before the gators got to him.”
“So he’d already killed before he even tried to get Jacobs,” Catherine said.
“Probably unintentional,” Joe said. “But he didn’t hesitate when he was discovered.” He frowned thoughtfully. “He thinks very fast and follows through. When he found out where his target was going to be, he examined his surroundings and pulled together a plan that would allow him to kill Jacobs and give him his best chance to survive and escape. He must have caught a glimpse of that alligator farm on the way here, and everything clicked in his mind.”
“I
Similar Books
