He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

asked.
    “Not yet, but they’re still searching. It could be hours before they’re done. But even if he doesn’t have one now, that doesn’t mean he never did.”
    “It’s reasonable doubt,” Logan said, thumping the table to emphasize each word.
    “I disagree.” Pierce crossed his arms over his chest.
    They were at an impasse. Logan’s lead detective and an FBI agent were 100 percent convinced they had the killer, that it was Frank Branson. So why wasn’t he convinced?
    Was he really too close to the case to see what they were seeing?
    “I still don’t like it,” he said. “But do what you have to do to build a case. We’ll hold him on the stalking for now, up the charge to murder if we can get enough evidence to convince a district attorney.”
    “What about the rest of the investigation?” Riley asked.
    “We keep working on the other leads as if Branson weren’t in the picture. I’m not willing to let anything drop just because we have a suspect in custody.”
    “That will take more manpower than we have,” Riley complained.
    “I can take most of the Branson research under the FBI budget, bring in more resources,” Pierce said. “Logan, if you’ll give me Riley to coordinate efforts with a couple of your detectives, you can have the rest of them for the other leads.”
    “Is that what you want, Riley?” Logan asked.
    Riley shrugged. “I believe Branson is the murderer. I’d like to work with Pierce on that. But if you need me on something else, I’ll do it.”
    Logan drummed his fingers on the tabletop. Riley was his best detective and he didn’t have a large team to draw upon. Could his feelings for Amanda be making him paranoid? Unable to believe it was that easy, that Branson was the one?
    Was he willing to risk being wrong again? What if Branson really was the killer and he went free because Logan persuaded his men Branson was innocent? He looked up at the line of pictures marching across the top of the whiteboard. But instead of seeing those women, instead he saw the shadowy faces of the women who might have been murdered by the killer he’d already let go. How many were there? Six, eight, more?
    He shuddered and scrubbed his hand across his face. No, he couldn’t risk it. He had to assume, for now, that Pierce and Riley were right. But he also had to pursue other leads, just in case they were wrong.
    “I’ll keep two detectives working on the other evidence. You two can take the rest and work the Branson angle, but make sure the stalking charge sticks regardless of where else your investigation leads. I don’t want him terrorizing Amanda again.”
    Pierce nodded, his relief obvious. “Thanks, Logan. I appreciate you keeping an open mind.”
    “I don’t know how open it is, but I trust you and Riley enough not to strangle-hold the investigation. I hope to God you’re right and we’ve got the killer.”
    Logan headed for the conference room door but before he reached it, the door flew open and crashed back against the wall. Mayor Montgomery stood in the opening, his rotund body stuffed into a suit so tight the buttons looked ready to pop. His close-set eyes zeroed in on Pierce and Riley before looking to his right where Logan was doing his best to blend in with the wood paneling.
    “Chief, what’s this I hear about an arrest in the Red Rose Ripper case?”
    Logan flinched at the grotesque name the press had dubbed Carolyn O’Donnell’s murderer. “We’ve arrested Frank Branson for stalking.”
    “Stalking? Who cares about stalking? The press is hounding me night and day about the O’Donnell case. Why haven’t you charged this Branson fellow for that?”
    “Just a little thing called evidence,” Logan mumbled.
    Pierce coughed behind his hand and the mayor’s hawk-like gaze turned to him. “What’s the FBI’s position on this? Do you think Branson is the killer?”
    Pierce shot Logan an apologetic glance. “Everything points to Branson. If I had to give an opinion, then yes, I believe he’s the killer. But,” he held up a hand to stop the flood of words the mayor looked ready to spew, “I agree with Logan that there’s not enough evidence to arrest him for murder. Yet.”
    The mayor frowned, not pleased with that answer. “What about you, detective?” he said, addressing Riley, who was slouching down in his chair and looked like he might slide underneath the table any minute. “Is Branson our man?”
    Riley straightened and shrugged. “I don’t