The Night Killer

the status now on Sheriff Conrad?” asked Diane.
    “We’re getting a judge to remove him,” said Agent Mathews. “His behavior has gone far beyond his ability to talk himself out of punitive measures. This new information is even more disturbing. He’ll be off the streets by the end of the day—or tomorrow at most. Since this looks like it may connect to the Barres and the Watsons, I’ll be taking over those cases as well.”
    Mathews looked like he was looking forward to slapping Conrad down hard.
    Diane just remembered that she hadn’t told Liam about the lab results on the list he found at the campsite—how Korey had brought out the writing. She told Mathews about it first.
    “So they were going to break into the Barres’ house,” he said. “Interesting. If they hadn’t been murdered first, they would go to number one on my suspect list.”
    “I know,” said Diane. “You might get Liam Dugal to show you where their campsite was. From his description of it, I don’t think that’s the place they were killed, or he would have noticed blood—even after the rainstorm. But I’ll bet it’s near there.”
    Diane realized that Frank was nowhere in sight and she hadn’t seen him since she came out of the cave. She was just about to ask Mathews, when Frank came out of the woods.
    “I’ve found the kill site,” Frank said.

Chapter 48
    “You found what?” said Agent Mathews. “Where have you been, anyway, Frank?”
    “I thought I’d take a look around the area. I found a trail of damaged underbrush and followed it to a stream just a few yards down there.” Frank gestured to the north and turned to Diane and grinned at her. “Glad to see you aboveground.”
    “We didn’t get to do much sightseeing,” she said, “but we found the bodies.”
    “You need to bring your bag of magic tricks and follow me,” Frank said.
    “This day is just going to go on forever,” said Mathews. “I’ve still got to take Massey over to his pasture to find the bodies he buried. Well, hell . . . not that I don’t appreciate finding more evidence, but I really hate being out in the woods,” he said. “Let’s go look. Then I’ll leave you and Diane here to take care of this site and I’ll go on to Massey’s pasture.” He turned to Diane. “I think the Rosewood morgue will be quicker to get to and leave these bodies. I’ll send a couple of agents over with them. I’ll take your suggestion and damn the consequences. I’ll tell the bureaucrats they can get their butts out in this tick-infested jungle if they’re not happy with the way I handle it.” He swatted his arm.
    Diane left the cave evidence with the GBI agents and called Neva over with the crime scene kit. Frank led them through the tangle of underbrush, showing them the damaged and flattened plants along the way. The rains had helped many of them stand back up, but Diane could still see a definite path.
    “When I saw the damaged brush, I figured they might have dragged the bodies from the creek to the cave,” Frank said.
    The trip through the woods reminded Diane of her earlier one that dark, rainy night when the brush and small trees whipped her legs and arms and stung her face. Only this time she had supportive company and it was light and she was dressed for the trip.
    They arrived shortly at a creek filled with rounded rocks and bordered with ferns. As they began their examination of the area, Diane saw that Mike and Liam had tagged along. She caught a glimpse of them coming through the thick green brush. She also noted that they had lagged behind at a distance. Not an easy feat with Mathews going so slowly, but it was probably his string of nonstop complaints along the way that had drowned out the noise of their movement behind them through the underbrush.
    “What are you two doing?” Diane asked.
    “I want to follow this thing through,” said Liam.
    “Speaking of your client . . .” said Mathews, scratching his back and wiggling his shoulders.
    “Was I?” said Liam.
    “Why else would you want to follow it through?” said Mathews. “I think it’s time you told us who your client is.”
    Liam sighed and nodded. “I know. His name is Wain-wright MacAlister,” he said.
    “You mean the real estate mogul who’s thinking about running for Congress?” said Mathews.
    “The one and only,” said Liam.
    “You should have told me that sooner,” Mathews said.
    “Would you have done things any differently?” asked