Free Consumed by E. H. Reinhard Page B

of the tattoo to my e-mail? I’ll need them to show the Nashville PD when we head out there.”
    “Sure,” he said.
    I gave him my e-mail address.
    Tom, Beth, and I left them to load the remains, and we headed back toward Tom’s car. I looked at him. “Tom, you said you’ve known the chief deputy for a while. Is he always like this?” I asked.
    “Like what?”
    “Just seems like he doesn’t care about this,” I said.
    “Nah. Normally, he’s pretty straightforward. I just think it’s the fact that he’s not in charge of this that has him all pissy. Either that or he had to come in on a Saturday. I don’t know—you have to think it makes him look bad that this is happening in his jurisdiction and someone else had to come in to handle it. I noticed what you’re saying, though.”
    “I’m going to make contact with the Nashville PD. If these women were both from Nashville and both had the same tattoo, maybe it means something. We also need to get ourselves a contact there for when we stop by.” I glanced at my watch—a bit past nine. I figured a noon meeting with them sounded about right. I pulled out my phone, searched the number, and dialed.
    “Nashville Police Department. Is this an emergency?” a woman asked.
    “No, ma’am. My name is Agent Rawlings with the FBI. We’re over here in the Clarksville area, investigating a number of homicides. We’re looking to stop by your station this afternoon and meet with someone regarding our investigation. We believe there to be a connection between the two cities.”
    “Okay, did you want someone in homicide?”
    “A captain or lieutenant, ideally,” I said.
    “Sure. One moment. I’ll put you through to Captain Munro.”
    “Thank you.”
    I heard a click in my ear, followed by music, followed by ringing.
    “Captain Ken Munro,” a man answered.
    “Hello. Agent Hank Rawlings with the FBI. We’re out here in Clarksville, investigating these torso murders. Are you familiar?”
    “Unfortunately,” he said.
    “Okay. Well, we have a connection with the victims and Nashville. We’d like to stop into your station today and discuss what we have. We also believe these victims to be prostitutes in your area there. Ideally, if we had someone there familiar with that, it would be helpful. We’ll bring some photos.”
    “Sure. You’re with the local FBI there?” he asked.
    “No. Another agent and I were sent in from Manassas, Virginia. We’re in the serial crimes unit, homicide.”
    “Specialists.”
    “It’s our job,” I said.
    “All right. Tell you what, let me get on the horn with a few people here and see what we can come up with as far as putting a little meeting together. You said you wanted to do this today. What time were you thinking?”
    “Noon or so?”
    “Um, I have something already on the books at noon. One o’clock works.”
    “Perfect,” I said.
    “And you said Agent Rawlings?”
    “Yes. There will probably be three of us. Agents Hank Rawlings, Beth Harper, and a local agent, Tom Clifford.”
    “Got it. I’ll make some calls, and we’ll see what we can come up with.”
    “Appreciate it. One more thing, while I have you on the line. We have two victims with matching tattoos. The tattoo looks like a crescent moon with a couple of stars, located behind their ears. Does that ring a bell with you at all?”
    “Can’t say it does off the top of my head,” he said. “I’ll ask around the station and see if it does with anyone else, though.”
    “Great. Just ask for you when we arrive, then?”
    “Yeah. Captain Munro.”
    I pulled my notepad out, pinched my phone between my shoulder and ear and wrote down the captain’s name. “Okay. We’ll see you in a few hours.”
    “Yup,” he said and clicked off.
    I put my phone back in my pants pocket and my notepad inside the inner pocket of my suit jacket.
    “Nashville PD is going to meet with us?” Beth asked.
    “One o’clock,” I said.
    “That should give us plenty of