If She Saw. Блейк Пирс

other words,” DeMarco said, “it wouldn’t be too hard to locate companies that use it as a primary material?”

      “That, I don’t know,” Reed said. “But you may be interested to know that bamboo cotton is present in lots of fluffier blankets. It’s quite breathable from what I’ve seen. You’re probably looking for something on the pricier side. As a matter of fact, there’s a warehouse just outside of town that manufactures the very sort of thing I mean. Pricy blankets, throws, sheets, that sort of thing.”

      “Do you know the name of it?” DeMarco asked.

      “Biltmore Threads. They’re a smaller company that nearly went belly up when everyone started buying everything online.”

      “Anything else you can tell us?” Kate asked.

      “Yes, but it’s sort of grisly. With the Nash woman, I believe the fabric was shoved so far down that she nearly vomited, even that close to death. There was stomach acid on the fabric.”

      Kate thought about the amount of force and effort it would take for someone to do that…about how much of one’s hand would go into the victim’s mouth.

      “Thank you for your time, Mr. Reed,” Kate said.

      “Certainly. Let’s just hope I don’t see a third piece to that blanket anytime soon.”

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      Eerily enough, the drive to the Biltmore Threads warehouse took Kate and DeMarco down the same stretch of road they had taken into Whip Springs at four o’clock that morning. The factory and warehouse were located down a two-lane road that snaked off of the main highway. It was tucked away, along with the stretch of dying grass that served as its landscaping, in the very same woods that had hidden the Nash home from the main road.

      From the looks of the parking lot, Biltmore Threads wasn’t doing quite as badly as Will Reed had suggested. The place looked to employ at least fifty or so people, and that was based on just this time of day. With a factory like this, Kate assumed there was shift work involved, meaning another fifty or so would probably come in later on for the night shift.

      They made their way inside, walking into a dingy lobby. A woman sitting behind a counter looked up at them with a peculiar expression. It was evident that they didn’t get many visitors.

      “Can I help you?” she asked.

      DeMarco went through the round of introductions and after they showed their IDs, the woman at the counter buzzed them in through a door on the far end of the lobby. That same woman met them there and then led them down a small hallway. At the end of the hall, she opened a set of double doors that led onto the Biltmore Threads production floor. Several sets of looms and other equipment Kate had never seen were thrumming with life. On the far side of the large work floor, a compact forklift was carrying a pallet of stacked cloth elsewhere into the warehouse.

      After leading them carefully around the edge of the floor, the woman stopped at another door and led them inside. Here, there was a thin hallway adorned with five rooms. The woman brought them to the first one and knocked.

      “Yeah?” a man’s voice boomed from inside.

      “We’ve got visitors,” the woman called before opening the door. “Two ladies from the FBI.”

      There was a few seconds’ pause and then the door was opened from the other side. A dark-haired man wearing thick glasses greeted them. He looked them up and down, not out of nervousness but sheer curiosity.

      “FBI?” he asked. “What can I do for you?”

      “Can we have a minute of your time?” Kate asked.

      “Sure,” he said, standing aside and allowing them into his office.

      There was only one seat in the office other than the one behind his desk. Neither Kate nor DeMarco took it. The dark-haired man did not take his seat either, electing to stand with them.

      “I assume you’re the supervisor?” Kate asked.

      “I’m the regional manager and day shift supervisor, yes,” he said. He extended his hand quickly, as if embarrassed he had forgotten to so earlier than this. “Ray Garraty.”

      Kate shook the offered hand and then showed her ID. She then reached into her pocket and withdrew the scrap of fabric from the Nash scene.

      “This is a scrap of fabric from a recent crime scene,” she said. “And we believe it could be key in catching a killer. The forensics lab found bamboo cotton in it, and I understand that Biltmore Threads uses bamboo cotton rather regularly.”

      “We do,” Garraty said. He reached for the bag and then hesitated before asking: “Do you mind?”

      Kate shook her head and handed it to him. Garraty looked it over closely and nodded. “Without actually tearing it further apart, I can’t give you any guarantees, but yeah, it looks to have some in it. Do you know where the fabric came from?”

      “I’m assuming a blanket,” Kate said.

      “Looks like it,” Garraty said. “And while I’m not one hundred percent sure, I think it might have been designed and manufactured here.”

      “Right here at Biltmore Threads?” Kate asked.

      “Perhaps.”

      Garraty handed the plastic bag back to Kate and then walked to an old beaten-up filing cabinet tucked away in the back corner of the small office. He opened the bottom drawer and after fishing through its contents for a while, pulled out two different books. They were both quite large and as he started leafing through one, Kate saw that they were both inventory catalogues.

      “The color and the design you can sort of make out look familiar,” Garraty explained as he went through the pages. “If it was made here, it will be in one of these books.”

      It was an exciting thought, but Kate wasn’t quite sure what it would mean. If the blanket in question was made in Biltmore Threads, did it really even open up that many possibilities? There were many more questions to ask before coming to such a conclusion.

      “Right here,” Garraty said. He turned the book toward them and pointed to one of several different blankets listed on a page about three-quarters of the way through one of the books. “Does that look like a match to you?”

      Kate and DeMarco both studied the page. Kate looked back and forth, making sure she wasn’t making herself see some semblance of similarity. But after a few seconds, DeMarco answered for her.

      “I mean, the fabric we have is faded, but it’s the same. Even that little faded white checkered pattern.”

      “Well, it’s faded because it’s an older product,” Garraty said. He pointed to a line from the item description. “Right here, it says it started being produced in 1991 and was eliminated from our production cycle in 2004.”

      “So you made this same blanket for thirteen years?” DeMarco asked.

      “Yes. It was a very popular item, which is how I was able to recognize it so quickly.”

      “In other words, the last time you would have passed this blanket out of your warehouse was 2004,” Kate said. “Meaning that this sample is somewhere between fifteen and thirty years old.”

      “That’s correct.”

      Well, even if there could be a link due to the blanket, Kate thought, that thirty-year window makes it very hard.

      “Mr. Garraty, how long have you been in your position here?”

      “Going on twenty-six years,” Garraty said. “I’ve got retirement coming up next year.”

      “While you’ve been here, has Biltmore Threads employed Scott or Bethany Langley, or Toni or Derrick Nash?”

      Garraty thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “The names don’t ring any bells for me, but if we’re looking over a span of more than ten years, I’d refer you to records. There are a lot of