by L. T. Ryan
She stopped short of rolling down her windows and telling all the twenty-somethings to go home and lock their doors.
After her second dinner and third cup of coffee, she looked down at her dashboard. It was around midnight. The pit in her stomach grew tighter, and though she was doing her best, it didn’t feel like enough.
Cassie pulled over along one of the side streets and parked her car. She tried to think backwards about this murder case. Harris theorized that the murders took place between midnight and two or three in the morning. It had to be late enough that most people wouldn’t be at a park, and if they were, they wouldn’t run into the middle of the woods if they saw something.
Cassie had a few more hours to figure out where to go.
She knew the killer used a medical transport van, which wouldn’t stand out regardless of where it was parked. Doctors and nurses and medical couriers were automatically given a pass. As a society, we put our trust in them, and we rarely believed they were capable of breaking that trust.
Then again, if Harris was right about her doctor theory, there’d be plenty of reason to think twice about trusting your doctor.
When Jessica Tran was taken to the medical transport van, it was parked in a garage several floors up. The killer did this to keep the vehicle off the street. Most parking garages had cameras at their entrances and exits, but if the killer switched jackets and wore a hat, no one would be able to tell if he entered in his personal vehicle and exited in the van.
Maybe Harris had already thought of that and had someone on her team look at the security footage, but Cassie couldn’t be sure, and she wasn’t about to call up the detective and tell her how to do her job. She would find some real evidence first.
And try not to gloat while she was at it.
Cassie drained her coffee and threw the empty cup on the floor of her car with the others. As she was about to lift her foot from the brake, she checked her rearview mirror and saw the back end of a white van drive by on the main road.
Her body reacted before her brain could comprehend what she had seen. She spun her vehicle around and gunned it toward the main road.
When she reached the intersection, she rolled through the stop sign and took a hard left. She weighed the consequences of getting pulled over by the police. On the one hand, she could tell them who she was and get them to pull over the van to check out the driver. On the other hand, it might cause enough of a distraction for the killer to get away. She leaned heavily in the direction of the killer getting away.
Cassie hit the gas and tried to distinguish the van from the other cars in front of her. In the middle of every intersection, she would slow down and peer in either direction to make sure the van hadn’t made a turn. On every straightaway, she would speed up to pass as many cars as she could.
At the third intersection, she saw a white van get into the turn-only lane. Cassie weaved in between multiple cars and endured several middle fingers, but when she saw the words Savannah Non-Emergency Medical Transport Van on the side of the car, her heart caught in her chest and everything else disappeared.
Without a doubt, she knew she had found the killer. What would she do about it?
Twenty-Five
It took twenty seconds for reality to set in.
Cassie was sure she had found the killer on her own, but she didn’t know what to do about it.
If it wasn’t him and she was instead following some poor medical courier, that would make for an awkward encounter if she called the cops on the innocent man while the real killer had plenty of time to take his next victim.
But if it was him and she waited too long to do something, she would never be able to live with herself. However, she reminded herself that she was dealing with a serial killer. If she managed to save his next victim, she might end up in the poor woman’s place instead.
Against her better instincts, Cassie didn’t reach for her phone. Instead, she trailed behind the transport van at a safe distance, hoping to God that her car looked inconspicuous enough to not draw attention. All those action movies she had watched taught her a thing or two about how to tail a suspect. The time she had spent with actual police helped, too.
Cassie’s palms started sweating when she realized they were driving further from Savannah. A sign for Lake Mayer caught her attention, and she slowed down enough to put more space between her and the van.
She knew where he was going.
Cassie looked down at her phone again. She could call Harris. Or David. She would have more luck with him. But something made her hesitate. What if she was wrong? What if she was wasting time? What if she pulled resources for a false alarm and another body showed up the next day?
Cassie followed at a distance until the van pulled off the parkway and onto East Montgomery Cross Road. She kept her distance and drove straight until he pulled into the park. She took the next right, pulled off the side of the road, and cut her engine. She would be slower on foot, but whoever was driving that van had to find a place to park, pull the girl out, and walk her to the woods to kill her.
Unless she was already dead.
Cassie pulled out her phone and texted David. She wrote out whatever came to mind.
Found the van. Followed it to Lake Mayer. Don’t know if it’s him. If you don’t hear from me in 15, send the entire department.
Cassie knew it would give David an aneurysm, but she made sure her phone was on silent and tucked it into her back pocket. It was 12:24 a.m. She had until 12:40 to figure out what was going on and either call off the dogs or pray they got there in time to save her and the next victim.
On the upside, it took her about fifteen minutes to drive out there. It would take the cops less than ten once they were made aware of the situation.
Cassie jumped out of her car without a second thought and ran toward the lake. Once she hit the path, she jogged until she reached the entrance, then stuck to the shadows as she walked along the parking lot. She reached the end of it and found the van.
At this point, her heart was pounding out of her chest. She didn’t see any movement inside but hesitated to approach it. She slipped behind a tree and pulled out her phone, dimming the light enough to not give her away.
She had a barrage of missed calls and texts from David.
TELL ME YOU’RE JOKING.
CASSIE.
CASSIE YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS.
I SWEAR TO GOD, QUINN, YOU BETTER ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE.
Cassie already had run a half mile. Ten of her fifteen minutes passed.
I’m fine, she texted back. I’m following him. Staying at a distance. Will be safe. Text you in 10.
No sooner had she hit send did David call her, but Cassie hit ignore and put her phone back in her pocket. She felt terrible for putting David in this situation, but she needed to do something. This was life and death. She was sure she was on the right track, but she needed evidence to prove this was the killer.
Cassie sprinted from tree to tree until she got close enough to the van to be sure no one was inside. When she peered through the windows, she didn’t see anything of significance, and she didn’t want to alert anyone by opening the door and risking the overhead light giving her away.
The whisper of a voice was carried on the wind. In the dead of night on the edge of a lake, everything carried, and while the traffic from the highway echoed across the open water, so did something else.
Cassie followed her instincts.
She took off at a dead sprint, staying on her toes and keeping to the paved path where the crunch of sticks and dead leaves and loose stones wouldn’t give her away. She slowed down as she hit the first turn in the path and spotted two figures in the distance. She blinked and they disappeared into the trees.
They were too solid to be anything other than living, breathing people, and as brief a glimpse as it was, Cassie noticed one of the figures was half-carrying the other. Had he drugged her?
Cassie took off again, this time sticking to t
he grass on the outside of the path, closest to the road they came in on. If the killer spotted her, the cops might not have the chance to catch him again, and she refused to be the reason why he got away.
When Cassie reached the edge of the trees, she pulled her phone out. She had run about a mile, and her extra ten minutes were up. She had more texts and missed calls from David, but she didn’t bother reading any of them.
Two figures entering the woods, Cassie typed out. Send help.
Doubt entered her mind as soon as she hit send, but logic battled with anxiety and won out. At this point, the chances were low that this wasn’t the killer with the medical van dragging a woman into the woods in the dead of night. Everything was right in front of her.
She had to figure out how to stall him until the cops arrived.
Cassie tucked her phone back in her pocket before David could respond. She took a deep breath and ventured into the trees, grateful that she had worn her flats to work today instead of heels.
The canopy offered by the trees darkened the woods much more than the open air, but her eyes adjusted in a few seconds. Pulling her phone out to use the flashlight would have been an idiotic move, so she moved through the forest as quickly and quietly as she could, despite the brambles digging into her legs.
The voices carried by the wind earlier were louder and Cassie could hear movement ahead. She slowed down and readjusted her trajectory, though it was hard to get a precise direction amidst the trees.
A few minutes later, a light switched on to her right and Cassie froze. It was far enough away that she didn’t worry about being noticed, but when it swept toward her, she ducked behind a tree, just in case. The noise she made could be construed as that of an animal, but she doubted she would be mistaken for a deer if the light landed on her.
Once the beam turned in the other direction, Cassie took the opportunity to sprint from tree to tree, keeping a wide berth but circling in closer. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage like a sledgehammer against sand and she was terrified that he would be able to hear it.
When the flashlight stopped moving, so did Cassie. She took a few deep breaths and knelt, searching with her hands until she found a branch thick enough to do some real damage.
When the voice spoke again, Cassie realized she was much closer than she anticipated. It was the girl who sounded confused and exhausted.
“Where are we?” She sounded like she had been crying.
“I told you,” the man said, his voice calm, “we’re going to have a campfire.”
“I don’t want to have a campfire,” the girl said.
“You don’t want to make some s’mores?”
“No.” The girl was crying. “I want to go home. Please. I’m tired.”
“Don’t worry,” the man said. “It’ll be over soon.”
Twenty-Six
“Where are we?” the girl asked again.
“You wanted a campfire, remember?”
The man’s voice was gentle and coaxing, but Cassie was starting to pick up on some anxiety, too. It was masked well, but something was off. Was he worried about being caught? Could serial killers feel remorse?
“I don’t feel good.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m a doctor,” the man replied. “Come on, I’ll give you a checkup. Won’t that be fun?”
Instead of answering, the woman threw up. Cassie took advantage of the distraction to move closer, praying that the crunch of leaves underfoot wouldn’t give her away. She was still several feet away, but she could at least see the two people in front of her. She caught a glimpse of them and ducked behind a tree. The man was tall and trim with broad shoulders and muscled arms. He was the man from her vision. The woman was short with bright pink hair. She was dressed like she had been out partying. She looked strange against the backdrop of the forest.
“It’s so dark out here,” she said.
“I’ll light the fire soon. Why don’t you sit down?”
“I don’t want to get dirty,” the girl complained, but Cassie heard rustling leaves and assumed the girl sat down anyway.
Cassie gripped the branch harder. Her hands were starting to ache. Her legs were bleeding. Her pants had ripped half a dozen times. She was aware of these sensations, but they registered in the deepest part of her mind.
Nothing mattered except what was right in front of her.
Cassie decided to take another chance and peer around the tree again. One quick glance was enough to get a picture of what was going on a few feet in front of her. The woman was kneeling on the ground, clutching her purse to her chest. Cassie could see that she was wearing shorts and a tank top. Her arm was bleeding from rubbing up against a low-hanging branch, but she didn’t appear to notice.
The man was standing behind the woman. He was holding the flashlight under his arm and he had a bucket in one hand and a toolbox in the other. Cassie shivered, knowing for a fact that the bucket was for the woman’s blood and the toolbox contained the bone saw that would soon open her chest if Cassie didn’t do something first. What other torture devices might be found in there?
Cassie leaned to the side, trying to get a better view of what was in front of her, but as she did, a branch snapped underfoot. She had a split second to duck back behind the tree when the man whirled around and put the spotlight on her hiding spot.
Every muscle in her body tensed as she waited and waited for the beam to move away. She didn’t dare breathe lest she give away her position. But instead of thinking it was nothing but a squirrel, the man started walking forward, closer to Cassie.
As the light beam bounced with every step he took, Cassie’s brain was a whirlwind of thought. Should she jump out and surprise him? Should she wait until he was next to the tree and attack? What side would he walk up to? Would he stop and turn around? If he did that, she would have a better chance of getting the upper hand.
But what would she do after she attacked him? If she landed the perfect blow, she would only have a few seconds to get to the girl and drag her away. But since the woman was drugged, she wouldn’t be able to keep up with Cassie. Or she would be afraid of Cassie and try to get away. Even try to go back to the man.
And if Cassie didn’t land the perfect blow, she would have to struggle with the killer, a losing proposition. He was bigger and stronger than she was. She had taken self-defense classes after being attacked by Novak, but she was no expert. And those classes were always about how to get the upper hand and run away, not how to take out a serial killer and free his victim.
The beam from the flashlight stopped bouncing. Cassie heard the man turn around and allowed herself to breathe again. It was now or never.
Cassie lunged forward from her hiding spot and swung the branch back at the same time. The man in front of her twisted around at the noise and Cassie didn’t hesitate to bring her arm down toward his face. When the branch connected with the man’s skull, it vibrated in Cassie’s hands, sending a violent ripple throughout her arm from wrist to shoulder, and sending the man sprawling.
But it didn’t knock him out.
The man scrambled to his feet and put himself between Cassie and the woman on the ground.
“Who are you?” Spit flew from his mouth.
Cassie saw his face in good lighting for the first time. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the man who stood in front of her. He was in his late thirties or early forties and had thick brown hair that was coiffed to perfection on top of his head. He was handsome with brown eyes and a strong jawline. He was dressed in a button-down shirt and slacks and his shoes were neat and polished.
He looked normal. If she had met him at a bar, she would’ve been flattered if he had flirted with her. But his confusion soon gave way to an animalistic fury that lay under the surface of his well-kept normalcy.
She wondered how someone capable of that much hate and anger could ever go to work with the intent to bring comfort and solace to his patients and their loved o
nes.
“Who are you?” he repeated, rage building.
The current situation wasn’t looking great for Cassie. She was convinced she wouldn’t be able to go toe-to-toe with him in a fight. Her best chance of survival was either getting the upper hand with her makeshift weapon or stalling him long enough for the police to get there.
“My name’s Cassie.” She spoke in as calm a voice as she could muster. She took a step to her right, hoping she could turn him around and get closer to the woman. “What’s your name?”
“Stop moving.” He pointed the bright light into Cassie’s eyes, and she had to look at his feet to keep her sense of where he was. “What are you doing here?”
“I followed you,” she said. “Didn’t you notice me?”
He took a step toward her. “Does anyone know you’re here?”
“No,” Cassie lied. “No, they don’t. Please, let us go and I promise I won’t say anything.”
“No, no, you’ve seen too much.”
“I haven’t seen anything,” Cassie said. She took an imperceptible step to her right. “Please, I want to get my friend and leave.”
“She said she was out by herself tonight.”
“She was.” Cassie hoped her lie would hold for another minute or two. “She didn’t know I came out tonight. I spotted her, but I didn’t want to interrupt you two. But I saw her leave with you, and I got worried.”
The man’s face turned a darker shade of red. “You’re lying.”
Cassie didn’t have any warning when he lunged at her. She threw herself to the side and swung at him again. This time, the branch hit his shoulder and snapped in half. What was left behind was short but sharp on one end. The man stumbled but lunged again and tackled her to the ground. She landed with a grunt. Despite the air being knocked out of her, she managed to stab him with the sharp end of the stick. He hollered in pain and backhanded her across the face hard enough to make her world go dark for a split second.
“You bitch.”
