Careful little eyes: An addictive, horrifying serial killer thriller (7th Street Crew Book 4)

by Willow Rose

  “You don’t know who it is?” I ask.

  “No. It was dark. The killer was wearing a cloak. I never got a good look.”

  I drink more of my coffee while trying to fit the last pieces into the puzzle. Obviously, the killings have to do with Suzy and revenging her death. While reading the book, I had the feeling that the kidnapper, Robyn, was the bad guy in this story, because she was mostly described as a lunatic who had lost her own child and therefore stolen someone else’s in the middle of a probable psychosis, but now that Peggy has told me she was trying to protect the child, I have my doubts.

  “So, no one knows if Suzy was abused or not?” I ask.

  Peggy shakes her head. “There were never any records of her having bruises anywhere. It was never really investigated after her death. It seemed pointless.”

  “How about to help Robyn? Didn’t she have to build her case and defend herself in court?”

  Peggy touches her mouth and sucks in air between her teeth.

  “What happened to her?” I ask.

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  January 2005

  They tell her it’s just a short hearing. The real trial won’t start till months from now. This is just for her to plead guilty or not guilty. Her lawyer has advised her to plead guilty to the kidnapping, but Robyn refuses.

  “I told you, I didn’t kidnap her. She wanted to go. Her mother beat her. She didn’t want to go back home. I tried to help her.”

  Robyn can’t stop crying; even mentioning Suzy’s name makes her want to curl up and cry. When she closes her eyes, she can still see Suzy’s bloody face lying on top of her, the eyes completely deprived of life.

  It’s too painful to even think about.

  “That’s all very fine,” her lawyer tells her as they walk towards the courthouse, flanked by armed guards.

  A huge crowd has gathered in front of the courthouse, showing signs, yelling that Robyn is a child abductor and that she is the reason why Suzy died. The case has been all over the news and everyone is telling the story of how she kidnapped the child, because she lost her own during birth, that she is mentally ill and should be put away for the rest of her life.

  Her lawyer even wants to plead insanity, but Robyn refuses that too. She wants to tell her story the way it was, and then they’ll have to decide whether she is the bad guy or not.

  “I never meant to harm anyone,” she keeps telling him, but it’s like he doesn’t understand. “I loved her. I loved Suzy more than her own mother could.”

  “Probably not something you should say in court,” he has advised her. “Not if you don’t want them to think you’re crazy or a sick pedophile.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Be careful what words you use.”

  Robyn sees the crowd with all their signs and she hears their yelling. As she gets closer, someone runs up to her and yells at her, waving their sign angrily in the air:

  “You sick woman. They should send you to a deserted island with other pedophiles like you,” he says and spits in her face.

  Robyn’s hands are cuffed, so she can’t wipe it off, and the spit runs across her cheek. Robyn feels so humiliated. She looks surprised at the man.

  “I’m not,” she says, her voice breaking and weak. “I’m not sick.”

  But the man isn’t listening; he is yelling and cursing in her face, and her lawyer urges her to move forward. Robyn feels like crying again, as she stares at the crowd of people as they reach the bottom of the stairs. All those angry faces, yelling and screaming for her to die.

  “I just tried to help,” she yells back at them, but no one can hear her over all the yelling. “I was just trying to help her. I loved her.”

  She is staring at the mob of angry faces, when suddenly she spots a familiar one among them.

  “Melissa?”

  Robyn swallows hard as their eyes meet. Melissa’s eyes look like they’re on fire. Robyn gasps and recoils. Melissa elbows her way through the crowd and, seconds later, they’re face to face.

  Robyn feels something pressed against her stomach. Someone behind Melissa is yelling.

  “She’s got a gun!”

  Robyn stares into Melissa’s eyes. She is not going to jump for her life or even scream. For once, she is not afraid.

  “I loved her,” she says through the loud screams from people trying to get away.

  Melissa is crying, tears running down her cheeks as she presses the gun closer to Robyn’s stomach.

  “Put the gun down!” A guard is yelling behind Robyn, but his words, and those of the many other officers that come running, mean nothing right now. Right here and now, there is nothing but the two of them.

  “She was never yours to love,” Melissa says, then closes her eyes and pulls the trigger.

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  July 2016

  About an hour later, I am in my car rushing through Canal Street. I am thinking about what Peggy Dixon has told me and going through the last part of our conversation over and over again in my mind.

  “So, Melissa is the killer?” I asked her. “She is revenging her daughter and what happened to her, killing the people who should have reacted, who should have done something, should at least have told her that Robyn had Suzy at her house when she ran away from home? Like her sister and mother and the teacher and you, right?”

  “Yes, except…”

  “Except what?” I asked.

  “Except Melissa died six months ago,” she said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “After killing Robyn Bovard, Melissa ended up on Death Row. She got the needle six months ago.”

  “Then who is killing all those people?” I asked.

  Peggy shrugged. It annoyed me because I wanted her so badly to tell me who it was so I could get the information to the police and go home with my family. I really didn’t want to leave without a name.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Who else is left?” I asked and looked at the book cover showing a child wearing a blindfold.

  “Jamie,” she says. “Melissa’s fiancé, Jamie, is the only one left from back then.”

  And so here I am. Driving around in New Orleans, looking for a guy who used to be the fiancé of a woman I have never even met. I have no idea if he’s the killer or the next victim. Part of me hopes for the first. But then again, I am going to face him in a matter of minutes.

  Good thing I have my gun in my purse.

  Chloe has helped me find the address. Jamie got twelve years for accidentally shooting Suzy. He is out on parole and his address is very easy to find. I park in front of a very poor looking apartment complex. There are no windows, only plywood, and no real door. I double-check the address when my phone rings.

  It’s Joey.

  “Will you be done soon? We’ve packed everything and are ready when you get back.”

  I sigh and look at the sinister building in front of me. I could just give the police his name and he would go back to jail, but a part of me has to make sure; I have to know.

  “I’ll be home in less than an hour,” I say. I hang up without telling him where I am going or that I might be facing a killer. I don’t want him to worry. I’m a big girl—no pun intended—and I can take care of myself.

  I grab the gun from my purse and put it in the pocket of my rain jacket. It is pouring down outside, but it is still hot. I put the hood over my head and run towards the building. I find his name on the beat up mailboxes inside. His is pretty much the only one that is still intact. I walk up the stairs till I reach the third floor. A door is opened as I walk by it, and a set of very young eyes looks out at me through a crack. I smile at the kid, who hurries up and closes the door. I find the door and his name written on a piece of white tape outside of it, then take in a deep breath, lift my fist, and knock.

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  July 2016

  He doesn’t look anything like I thought he would. He doesn’t wear a sweaty tank top.
He doesn’t have a goatee or a cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth. He doesn’t look like he hasn’t showered in weeks or even smell like beer.

  No, Jamie is newly shaved, has water combed his hair, and is wearing a suit.

  Talk about looks being deceiving.

  “Yes?” he asks.

  “Jamie O’Conner?”

  “Yes. And who are you?”

  I reach out my hand. “Mary Mills.”

  He shakes it, still looking a little suspicious. “And what can I do for you, Mary Mills?”

  I have come to ask you if you’re The Axeman, if you have killed a bunch of people lately. You don’t look like a killer, but hey, Ted Bundy wasn’t so bad either, right?

  I sigh. What am I supposed to say? Why have I even come here? This is crazy. “I need to talk to you about something…”

  He looks at his watch. “You gotta hurry up. I have a job interview in half an hour and was actually heading out the door.”

  “Melissa,” I say. It just blurts right out of my mouth.

  His expression changes drastically. “There is a name I haven’t heard in many years. Were you one of her friends or something?”

  “You could say that,” I say. “I heard what happened to her.”

  Jamie rolls his tongue in the side of his cheek. “What do you want?” he asks, suddenly slightly aggressive. “In case you don’t know, I am kind of trying to leave my past behind me and get a new life. I don’t really enjoy being dragged back.”

  “Did you stay in contact with her?” I ask.

  Going back makes him angry. His gestures get more aggressive. “If you really need to know, then no. Relationships tend to run out into the sand when you accidentally kill your girlfriend’s child.”

  “Do you think she was mad at you for it?” I ask.

  He scoffs. “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “Did you ever write to her on Death Row?”

  He looks at me. I can tell he doesn’t know why he should tell me these things, but still he does. He gives me a lopsided grin and rubs his chin. “Sure. But she was seeing someone else, she told me. I had someone look into it, another inmate, and he told me she had found another guy, someone younger who was crazy about her, always writing her and visiting her. She was done with me, he said. I had someone beat her up in her cell to send a message to her that you don’t cheat on me. That’s the last I heard about her.”

  I stare at the guy in front of me, my hand clinging to the gun in my pocket, ready to pull it should it be necessary.

  “Did you do it? Did you kill all those people because you felt they were the reason you went to jail? Because it was their fault your life went to hell after you shot Suzy?”

  Jamie stares at me. “What?”

  Okay. Here goes nothing.

  “Are you The Axeman?”

  Jamie looks at me, then bursts into a loud laugh. “I have been called many things, but…this…that’s ridiculous.”

  “The killings started shortly after you were released; all the victims were tied to you and Melissa back then and to what happened,” I continue. As I speak, I realize I am making a mistake. Jamie gets agitated. He reaches out his hand and slaps me across the face. The slap is forceful and I fall backwards. He bends over me, his fist clenched above my face.

  “I’ll show you, you fat…you bitch…”

  I pull the gun out of the jacket and turn it towards him. It is shaking heavily between my hands, but it does the trick.

  “Whoa,” he says and throws his hands in the air.

  I get up and feel my cheek. It is burning. I taste blood in my mouth. “You’re not The Axeman,” I say. “You’re not smart enough to be. You’re just an asshole. You can dress it up all you want to, but it’s still just an asshole.”

  I am about to walk away, when I stop and turn around. I look him in the eyes. “It was you, am I right? It was you who beat Suzy, right? While her mother was out cold, you beat her up and then let her run away. You wanted her out of Melissa’s and your life because she was in the way. She was annoying and she came between you and Melissa. You wanted her to run away.” He doesn’t answer. I walk backwards towards the stairs while nodding.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  July 2016

  I hurry to my car and get in. I sit for a few seconds, catching my breath, calming myself down.

  I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe I just called him an a-hole and got away with it.

  I grab my phone and call Chloe. She sounds worried. “What took you so long? I was scared to death down here! Did you do it? Did you face him? I can’t believe you would walk in there alone. Scared the crap out of me. Longest fifteen minutes of my life. Geez.”

  “I’m fine, Chloe. Nothing happened. Jamie is not the one we’re looking for. But I need your help with something.”

  “Sure. Just don’t go up against any more bad guys alone, all right? I was about to call the cops and fire department and everything.”

  I chuckle. “The fire department?”

  “They’re closer.”

  “True. Not sure they would be much of a match for a serial killer, though, but anyway. Do you think you can get access to prison visitation lists?”

  “I can try.”

  “Great. I’ll send you name of a prison and of a prisoner to look for in a text,” I say.

  “I have sent you something too,” Chloe says, right before I hang up. “An email for a story I think you might find interesting.”

  I look at the clock. “Great. Now I need to get back to Joey and Salter. I promised I would hurry back. Just hope the traffic isn’t too bad.”

  We hang up and I text her the information, then start the car. I am about to drive into the street, when curiosity gets the best of me. I open the email from Chloe. In the subject line it says: Sound familiar to you?

  It’s a link to a news story from Pensacola. A woman in her early thirties was found killed in her home yesterday. Stabbed to death. A bloody stone-carving chisel was pierced through her forehead. The girl was blonde and single. Blake’s favorite type.

  “I’ll be da…the bastard!”

  I call Chloe back. “You could have told me what it was first,” I say. “So, he’s in Pensacola, huh?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “I hate him; I hate him so much. He just keeps hurting people and no one is catching him. Why aren’t they stopping him, Chloe?”

  “I got the info for you,” she says. “From Louisiana State Penitentiary.”

  “That was fast.”

  “It’s not protected at all. But I did find something of interest to us. Real interesting.”

  I sigh and rub my forehead. A homeless woman walks by my car, pushing an old squeaking cart with all her dirty belongings in it.

  “Let me guess,” I say. “Blake?”

  “Yes. He visited her several times a year until her death.”

  My heart sinks. For the first time in forever, I am not glad I was right. How can one man cause so much trouble, so much disaster in his short lifetime?

  “So what do you propose we do now?” Chloe asks.

  I sigh. “I need to get back to Joey and Salter. If Blake is in Pensacola, then I guess that’s where we’re going. I just need to find a way to explain it to them.”

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  July 2016

  “We’re what?”

  Joey looks at Mary. She has just entered the hotel suite. Her hair is a mess, she looks exhausted, and she is not very coherent when she speaks. He is worried about her. Everything they have been through lately seems to be too much for one person to handle. Is she breaking down?

  “We’re going to Pensacola,” she says.

  “No, we’re not,” Joey says. We’re going home, remember?”

  “It’s a stop on the way, Joey. We can stop a night or two there, can’t we?”

  “W-w-why?”

  Mary looks at Salter, who is listening
to every word they’re saying. Joey can tell she doesn’t want him to hear. She turns away and tries to lower her voice.

  “Just humor me, all right?”

  “Mary. What’s in Pensacola?”

  She sighs. “Blake,” she whispers. “He killed some woman there last night or maybe the night before; I don’t remember the date in the article, but I am certain it is him.”

  Joey can’t believe her. Is this never going to end?

  “No,” he says.

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “Exactly what I’m saying. I’m going home and so is Salter and so are you. You need rest. If Blake is in Pensacola, then let the police get him. I’m done. We’re done. And that counts for you as well.”

  “B-b-but…he kidnapped our son! He killed all these people! So many people. Are you just gonna let him get away with that? I just got word from Chloe. We have evidence. He is The Axeman.”

  Joey grabs her by the shoulders and forces her to look into his eyes. He wants to make sure she understands that he means business. He is not backing down this time. He is taking charge of the situation.

  “I don’t care anymore, Mary. I want to go home and I want Salter to get home where he feels safe. That’s all that matters now, Mary.”

  She opens her mouth to protest, when she suddenly stops herself. Something in her eyes changes all of a sudden. It’s like she remembers something.

  “That’s it!” she says.”

  “What’s it? I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t you see?”

  “No, I don’t and, to be frank, you’re scaring me a little now, Mary.”

  She looks into his eyes. She doesn’t seem to have lost it. To be honest, she seems clearer than just before.

  “We think Cocoa Beach is safe. While chasing after him here, we think our house is safe. We let our guard down.”