by Angie Martin
As David drove toward the place where he would take Stephanie away from the world, he thought about his perfectly designed plan. His bold assumption that Stephanie would be the only car coming down the road at that time of night placed an exceeding amount of pressure on him. Everything had to be timed just right to avoid any witnesses.
One of the riskiest and most complicated kidnappings to date, David enjoyed the risk of the plan almost as much as he would enjoy the kill. After taking Jillian in the middle of the day, he needed a daring plan to keep him excited about kidnapping Stephanie. Just like Jillian cooperating with getting into the back of his car, his plan for Stephanie would go just as smoothly. Very soon, Stephanie would get him closer to Emily. After that, nothing could come between them.
Chapter Thirty-two
Climbing out of the backseat of Lionel’s unmarked sedan, Emily didn’t know what to expect from the crime scene. They passed two officers sitting in a patrol car, keeping tabs on the alley. Standing off to the side while Lionel cleared them to enter the scene, Cassie and Emily pulled their hair up as Lionel had instructed, so no hairs would accidentally fall and contaminate the scene.
After they donned shoe covers and latex gloves, Lionel admonished the women not to touch anything. He lifted the crime scene tape as high as it would go. Emily stepped under the tape, but hung back while Lionel and Cassie walked ahead, discussing the scene in cop lingo Emily didn’t understand.
The yet unidentified victim was dead when her killer brought her into the alley, so Emily would not get any readings from her directly. The killer, on the other hand, might have left a trace behind. If she had been correct in her assumption that it was this victim she had heard being killed Sunday night, then Emily would have a strong connection to the crime scene.
Nothing popped out at her right away, so she took the time to look around the alley. Because it rested between two abandoned warehouses, there was not much to it apart from bits of debris floating in a thin river of dirty rainwater. Other trash clung for life at the bottom bricks of the parallel buildings, discarded and abandoned by thoughtless previous owners, much in the same way as the woman’s killer had left her here.
Emily noted there were no streetlights above the alley itself, and no other means of lighting down the narrow path. The lack of lighting and the abandoned warehouse made this place appealing for disposing a body, as opposed to alleys located off busier streets.
Three metal, dark green commercial trash bins stood against the brick building. Emily assumed the graffiti on the trash bins to be aged, since the building had been vacant for the past two years. She knelt down and looked underneath each of the trash bins, but only found more long-forgotten rubbish.
She got to her feet and watched Cassie perform a grid search, just as Emily imagined she learned as a cop. The darkness flickered in the back of Emily’s mind, and she turned her attention to Lionel. He leaned back against the building and spoke to Cassie, but Emily tuned out his voice. With the darkness pulsating inside her brain and guiding her instincts, she focused on his moving lips and cleared her mind of all distractions. Her eyelids fell and she drifted into a hypnotic state.
The entire drive to the crime scene, Lionel had seemed worn out, with very little emotion. Upon arriving, however, his emotions shifted into something Emily could grasp. Sadness. The crime scene did not make him angry as she had expected, but left a deep sorrow coursing through his body. Another woman had died, another life stolen, and he had been unable to prevent it. As with six women before her, Lionel blamed himself for not stopping the killer, and he hoped he could find something to catch him before he murdered again.
In the back of her mind, she saw Lionel’s lips moving, but talking to Shawn, not Cassie. Though she had never experienced any psychic phenomenon like this, she focused on both the vision and the darkness that fueled it. In a vignette-style movie playing only for her, they walked through the alley toward the victim’s body. Her view shifted from being an observer to seeing Lionel’s memories of the crime scene through his eyes.
He lowered his eyes and gazed at the mutilated girl, giving Emily a full view of everything she avoided seeing in the case file yesterday. She leaned against the trash bin for support and her own eyes welled with tears behind closed lids, but she didn’t try to stop the images.
As Lionel moved his head to talk to someone else at the crime scene, his eyes scanned past an inlet toward the end of the alley. He had blinked at just the perfect time, so it was out of his peripheral vision that Emily saw the ragged tennis shoe sticking out from behind the bricks before it quickly moved out of view.
Emily opened her eyes, ending Lionel’s memories. Someone else had been at the crime scene while the police were there, someone who did not want to be found. They might have seen the killer dump the victim’s body.
She caught Lionel watching her, as if he knew what she had done. She averted her eyes, embarrassed at accessing his memories without his knowledge. For a moment, she forgot her discovery.
“Are you okay, Emily?” Lionel’s voice was filled with concern, but mixed with curiosity.
Emily nodded.
“Hey, guys,” Cassie called from down the alleyway, at the inlet where Emily had seen the shoe sticking out. “You need to come see this.”
Emily jogged down the alley behind Lionel. When they reached Cassie, Emily realized what she thought was a small inlet was actually another alleyway.
“Did your guys search down here?” Cassie asked.
“They searched about halfway down. Some of our guys walked farther up, but it was so far from the actual dump site that there was no reason to search the other alleys that branch off from this one.”
“Someone else was here,” Emily said. “They may have seen the killer dumping the body.”
Lionel furrowed his brow. “What makes you say that?”
Cassie pointed to a patch of dirt at the corner of the brick. The toe of a tennis shoe sole was imprinted on the dust.
“Okay,” Lionel said, “that’s a start. But what makes you think they may have seen the killer?”
“Because they live in the back of this alley, around the corner, and down a ways,” Cassie said. “There’s a refrigerator box with an old tarp over it. A shopping cart filled with aluminum cans is next to the box.”
“He or she probably heard the commotion this morning when all the police were here,” Emily said. “They stuck their head out around this corner to see for themselves, but they didn’t let you see them. They probably took off after that, in case the cops searched for them. That’s enough to believe they might have heard the killer dumping the body yesterday and looked around the corner to check it out.”
“Looks like I’m getting my money’s worth by hiring you two.”
“You owe us at least a couple dinners now,” Cassie said.
“Let’s investigate this lead then and question our potential witness,” Lionel said.
Cassie stepped in front of Lionel. “Not you, Uncle Leo. If this person saw you here this morning and didn’t want to come forward because there were cops, they sure won’t want to talk to you now. Emily and I can handle this.”
Lionel regarded both of them and frowned. “I don’t like it.”
“There’s a patrol unit at the front of the crime scene and you can hang out with them until we get back,” Cassie said. “It might be awhile—”
“I’ll wait and I’ll do periodic drives around the block to make sure everything is okay. I want one of you to send me a text every couple minutes so that I know you’re okay.” Cassie opened her mouth to protest, and Lionel added, “Just text a letter or something from your pocket.”
“We’ll do it,” Emily said, before Cassie could disagree. If they pushed it, Lionel would insist on going with them or, worse yet, have other officers come to the scene to find the potential witness. Either option could result in scaring away that person for good.
“Thank you, girls,” Lionel said.
After he wa
lked away, Cassie turned to Emily. “Did you pick up on anything else besides the potential witness?”
“The witness did see the cops here this morning. He stood right here and watched from a distance, but the cops didn’t see him. I know this person can help.”
“Alright, let’s take this slowly then. If this witness is homeless like I suspect, we don’t know what condition he or she is in. They could be mentally unstable, could be on drugs, could be intoxicated, or could be perfectly normal. We need to be on our toes and prepared for anything.”
“How much money do you have?” Both women had left their purses in Lionel’s locked car, but Cassie always stuffed extra cash in her jeans pocket for those unexpected moments.
Cassie dug in her pocket, pulled out some ones, and counted. “Nine dollars.” She flashed a mischievous smile. “You know, I always wonder why I asked you to go into business with me, but some days that decision actually pays off.”
Emily ignored the playful insult. “They may not even take it, but it’s good to have it on hand. Let’s go before Uncle Leo changes his mind.”
They started down the alley, both keeping their footfalls quiet so as not to scare the person away. Emily mused that they worked so well together they rarely communicated a plan during a case. When one of them spoke, no matter what wild tale they told, the other could follow and keep the ruse going.
Reaching a dead end, Cassie led the way to the left and down another alley. Next to a tall chain link fence, a dirty tarp with several rips through the material covered the refrigerator box Cassie had described. The box was turned on its side, lying horizontal across the cracked asphalt.
The ends of a navy blue sleeping bag sticking out of the flaps confirmed that the man or woman used the box as makeshift sleeping quarters. Emily’s heart ached thinking about the person living here night after night, with no real shelter and not knowing when they might eat again.
Emily walked around the box and found the rusted shopping cart filled with aluminum soda and beer cans. She paused for a moment and motioned for Cassie to look at the cart. Cassie held up her hands to inquire what Emily wanted her to see. “The cans,” Emily whispered.
Cassie scrunched up her face and looked back at the shopping cart. She turned to Emily and mouthed, “Oh!”
Emily smiled as realization dawned on Cassie. The homeless person was nearby and possibly watching them. They never would have left a precious street commodity alone for very long, and a shopping cart filled with cans would earn them enough money to buy a few meals.
Movement in the corner of Emily’s eye caught her attention. A white cat with black and grey markings snaked its way toward them. When the cat reached them, it ignored Cassie in favor of Emily. The ragged cat rubbed its thin white face against her legs. It was not an unusual event for either Emily or Cassie. Aunt Susan had many times told Emily tales of cats and their sensitivity toward people with gifts like theirs.
Emily tugged off her latex gloves. She crouched down and ran her fingers over its short, matted hair. “Hey there, pretty girl,” she said, projecting her voice down the alley. She wanted whoever was watching them to hear. “What’s a sweet little girl like you doing back here?”
“He’s a boy.”
Emily raised her eyes. A man poked his head out from behind a trash bin fifty feet in front of her. She continued petting the cat and smiled at the man.
“His name is Bob. You know, Bob Cat.”
She stood back up, while Bob resumed rubbing his cheek against her leg, marking her as his territory. “I like the name a lot,” she said.
The man came out from behind the trash bin and started toward them. “He likes you. He doesn’t usually like people.”
Emily restrained her sympathy for the man dressed in torn pants and a dirty flannel shirt. His tattered shoes, the same ones that she saw in her vision, appeared to be the newest part of his outfit.
Out of the corner of her eye, Emily watched Cassie took several slow steps away from them, so as not to disturb the connection Emily had with the man. If she moved too quickly, she risked spooking away the only possible witness in the case.
When the man reached them, he ignored Cassie and only looked at Emily. Pointing to the shoe covers on her tennis shoes, he asked, “Are you a cop, too?”
“I’m a private investigator. The cops asked me to wear these so I don’t accidentally contaminate the crime scene.”
The man flung his hand in Cassie’s direction, but spoke to Emily. “That one’s a cop for sure.”
“You’re right. She used to be a cop, but she answered a bad call one day and was shot in her leg. Now, she’s a private investigator like me.”
“Once a cop, always a cop.”
She extended her hand. “My name is Emily.”
The man regarded her hand for a long moment before accepting it. “I’m Sam.”
“It’s really nice to meet you, Sam.” She looked down at the cat, who still circled her legs. “You too, Bob.” Glancing back at Sam, she asked, “Do you know why I’m here?”
Sam scratched the straggly white whiskers on his chin and studied her. “The dead girl. You want to know who put her there.”
Cassie gasped in the background, but Emily ignored her. “The man who put her there also killed six other women. One of them was pregnant. We want to stop him from killing others.”
Sam hardened his expression. “Do I have to talk to any cops?”
Emily faltered for a moment too long.
“I do, don’t I?” He crossed his arms and stepped back. “I knew it and that’s why I didn’t want to get involved. I’m not doing it.”
“Why don’t you trust the police, Sam?” she asked.
“I’ll talk to you because Bob likes you.” Sam kept his eyes focused on Emily and pointed in Cassie’s direction. “I’m not talking to her.”
Emily glanced at Cassie and gave her a quick nod. She obliged by walking away and around the corner. Emily knew she would not be far, but she needed to be out of sight for Sam to open up.
In an attempt to further disarm him, Emily took a few steps toward Sam and narrowed the gap between them. “Why don’t you trust cops?” she asked again.
Sam’s face softened for the first time since approaching her. “They’re the reason I live here.” He walked around her and stood in front of his shelter. “Well, I guess I’m the reason I’m here, but I still don’t like them.”
“What happened?”
“I was an accountant. I was married, had three kids, and a great life, but I used to gamble a lot in college. I was really addicted, until I met my wife. I cleaned up for her and found a proper job. She spent money like crazy. Everything I earned ended up going toward new clothes, a new hairdo, or a remodel on the house. So I thought I could make some quick cash by playing poker.”
“And you became addicted again,” she said.
“I couldn’t help what I did. It’s a sickness I have. When I played my first game and won, I didn’t want to stop. I made a lot of money at first, but then I lost a lot more money. So I borrowed some from the company I worked for. I planned on paying it back, except I never got around to it because I kept losing money at poker. So I kept borrowing money.”
“That’s when you were caught.”
“I went to prison. My wife left me and got sole custody of the kids. They let me out of prison and I found a job for a bit while I was on parole. As soon as my parole was over, my boss fired me. I looked for another job, but no one wanted a felon with a gambling addiction, so I gave up trying to find a job and I live here.”
Tears threatened Emily’s eyes, but she restrained from being too emotional. He wasn’t asking for sympathy in his tale, only answering her initial question about not trusting the police, but her heart still broke for him. “Thanks for sharing that with me,” she said. “I know that’s not easy to talk about. Are any of your children girls?”
“Melissa and Mary.”
“Sam, I can’t possibly im
agine how much you miss them. You didn’t get to be a part of most of their lives, and that must be a horrible feeling. The fathers of the women that were murdered, they are going through the same thing as you did when you first lost your girls.”
He went to his shopping cart and rifled through the aluminum cans.
She pressed on. “Even though they watched their girls grow up to be young adults, they will never get to see them again. Some of them never walked their daughter down the aisle, never held a grandchild in their arms. For a couple of the fathers, they lost their only child. I know you can relate to these fathers. You can help stop another father from losing his daughter.”
Sam held his eyes to his cans, on a mission searching for something only known to him.
Emily walked over to him. “Did you see the man who put the girl in the alley last night?”
“Yes,” Sam said. “It was dark, but his trunk was open and I saw his face with that light. I’ll never forget his face.”
“Can you make an exception and talk to the cops just this one time?”
“Will you take Bob home with you?”
Emily lowered her head, her eyes landing on Bob sitting next to her feet.
“Bob likes you. He needs a good home to feed him and take care of him. I can’t feed him out here. I can barely feed myself most days.”
“I don’t know,” Emily said. “I’ve never thought about having a cat before.”
“If you help Bob, I’ll help you.”
Bob lifted his head and gazed at her with sad, green eyes. Emily knew it was an illusion but her heart told her a different story and made her think the cat was communicating his wishes.
“I’ll take Bob home.”
“No shelters,” Sam said. “He goes home with you and he stays home with you forever.”
“I promise.”
“Then I’ll talk to the cops.”
Chapter Thirty-three
“I can’t believe you did that to me.”
Jake shifted on Emily’s couch so he could get a better look at her. “What did I do to you?”
