Michel wished he had a beer or something stronger right about now. But he couldn’t let them see him sweat. It would only add fuel to their fire. And he would be the one who got burned.
“I don’t know who it is, all right,” he muttered with a sour expression. “So I’m keeping my eyes open and asking questions. That ain’t breaking the law, far as I know. Maybe I’ll get lucky and hand the bastard to you...collecting three hundred and fifty big ones for my trouble—”
Michel watched as the detective and investigator exchange silent looks. He knew that their efforts to intimidate him into some kind of half-baked confession were over.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Selene could barely believe her ears when Dennis Cramer called and said that Michel would be released on bail within the hour.
“I know that he’s basically been terrorizing you,” Cramer said. “Unfortunately, the most we can charge him with is trespassing. There’s no sign of forced entry into your residence or tampering with your power or security system. And you said yourself that he didn’t physically assault you. That doesn’t leave us much to work with.”
“What about the fire at S.A.W. House?” Selene protested. “Did you question him about that?”
“We did—and he denied knowing anything about it,” he said. “I understand that you have suspicions, and rightly so, but the one witness we had couldn’t positively identify him as the man she saw running from the scene. We simply didn’t have enough probable cause to go any further at this time.”
Selene thought about the disturbing phone call that she’d received the night of the fire. She suspected Michel had been behind that, too. What better way for him to drive a wedge between her and Quinn than by accusing him of being a serial killer? But she was reluctant to bring that up to Dennis or Quinn. What would it accomplish, other than cause grief and outrage unnecessarily?
But she could at least broach the subject of The Woods Strangler and Michel as a possible suspect.
“Do you think Michel could be involved in any way with the strangulation murders, Dennis?” Selene asked hesitantly, meeting Quinn’s steady gaze.
“That investigation is ongoing,” Cramer replied tersely. “Right now, there’s nothing we can hold Giovanni on related to that. But we’re not ruling anything out.”
I hope not. It pained her to think that he could be behind the killings. Still, Michel showing up as he had out of the blue and acting so strange regarding the case and reward money—not to mention him obsessing over her long after she should have been out of his system—left Selene fearful and uncertain about his motives and capabilities.
“But I do have some good news for you,” Cramer said. “While we had Giovanni in our custody, we arranged for a deputy with the county sheriff’s office to serve him the temporary restraining order. I personally gave Giovanni an explicit warning to stay the hell away from you. Hopefully he’ll comply until you can make it permanent.”
Selene concurred, though she had her reservations that Michel would abide by the law and leave her alone. “Thank you, Dennis.”
“No problem. I’ll be in touch.”
Selene hung up. She relayed the conversation to Quinn, ending with Michel being handed the restraining order.
“At least something good came out of it,” Quinn said. “That bastard had better keep his distance from you, Selene. I’m not going to let him hurt you.”
“I know,” she murmured. She felt safe in his strong arms, but was concerned about what might happen if Quinn and Michel met face to face. She feared the outcome, even as she contemplated the anonymous caller, arsonist, and serial killer while wondering if they could possibly be one and the same.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The Woods Citizens Against Crime group held a meeting on Sunday evening. Selene dutifully brought it to order, interrupting several spirited conversations. She said a few words, trying to keep things in a positive light, before turning the podium over to Quinn.
“Glad everyone could make it,” he said into the microphone. “Working together as neighbors is making a difference...”
“Yeah, such as...?” yelled a man from the back of the room. “It doesn’t seem to be any safer for my wife and daughter than before we formed this damn group.”
Quinn cocked a brow. He felt for the man, considering that he’d hardly seemed able to protect his own wife to his satisfaction. He had a feeling that Michel Giovanni had no intention of disappearing into the night, even with the temporary restraining order. The bastard would likely continue being a nuisance to Selene, and he suspected he would have to deal with him sooner or later.
He zeroed in on the man in the back and said, “I understand what you’re saying, but strength in numbers and regular patrols have certainly made things much more difficult for the killer. While we may not be able to stop him, as long as we don’t back down from protecting ourselves, the killer will think twice about targeting women in The Woods...”
Selene smiled at Quinn, then at Todd who was seated next to her. She was grateful that Todd had intervened last week, preventing Michel from doing who knew what. She couldn’t help but think that Todd would make a good husband for some lucky woman one day, if he ever decided to settle down instead of playing the field.
Selene turned her attention back to the meeting as an elderly woman in the front row stood up.
“I say we have to increase the reward money,” the woman said.
Quinn cast his eyes upon the woman. “Really?”
She glared at him. “Now don’t look at me like I’m crazy. We’ve got lots of rich folks in this community and I just happen to be one of them. If a little more money can jog memories or open some eyes, then I say it’s worth every penny, if it leads to catching the killer before any other women are killed.”
“What did you have in mind?” Quinn asked.
She looked around the room. “Well, it seems to me that upping the amount by fifty thousand is a worthwhile investment that none of us can afford to snub our noses at.”
“You’re right, four hundred grand is definitely nothing to snub our noses at,” Quinn said. “I’m sure that, as a group, we should be good for another fifty thousand in the pot.”
“Well, if she can convince a stingy guy like you, then I think I can put up my fair share,” Marvin said.
“You can count me in, too,” Julian McKenzie added.
“I might be good for a few bucks,” said another.
“Me, too,” someone followed.
One by one people made pledges to increase the reward money in the hope that it could lead to capturing the elusive serial killer.
Then one commanding voice seemed to rise above all others. “Why the hell should we reward people for doing the right thing?”
Selene looked over her shoulder and raised a brow when she saw Robert Leighton standing near the back of the room. She searched for his wife Ashley, but did not see her.
Quinn studied the man and chose his words carefully. “I agree with you, in theory. But, in reality, sometimes people need some help to do the right thing. Be it a little push forward...or cold hard cash. Since the former apparently hasn’t been strong enough to get people into the spirit of cooperation, more money just might be the thing to get someone to step up and identify the killer.”
Robert sneered. “That hasn’t been my experience,” he said. “As a criminal defense attorney, I haven’t represented one person who was arrested based on reward money. Doesn’t that tell you something? Rewards only encourage people to act like money hungry idiots rather than doing their civic duty.”
Quinn glanced at Selene, and she assumed that he was thinking about Michel’s keen interest in the reward money. She was more focused on Robert’s self-righteous attitude, considering he regularly beat his wife and seemed proud of it.
“I disagree with you,” Marvin said. “Idiots will come out of the woodwork whether there’s a reward or not. But lots of people who normally wouldn’t get inv
olved might if there was a good enough reason. Money’s always a strong incentive—the more, the better—even for people overflowing with dough who can never seem to get enough.”
Robert stiffened. “Look, if three hundred and fifty grand isn’t getting the job done, what the hell makes any of you think four hundred will be any different?”
“Because it’s fifty grand more—count it,” the elderly woman replied. “That’s enough to loosen some lips.”
“She’s got a point,” Julian said. “Do the arithmetic, man. Even a dollar more could make a difference.”
Robert Leighton was clearly outnumbered regarding the reward money. The attorney sniffled, but seemed unmoved.
Quinn accepted the will of the majority to increase the reward amount by fifty thousand.
“Maybe Detective Cramer would like to weigh in on this?” Selene suggested.
Dennis Cramer was sitting with his wife in a middle row, seemingly content to be an inconspicuous concerned citizen rather than a police detective.
Till Selene called him out.
He stood without going to the podium, but had no trouble speaking loudly enough to be heard. “I think rewards are a good thing and help stir the pot when law enforcement runs into a dead end. Increasing the reward money certainly can’t hurt anything. But, at the end of the day, it’s still usually good old-fashioned police work that leads to identifying and apprehending a suspect.” Cramer paused before stating flatly, “One way or the other, we’ll get the guy terrorizing our community. You can be sure of that.”
As the meeting concluded, Selene wondered if the additional reward money would achieve its objective. What would Michel do next in using the money as his excuse to hang around? Was it possible that he really had managed to track down some leads on the killer?
Or was his whole line simply a ruse to try and get to her?
Selene hoped the temporary restraining order would hold up so she and Quinn could live in peace where it concerned Michel Giovanni.
The Woods Strangler was a different story. None of them could live in peace while he was still out there prowling for victims.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
He watched as the meeting disbanded, easily circulating amongst the attendees engaged in small talk. It was a deliberate action on his part to draw some attention to himself in an attempt to keep things lively and debatable, just for effect and to keep them off balance. He enjoyed playing them for the fools they were, while hiding in plain sight.
He’d even amused himself by talking to Detective Dennis Cramer about the killings...
“Maybe the increased reward will make a difference...save some lives,” Cramer had moaned dispiritedly.
“Yeah, let’s hope so,” he’d agreed. “We all want this killer off the streets as soon as possible. The Woods used to be a fun, safe place to live. Now I hear people talking about selling their houses and leaving Bluffs Bay altogether.”
“It shouldn’t have to come to that,” Cramer told him. “But I can’t deny that property values are taking a hit from this. The sooner we can put it behind us; the sooner life can get back to normal around here.”
“I hear you.” He’d given the detective an agreeable smile and a firm handshake, before they went their separate ways.
He laughed at the idiot detective. If you only knew what I know. The killings will only end when I’m ready for them to. And I’m not ready yet.
As long as he still felt the adrenaline rush and had a bevy of nice looking women at his disposal, he would keep ending their lives. He’d have to be extra careful now, though. The noose was tightening and too many pairs of eyes looking for him could be dangerous.
Money made people talk, even if it was just guesswork. Four hundred grand could just about make him turn himself in, if he didn’t have to pay the price behind bars.
As it was, he wouldn’t make it easy to nab him. Not when it was much more fulfilling to outwit the cops and his dimwitted neighbors as he targeted the lovely ladies of The Woods.
He left the community center as casually as he had entered it. He promised folks he’d keep in touch, knowing he had no intention of doing so. There was one exception, though—the attractive African-American woman who’d been eyeing him all evening.
And vice versa.
Her name was Lynda Franklin. She was all that and then some with long blonde silk braids and a great figure. He made sure he kept a safe distance and feigned disinterest for all to see.
* * *
An hour later, he’d taken care of his obligations and could get away without attracting undue suspicion. He stepped outside for some fresh air. That didn’t seem unreasonable at this time of year, as it was stuffy inside, even with air conditioning. Which is what he’d counted on to maintain his cover of innocence.
He made his way on foot to the apartment complex where he knew Lynda Franklin lived. He’d overheard her giving someone her address, adding that she’d just broken up with her no good boyfriend. The other person had promised to drop by tomorrow.
He decided to pay her a visit tonight.
At the complex, he surveyed the area carefully, making sure not to draw any attention to himself. The smell of barbecued ribs was in the air and he could hear soul music blaring. Only a few people were around and none of them seemed particularly on guard or observant.
Lynda Franklin lived in a ground floor corner unit with an outside entrance. The living room light was on and he could see some movement inside through the vertical blinds.
He reconsidered whether he wanted to do this and if it was safe. Looking around, and relying on his instincts, he knew the answer practically before it registered in his brain.
The thought of playing with danger while still being in control excited him, just like the other times.
He sucked in a deep breath and calmly knocked on the door.
Within moments, the door opened. At first, she looked concerned. Till she recognized him.
He flashed his trademark smile.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asked.
“I’m cool,” he said, then produced a newsletter. “We’re trying to get these out so everyone in The Woods will be extra diligent till this thing blows over.”
Lynda took it, studying the paper as if a college exam. Looking up, she said, “Yeah, I appreciate it. We sure need to keep on our toes these days.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” he said, glancing down at her perfectly manicured toenails. Gazing back at her face, he could tell that she was interested in him.
And he was definitely interested in her.
After a slight pause, he said, “It’s one of those nights where it’s too damned hot inside and too hot outside.” He wiped his brow to emphasize the point. “Do you happen to have anything to drink? I could really use a cold one right about now.”
Lynda considered the request warily, then let her guard down and smiled. “Yeah, I’ve got some ice tea. Is that okay?”
“Perfect.”
“Come on in...”
He followed her through the door, closing it with his foot. He now had the bitch right where he wanted her.
* * *
Lynda Franklin left her guest in the living room while she went to the kitchen. She dropped some ice cubes into two glasses and filled them with ice tea. She thought briefly about her ex-boyfriend who had been unfaithful one time too many, forcing her to kick him to the curb. Maybe she was better off without him. Or maybe he had really meant it this time when he asked for one more chance.
Yeah, right. Too little, too late.
Her thoughts turned to the meeting she’d attended at the community center. Everyone was climbing the walls about the killer. He was out there somewhere, lying in wait, setting his sights on a woman when she least expected it.
Lynda was comforted that the man in the living room cared enough to go door-to-door, warning women like her to watch their back. The least she could do was give him something cold drink. It didn’t hurt one bit that
he was nice on the eyes and sexy as hell.
When she took the drinks to the living room, Lynda saw no sign of her visitor. She assumed he had decided he wasn’t so thirsty after all and left. She was mildly disappointed, but would get over it.
Then she heard movement behind her and turned around. The man she saw no longer had a mesmerizing smile on his handsome face. It was replaced with something bordering on a crazed, glacial expression as he removed a silk scarf from his pocket.
* * *
He could tell by her frightened eyes that Lynda knew she was in trouble. That excited him, as it had when the others also recognized they’d reached a point of no return.
She dropped the glasses on the carpet and tried to make a run for the door. But he quickly overtook her, wrapping the scarf so tightly around her neck that any chance to scream had been quickly squashed.
She did not put up much of a struggle, as if settling for the inevitable. That was a letdown of sorts, as he enjoyed it when they tried to fight back.
It wasn’t long before the life had drained out of Lynda Franklin and The Woods Strangler had once again satisfied his appetite for a victim.
He released her and watched as she sank to the floor; eyes wide open, yet not seeing anything but death. Suddenly there was a knock on the door, startling him.
A woman’s voice yelled, “Hey, Lynda, it’s me, Gail.”
His first thought was that she had heard something and was making sure her friend was all right.
But then she said, “I’m ‘bout to go to the store and pick up some stuff. You wanna come?”
He remained absolutely still. He was certain that Gail would not be able to see him through the blinds, which he’d closed, if he didn’t move. For a moment, he thought about going after her, getting double for his trouble tonight. The thought was arousing, but the better part of him knew he’d be taking too much of a risk.
Killer in The Woods: A Psychological Thriller Page 12
