by D. K. Hood
“Julie, isn’t it?” The person smiled. “Mind if I walk with you? After hearing the sheriff’s warning, I feel a little worried about walking alone.”
Julie smiled. “Me too.” She fell into step beside them.
“Where are you headed?” The acquaintance strolled along beside her.
Not wanting to discuss her need to find Jenna, Julie indicated with her chin toward the elevator. “I left my iPad in my room. I want to make notes at the forum.”
“I’m heading that way too.” The person smiled broadly and pressed the button for the elevator. “How wonderfully convenient.”
Before she could reply, the elevator doors opened and Zac Rio appeared wearing a scowl. Julie looked at him in astonishment.
“What are you doing out of the conference hall?” Rio looked from one to the other. “Who’s your friend?”
“Just someone wanting to use the elevator.” They pushed past him, stepped inside and the doors closed.
“Who was that and why are you wandering around the lodge on your own?” Rio glared down at her. “Didn’t you listen to Jenna?”
Embarrassed, Julie’s face grew hot. Rio made her feel like his little sister, and unlike her, she’d never gotten into trouble. “Yes, I listened and I wasn’t alone, was I? I met that person at the conference yesterday and they offered to walk with me to the elevator, so stop acting like my father.” She sighed. “I don’t recall their name. I needed to see Jenna urgently.” She took in his disgruntled expression. “Is something wrong? You look angry.”
“You could say that.” Rio turned back to the elevator and pressed the button. “First, Kane roughs me up because I tried to protect you, and now he’s moved into my room.” He rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m not easily intimidated, but right now, I’m a red flag and he’s a mad bull. I figure he’s had a fight with Jenna. They’re at each other’s throats.” He swung his gaze back to her. “Unless they’re like this all the time?”
“No, they’re usually great.” Julie frowned. “Uncle Dave only gets mad if someone tries to hurt one of us, but then it’s a cool calculated mad. I’ve never seen him yell at anyone, not ever.” She thought for a beat. “We all assumed they were in a relationship.”
“Well, that would make sense.” Rio rubbed the back of his neck. “A lovers’ spat maybe.”
The elevator stopped at the interview room floor and Julie looked at him. “Talk to him, maybe he needs a man-to-man chat with someone.”
“Me?” Rio snorted with laughter. “No way. I’m keeping my head down.”
Julie led the way through the open door of the suite and headed for where Jenna was working on her laptop. “Jenna, I think I might have a clue to the killer.”
Thirty-Five
So close her hair brushed my cheek. I could smell her fear, and her eyes, so wide with terror, made the temptation almost irresistible, but only a fool would take such a risk. I’m in complete control and it would’ve been foolish to extinguish her in the elevator. The cameras are everywhere, and although I’d love to share my skills with the world, alas, to finish my story I’m compelled to keep my hoodie up and my head down. I take the elevator to the next floor, move quickly to the stairs, and make my way back down to the conference. I need to be seen in the crowd with hundreds of witnesses and will be the social butterfly this afternoon. My plans are set and I have everything I need waiting for me in the forest. I’m salivating at the thought of my next kill. I enjoy brutality, feed on pain and suffering, but the thrill will be dismembering someone right under the sheriff’s nose and then presenting my kill as an offering.
I’m smiling at the thought of the delights to come. The next will be a confection of my skills, one that will make all who love writing about crime sit up and take notice. There will be fear but also kudos for my ingenuity, something that has been sadly overlooked by the publishing industry. Will the guests run screaming from the ski lodge, demanding the sheriff allow them to leave and damn the risk of dying on the road down the mountain? Or will the fools continue to believe my kills are just part of an elaborate charade? After this, I can turn my attention to a burning need, I refuse to deny myself: Julie. One thing is for sure, when my hands close around her slender neck, I won’t be playing games.
Thirty-Six
On hearing Julie’s voice, Jenna shut her laptop on the crime scene photographs she was scanning for clues. She’d had the unfortunate task of having to speak with Kitty Pandora’s husband. The distraught man had informed her Kitty never removed the missing ring from her finger. It was her engagement ring and he’d send Jenna a photograph of Kitty wearing the distinctive diamond and sapphire ring. She smiled at Julie. “Okay, sit down and tell us what you’ve discovered. Rio, close the door. We don’t want anyone listening in.”
After everyone had drawn close, Jenna leaned back in her chair, listening intently to the link between the murder victims. She made fast notes and looked up at Kane. “So what’s the deal with this killer?”
“Well, if it had been all agents, I’d say he was an author who’d been rejected, but why would he kill the authors?” Kane stared at the ceiling for a few seconds and then lowered his gaze to Jenna. “The fact he’s using the authors’ methods of killing in the three murders is significant. How I’m not entirely sure. Jealousy that they’re published and he isn’t, perhaps?”
Intrigued, Jenna stared at him, her mind rushing to work out all the implications. “When we talked to the Black Rock Falls series author on the day we arrived, she mentioned Dakota Storm was a great agent, but that she was blunt, let’s say, to authors she rejected, and from what she said, that could be hundreds a week.”
“That’s true.” Julie’s eyes widened. “From what I hear, she’s the agent all the authors want to represent them. She makes incredible deals and her clients are bestsellers but she only considers the very best. So, I would say, she very rarely takes on new clients.”
As the possible motive of the murders slotted into place, Jenna nodded. “Okay, so we need theories. Why is the suspect killing authors, and if they wanted to be represented by Dakota Storm, why kill her?”
“That would depend on how deep she wounded the killer when she rejected them.” Kane rested one boot on his knee and leaned back in his chair. “Say, the killer and the other two victims all submitted pitches at the same time. They’re all friends and Dakota took two of them and rejected the killer. That alone would be enough to trigger resentment in a psychopath, especially a sleeping one, like Jo suggested, and might be enough to trigger a revenge episode.”
“So where does the frozen-lake scenario fit in?” Emily stood and went to make coffee. “Dakota Storm only represented that book. She didn’t write it.”
“And that author isn’t at the conference.” Julie pushed her hands through her long hair. “Although, the book is all over Dakota’s promotion. Her biggest deal yet. She would have made a ton of money out of her commission; she sold the film rights as well.”
Mind working overtime, Jenna stared at her. “So, she was killed before she could enjoy the benefits of her deal?” She looked at Kane. “Now all we need to do is connect the three victims to someone at the conference.”
“Not everyone.” Kane raised both eyebrows. “We’ve narrowed the possible suspects down to four: August Bradford, Murphy Finnian, Bexley Grayson, and Parker Rain. The first thing I’d suggest is hunting down what connects our suspects to the victims. Perhaps Dakota rejected one of them and triggered the killing spree. Remember, it only takes someone to trigger a psychopathic killer and it has a domino effect. It lights up their memories as if they happened yesterday and feeds their urge to kill. At this time, an organized psychopath can become a frenzied killer.” He sighed. “Look at Bundy. He killed women, but one at a time, and then something triggered him to go on a killing spree at the sorority house. To anyone looking at him, he seemed like a nice guy and hid the truth in a mask of clever deceptions.” He shrugged. “If you want my take on this, I figure we
have a similar profile and the fact he went to Julie’s room and did nothing suggests he is planning his next move. He’s trying to prove a point… something that only he understands—one thing’s for sure, we’ll never be able to see the logic in what he’s doing.”
Jenna nodded. “Agents must keep records. We should start there.”
“That theory only takes into account the motive for Dakota Storm’s murder.” Rio stood and went to help Emily carry cups of coffee to the table. “We have two constants in our puzzle. One is Dakota Storm. The second is the conference. We just have to discover who pitched to Dakota Storm and was rejected at the same time as the other two gained representation—and then match the list to our suspects.”
“If it is one of our suspects.” Rubbing her temples, Jenna looked at him. “If they come up clean, it will be like finding a needle in a haystack. We’ll need a search warrant from a different county to start with, and then a ton of people to check.”
“If that happens, we can start by asking the agency.” Kane took a cup of coffee from Emily with a smile. “They might cooperate as it’s a murder investigation. I’m more inclined to speak to the suspects again and ask them if they’ve ever pitched to Dakota Storm.”
Jenna shrugged. “Okay. Get at it.” She reached for her cup. “Although, you’re assuming they’ll tell you the truth.”
“I know how to interview a psychopath.” Kane sipped his beverage. “I’ll play to their ego and just slip the question in under the radar.”
After mulling over the next step to take, Jenna looked at Rio. “Okay, Rio. I’ll put you in charge of rounding up our suspects. Do it surreptitiously so it isn’t noticed.” She swung her attention to Kane. “Dave, you can do your thing and I’ll go with Julie to search her room again. So far, the killer has left two earrings at crime scenes and taken a trophy from Julie and Kitty Pandora. I’m wondering if the intruder left anything in Julie’s room. We haven’t done a forensic sweep and maybe we need to look a little closer.”
“As the person was covered from head to foot and no doubt wearing gloves, it would’ve been a waste of time.” Kane leaned back in his chair. “There’s unknown trace DNA and fingerprints in hotel rooms and anything we found would be inadmissible in court. Unless it was tissue or blood, or bloody finger- or footprints.”
“It would be impossible to know if the killer left anything at Kitty Pandora’s crime scene too.” Rio stirred cream into his cup. “There’s no way of telling what things belong to her. As she travels all the time and no doubt buys things along the way, I doubt her husband would know either.”
Jenna finished her coffee and pushed to her feet. “Agreed.” She turned to go and then looked back at Kane. “We’ll take a break for lunch at noon. Do you want me to walk Duke while you’re busy?”
“Nope.” Kane didn’t lift his gaze from his screen. “I’ll make time to take him out before lunch. I need to stretch my legs too.”
“Okay.” Jenna smiled at Julie. “Ready to search your room?”
“Um…” Julie looked at Emily. “Can you do it? You’re the expert and I’d like to get back to the conference. They’re having a contest today. We team up in groups and try to solve a murder, so I’ll be all over the place.”
“Yeah, sure.” Emily stood. “I’ll grab my kit, just in case we find anything.”
Jenna held up a hand to stop Julie leaving. “Wait here and go down with Rio I don’t want you wandering around the conference alone. Promise me you’ll stay with your group.” She walked to the door and waited for Emily.
“Okay.” Julie sat back down. “It will be perfectly safe. There’ll be people all over. I’ll be fine.”
“And if I find you’ve been wandering around alone…” Emily narrowed her gaze at her sister. “I’ll call Dad and he’ll be taking you straight home. It’s not worth the risk. If you can’t find anyone to go places with you, call me and I’ll come down.” She followed Jenna to the door and lowered her voice to a whisper. “She doesn’t seem to understand the danger.”
Jenna pressed the elevator button. “After that creep got into her room. I think she does.”
Thirty-Seven
An icy blast, seared through Quentin Riggs’s clothes and he buttoned up his coat as he stepped outside and surveyed the snowscape. Even the great pine forest hadn’t shielded the ground from the blizzard. The branches of each tree bowed under the weight of the snow, and long icicles hung down like a million daggers as far as the eye could see. The scent of the forest in winter was unique—a blend of many flavors—but today the smell of freshly cut wood and gas engines lingered in the air. The sound of chainsaws disturbed the silence as the maintenance crew dashed out to do their daily clearing of the fallen branches. They returned dragging sleighs piled high with logs for the fires. He pulled out his pack of cigarettes, glad the manager at the lodge had conceded his guests needed the alarm on one of the emergency exit doors disabled to allow the smokers to escape outside to enjoy their addiction in peace. He lit up and inhaled, sighing as the smoke mixed with the steam from his breath and dissipated into the air. The door opened and another guest stepped out to indulge. He offered them a nod. “We must be crazy to be out here. My feet haven’t thawed since I came out before. I must try and cut down. The cold will kill me before the cancer.”
“I doubt the cold will kill you.” A smile creased the guest’s face.
Riggs held their gaze for a moment. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
“Yeah, I pitched my novel to you at the last conference and you asked for the full. It was called Revenge Is Sweet.” The acquaintance leaned against the wall and shrugged. “But you rejected me.”
Searching his mind, Riggs took a long drag on his cigarette. “I do recall reading your submission. You write well, but your stories are without substance. Your murders lacked imagination and I knew who the killer was from the second chapter.”
“If I write well, don’t you think a good agent would have been able to guide me to becoming great?”
Riggs shook his head. “No. Agents often don’t make good authors. You know as well as I do, if I represented you, I’d read your work and perhaps make a few suggestions, but I don’t have the time to nurse potential authors along. I have to make a living too, you know.”
“If you could indulge me for a moment.” The guest moved a little closer. “What makes the murders in the book you talked about earlier more imaginative than mine?”
Biting back a laugh, Riggs grinned at him. “Body Parts is terrifying. It’s a thriller that teases the edge of a horror story. The stalking, disabling, and dismembering of a person while they’re alive kept me awake at night trying to get to the end of the book to find out what had happened.”
“But wasn’t that taken from true crime?” The acquaintance looked bemused. “I mean, to me it was almost a copy of the notorious murders that happened right here in this forest.”
“I guess.” Riggs pulled on his cigarette again, growing tired of the conversation. “There are so many stories out there and they’d have to cross over with real crimes by coincidence or intent. There are only so many ways you can kill a person and only so many plots to explore.”
“No, there are unlimited ways to kill and I’d say if I allowed my imagination to run wild, I’d find a million plots to explore.” The acquaintance moved a little closer. “I believe the Stanton Forest Killer’s idea of injuring the spinal cord was unique, although the most productive way to damage the spinal cord to cause paralysis would be from the neck down—not the waist. Now that would take skill, or the victim would die at once and then the thrill of the kill would be lost. Don’t you agree?”
Intrigued, Riggs smiled. “Go on, now you’re interesting me.”
“Well, if you take the notorious James Stone. He went for the waist and used a knife.” The acquaintance moved closer. “I would go for the cervical spine area and use a stun gun. No blood, and the victim is immobilized at once. It would be so easy; the vic
tim would never see it coming. Let me demonstrate.”
The shock hit him hard in a blinding wall of pain. He fell into the snow twitching and his arms and legs refused to respond. Was this some kind of a sick joke? Riggs couldn’t control his eyes or lift his head from the freezing snow. He tried to speak but nothing came from his mouth. Close by, the roar of an engine and the smell of fuel crawled up his nose as a snowmobile came from around the side of the building. Trapped in his own body, he tried to swivel his eyes. Was someone there to help him? The abductor leaned over him, wrapped a rope around his feet, climbed aboard the snowmobile and dragged him into the forest. Terror gripped him as his head bumped along behind his inert body, snow and pine branches catching in his hair and scratching his face. The forest closed in around them and they came to a stop. His eyes moved and he croaked out a whisper. “Okay, you made your point. Now take me back to the lodge.”
