by April Henry
“Maybe,” Raina said, not sounding like she believed it. She caught sight of a clock on the outside of a bank. “Hey, I’ve got to go meet my caseworker now. Will you be okay on your own?”
Alexis nodded, suddenly feeling ashamed of how she was pretending. Even though her motivation was different, was she any better than Miranda? She took out her phone. “Give me your phone number, and I’ll text you later, okay?”
Raina bit her lip and looked away. “I don’t have a phone anymore.”
“Oh,” Alexis said. “Then will I see you around?”
“Oh, I’m sure you will. If not today, then soon. Portland isn’t that big.”
They exchanged smiles and then Raina folded her into a quick, hard hug. Alexis was starting to put her phone back in her pocket when she saw that Ruby had texted her. Half a dozen times. First about Tiffany Yee’s death. Then about how she had been grounded and her parents were forcing to her to leave SAR. Alexis winced. She might not really understand how Ruby’s mind worked, but she knew one thing: SAR was the best thing that had ever happened to the girl.
The next text from Ruby begged Alexis to go with Nick in Ruby’s stead tomorrow. With Tiffany Yee’s death, she said, it was imperative that they figure out who the runner was. Alexis texted Ruby and Nick that she would take Ruby’s place.
She spent the rest of the morning asking about her mom, again with no success. At noon, she went to the Park Blocks, where she had heard that a church was serving up a weekly lunch. Her mouth watering, she showed her mom’s photo to everyone in line, with no success. The food was heaped in clear plastic tubs like the ones where her mom kept her scrapbooking supplies. There was no place to sit, so Alexis stood hunched over a plate of stew ladled onto mashed potatoes, enjoying every warm, steamy bite.
“Hey, darlin’,” a man’s voice drawled. Alexis looked up—and froze. It was the homeless guy she, Nick, and Ruby had talked to on the trail shortly before they found Miranda’s body. He was smiling at her appreciatively, and she could tell he had no idea they had met before. Of course, dressed in her mom’s shapeless clothes and with her hair finger-combed, Alexis looked nothing like the earnest young volunteer who had worn a red climbing helmet, a blue Gore-Tex jacket, and an orange waterproof cover over her SAR backpack.
“Um, hi,” she said, her voice betraying her uncertainty. Normally she wouldn’t even look at anyone who talked to her like that. But Detective Harriman had told her they hadn’t been able to find the homeless guy.
With a grin, he moved a little closer, close enough that she could hear the skull-shaped beads on the ends of his dreads tapping against each other. “After you’re done eating, want to go someplace?” He tapped his pocket meaningfully and raised an eyebrow. “Maybe have a little party?”
Alexis froze. Had he said those same words to Miranda and Tiffany and the third dead girl? From what she knew about the first two girls, those words might have been enough to have them agree.
Alexis had to alert Detective Harriman. “Sure.” She forced her lips into a smile she hoped looked genuine. “Let me just go to the bathroom first.”
CHAPTER 35
TUESDAY
HAD TO HAVE IT
For the last two days, Ruby had done exactly what her parents had ordered her to do. More or less. She had only left the house to go to school and come straight home. While her parents were at work, they called every hour to make sure she was staying put. Because her dad still had her cell phone, she hadn’t been able to call or text anyone on it. But that hadn’t stopped Ruby from using the house phone and texting on her computer. She was pretty sure her parents didn’t even know it was possible to text from a computer, but she wasn’t about to ask.
When her parents had come home from work Monday, they had found her curled on her bed in the dark, her fingers running ceaselessly back and forth over the satin binding on her blanket. It was a habit that dated back to when she was an infant, according to her parents, and one she still retreated to in times of great stress. When they asked her questions, she answered with just a word or two. She refused dinner, saying only “not hungry” and turning away from the light. Her parents talked to her and to each other in low voices, like she was sick.
Ruby was sick, sick with longing for SAR. Her parents didn’t understand how important it was to her. There was very little about her that they did understand. But Clinically Depressed Daughter they might get, so Ruby had decided to take all of her feelings and reactions and make them bigger than life. This morning they had insisted she go to school, then shot worried looks at each other when she ate only two bites of cereal.
But underneath her passive exterior, no matter what she was doing—lying in bed, riding the bus, sitting in class—Ruby was consumed with solving the mystery. Why had the killer targeted Miranda, Tiffany, and the still nameless girl? Why these three particular girls? Three girls. Three different races. One a poor student and rich. One a good student and poor. And one a question mark. All of them homeless or pretending to be.
If she knew the why, it could tell her the who. Was it the homeless guy? He had flirted with Alexis yesterday, offered her drugs. But when Alexis had tried to stall him long enough to call Detective Harriman, he had slipped away. A homeless guy might have different reasons for targeting homeless girls than someone who lived a more “normal” life.
And there was the runner that Alexis and Nick were going to try to track down tonight. The one Alexis had seen arguing with another girl who looked homeless. If he was the killer, it was even possible that the girl with the tiny blue stars tattooed on her face was already dead, just waiting for someone to find her body.
Why had the killer chosen these three—or four—girls to strangle? It had to be more than just homelessness. There were dozens and dozens of homeless girls and women in Portland, drawn by the mild climate, the number of social service agencies, and the fairly laid-back attitude. So if you had been driven to kill a black homeless girl because she reminded you of, say, your first girlfriend, you could easily find even more black homeless girls to kill. But instead the killer’s next victim had been a white girl who only pretended to be homeless. And instead of targeting a black or white girl after that, the killer had next strangled an Asian-American girl.
Now as she walked back to her house from the bus stop, Ruby replayed the conversation she had had after school yesterday with Nick about Tiffany Yee. She had called him on the house phone.
“But Tiffany Yee doesn’t look anything like Miranda Wyatt or that other girl who died,” he had said. “And you said serial killers have a type. What kind of serial killer murders girls who aren’t anything alike?”
Nick had a point, Ruby thought as she stepped into the living room and the alarm panel next to the door began to beep. In the dimness, her mom’s collection of owls stared at her. Plush, ceramic, or wooden. Crouching, proud, or wings spread. Realistic, primitive, or cartoonlike. With eyes made of buttons, paint, or glittering rhinestones.
Her dad was always after her mom to stop buying them, but if she saw one she didn’t have—an owl wearing a graduation cap, or a set of owl-shaped salt and pepper shakers, or a paperweight carved to look like an owl—then it was like she had to have it.
Behind Ruby, the alarm began to beep faster and faster. But she didn’t hear it.
Because suddenly the pieces of the puzzle came together.
CHAPTER 36
TUESDAY
COLLECT THE WHOLE SET
“I’ve figured it out,” a girl’s voice said as soon as Alexis pulled her cell phone from her pocket and said hello. Last night, defeated, she had finally returned to the apartment. It was clear that her mother hadn’t been home in her absence. Bran had texted her several times. Not wanting to lie and not wanting to tell the truth, she had just texted back that she was really busy and would talk to him later. This morning, she had gone back to school. She had barely heard a word her teachers said, her mind preoccupied by the problem of what she was going to d
o if her mom never came home. But she had still been able to hope. She’d even hurried home from school, imagining that her mom might be there.
Alexis was standing in the empty rooms, feeling disappointment settle onto her like a weight, when the phone rang.
“I know why those girls died. And I know who he’s going to kill next,” the girl continued.
“Ruby?” For a second, Alexis stopped thinking about her mom. “Is that you?”
“Serial killers always have a type.”
Something Ruby had already said. More than once. “Yes,” Alexis agreed impatiently.
“So why would he choose one black, one white, and one Asian?” Ruby didn’t pause for an answer. “Alexis, he’s collecting them!”
“Collecting them?” She wasn’t following.
“You know how they say on commercials, ‘Collect the whole set’? That’s just what this guy is doing.”
Alexis no longer saw her empty apartment. She thought of the nameless girl in the newspaper article, Miranda’s half-open eye, Tiffany’s photo on the memorial wall. “So you’re saying that’s the point? That’s why they don’t look anything alike?”
“Exactly. He wants one of each.”
“One of each? So who’s next?” Alexis thought of the dead girls. Black, white, Asian. She answered her own question. “He’ll go for a Hispanic girl.” She thought of the dark-haired girl at the bus mall with the tattoos on her face. “That girl I saw the runner arguing with—she could have been Hispanic.”
At the other end of the line, Ruby sucked in her breath. “That’s why you and Nick have to figure out who the runner is tonight. And then we’ll go back to Harriman.”
Alexis had called the detective yesterday, told him that the homeless guy with the dreads had offered to party with her. But she had felt compelled to leave out a few facts that would have made the story more interesting, like the fact that she was pretending to be homeless. Harriman had sounded distracted and uninterested.
“Okay. But there’s something else I have to do first.” She pictured Raina sprawled under a tree, a red line around her neck, her body growing cold, one eye not quite closed.
Alexis couldn’t let that happen.
CHAPTER 37
TUESDAY
THE SILVER TRACKS OF HER TEARS
Nick scanned the trail, keeping eyes and ears alert for the first sign of the runner. Was this what it had been like for his dad in Iraq when he was out on a mission? He imagined an enemy soldier creeping silently toward him.
Nick had been so excited that he had come here straight after school, long before Alexis arrived. She had only shown up a few minutes ago. With reddened eyes, she had talked about a homeless Hispanic girl she knew. A girl she now couldn’t find. Normally Nick would have loved to have her spilling her guts to him, but he knew they had to get into position. Five minutes ago, Nick had finally insisted they go to their hiding spots.
And now Nick heard noises. Feet slapped down the path. A body pushed through brush. He sucked in his breath and tried to hold absolutely still.
It was only when a dog crashed into his legs that he realized they had forgotten to account for the animals. Both of them now nosed Nick’s crotch and whined while he tried to silently shoo them away, pushing their heads. Why was he stuck with both of them? Alexis was a couple hundred yards back on the trail, so why wasn’t at least one of them bugging her?
The man whistled as he ran past. “Leave it, Milly, Murphy! Leave it!”
With one last sniff, the dogs took off after the runner.
Nick waited a half minute and then followed. A hundred yards farther on, the trail turned. He couldn’t see the guy. He couldn’t see the dogs. He could hear them, though, and he was a fast runner. Nick imagined himself an Indian scout, one with nature, able to run silently through the forest for miles. He even leapt over a log. But when he rounded the bend, there was still no sign of anyone, man or beast. Nick put the power on, his backpack thumping with each step, ignoring the fact that his side was starting to feel like someone had stabbed him and left the knife behind.
Finally he reached the edge of the parking lot. He ducked behind a tree. The runner had taken the leashes from his pocket—the same leashes he had probably strangled those girls with—and was clipping them on the dogs. When Alexis came huffing up behind Nick, he turned with his finger on his lips. “He’s just putting leashes on them. He hasn’t gone near a car. I think he might have walked here.”
Which was good, because it meant they didn’t have to try to get close enough to read his license plate. When the runner left the parking lot, they fell into step behind him, keeping about a block back.
But what if the guy looked back? Nick grabbed Alexis’s hand.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, trying to yank it back. One of the dogs lifted its head.
“Pretending we’re a couple,” he said out of the side of his mouth. Despite everything that was happening, he felt a secret thrill saying the word. “He’s not going to be worried about a couple following him.”
“Oh.” Alexis stopped trying to pull away, but her hand was still a tight knot in his.
After a few blocks, the runner turned up a walkway in front of a house. It was situated on a corner lot, set well away from its neighbors. Nick looked back. They were only five or six blocks from the border of Forest Park. Easy access for anyone who needed to dump a body. A shiver ran over him.
The man unlocked the front door, then unclipped the dogs from their leashes. The dogs bounded into the darkened house ahead of him. Then he went inside and the living room light came on. Alexis ducked behind a telephone pole across the street, and Nick tucked himself in behind her. Through the open blinds, they watched him move through the living room until he turned right and disappeared down what must be a hall.
At the far end of the house, a light came on. Through white lace curtains, they saw a tall figure entering the room and a shorter, slighter one getting off a bed. The shorter one raised its hands in front of its face, as if warding off a blow. Nick sucked in his breath. The tall one was definitely the runner. But the other, the shorter and slighter one? Nick was pretty sure it was a girl. A dark-haired girl. His heart was beating like a crazy windup toy.
The guy was waving his arms, and even from across the street, they could hear the faint sounds of yelling as he moved toward the girl.
As the guy got closer to her and farther away from the door, the girl suddenly ducked under his arm and made a run for it. First out of the room, and then a second later, the front door of the house flew open and she came barreling out. Her eyes were wild, and her feet were bare.
Nick and Alexis didn’t have time to move or even breathe before the man appeared, scrambling down the steps after the girl. He lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. He yanked her so hard she stumbled backward.
“No!” she screamed. “No, you can’t do this to me! No!”
He didn’t answer. He just dragged her back up the stairs, forced her inside, and slammed the door shut.
Wide-eyed, Alexis and Nick stared at each other.
“Is that the girl you know?”
She shook her head. “But I think it’s the one I saw him with at the bus stop.”
“Crap!” Nick thought he was going to throw up. “He’s probably killing her right now!”
Alexis was already dialing 9-1-1. In a high-pitched voice, she told the dispatcher to send the police and gave them the address of the house. “A man’s holding a girl captive there, and I think he’s trying to kill her.” Her voice sharpened with urgency. “She just tried to get away, and he dragged her back inside.” After a pause, Alexis put her hand over the mouthpiece. “They have units on the way.”
The cops might be coming, but would they be fast enough? Hadn’t Ruby told them that if someone strangled you, you could die in ninety seconds?
But that wasn’t going to happen now. Not to another girl. Not if Nick had anything to say about it.
�
�We’ve got to stop him,” he said. He didn’t know who he was talking to and then he realized it was himself. “We can’t let him kill another girl.” He slipped his backpack off one shoulder and blindly yanked out a notebook.
“What are you doing?” Alexis said.
Instead of answering, Nick let the backpack thump to the ground and pounded across the street. He took the two steps in a single bound, his finger already jabbing the button for the doorbell. He had never been more frightened in his life.
Inside, the bell echoed. Nick held his breath. No answering voice. No footsteps. Not even a whisper.
He leaned on the button until it let out a continuous peal.
The runner wrenched open the door. “What?” he snarled. His face was flushed, contorted with anger.
Think, Nick, think! He pasted the world’s fakest smile on his face, and suddenly the words just came to him. “Good evening. Um, I’m going door-to-door today on behalf of Ruby McClure, your independent candidate for mayor.” He flipped open his notebook, which was filled with his biology notes. Hopefully this guy couldn’t read his bad handwriting upside down. A lightning bolt of panic shot through Nick as he realized he didn’t even have a pen. Still he poised his empty hand over the page as if he were holding one. “So how do you intend to vote?”
The guy stared at him. “Are you talking about the election?”
“Um, yes.” His ears strained to hear the girl, but behind the man the house was silent. Silent as a grave. Please, Nick prayed, please let her be okay.
“The election was over a week ago.”
Obviously he should have paid more attention in social studies. “We’re getting a head start on the next one.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Do I know you?”
Widening his eyes, Nick tried to look innocent. “I don’t think so.” This angry-looking man bore little resemblance to the happy-go-lucky runner with two dogs he had met a week ago. Nick hoped that, minus his SAR gear, the same was true for him.
