Targeted (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 9)

by Becky Durfee

  “Do you think a group of girls could be followed home without noticing?”

  “Easily.”

  Easily.

  A trio of young men approached the door, so Jenny said, “I’ll get out of your way. Thanks for your help.”

  “No problem,” the guy replied before turning his attention to the customers.

  Jenny walked back into the bar, through the blaring music and back to her husband, who was sipping on a beer while playing with his phone. He glanced up at her, asking, “Did you find out anything?”

  “Only the stark realization that it could have been anybody.” She plopped into the booth, adding, “This strip of bars is only a handful of blocks from both Sonya’s and Lisa’s places. It’s within walking distance, if you wanted to avoid driving home. According to the bouncer, most people do walk after leaving here, and it would be very easy to follow a group of drunk girls out of here without them noticing.” She wiped her eyes. “It may have been a quick, casual encounter that sealed these girls’ fates. They may have simply rejected the wrong guy.” Hanging her head, she muttered, “This is turning into a nightmare.”

  A plate of nachos appeared before Zack, who thanked the waitress and began digging in. Still full from dinner, Jenny almost felt sick watching him eat again.

  “Well, there is that one piece of concrete evidence,” Zack noted, “that size fourteen shoe print outside Lisa’s window. You know who probably has feet that big? Luke Thomas.”

  “I know,” Jenny replied with a sigh. “Jason Lewis—the guy with the sick wife—had much smaller feet than that. I don’t know about Scott Sweigert.”

  “I think you’d have to be a pretty big guy to have feet that size.”

  “Either that, or you’d have to be freakishly disproportionate.”

  “Do you know how tall Scott is?”

  “Based on the vision I had from Sonya Lee, he didn’t appear to be that tall.”

  “So that leaves Luke,” Zack concluded.

  “Either that,” Jenny added, “or it’s someone we haven’t considered yet.”

  Jenny let out a yawn as they left Shenanigans and headed toward Eddie’s Brewery, which was just a few doors down. “It’s only, like, nine-thirty, and I’m already beat,” Jenny confessed. “I don’t know how these kids do it.”

  “They’re on a different schedule,” Zack replied, “and they nap.”

  After showing their licenses to the bouncer, they went inside. This place was more like a sports bar, with televisions showing every game imaginable. Several giant vats sat behind the bar, indicating the beer was home brewed.

  “Ooh,” Zack said, “I just might have to try me one of these.”

  Jenny glanced at the few patrons that sat in various places throughout the room, her eyes landing on a blond man sitting alone at the bar. “You go right ahead,” she said. “I’m going to have a nice conversation with Scott Sweigert.”

  Chapter 8

  “Scott Sweigart?” Jenny asked as she sat next to the blond man at the bar.

  His eyes were bloodshot and half closed; his head rested in his left hand, and his right hand held an empty glass. Looking up at Jenny—an act which appeared to take a lot of effort—he slurred, “Not again. Not here.”

  She smiled pleasantly, glancing down at his feet, guessing his shoe size to be eleven or twelve. “I’m not here to interrogate you.”

  “Then how do you know my name?”

  “You probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me. This whole month has been friggin unbelievable.” He held up his empty glass to the bartender, who took the hint.

  “Are you sure you should be having another one of those?” Jenny asked. “You look like you may have had enough.”

  “Am I still sitting here? Have I passed out yet? Do I still feel pain? As long as those answers are all yes, then I have not had enough.”

  Jenny understood what he meant, even though he hadn’t said it right. “Fair enough. How do you plan to get home?”

  He shook his head slowly, looking on the verge of tears. “I have no idea, and I don’t care.”

  “You need to be able to get home,” Jenny suggested.

  “No, I don’t.” He was just about as drunk as anyone Jenny had ever seen. “I’ll just sleep right here.” He pointed clumsily to the ground. “On the floor.”

  “I don’t think they’re going to let you sleep on the floor.”

  “Who are you, anyway?” He asked as another drink appeared in front of him. He nodded his appreciation toward the bartender and then swayed to face Jenny.

  “My name is Jenny; I’m a psychic.”

  He simply looked at her, as if he was trying unsuccessfully to focus.

  “I saw a vision of you, talking with Sonya Lee behind the prescription counter at Jensen’s. She was telling you that you needed to be more assertive and start asking girls out.”

  “I did ask a girl out. I asked Lisa out, and now she’s dead.” He suddenly looked confused, asking, “Hey, how did you know about what Sonya said to me?”

  “I’m a psychic,” Jenny repeated. “I saw it in a vision.”

  “A vision, huh?”

  Zack took a seat next to Jenny at the bar, placing his home-brew in front of him.

  “I told you that you wouldn’t believe it,” Jenny told Scott.

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore. No. I take that back. You know what I believe? I believe that if I had the balls to ask Lisa out sooner, she may have been hanging out at my place that night instead of at her place getting killed.” Tears began to fall down his cheeks. “Oh, God, she’s dead. And Sonya’s dead.” He downed his drink in one gulp and lowered his head to cry.

  Jenny turned to the bartender. “I don’t think he should be having any more of these.”

  “They’re virgin,” he replied. “Have been for a while. It’s easier to do that than to refuse customers; sometimes they get ugly when you won’t serve them.”

  “Good tactic. Is he paying for those?” Zack asked with a smirk.

  “He’s got a tab,” the bartender explained as he dried some glasses. “I’m not adding these on. From what he’s been telling me, he knew both Lisa Penne and Sonya Lee personally. He’s taking it pretty hard. I can’t say I blame him for getting wasted.” He gestured in Scott’s direction. “You able to get him home?”

  “Me?” Jenny asked. “I don’t think so. I don’t even really know him.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Scott said, suddenly lifting his head, his defiant words blending together. “I’ll walk home. Or I’ll just sleep right here. I don’t give a shit. It doesn’t matter.” He folded his arms on the bar, placing his forehead on top of them.

  Jenny wondered if he had just passed out.

  “He’s in rough shape,” Zack said.

  The bartender nodded in agreement. “Uh-huh.”

  Jenny reached out her hand and patted Scott’s back, noticing the lack of a burning sensation from the contact. A wave struck her instead. The dim lighting of the bar was replaced with the bright fluorescents of a classroom, but her hand was still on his back, and his head was still resting on his folded arms at his desk.

  He raised his head with an expression of both sadness and humor on his face. “I studied so hard for this.”

  “A C is not the end of the world,” she heard herself say. A feeling of warmth encompassed Jenny’s body; she was in the presence of someone she was attracted to, and things seemed to be going in the right direction.

  “But…” he replied, laughing despite his disappointment. “But it should have been an A. You got an A, and we studied together.” He reached over and snatched a paper off of Jenny’s desk, holding it up next to his own. “How did I get that wrong? I knew that one.” He playfully slammed the papers down on his desk, announcing, “I am such an idiot.”

  “Don’t worry; you’ll still go on to sell drugs to people.”

  “Yeah,” Scott retorted with a laugh, “on a stree
t corner.”

  The vision faded when Scott raised his head, looking at Jenny with half-closed eyes. “I’ve got to hit the little boys’ room,” he told her.

  He got off the bar stool, wobbling his way toward the restrooms.

  Taking advantage of Scott’s absence, Jenny turned to the bartender and asked, “What has he been saying about the murders? Anything particularly interesting?”

  The bartender shrugged. “He’s just upset that someone has been killing his friends…I really feel for the guy, to tell you the truth. I didn’t even know those girls, aside from seeing them in here from time to time, and their deaths have affected me. I can’t imagine how it would feel if I knew them both.”

  “That’s just it,” Jenny said, “he’s one of the few people who actually did know them both. I’m wondering if he holds the key to this thing.”

  “Do you think he did it?” the bartender replied, appearing surprised.

  Jenny looked squarely back at him and asked, “Do you?”

  “That guy? I wouldn’t think so. He seems more the pushover type, if you ask me.”

  She silently acknowledged that sometimes the pushovers get tired of that role and reach their breaking point. Although, based on the vision she’d just gotten, she didn’t think that Lisa had been treating him badly. In fact, Lisa seemed more than happy to be talking with him. Had things gone sour between them, Jenny imagined she would have been subjected to an ugly vision instead of one that portrayed Scott as a likable guy.

  Clearly, Lisa didn’t think Scott Sweigert was the killer. Coupled with the fact that his feet were the wrong size, Jenny didn’t either.

  Scott returned from the bathroom, placing both hands clumsily on his bar stool. With great effort, he lifted himself up, trying to get seated in the tall chair.

  “Here,” Jenny said, “let me help you with that.” She put her hands on his elbow, guiding him into place.

  “Thanks,” he said mechanically. He then looked up at Jenny, squinting, as if trying to focus on her face. Covering one of his eyes with his hand, he leaned in closer and said, “Who are you?”

  “My name is Jenny,” she said again. “I’m a psychic.”

  “A psychic?” He seemed to think about that for a while, but only added, “Huh.”

  “Is something wrong with your eye?”

  “No,” Scott replied, using his free hand to raise a finger. “Covering one eye helps me see only one of everything.”

  “Wow,” Zack said from behind her, “he’s toast.”

  “I think we should get you a ride home,” Jenny suggested to Scott.

  “I don’t need a ride home,” he replied. Leaning in closer to Jenny, he softly said, “Home is sad.”

  “Do you live by yourself?”

  Without answering, he once again folded his arms over the bar and placed his head on them.

  Jenny let out a sigh and dug into her purse. Pulling out some cash, she addressed the bartender. “When you see fit, can you use this money to call him a cab? There’s enough for a tip for the driver if he can make sure he gets into his house okay. There’s also a little something for you for your trouble.” She waved a bill in the air before placing all the money on the bar.

  “Sure thing.”

  “Do you know where he lives, by any chance?” Jenny asked. “Just in case he can’t tell the driver his address?”

  The bartender shrugged nonchalantly. “His license will say if he can’t.”

  “Good point,” Jenny replied. She patted Scott on the back and said, “You hang in there, okay buddy?”

  He raised one hand in the air in a half-hearted wave before plopping it back down on the bar.

  The bartender winked at Jenny. “I think I’ll be calling sooner rather than later.”

  “Good idea.” Jenny waited for Zack to finish his drink before they headed outside to go to the Tap House, which was only a few doors down from Eddie’s Brewery.

  Once outside, Zack remarked, “You seemed awfully concerned about him back there. Something tells me you don’t think he’s our guy.”

  “I don’t,” Jenny admitted.

  “I noticed he had normal feet,” Zack said.

  “Yup. Normal feet and, according to the vision I got from Lisa, a pleasant personality.”

  “Didn’t Sonya incriminate him in a vision?”

  “Not necessarily,” Jenny said. “She might have been trying to finger Jason Lewis, the guy with the sick wife and the nine-and-a-half-wides.” She shook her head with frustration. “I can’t help but think it’s more random than what we’re investigating.”

  “You say random,” Zack noted, “but these killings seem awfully deliberate.”

  “I know. Random is the wrong word. I feel like they are more of a result of a chance encounter—like both girls happened to look at the wrong guy cross-eyed, and he didn’t take to it too kindly.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “The fact that they’re guessing,” Jenny replied. “The girls are clearly offering up suggestions, but it’s not like in previous cases where they’ve let me know with certainty who we’re dealing with.” She blew out a long breath. “If they knew they wronged someone, they would most likely remember that and make me aware of it. Since that’s not happening, I imagine that they upset somebody without even realizing it.”

  “That’s going to make this case harder to solve.”

  “I believe nearly impossible is the phrase you’re looking for.”

  After an unenlightening trip to The Tap House, the couple headed to the car. Unlike when they had arrived, people crowded the streets, swarming in every direction, their loud voices permeating the night.

  “I have to admit,” Jenny began, “I’m looking forward to going to bed. This old lady is tired.”

  “I’m getting that way myself,” Zack added. “That homebrew was good, but it’s putting me to sleep.”

  The car wasn’t that far from the Tap House, so they arrived quickly. “It looks like all four tires are intact,” Zack noted. “That’s a good thing.”

  Jenny froze. “Yeah, but this time we’ve got something else to worry about.” She swallowed and added, “There’s a note on our windshield.”

  Chapter 9

  “What does it say?” Zack asked.

  Jenny pulled her sleeve down over her hand so she wouldn’t leave any fingerprints on the paper. Removing it from the windshield wiper, she flipped it over to see both sides. “It’s just a smiley face,” she said to Zack.

  He looked up and down the street, saying, “It doesn’t look like there are any notes on the other cars.”

  With the fatigue suddenly gone from her body, Jenny asked, “What should we do?”

  He started examining the buildings, stating, “One of these places has to have a security camera. We can’t possibly go oh-for-three.”

  “It’s dark,” Jenny replied. “Even if there is a camera, how clear would the picture be?”

  “Maybe not super clear, but probably at least good enough to get an idea of the guy’s build.”

  After giving him a moment to look around, Jenny asked, “Are you seeing any?”

  “Not yet, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

  Jenny gave him a little more time before stating, “Don’t we already have an idea of his build? It takes a big guy to have a size fourteen shoe.”

  “Skinny guys can have big feet,” Zack replied.

  “Do you think somebody may have seen him put the paper there? Maybe we don’t need a camera—maybe we have an actual eyewitness.”

  “It’s possible,” Zack said as he seemed to give up his search for a camera. “The trouble is, even if somebody saw it, they may not have taken notice. Or if they did, they may not be able to remember it tomorrow. Drinks in bars are expensive, so I bet a lot of these kids get liquored up at home before they come out.” He walked over and put his arm around Jenny’s shoulder. “They might not make the most reliable witnesses.”

&nb
sp; “I guess I can tell Detective Brennan about this in the morning,” Jenny said with defeat. “Although, it’s possible that it’s not even related. Could it be that some drunk kid just left a random friendly message and it happened to be on our car?”

  “Yup. I doubt that’s the case, though, considering he’s messed with our car two other times today. But it’s possible.”

  She leaned against the Honda, looking at the picture in her hand. “It was smart of him to leave this…if it was him. There are a million witnesses around, but even if someone questioned him about it, all he’s doing is putting a smiley face on my car. That’s hardly illegal. In fact, if you didn’t know any better, it could be considered a friendly gesture.”

  “Agreed. He just wants us to know he’s around and is watching us.”

  “It’s effective,” Jenny replied, warding off a chill, “and scary as hell.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, we should be safe. We’re staying on the second floor of a hotel. He can’t sneak in through a window, and we can make sure he doesn’t come in through the door.”

  “What if he’s got a gun and he’s waiting to pick us off in the hotel parking lot?”

  “We’ll run from the car in zig zags—make it harder for him to hit us,” Zack said with a smirk, pulling Jenny in playfully for a hug. Kissing her on the top of her head, he said, “Let’s just call it a night, shall we? We can go back to the hotel, lock the door and put all of this behind us for a while.”

  Nothing in the world sounded better to Jenny.

  Jenny emerged from the shower in the morning to the announcement from Zack, “Your phone rang while you were in there. I didn’t recognize the number.”

  Heading to her phone, Jenny saw she had a message. “Hi, Mrs. Larrabee, this is Aiden Fowler with Lab Co. I’m afraid the drug test you requested for John Zeigler came back positive for crack cocaine. If you have any questions, please feel free to give me a call.” He left a number, and the message ended.

  Jenny sat at the edge of the bed motionlessly for a moment. With all that had happened the day before, this whole episode had slipped her mind.