Look Behind You

by Iris Johansen

  She typed: YOU’RE HALF A WORLD AWAY. HOW IN THE HELL DID YOU KNOW I WAS ON A CASE?

  THE WORLD IS A SMALL PLACE. I REPEAT: ARE YOU OKAY?

  She waited to answer until she finished the elevator ride and walked down the hallway to her condo. She let herself in and locked the door behind her.

  She stared at the phone in her hand. Of course, Lynch knew she was on the case. He had tentacles everywhere, intelligence agency connections she could only dream about.

  And he knew her. He knew how these cases affected her.

  She finally responded: I’M FINE. NEED TO FIND THIS PSYCHOPATH NOW. REAL MONSTER QUALITY. DON’T KNOW HOW.

  YOU WILL. ANYTHING I CAN DO?

  She smiled and typed back: FROM CHINA?

  AGAIN, THE WORLD IS A SMALL PLACE.

  She sat down at her dining room table and replied: SOMETIMES IT FEELS VERY LARGE AND OVERWHELMING.

  IF I HAD A DIME FOR EVERY TIME A WOMAN HAS SAID THAT ABOUT ME …

  She snorted in spite of herself. Then she typed: CLASSY GUY. ARE YOU FOURTEEN?

  SORRY. MOMENTARY LAPSE. ANYWAY, YOU’LL BE FINE. ANY LEADS IN YOUR CASE?

  LIPSTICK.

  LIPSTICK?

  LONG STORY. DON’T KNOW WHAT IT MEANS. STILL WORKING ON IT.

  GOTCHA. BE CAREFUL, KENDRA. IF YOU NEED HELP, I’M HERE.

  She typed: IN CHINA.

  AFRAID SO. FOR NOW.

  GOOD NIGHT, LYNCH.

  She put down her phone. Adam Lynch always knew what she needed even before she knew it herself. Guess what she needed now was a smart-ass to reach out to her from the other side of the world.

  She pushed herself up and headed for the bedroom. Time to grab a few hours of sleep before work. And, thanks to those distracting, amusing, and intimate texts from Lynch, she might be able to put those three corpses out of her mind and get it.

  * * *

  ANISSA SCOTT CHECKED HER watch. 7:40 A.M. What in the hell was wrong with Todd?

  She’d met their friends at the bar the night before, and the asshole hadn’t even bothered to call her back. She didn’t call him again on principle, but now she was wondering if he was with that blond slut who practically hung on him in their chem labs. She’d just noticed his car parked around the corner and knew he was home. What if that bitch was with him?

  She didn’t give a shit. Better to know and rid herself of the prick.

  Anissa climbed out of her car and cut through the narrow alley that ran alongside his yellow stucco apartment building. She walked to the exterior stairway and down the corridor to Todd’s apartment. She pulled out her key and took a deep breath, knowing she might be about to unravel the one thing that had made her life bearable these past few months.

  Didn’t matter. It was better to know.

  She pushed open the door. “Todd, it’s me.”

  No answer.

  “Todd?”

  She knew he was home. His wallet, phone, and keys were on the table next to the door. She imagined him in his back bedroom desperately trying to hide his slut under the bed or maybe behind the shower curtain.

  “Todd?” Dammit, it was like a replay of last night.

  She stopped, frozen in place. On the floor in front of her there were five sheets of paper, each with a photograph printed on it.

  She picked up the papers and studied them.

  The photographs were of her.

  What in the hell…?

  She could see they were taken in Todd’s bedroom the night before; she was wearing her new blue sweater. But how…?

  The pictures were taken from the closet, she realized, through the slightly-ajar door. She’d had no idea …

  Had Todd been there the whole time, laughing as he hid and took pictures of her?

  More pages in the hallway. More pictures of her.

  She picked up the pages as she walked, following a trail that led into Todd’s bedroom.

  Three more pages there.

  She stepped inside and picked them up one by one, until she found herself in the center of the room. She looked at the last page.

  The printed picture was the same as all the others, but this page had large letters scrawled on the lower half.

  The letters read: LOOK BEHIND YOU.

  She spun around.

  She screamed.

  CHAPTER

  4

  “NICE OF YOU TO JOIN US.”

  Griffin gazed at Kendra with tired eyes as he stepped out of the apartment. He nodded toward the uniformed police officer, who lifted the police tape for her to duck under and walk toward the open door.

  “I was in the middle of something.” Her phone hadn’t stopped vibrating during the second session in her studio. When she’d finally picked it up to look, there were sixteen voicemail messages and over forty texts, all concerning the murder victim in this apartment.

  “Something that couldn’t wait?” Griffin asked sourly.

  “No. Except to the people who needed me. They were interested in life, not death.” She looked beyond him toward the back of the apartment. “Are you sure this murder is related to the others?”

  “Pretty sure. The knife wounds look similar to the others and the killer left souvenirs again.”

  “Souvenirs?”

  He motioned for her to walk with him toward the back bedroom where two forensics specialists were packing up their kits.

  Griffin pointed toward the wall behind her. “There.”

  Kendra turned. The closet door was wide open and the shirtless corpse of a young man was propped up against a pile of laundry. Blood had run from his torso and pooled on the floor around him.

  Kendra winced. He looked like a kid, maybe even a teenager just starting out in life. “Who found him?”

  “His girlfriend. She let herself in at about seven-thirty this morning, and this was how he greeted her.”

  Kendra forced herself to move toward the corpse. “Where is she now?”

  “Taking a walk with Carson and Metcalf. She was hyperventilating in here.”

  Kendra knew how she felt. She had never even met this young man and yet she felt the total wrongness of a life stolen, wasted. It was all she could do to hold it together in the face of such evil, such horror.

  Detach.

  Concentrate.

  She bent closer to the bloody corpse. “Name?”

  “Todd Wesley. He was a student at San Diego State.”

  On the floor in front of the corpse were three small items, neatly arranged in the closet doorway.

  A class ring.

  A sport watch.

  A pair of ear plugs.

  She turned back to Griffin. “Did you look at these?”

  He nodded. “We were waiting to bag them until you had a chance to take a look. The class ring is from Stanford University. That’s an underwater watch, and the ear plugs are the type used by swimmers.”

  Kendra looked at the items for a moment longer. “I know he played soccer, but was he a swimmer?”

  “Not according to his girlfriend. How did you know he was a soccer player?”

  She gestured behind him. “Adidas soccer cleats in the corner of the room with a pair of dirty long socks next to them. He practiced recently, maybe even yesterday.” She nodded back to the closet. “Plus, there’s a black and red uniform hanging in there. San Diego State Aztec colors.” She glanced around. “I can’t see that he played any other sport.”

  “He didn’t.” The woman’s hoarse voice came from the hall.

  Kendra looked up. The pretty young woman, obviously the victim’s girlfriend, stood in the doorway with Metcalf and Carson. Her face was puffy and red and her eyes were swollen.

  Kendra stepped toward her. “I’m Kendra,” she said gently.

  “Anissa,” the woman replied. Her gaze was clinging frantically to Kendra’s face to avoid staring at the closet. “I can’t … look at him again. I just … wanted to be here. It didn’t seem right to leave Todd alone with people who didn’t know him.” S
he glanced away. “Sounds kind of stupid, I guess.”

  “No,” Kendra said. “Not at all. He was lucky to have someone who cared about him as much as you obviously did.” She motioned toward the living room. “Let’s talk in there, okay?”

  Anissa nodded with relief and followed her to the front of the apartment. Kendra studied the open door thoughtfully for a moment before turning back to Anissa. “Did Todd mention seeing anyone watching or following him in the past couple of weeks?”

  Anissa shook her head. “What? You think someone was following Todd?”

  “I do. And probably you too. This wasn’t just a crime of opportunity. I think this killer spent time gathering information on Todd, his schedule, and the people in his life.”

  Anissa frowned in bewilderment. “Why would he do that? You think it’s someone Todd knew?”

  “Probably not. But once the killer selected Todd as his victim, he most likely made it his business to study him and his habits, just as he did for his other victims. You haven’t noticed anyone or anything out of the usual?”

  “It’s all crazy. Why would anyone—” Anissa drew a deep shaky breath. “Okay, give me a minute.” She thought for a moment, then finally shook her head. Kendra could see she was struggling to hold it together. “I’m sorry, I wish I could, but I can’t think of anything different. Everything was just … ordinary when we were together. No sickos lurking in the shadows. And who the hell would be stalking a great guy like—”

  “Just relax,” Kendra said quietly. “Maybe something will come to you.”

  Anissa looked at her. “I can’t relax. I’m scared to death. Todd is dead in that closet. And I can’t believe that maniac was just a few feet away from me … Watching, taking my picture…”

  “What do you mean?”

  Griffin stepped from the back bedroom holding a short stack of papers, each protected in their own clear plastic document protectors. “You haven’t seen these yet, Kendra.”

  Kendra took the pages and thumbed through the printed photos.

  “I came here last night,” Anissa said jerkily. “Todd and I were supposed to go meet some friends. I looked around but Todd wasn’t here. Or at least I didn’t think he was. When I came back this morning, these pages were spread out on the floor, leading to the back bedroom like a trail of bread crumbs.”

  Kendra got a sudden chill when she realized what she was seeing. “These are all the same picture of you, taken from that closet.”

  Anissa nodded as tears rolled down her cheeks. “He was probably standing over Todd’s body when he took it. I had no idea…”

  “We’re pretty sure he used the ink jet printer in the victim’s bedroom,” Griffin said.

  “You’re lucky to be alive, ma’am,” Gina said.

  “Yeah, sure.” Anissa shot her a glance that indicated she didn’t feel very lucky. She motioned toward the stack of printed photos in Kendra’s hands. “They’re all the same except the last one. It was in the middle of Todd’s bedroom.”

  Kendra found the photo and read the printed scrawl aloud, “LOOK BEHIND YOU.”

  Shock. Another sickening chill racked Kendra.

  Anissa crossed her arms in front of her almost as a block against the hideous scrawl. “That’s when I turned around and saw Todd in the closet. I ran out of here as fast as I could. Everything else is a blur.”

  LOOK BEHIND YOU.

  Kendra barely heard her as she stared at the last page. This couldn’t be happening, she thought dazedly.

  LOOK BEHIND YOU.

  God, no.

  Metcalf caught her expression. “What is it, Kendra?”

  She pushed the papers back at Griffin. “I have to go to your office and research something. Can someone come with me?”

  Griffin’s eyes were narrowed on her face. “What did you see?”

  “That message. ‘Look behind you.’ A killer up in Ventura County used this stunt on his victims about ten years ago.”

  “One of your other cases?”

  She shook her head. “No, I was working another murder up there, and they presented me with details of their unsolved cases of the previous few years. This was just one of several and we quickly realized it had nothing to do with our case. But it stuck with me, the idea of the killer taunting his victims like this.”

  Griffin looked down at the paper in his hand. “Yeah, I have a vague recollection of this even though it wasn’t our case. It made some headlines.”

  “As far as I know, it’s never been solved. I need to access the NCIC database and get details.”

  Griffin nodded. “Take Metcalf with you to the office. We’ll meet you there after the scene is broken down. See what you can find out.”

  Normally Kendra would have resented Griffin’s giving her orders as if she was one of his agents, but she was already completely absorbed in the puzzle that had been placed in front of her. At the moment it was hard to tell if this was a copycat, or if the same killer had resurfaced after all this time.

  Metcalf cocked his head toward the door. “Ready?”

  She took one last long look at the door of Todd Wesley’s bedroom where a young man’s life had been taken for no reason but bloodlust. Yesterday he’d had a future and a woman he loved, but that had all been stolen by that killer who had savagely attacked him. I’m going to find who did this to you, Todd. I’ll make him pay, I promise.

  She turned back to Metcalf. “Yes, you bet I’m ready.”

  * * *

  A HALF HOUR LATER KENDRA was in the FBI third-floor conference room, pacing in front of the bulletin boards while Metcalf used a laptop to connect to the National Crime Information Center.

  “Just a few more seconds,” he said.

  Kendra pointed to the flat panel monitor at the end of the room. “Can you mirror your laptop screen over there?”

  As if in response, the large screen flickered and the NCIC logo appeared.

  “The database is a little sluggish tonight,” he said. “It’s taking me a while to log in.”

  “Should I call my friend Sam Zackoff? He can probably hack his way in within a few minutes.”

  “… and he’ll get his door kicked in by a squad of federal agents on his way to serving three to five years in prison.” Metcalf grimaced. “The government isn’t wild about its law enforcement databases being breached by unauthorized personnel.”

  “Zackoff’s work is too valuable to most of the government agencies to get him into too much trouble. Besides he’s pretty good at covering his tracks.”

  “Not necessary. I just got in.”

  Kendra watched the large screen as he queried the system for details on the Ventura County murders she’d remembered. Within a minute, they were looking at photos and abstracts of the case.

  “Still unsolved,” Metcalf said. “All three victims were men in their late teens and early twenties.” He tabbed forward through more crime scene photos. “They were all stabbing victims, but there—”

  “Wait!” she interrupted. “Go back one.”

  Metcalf displayed the previous photo and the sight made her gasp.

  LOOK BEHIND YOU.

  The words were scrawled on a sheet of paper found just inches from one of the victims.

  Kendra’s stomach tightened. “The handwriting’s the same.”

  “It does look similar.”

  “No, I mean it’s exactly the same.” She stepped toward the screen. “The curls of the letter B look as if they were drawn before the straight vertical line, which is rare. And the letter O is started and finished on the left side each time, which you almost never see. It was the same at the crime scene today. You’ll want an expert to confirm it, but I’m almost positive these were written by the same person. Can I see the others?”

  Metcalf displayed shots from the other crime scenes, pausing on the same scrawled message found at each one.

  LOOK BEHIND YOU.

  Each time the handwriting displayed the same telltale characteristics.

/>   “They’re all the same,” Kendra said. “Just like the one we saw today. Even if someone had access to these, which is doubtful, it would have been tough to reproduce with such precision. Unless it was the same person.”

  Metcalf nodded. “I see what you mean.”

  Kendra’s eyes narrowed on the screen. “Hold on. Let me see some more shots of this room. Are there any in this record?”

  Metcalf displayed several other crime scene shots until Kendra stopped him. “There!”

  It was a picture that showed more of the room and less of the bloody corpse. Kendra squinted, her eyes searching for details. “This victim was a swimmer.”

  “His name was Daryl Lanton.” Metcalf joined her at the screen. He slowly nodded. “Swim goggles hanging from the desk lamp.”

  “And nose clips on the side table. Plus, look in the mirror. It’s reflecting a poster from the back wall.”

  Metcalf stared at it for a moment. “Is that—?”

  “Michael Phelps. The victim was a fan like pretty much every other swimmer in the world.”

  “Shit,” Metcalf whispered as the realization hit him. “Those objects at the crime scene today…”

  Kendra nodded. “The underwater sport watch and earplugs most likely belonged to a swimmer. Maybe this guy.”

  “This murder was six years ago. You think the killer’s been sitting on the stuff all this time?”

  “There’s one way to find out. Contact Oxnard PD and see if we can get contact info for his next of kin. We can send pictures of the objects.”

  “There’s a better way,” Metcalf said. He checked his watch. “Flights go up there every hour.”

  Kendra turned toward him. “Seriously?”

  “We can head out as soon as they come back with the objects. We can be back in time for dinner. Well, a late dinner. Are you up for it?”

  Kendra nodded. This was something she’d always liked about Metcalf: no dawdling, no useless meetings, no wasted time.

  “Yes. Let’s go.”

  * * *

  KENDRA AND METCALF WERE waiting in the building lobby for the team when they returned from the crime scene and after a three-minute consultation with Griffin, they took the class ring, earplugs, and diving watch, all encased in plastic evidence bags. A short United Airlines flight later, they landed in Ventura and rented a car. By four o’clock they were walking up the front sidewalk to a modest Oxnard home that belonged to Daryl Lanton’s parents.