Runs Deep

by R. D. Brady

  Okay, I’ll just go check. Make sure Micah’s okay. And that’ll be that, she thought as she pulled out into the street.

  But she reached down and patted the Glock 9mm tucked into the holster under her jacket. She’d gotten the gun as soon as she’d turned eighteen. In fact, her dad had been the one who’d driven her to the firing range every weekend for six months until she could hit the bull’s-eye almost every time. And when Julie had moved away, she’d kept up the practice, getting to the range once or twice a month.

  She generally left the weapon at home, even though she had a concealed carry permit—but there was no way she was coming to Millners Kill without it. And after she learned that Steve was out, she’d started wearing it everywhere—both around the house and when she was out. Truth was, she all but slept with it.

  But she was fine. She was okay. She was driving around in a storm while armed.

  All things that perfectly sane people do, she assured herself.

  CHAPTER 38

  Steve sat in the dark in his grandfather’s chair trying to make sense of today. It had started off well enough: he’d gone to work at the diner, which had been good.

  But then he’d been pulled in and questioned for murder—not good. He’d come home and played soccer with Micah—good again. And he’d come inside to listen to more death threats on the phone—more not good.

  And then, just after his grandmother had gone to bed, someone had thrown a brick at the house. It was lucky that the windows were boarded-up, so it bounced off harmlessly. But Steve had gone outside and found the brick. It was wrapped in a note with a single word emblazoned on it: Murderer.

  Steve had gotten rid of the note, but the whole thing had made him even more jumpy.

  He closed his eyes. The crime scene photo Keith had shown him reappeared in his mind. Who could have done that? It couldn’t be a coincidence that he returned to town and another teenager was murdered. No way.

  But Steve knew he was looking at the problem differently than almost everybody else in town—because only he knew for sure that he hadn’t killed Simone. And he knew that someone else had gotten away with murder.

  Was that person still in town? Had they started back up? But why now?

  Because you’re back, a voice whispered at the back of his mind.

  Steve knew that was probably true. Somehow, by coming back, he’d awoken something that had been sleeping for years.

  But was that even possible? Could someone kill that brutally and then just stop?

  Even as the question flashed through his mind, Steve knew the answer was a big yes. When he was inside, he’d taken a few college courses on criminology. And contrary to popular opinion, serial killers didn’t kill victims one right after the next very often. In fact, it was not unusual for killers to go for long stretches of time between murders.

  Some even stopped altogether. Look at the BTK killer. Dennis Rader killed ten people between the 1970s and 1990s. Then he seemed to disappear. In reality, he simply went back to his normal life—a life that included a wife, daughters, and being a leader in his church community.

  The only reason he was caught was because he began writing to media outlets in 2004. He had done this before, while killing, but this time it led to his arrest in 2005. But for all intents and purposes, the killing had stopped long before that.

  Steve knew the Rader case was unusual. It usually wasn’t until serial killers started spiraling out of control that they tended to get caught. Rader, though, was a serial killer who had quit.

  The thought brought Steve up short. Were they dealing with a serial killer? When he’d been inside, he had spent night upon night trying to figure out who had killed Simone, and he had come up empty. He truly believed it would end up being one of those crimes that was never solved. But now, with Elise’s death, the picture had changed. If the murders were by the same person, then a whole new set of evidence was available to investigators.

  Of course, technically the murderer wasn’t a serial killer yet. According to the FBI, three kills were necessary for that designation. Hopefully this killer will be sated at two, Steve thought.

  Holding on to the bat, Steve walked to one of the front windows. The wind blew hard, and the rain was coming down in a steady stream. The rain was the media’s concern, but Steve was more worried about the wind—it felt like it was trying to rip the house from its foundation.

  Steve watched the storm playing outside his window, but his mind was still trying to understand this killer. Where had the killer been all this time? Had he really stopped for ten years—only to be brought back to life by Steve’s return?

  Although, in a way, it would make sense for the guy to start back up. After all, Steve had taken the rap for him before; with Steve back, perhaps the killer felt he could kill again with impunity. And from what Steve understood, that impulse to kill never really went away, it just built up in between kills.

  And sure enough, right now the police were only interested in Steve. This guy was getting a free ride.

  Outside, the moon was full and the trees blew wildly, making the shadows dance. A chill fell over Steve. It was not a comforting night.

  A thump sounded at the side of the house. Steve’s head whipped toward the sound; his heart raced and his body went still. He strained to hear more. But he couldn’t make out anything above the howling wind.

  Inside the house everything was silent. Steve wanted nothing more than to sit back in his grandfather’s chair and forget the noise, but the thought of his grandmother lying asleep and vulnerable upstairs urged him to check it out.

  Nerves taut, he carefully made his way to the back door. Pausing there, he strained to listen again, but he could hear nothing but the wind. He slipped outside, locking the door behind him and pocketing the keys.

  With the bat still clasped tightly in his hands, Steve crept along the back of the house. Leaves, branches, and even garbage cans were all being tossed and rattled by the wind. Rain pelted him. When reached the corner, he peered carefully around it.

  A giant shadow lay across the drive.

  Steve’s heart skipped a beat, but then he realized it was just a giant tree branch. The wind must have ripped it off and tossed it against the house. He let out a breath.

  A little jumpy tonight.

  He walked over to the branch, examined it, then looked up. Sure enough, it had been sheared off from the neighbors’ large maple tree that hung partly over his grandmother’s drive.

  Steve pulled the branch out of the drive and over against the side of the house. There wasn’t much he could do about it tonight, but when the storm was over, he’d break it up.

  Steve stood there for a minute, watching the trees blow above him. A garbage can rolled down the street. Besides the sounds of the storm, it was quiet. No one was out, with good reason. Steve was getting wet, but it was just a light rain, and he didn’t care.

  Staying in the shadows, he walked to the curb. By some miracle the streetlights were still on, although with the wind blowing like it was, he knew it was only a matter of time before the power went out.

  You’d have to be crazy to—wait a minute. Steve squinted. Someone was sitting in a parked car a few doors down, across the street. Right in front of Micah’s house. Steve squinted, wondering if he was seeing things.

  The shadow in the car moved. Shit. There was someone there.

  Steve flashed on the photo of Elise Ingram. Would someone go after Micah or his family? No. There was no reason to think that. If the same guy was responsible for both murders, he seemed to be focused on teenage girls.

  But the nervous feeling wouldn’t leave him. I’ll just check and make sure.

  Steve carefully made his way down the sidewalk, trying to look casual. Just a guy going for a stroll in the middle of a rainstorm with no umbrella. As he passed the car, he glanced over surreptitiously. His heart began to pound. There was definitely someone sitting in there.

  He continued on a few houses past Micah
’s house, then crossed the street, behind the car, and started to make his way back toward the car, staying low and in the shadows. He duck-walked right up to its bumper, then, staying down, he crept around to the passenger side. He peered in through the back door. What the hell?

  The car was empty. He stared at the interior, stupefied. Had he been mistaken? Was it just the shadows playing tricks?

  The barrel of a gun pressed between his shoulder blades.

  “Don’t move.”

  Steve debated for only a second. Before the person could even twitch, Steve ducked under their gun arm and slapped the gun hand away. With his left hand, he grabbed the gun arm, keeping it pointed away from him, and his right fist raced toward his assailant’s face.

  “Steve, no!”

  His fist stopped only inches from her face. “Julie?”

  CHAPTER 39

  Julie gulped in air, her heart trying to gallop out of her chest. She nodded her head furiously.

  “Julie,” Steve said again, releasing her and stepping back. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  Julie stared at him and the bat at his feet. She leveled her gun at him again. “What are you doing here, Steve?”

  He looked from the gun to her face. “It’s not what you think.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “I saw someone just sitting in this car in the dark. Some kids live in this house. I was worried, so I crept up on the car from behind. But it was empty. It must have been a trick of the light.”

  Julie tried to gauge his sincerity. Fact was, she had been sitting in the car, so that part of Steve’s story was true. And he sounded like he was telling the truth. But apparently, when it came to Steve, she was a lousy judge of character.

  “And you just happened to have a bat handy?” she asked.

  He glanced down at the bat. “Um, my grandmother’s been getting threatening calls. I’ve been sleeping part of the night downstairs, keeping it nearby.”

  “Oh.” Compassion for Bess rose up in Julie. She’d always liked Steve’s grandmother. She treated Julie like she was one of her own, not just a kid from the neighborhood. The idea of someone threatening that sweet woman did not sit well with her.

  Steve looked back at her, obviously waiting for Julie to make the next move. Problem was, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do here. She had her gun trained on him, but he hadn’t actually done anything. Emotions and logic warred inside her. It was make or break time. She either had to trust him or…

  She lowered the gun. “I was worried about Micah. I was the one sitting in the car.”

  “You were worried about him? Why—” He cut himself off. “You heard he was spending time with me.”

  “Yeah. I just…” She paused. “I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

  Steve took another step back. “No. I get it. I understand. I’m glad someone else is looking out for him. Well, I guess I’ll leave you to it.” He turned to go.

  Julie felt guilty as she watched him leave. Shit. She needed to pick a side and stay there. Either she believed he killed Simone or she didn’t. But this waffling was eating her up.

  She sighed and walked around to get back in the car. But as she did, a movement near Micah’s house caught her attention. She went still.

  What was that? She squinted. The dancing shadows made it difficult to see, but it looked like someone was in Micah’s back yard—someone carrying something big.

  The shape moved again. Fear lanced through Julie.

  Heart racing, Julie looked over to where Steve had almost reached his grandmother’s house. “Steve!”

  CHAPTER 40

  Steve’s head jerked around at Julie’s yell. She was already running up Micah’s drive.

  What the hell? Steve sprinted after her. He raced down the street, up the drive, and into the boy’s back yard. When he got there, Julie was disappearing into the trees. He ran after her and reached her in seconds. He grabbed her shoulder. She let out a muffled scream.

  He put up his hands. “It’s just me.”

  He realized as the words came out of his mouth that they might not be overly reassuring to her. But there was no time to go into that now. “What’s going on?”

  “I saw someone in the back yard. When I ran back here, they were disappearing into the trees. I think they were carrying someone.”

  Steve’s gut clenched. But he also knew tonight was spooky, and the moving trees made shadows seem to come to life. “Are you sure?”

  Even in the dim light, Julie’s eyes looked huge as she nodded.

  Steve grabbed her hand. “Which way?”

  Julie pointed straight ahead.

  “Let’s go.”

  Together they raced through the woods. The wet ground sucked at their shoes. Steve’s heart pounded, and his mind alternated between two phrases: Please let Julie be seeing things and Please don’t let us be too late.

  Thankfully the storm had brought in only sporadic cloud cover so far, so the light of the moon was bright enough to see by. The trees thinned out and Steve could just make out some movement ahead. “There!” he yelled.

  He sprinted ahead of Julie. Fifteen feet away from him someone was struggling with a large squirming bundle in his hands.

  Relief and terror collided in Steve. It’s Micah. He’s alive.

  Steve put on a burst of speed and tackled the man around the knees. Steve’s bat went flying. The man let out a grunt. Micah flew out of the man’s hands and rolled away.

  Steve tried to climb up the man’s back, but the man rolled over and swiped at Steve with a knife. The blade caught Steve in the forearm and sliced deep. The man kicked Steve in the chest, throwing him backward.

  Steve rolled away from him. The mud sucked at him as he got to his feet. Ahead of him, Steve saw Micah get to his feet. Micah took a step toward Steve.

  “No!” Steve yelled. “Run, Micah, run!”

  Micah hesitated for only a second before running into the trees, back toward his house.

  The man had also gotten to his feet, and now he turned to face Steve. A ski mask covered his face, and gloves covered his hands. Steve couldn’t see who the man was.

  Steve clenched his fists. But he knew what he was. This was the monster who’d killed Simone—the monster who’d set him up for the crime.

  Steve rose to his knees and lunged toward him, intending to tackle him yet again. But a gun blast sounded from behind him, and Steve instinctively dove for the ground.

  The man took off running as Julie continued to fire after him.

  Steve got to his feet, ready to follow him, when Micah crashed into him, wrapping his little arms around Steve’s legs. “You came. You found me.”

  Steve looked at the spot where the man had disappeared. It was too late. The trees thickened there, blacking out the moonlight. Steve would never find him in the dark.

  He wrapped his arms around Micah. “Are you okay?”

  Micah nodded, but he didn’t look up.

  Steve lifted Micah off the ground, holding him tightly in his arms. Julie took off her jacket and wrapped it around the trembling boy.

  “Thanks,” Steve said.

  Julie gave him a small smile. “You’re welcome.”

  His gaze met hers, and for the briefest of moments, he felt like he had his old friend back.

  Then she stepped away and the moment was gone.

  But that was okay.

  Because it was a start.

  CHAPTER 41

  The rain had gotten much worse; it was now coming down in sheets. As Steve carried Micah back through the trees toward his house, water dripped down his face. Micah kept a death lock on Steve’s neck.

  “It’s okay, Micah. You’re safe,” Steve said over and over again. But Micah never loosened his grip.

  Julie ran ahead to wake Micah’s family. By the time Steve stepped out of the woods with Micah, all the lights were on in the little house. A woman wearing a raincoat over pink pajamas rushed over to them.

&n
bsp; “Micah, baby!” She hovered next to them, running her hands through Micah’s hair, patting him on the back.

  Micah clung to Steve even tighter.

  “I’ll carry him back to the house,” Steve said.

  Micah’s mother looked up at him for the first time. Shock splashed across her face. “You’re—you’re Steve Kane.”

  Steve nodded, adjusting Micah in his arms. “Yes, ma’am, I am.”

  “I’ll take him,” the woman said quickly. She tried to pull Micah out of Steve’s arms, but Micah just tightened his hold on Steve’s neck.

  “Ma’am,” Steve said gently but firmly, “he’s really scared, and I think it would be better if I just carried him to the house.”

  Steve could tell she didn’t trust him with her son. But with a sigh, he started walking toward the house. Micah’s mom stayed right beside him the whole way, her hand resting on Micah’s back. Steve climbed the back steps and took a seat on the wicker couch, Micah cradled in his lap.

  Micah’s mom hovered by his elbow, trying to get Micah to go with her. But Micah either couldn’t hear her or was still too scared to let go.

  Julie appeared at the back door, carrying some towels. She wrapped one around Micah and another around Steve before looking back at Micah’s mom. “I called the police. They’ll be here in a few minutes. Your other son is up. I put a show on for him.”

  “I need to call my brother,” Micah’s mom said. She glanced at Julie.

  Julie nodded. “I’ll stay with them.”

  Micah’s mother looked reluctant to go. She glanced once more at Steve and then back at Julie. “Thank you for bringing him back.” Steve didn’t fail to notice that she addressed her gratitude to Julie, not him. “I’m Michone. Michone Donaldson.”

  Julie smiled. “I’m Julie.” No last name, Steve noted. Not for the first time, it occurred to him that Julie was probably almost as famous in Millners Kill as he was. The sister of the dead girl. Friends with her sister’s killer. Both of their identities were inextricably tied to that tragic event. And the town of Millners Kill would never be able to see them any other way.