Tears flowed down Sam’s cheeks. “Oh Jamie, I’m so proud of you.”
Jamie’s eyes filled too, but she blinked the tears back. “I’m going to be okay, Sam. I really am.”
The television caught Samantha’s attention as she swiped her wet cheeks. Jamie got up to get some tissues and Sam grabbed the remote.
A press conference.
The sheriff was saying, “. . . a white male in his late twenties to early thirties. Probably a loner, yet able to fit into any social situation although he doesn’t particularly like it. He functions better around those he considers weaker than himself. He has a very high opinion of himself, that he is powerful and in control, whereas in reality, he actually has very little power or control over his life, which causes him to act out, lash out at those who cross him. It is possible he is impotent and that’s why he takes young, pretty girls in the hopes that they will ‘cure’ him.”
Sam huffed in disbelief. What were the police doing? The guy had already taken a shot at removing her from the picture. Then realization sank into her, as well as a bit of anger at being left out of the loop.
They were drawing the killer out of hiding.
Connor sat outside his daughter’s school Thursday afternoon, waiting for the final bell. He’d left work at three o’clock, a last-minute decision to pick Jenna up. She probably wouldn’t be happy to see him, but Connor was determined to get back on the right foot with the girl.
There was nothing he could do right now with the investigation that couldn’t wait for an hour. Nothing had turned up at Samantha’s apartment. No prints on the bolt, nothing left at the location where the guy had launched his deadly weapon. Nothing. Not even a footprint, a hair, or an eyelash. Either the guy was very lucky or extremely good. Connor hoped it was the former. At least luck could run out.
Andrew was working on trying to figure out where the crossbow bolt came from. There were only a few specialty stores around Spartanburg that would carry that kind of weapon.
Of course, that didn’t mean the guy who owned it had bought it in Spartanburg, but it was something that had to be checked out.
Three computer experts had worked the local library’s computers and the school computer lab. And come up with zilch. Frustration didn’t even begin to describe what everyone was feeling. Somehow it seemed like there were more dead ends than there were roads.
So far the press conference had produced over three hundred tips that also had to be followed up on. Fortunately, a specific team had been assigned those, leaving Connor and Andrew free to work the rest of the case.
And wait for the guy to come out of the woodwork.
Nothing like drawing a bull’s-eye on the back of your head to keep you on your toes. But Connor couldn’t let that stop him from doing his best to rebuild a relationship with his daughter.
And while he was anxious to question each of the missing girls’ friends again and see if any of them remembered anything about meetings set up with Modern Models, this afternoon Jenna came first.
He heard the faint ringing of the bell signaling the end of another day for the students behind the double metal doors. Soon, those doors burst open and hundreds of feet clambered down the steps to waiting vehicles.
And then Jenna appeared, walking slowly, a couple of books propped in the crook of her arm, a backpack slung over her shoulder. She had her dark curls pulled up into a ponytail, her head tilted as she listened to something the girl to her left was saying.
Patty. Connor wondered at the influence the other teen had on Jenna. Then Jenna shook her head no, and Patty rolled her eyes, placed a hand on Jenna’s upper arm, and said something else.
Jenna looked away, then back and nodded, but she didn’t look happy. Connor had a bad feeling in his gut. Those two were up to something.
His phone rang just as Jenna caught sight of him. Her eyes flew open and puzzlement flashed across her features before she brought the ever-present shutters down.
Connor waved as he answered his phone. “Hello?”
“Hi, Connor, Samantha here.”
His gut tightened at her voice. He really liked her. “Hey there, how are you?”
“I’m staying with my sister for a couple of days until my apartment is habitable again. I just wanted to call and see if you found anything about who might have shot up my home.”
“Nothing yet. Hey, I’m picking up Jenna, you want to meet us up at Bruster’s for some ice cream?”
“Ah, no. But thanks. I don’t want to horn in on your time with Jenna.”
“Trust me, it might be better to have you there. Come on. It’ll be relaxing. Then after Jenna makes her escape, we can talk about the case.”
Jenna climbed in the car and slammed the door, eyes fixed straight ahead.
“Well, if you’re sure . . .” Samantha still sounded hesitant.
“I’m sure.”
“All right, see you in a few.”
He hung up the phone and turned to Jenna. “So, how was your day?”
“Why are you so determined to ruin my life?” She laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.
Connor sighed. That went well.
Samantha left Jamie’s house and headed for the Bruster’s Ice Cream store. She needed a break from staring at the computer screen, but she wasn’t so sure this was a good idea. From doughnuts to ice cream. Not exactly the best diet.
However, she couldn’t resist the opportunity to see Connor again. Curiosity about what Jenna would say to her presence rippled through her. Would the girl resent her?
She turned into the parking lot and cut the engine. Connor pulled in a short five minutes later. He exited the car and the smile on his face sent her heart into overdrive. However, the scowl on Jenna’s pretty features had Sam chewing the inside of her cheek. Uh-oh.
Jenna spotted her and stopped in her tracks. Gulped. The scowl faded to be replaced by a tentative smile. Relief eased the pressure in Sam’s chest a bit. Jenna didn’t mind her being there. In fact, the teen seemed to be drawn to her. Was it simply because she resembled Jenna’s mother?
“Hey there,” she called to the pair, noticing the similarities in their appearances. Jenna was a female version of Connor. Dark curly hair, wide blue eyes that saw everything—and matching stress lines between their brows.
“Hi.” Jenna sounded young, eager to see her.
Samantha smiled at her. “Hi. Thanks for letting me join you.” Then she looked at the man bringing up the rear. “Hello, Connor.”
“Thanks for meeting us.”
A shrug lifted her shoulders. “Sure, I love ice cream.”
“No ill effects from yesterday?”
She grimaced. “No, but I’d really like to catch the guy playing target practice with my head.”
“What happened?” Jenna stared at them. “What happened to your face?”
“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Some flying glass caught me.”
“From what?”
Connor shrugged and answered for Samantha. “Just this case, hon.”
“Oh.” They moved forward in the line. She was used to her dad not being able to talk about a case, so she didn’t ask any more questions on that front. Instead, she looked back at him, studying him. “Who was the girl that went missing the other night?”
Discomfort crossed his face, and he hesitated as though he didn’t want to say, then, “She went to your school. Her name is Miranda Abrams.”
“Miranda Abrams!” Jenna went pasty white, shock widening her eyes.
Connor frowned. “Yes, you know her?”
Samantha leaned in and put her arm around the girl. “What do you know about Miranda?”
“She’s in several of my classes. I noticed she hadn’t been there for a couple of days, but I thought it was just because she was . . . um . . . you know . . . sick. She hadn’t been feeling well for a while.”
“Sick?” he asked.
Jenna averted her eyes, cluing Connor in, so
he pushed. “How sick? Sick with what?”
The girl clamped her lips together, refusing to answer.
Samantha had a sinking feeling. She remembered what “sick” meant when she was in high school. “Was she pregnant?”
Jenna winced, then nodded slowly. “Yes, I think so. That was the rumor anyway the other night.”
“The other night? What other night?”
Jenna gulped. He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but her face went even whiter.
“Um . . .”
“Don’t lie to me, Jenna.”
She snapped her lips together again.
Samantha broke in. “Look, you guys can figure that out in a minute. Jenna, what else do you know about Miranda?”
Connor watched relief spread across his daughter’s face at the unexpected reprieve from having to answer to her whereabouts. He went along . . . for now. “How many days of school did she miss?” Connor knew he could get the information from the school, but if Jenna could fill them in . . .
Jenna screwed up her nose and looked up. “Um, today’s Thursday. I think I saw her on Monday, don’t remember her being in class Tuesday or yesterday.”
Connor shifted. “Jenna, are you sure you didn’t know any of the other girls who were missing? Three of them went to Stanton High and four went to Viking High School.”
“No, Dad, you already asked me. I didn’t hang out with them. I knew the Stanton High girls, their names, their faces, but that’s it. I can’t tell you anything more about them.” Her eyes became clouds on a stormy day. “But Miranda I know.”
Samantha asked, “Who was her best friend? Who did she hang out with?”
“The soccer players mostly. Other jocks. She and I talked in English class occasionally, but not about anything major.”
Connor leaned in, intense blue eyes drilling his daughter. “Who would be the one person I should talk to in order to learn more about Miranda?”
They were at the window. Jenna shrugged. “Alyssa Mabry. They’re pretty tight. Maybe Charlie Petroskie. They were an item for a while. Until she . . .”
“Found out she was pregnant?” Sam sighed as she asked.
“Yeah.” She turned to the gum-snapping teen waiting to take their order. “I want a single scoop of New York Cheesecake on a waffle cone.”
The Agent paced. His fury knew no limits. The audacity, the gall of the police to hold that press conference and say those kinds of things about him. They had no idea! His breathing grew ragged, echoing in his ears. He grabbed a glass lamp from the end table, threw it against the wall, and watched it shatter, pieces flying.
Boss said to let it go, not get so worked up about it.
But it wasn’t Boss they’d insulted, questioned, called powerless. How dare they? Didn’t they know he held the fate of all those girls in his hands?
Did they think he was really that stupid? Did they think that he didn’t know they were doing it intentionally, that they wanted him to react? Of course he knew, and he hated the fact that he’d allowed them to draw him into a rage.
But they wouldn’t win. They’d recant their spiteful, erroneous words or more people would die. It was as simple as that.
He took slow, measured breaths to begin to settle the anger, looking out his window at the large cottage-style house across the field.
Fists clenched so hard, his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. He didn’t care. The pain calmed him. His racing heart slowed. Sydney Carter’s body still hadn’t been found. Should he send them a note where to find her? But he didn’t want her found. She didn’t deserve to be found. She’d failed and therefore must be punished.
He allowed himself a cold smile. Let them wait, let them wonder what they were missing. He’d make sure the police got his reply to the blatant message they’d just sent him. But it would be his reply, and his own time and choosing. The only thing they would accomplish with the media would be to generate more false leads and confusing dead ends.
Oh yeah, he rubbed his hands together as the plan formed. He’d make those cops pay in the most painful way possible; he’d show the world who was powerless. And he’d give them more bodies to deal with.
And no leads as to who he was.
9
As a result of recent events, the mayor and the media buzzed louder than a nest of irritated hornets. The heat was on to arrest someone for the crimes being committed against the city’s teenage girls.
By Friday morning, the task force had been assembled with Connor appointed as the head since he’d been working the case from the beginning. He had two FBI agents, several local officers, and Andrew.
Sam was recruited to head up the cyber task force. A team of three computer experts would continue to monitor the chat rooms and internet sites visited by the missing girls in hopes that they would log in. Sam had provided an extensive list of sites—and it might not even pay off, but they had to do it, couldn’t take a chance on not covering all bases. If one of the girls logged in under any of the usernames Sam had extracted from their home computers, a task force member would be able to trace it.
Since there wasn’t anything more forthcoming from the computers, Samantha agreed monitoring the sites would be the next step in determining what was going on.
At the downtown station, Connor sat next to her in the make-shift computer lab, fascinated beyond words as she manipulated the screens, flipped from one site to the next, signed in as a young female teen interested in meeting others.
“What are you doing now?”
“This is one of the chat rooms Sydney Carter visited. I’m letting the group on this site know that I’m pretty, smart, and a senior in high school. I’m also very much into modeling and want to get my career jump-started. I’m not interested in college, just modeling, and will basically do whatever it takes to get a contract with an agency.”
“You think these girls are being targeted by men posing as modeling scouts?”
“That’s what it’s looking like, don’t you think?”
“With two agencies that don’t exist, it’s looking more and more likely.”
“Unfortunately, there’s no telling how many screen names they’re using. I pulled some off of each of the girls’ computers, but there weren’t any that were the same. I bet each time this guy contacts a new girl, he uses a different screen name.”
Samantha clicked again and typed as:
WANNABAMODEL: I only weigh 115, but can lose 5 pounds if I need to.
2BPOISED: I’ll ask my agent if he’s interested in meeting another girl. What are your stats?
WANNABAMODEL: Blue eyes, long, thick blonde hair. I have freckles and a dimple in my left cheek. Really straight teeth too, compliments of my orthodontist.
2BPOISED: I’ll check it out for you.
WANNABAMODEL: Don’t you want me to send you a picture?
2BPOISED: Sure. If he’s interested, I’ll let you know. Hey, listen, I’ve got to run. Good luck.
“Hmm,” she muttered. “I thought I was on to something. Guess I struck out there.”
“You didn’t send him your real picture, did you?”
“Of course not. Just a picture I dug up on the internet.”
His discerning eyes swept her from head to toe. She probably weighed a hundred thirty, not the one-ten she claimed, but she wore it well; it matched her height.
“What?”
He jerked. “Huh?”
“You’re staring at me.”
“Oh.” He felt the flush start in his chest and strike out for his face. “Sorry.”
Her cheeks darkened a shade or two of red, and she looked back at the computer.
“How’s it going, guys?”
Connor whipped his head toward the door, pulling his attention from the woman beside him. He smiled and stood, hand outstretched to the man entering the room. “Dakota Richards. I saw you in the meeting this morning, but didn’t get a chance to talk. How are you?”
“Doing all right.”
&n
bsp; The Texas drawl made Connor smile. The Stetson on his friend’s head made the smile stretch into a grin.
Dakota crossed his arms over his massive chest. “How about yourself?”
“Hanging in there. One day at a time. So, seems I still have some pull in the Charlotte office, huh? I call up there and they send me the best.”
Dakota’s grin grew, showing every one of his pearly whites. He shoved his hat back a little. “I heard you needed help and volunteered. Get over yourself.”
Laughter spilled from Connor, and it felt good. “I’ve missed you, man.”
“You want to introduce me?” Dakota nodded in Samantha’s direction. A glint appeared in his eyes that hadn’t been there when he’d been talking to Connor. The flame of jealousy singed Connor, taking him by surprise. Whoa. Where had that come from? He cleared his throat.
“Sure, um, this is Samantha Cash. She’s with the FBI. I’m surprised you guys don’t know each other. She’s our computer forensics expert who’s agreed to partner with us on the task force. Sam, meet an old buddy who used to be on the force with me, but then went with the FBI.”
“Dakota Richards, special agent, at your service.”
Samantha stood and held out her hand. Dakota shook it, holding it longer than Connor thought necessary.
Sam pulled away and said, “Nice to meet you. We need all the help we can get to find these other missing girls before they turn up in a dumpster somewhere.”
Connor’s phone rang. He excused himself and walked away, leaving Samantha and Dakota to talk for a minute. “Connor here.”
“We’ve got another dead girl.”
His heart sank to his toes. “Number four? Sydney Carter?”
Too Close to Home Page 8
