Her Last Breath: A Chilling Psychological Thriller (Wolf Lake Thriller Book 1)

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Her Last Breath: A Chilling Psychological Thriller (Wolf Lake Thriller Book 1) Page 16

by Dan Padavona


  A minute after Mom entered the house, the loud motor of the Ford F-150 pulled her attention to the deputy’s driveway. Deputy Shepherd stopped the truck with a jerk and leaped from the cab in one motion. Scout turned the chair around and pushed across the property line, intent on intercepting him before he unlocked the door. The deputy didn’t have a ramp on his deck, so she couldn’t reach his doorbell.

  “Deputy Shepherd,” she said, calling over the wind.

  He didn’t notice Scout as he fumbled for the correct key. Why was he in such a hurry? She had to tell him what she’d learned last night. When she called again, his head shot up. He gave a curious wave, then hopped off the deck and ran to her when the wheelchair careened down a slight grade.

  “Careful, Scout. Hold still. I’ll come to you.” He glanced at his phone when he reached her. She wondered if he expected an important message regarding the murder case. “Is everything okay? Your mom all right?”

  “Yeah, everybody’s doing fine.”

  “Good. You had me worried for a second. Listen, Scout. I’m in a bit of a rush and have to shower and change.”

  “Are you going to the village dance?”

  His shoulders shook with laughter.

  “Unfortunately, yes. I don’t understand how I get myself into these things.”

  “Deputy Shepherd—”

  “Please, we’re neighbors now. Call me Thomas.”

  “Thomas.” She swallowed the nervous knot in her throat. The more she pieced the puzzle together in her head, the stronger her conviction grew that the videos came from the same madman. “I know you told me to cut back on the investigation stuff…”

  The smile vanished from his face.

  “Your mother made it clear, Scout. This is a murder investigation.”

  “But I learned something important. Do you know what EXIF data is?”

  “You’re not listening to me. I promised your mother I’d speak to you about the amateur sleuthing. No more videos, no more filling your head with violence. Let me do my job.”

  “But—”

  “No buts about it. I’m sorry, but I have a busy evening and need to hurry. Let me help you to your yard.”

  He wouldn’t even listen. A hurt feeling crawled through her chest. She was the outcast again. The girl nobody spoke to at school, the person the kids on the bus hated for slowing them down every day. She whirled the wheelchair toward her house.

  “I can get back on my own.”

  “Scout, I apologize. I didn’t mean to be short with you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I have homework and so many fun things planned this weekend.”

  Tears blurred her eyes while she wheeled the chair into her backyard. She sensed his eyes following, heard the regret in his silence. What did it matter? Fate confined her to this chair for the rest of her life. No amount of coddling would alter her reality.

  * * *

  Jeremy Hyde watched the crippled girl push across the lawn. Standing amid the trees on the other side of the road, he stroked the knife hilt, at one with the permanent darkness beneath the canopy. The girl knew too much. But the damn deputy was always around when he paid his neighbors a visit.

  He chuckled inwardly at the conundrum. Flaunting the murders made him ripple with excitement. Throwing the videos into their faces allowed him to relive the murders. He relished the cops discovering the files.

  But he couldn’t kill again if they discovered his name and locked him in a cell. And he intended to kill for many years. He’d developed a taste for it.

  The girl asked too many questions on the amateur sleuthing forum. Now she’d gathered everything she needed to bring him down.

  Jeremy stepped toward the ditch and froze when the deputy’s eyes swung across the road. Toward him. He paused and waited. No chance the deputy saw him inside the shadows. Jeremy had to hand it to the false hero—the deputy sensed what lay hidden.

  He drew the knife from the sheathe and waded through the tall grass lining the lake road. Behind the weedy growth, he gazed up and down the blacktop. Doors stood closed on the neighboring houses. Nobody outside working in the yards. He could cross the road while the deputy held his back to him. Plunge the knife into his back, dig the tip through the bullet wound that should have ended his sorry existence. The girl would be easy to catch. He’d outrace her to the ramp. If the mother interfered, he’d leave three bodies for the coroner.

  When the deputy left the girl’s side and crossed the lawn, his head hanging with regret, Jeremy stepped onto the shoulder and closed the distance on his prey. Before he reached the centerline, a car rounded the bend and raced up the road.

  He darted into the shadows before the driver identified him. Lucky cop. Tonight, he’d show the hero he wasn’t safe. Locked doors didn’t stop him. Nothing stopped him. Through the trees, he stared as the girl struggled up the ramp and swiped a tear from her eye.

  Poor, poor girl.

  He’d give both of them something to cry about.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Hot spray from the shower rinsed the sweat from his body.

  Thomas set the washcloth on the hanger and rubbed the soap sting out of his eyes. Regret clenched his muscles. He thought he’d done the right thing by keeping his promise to Naomi. But the woman wouldn’t want him to hurt her daughter’s feelings, and he’d done just that. Nausea crept up on him when he pictured the girl alone inside her bedroom, the lights low, the computer displaying Erika Windrow’s murder. If he knew a way to block access to every video sharing site on the internet, he’d do so for Naomi.

  Scout wanted to tell him something about the EXIF data. Thomas already knew the killer had shot the murder video in Harmon. There was one explanation for Scout possessing the EXIF information. She downloaded the videos again.

  He cut the water off and pulled the shower door aside. When he reached for the towel, a thump came from inside the house. Thomas stopped and listened. Through the open window, the lake foamed against the shore. Maybe the sound came from outside.

  After he dried off, he hurried to the bedroom and searched the closet for something appropriate to wear. Everything in his wardrobe appeared too casual or too formal. The Magnolia Dance wasn’t a casual get-together with friends, but it also wasn’t a wedding or funeral. He swept the hangers aside and settled on navy blue slacks, an off-white short-sleeve button down, and a casual sports jacket that he’d leave open. Tie or no tie? He hung three candidates against his throat, compared the outfits in the mirror, and tossed the ties on the rack. Why was he making himself crazy over this? It was just Aguilar. She’d probably wear blue jeans and a tank.

  Thomas swept his phone to the browser and found the number for Bernadette’s flower shop. He couldn’t predict how Aguilar would react to a bouquet. Now that he thought about it, she’d laugh and tell him not to get his hopes up, then grill him for the rest of the night. Yeah, stupid idea. Except he didn’t feel right picking a woman up for the Magnolia Dance without flowers. Old fashioned and set in his ways, he made the call.

  The phone rang. He read his mother’s name on the screen. The ringer shrilled until he gave in.

  “Your father expects an answer, Thomas.”

  “I gave him an answer at dinner.”

  “Don’t be foolish. You’ll never worry about money again.”

  “I don’t worry about money, Mother. You do.”

  She sniffed.

  “Shepherd Systems must stay in the family. Don’t do this to your father. Not now. You’ll break him if you turn down the offer.”

  He couldn’t voice what lay unasked. How long did his father have?

  “How is father?”

  It took a moment before Lindsey Shepherd responded.

  “He’s not well, Thomas. You saw him at dinner. It won’t be long.”

  “I’ll stop by in a few days.”

  “Sure,” she said, her voice bleeding sarcasm. “After you finish this important case you’re working on. Of course, we all know you
’ll find another case to keep you busy, another excuse to ignore your dying father.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “When will you come to your senses and cease this foolishness? It’s impossible for someone like you to survive in law enforcement.”

  She finally said it. Since the high school internship, she’d danced around the issue, His mother didn’t believe anyone on the spectrum could be a police officer.

  She let out a breath.

  “That came out incorrectly, Thomas. You’ll forgive me for misspeaking.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  “Will we?”

  The call ended. Thomas was running late.

  He checked his hair in the mirror, considered running a brush through the snarls.

  On his way out the door, he paused and glared across the road toward the tree line. A creepy sensation of being watched slid down his spine. Instinct dragged his gaze back to the house, as though he’d missed something important. He waited several heartbeats. Nothing moved except the lake breeze snaking through the tall grass. Chalking his anxiety up to the festival, he spun the key ring around his finger and hurried to the F-150.

  The sun began its descent. Dying rays washed the valley in red. After picking up his order at Bernadette’s, he queried the GPS to direct him to Aguilar’s house. The deputy owned a burgundy ranch in a quiet neighborhood on the west side of the village. He idled the truck in the driveway, torn between honking the horn and ringing the doorbell. Aguilar or not, Thomas was a gentleman at heart, so he crawled down from the cab and pressed the doorbell.

  The chimes hadn’t finished ringing when the door opened. Thomas rocked back on his heels. He almost didn’t recognize his fellow deputy. Aguilar wore a black-and-white floral Cami dress. Supple straps ran from her neck to the small of her back, accentuating her muscular physique. She’d braided her hair and draped the lengths over her left ear. My goodness, she looked stunning.

  She eyed him in the doorway.

  “What are you looking at, Shepherd?”

  Same old Aguilar. Even dressed to the nines, she disarmed him with macho bravado. Yet he caught the pink on her bronze cheeks as she raised an expectant eyebrow. She glared at the flowers in his hand.

  “Oh,” he said, remembering the bouquet. “These are for you.”

  She snatched the flowers.

  “Now that the formalities are out of the way, can we go?”

  “After, you should put the flowers in water so they don’t dry out.”

  No parking spots existed near the dance. Thomas abandoned the truck behind an Italian restaurant, and they walked two blocks to reach the celebration. A kaleidoscope of colors greeted them. The event planners covered the entrance with magnolia cuttings. A nineties cover band played a Weezer song, and disinterested teens watched their parents dance. Thomas led Aguilar beneath an enormous tent that lent the celebration a circus atmosphere. Card tables covered the ground, and an open circle in the center allowed for dancing and mingling.

  “Where would you like to sit?” Thomas asked, scanning the crowd for familiar faces and finding none.

  “How about over there?” Aguilar said, gesturing toward a quiet corner near the back.

  “Perfect.”

  Scents of grilled chicken and burgers wafted through the tent flaps. Though the gala was Wolf Lake’s version of a Valentine’s Day dance, the food choices were typical of barbecue stands in July. An obese woman at the next table dug into a heaping plate of chicken and potato salad.

  Desperate for a conversation starter, Thomas brought up Anthony Fisher’s name. Aguilar shook her head.

  “No work talk. I’m off until Monday morning, and I intend to keep it that way.”

  Thomas tapped his fingers to the beat and surveyed the dance floor. He wanted to tell Aguilar about Scout viewing the murder videos behind her mother’s back. But his partner made it clear work talk was off limits tonight. Deputy Lambert grinned at him from across the room. Thomas waved, and the deputy burst out laughing and pointed at him. He swallowed. During his teenage years, someone laughing and pointing did so to humiliate. Thomas understood Lambert was having fun. But the gesture still stabbed at him.

  “I should grab us food before the line gets too long. What do you want?”

  Aguilar shrugged.

  “Something that doesn’t have a bun around it. Surprise me.”

  Thomas squeezed between patrons and searched for anything that didn’t look like a hamburger. He settled on a stand selling roast beef platters with a choice of vegetables or mashed potatoes on the side. Knowing Aguilar took nutrition seriously, he opted for the broccoli.

  “This is almost edible,” he said, setting the plates down. “It has protein and carbohydrates.”

  She took one bite of the roast beef and smiled.

  “Good cut. It melts in your mouth.”

  Finally, Thomas had done something right tonight. As they ate, he watched the dancers, most of them inebriated and teetering. Aguilar chuckled when a silver-haired man tripped and dropped his food. Thomas poured them each a cup of water from the pitcher set at the center of the table. He swallowed and coughed. Chelsey passed their table with Ray’s hand locked on her wrist. Aguilar glanced up at him.

  “Do I need to perform the Heimlich?”

  “I swallowed down the wrong pipe.”

  He concentrated on his plate. But Chelsey drew his eyes back to the dance floor. His old girlfriend wore a black fit dress that kissed her mid-thigh and showed off strong shoulders. Ray spun her around, then pulled her hips against his. Two hands groped up her dress. Chelsey slapped his hands away, and Ray snickered as though he was fooling around. But Thomas caught the derision on his face. What was she doing with that creep?

  “So, who’s the chick?”

  Aguilar’s voice pulled Thomas out of his daze.

  “What?”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Shepherd. I’ve seen that look before. Who is she?”

  “Someone I knew a long time ago,” Thomas said, refilling his water and wishing for something stronger.

  “Wait a second. Isn’t she the private investigator in town? Wolf Lake Consulting, right?”

  Thomas scrubbed a hand down his face.

  “Yes, she owns Wolf Lake Consulting.”

  “Yeah, her partner chased down Hugh Fitzgerald. And the two of you have a history? This sounds juicy. Start talking, Shepherd. I want all the dirt.”

  “It’s nothing. It was just high school stuff.”

  Aguilar crossed her legs and gave Thomas a be-straight-with-me stare.

  “Don’t pretend you’re over this woman.”

  Thomas picked at his food, his appetite lost.

  “I haven’t seen Chelsey in a long time. Not much I can do about it, anyhow. She met somebody. It’s time we moved on.”

  “Please. She’s not serious about that gorilla. No self-respecting woman would commit to an animal like that.”

  He forced a laugh and chewed a piece of broccoli. As he raised his eyes, Ray stared at Thomas over Chelsey’s shoulder. He danced on two left feet, the bully three sheets to the wind. Ray’s face twisted, and before Thomas reacted, the man shoved through the dancers and bee-lined at Thomas and Aguilar. Chelsey rushed to catch up.

  “I thought that was you, Shepherd,” Ray said, dropping a meaty paw on the table. Aguilar’s water spilled. “Wipe the smirk off your face. I don’t appreciate guys staring at my girl.”

  “Hey, Ray,” Chelsey said, grabbing his chin and directing his eyes at hers. “Thomas and I ran into each other on a case. Sometimes we work together. There’s nothing going on.”

  Ray narrowed bloodshot eyes at Thomas.

  “’Course there’s nothing going on,” Ray slurred. “Shepherd knows what would happen if he moved on my woman. Ain’t that right, tard?”

  “That’s enough. You’ve been drinking.”

  Ray ignored Chelsey and bumped into the table. Thomas caught his cup before the water spilled onto Aguil
ar. Where the hell was Lambert?

  “You think I’m impressed that you’re a shitty county deputy? If you didn’t have that badge, I’d kick your ass across the village.”

  Thomas held Aguilar’s arm and rose from the table.

  “We were just leaving, Ray. Nobody wants trouble.”

  Aguilar’s eyes shot between Ray and Thomas.

  “We’re leaving?”

  “I didn’t mean to cause a scene. Sorry if I interrupted your dance.”

  Aguilar’s mouth hung open. What did she want Thomas to do? He wasn’t a teenager anymore and couldn’t start a fight over an old girlfriend.

  “Just like you, Shepherd,” Ray said, leaning his arms on the table. “Running off like the yellow punk you always were. That bitch on your arm would be a better challenge. I didn’t realize you dated boys. Retarded and queer.”

  “That’s enough!” Chelsey snatched Ray’s arm and yanked him away from the table.

  Ray threw Chelsey off his arm and lunged at Thomas. Chelsey smacked the ground and clutched her side. Thomas pushed past Ray to get to Chelsey before Ray threw a punch at Thomas’s face. Ducking under the blow, he wrapped his arms around the bully and subdued him as the dance floor cleared. Someone screamed for the police.

  “Get off me, you son-of-a-bitch,” Ray growled.

  “I won’t fight you, Ray. Stop struggling.”

  Ray freed one arm and swung his elbow into Thomas’s temple. Pain shocked through his head. Thomas ducked another blow, then grabbed Ray’s arm and twisted it behind his back. Lambert arrived as Thomas pinned Ray face-down. Aguilar stood over the fallen drunk with a smirk on her face. Thomas glanced up at Aguilar as he struggled to keep Ray down.

  “You seem to be taking this rather well.”

  Aguilar shrugged.

  “I’ve been called worse. Besides, this is the most entertainment I’ve had in years. You’re all right, Shepherd. I’ll never forget this act of chivalry.”

  “Thank you, but he’s a rather large man. Could you help?”

 

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