If It Walks Like A Killer (The Carolina Killer Files #1)

by Kiersten Modglin

  “I waited. I waited for the reporters to all move on, so they wouldn’t catch us. Just like I waited until Davis was older. Just like I waited until Rachael was out or asleep. Just like I waited for her to get over her Dad’s death, for the last nine years, Caide, all I’ve done is wait. I thought now we could finally have our chance. You told me to come back. This was all your idea. So don’t you dare tell me you don’t need this right now. I did everything you asked. I’m here.”

  “It’s more complicated now. People are watching my every move. We just have to be careful a little while longer. Once the trial is over it’ll just be the two of us, I promise.”

  A serious look came over Audrey’s face. “We have to talk more about Blaire, though, you know that right? I mean, I know I’m the other woman and I have no right to be jealous, especially now, but you have to know that I am.”

  “I don’t owe you an explanation for her, Aud. Look, I’m sorry but I don’t. You were gone for two years. Two whole years and we never heard from you. Even when you were here, we were never certain what we were. We never said. You’d just flake out for months at a time. Nothing was ever certain.”

  Audrey threw her hands up in exasperation. “Do you even understand that Rachael is my best friend? Do you realize how hard this has been on me? I don’t take what we’re doing lightly, Caide. Nothing is more important than my friendship to that girl. I love you so much but it’s breaking my heart. It breaks my heart every day. She is my best friend. What we’ve done, what we have, that doesn’t change how I feel about her.”

  “You think I don’t get that? She’s my wife.”

  “Yeah, and we all see how much that means to you.”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t you try and make it look like I don’t love her too. She’s the mother of my children.”

  “You screwed me on the morning of your wedding, Caide.” Her jaw dropped in disbelief.

  “Back then it was different. I’d lost everything: my parents, my money, my future. To me it all seemed like Rachael was to blame. I hated her then and I can’t believe you’d throw that in my face.” He looked around, expecting to see reporters. “Look, I don’t have time to argue. Just give me until the trial’s over, let everything cool down, and then we’ll go from there.”

  “Go from there? Are you having second thoughts about us?”

  “What? No.” He kissed her quickly on the mouth, surprised that the spark that had always been there was now dim. “I just need time to process. It’s been a long couple of weeks.”

  “Okay.” Audrey pouted, all the fight gone from her voice. “You’ll call me, right?”

  “Of course.”

  She leaned in to kiss him, her mouth tender on his.

  He pulled away, probably too quickly. “You should go.”

  She nodded, a hurt look filling her face. As she walked away, Caide remembered the paternity test. “Hey, Aud?”

  “Yeah?” She called over her shoulder, turning around.

  “Did Rachael ever mention having an affair to you?”

  “Rachael having an affair?” Her brow furrowed.

  “Yes.”

  “No, never. Why?” She stared at him intently.

  “Just curious.”

  “Okay.” She turned to walk away again.

  “Would she have?”

  She turned again. “Have what?”

  “Would she have told you? If she were having an affair?”

  Audrey smiled, a small sad smile. “She’s my best friend, Caide. She tells me everything.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Pam

  Pam stumbled into the bar at half past eleven. “Give me a beer,” she yelled to the bartender.

  “Sure thing, lady,” the kid with glasses shouted back.

  “Hey, lady, ain’t I seen you somewhere?” grunted the other bartender, the porky one with bad acne.

  “Nah, I’m just passing through.”

  “You look awful familiar. Maybe I’ve passed you somewhere else. I’ve been all over. Where you from?”

  “Where you been?” Pam took a swig of her beer.

  “Where you from and I’ll tell ya if I’ve been there.”

  “Where you been and I’ll tell you if I’m from there.”

  He leaned into her, smiling. “I asked you first.”

  “Buy me a drink and maybe I’ll tell you.”

  “Dude, stop flirting with the customers,” Glasses mumbled in an irritated tone.

  “Shut up, Sammy,” Porky mocked. “I’m just being friendly with the lady.”

  “The lady is trying to have a drink and you are supposed to be working, remember?”

  Porky rolled his eyes, but remained seated. “I ain’t bothering yeh none, am I lady?”

  Pam shook her head ferociously. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

  “See there.” He smirked at Glasses.

  Glasses looked annoyed, frowning impatiently, but said nothing else. After a few minutes of chatting it became increasingly obvious to Pam that she was going to have to work quickly. Her buzz was growing more strong by the second and the sleepiness alcohol gave her would kick in before long. Without thinking, she leaned over in her chair, bumping into a blonde haired, young girl who barely looked old enough to be in a bar, let alone sitting in the lap of some ponytailed biker who was at least twice her age.

  “Whoopsie,” she muttered, laughing so hard she spit her beer all over Blondie.

  “Ewwww,” the girl screamed, flailing her arms around. “I cannot believe you just did that.”

  Pam smiled again, offering up a beer in a drunken salute. “Ahhh, it’ll dry. Here, you want the rest?”

  “You are disgusting,” she screamed irately. “Get out of here.” She stormed away to a corner booth. Her boyfriend, looking hazily confused, followed suit.

  Pam hastened after her. “You get out.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do. Why are you bothering me?”

  Pam slid down in the seat beside of her. “I ain’t bothering you. I’m just hanging out.”

  “Just leave me the hell alone.” She tried to push Pam away so she could get out of the booth but Pam had thirty years and fifty pounds on the girl. She wasn’t moving.

  Suddenly her oblivious biker boyfriend on the opposite side of the booth spoke up. “Look lady, you got a problem or something?”

  “No problem here, baby. Just having a chat with your girlfriend.”

  Then an idea struck her. She stood up, without giving the man time to process her actions and threw her arms around his neck, her lips meeting his prickly, graying mustache with a bang. She tasted beer and blood as she realized she’d busted her lip on his teeth. He froze, still for a moment, before throwing her off of him. “Someone call the police. This drunk is psycho.” Murmurs of agreement could be heard around the bar.

  It was ironic that it was Sheriff Markowitz who walked into the bar a few minutes later, as if he’d been waiting for her, as if he knew what she was up to. His hands in his pockets, he smiled politely at Glasses and asked where the problem was.

  Glasses pointed across the bar where Pam still sat, attempting to stop her ever-bleeding lip. Markowitz started his walk toward her. As he neared, his expression softened. “Miss Underwood?”

  “What do you want?” she asked, though it sounded more like ‘Whaaddooant?’

  “Ma’am, I’m afraid you’ve caused quite a stir here tonight. Let me get you home. I know how hard these past few weeks must’ve been on you, but I’m glad to see you stuck around. You should be glad it’s me who found you tonight. Some of my guys are cuff-happy.” He chuckled, obviously trying to cheer her up.

  “Go away,” Pam muttered, scooting further back into her booth.

  “No, there’s no need for all of that. I just want to get you home safe. You’ll sleep this off and feel better in the morning.”

  “No. You can’t take me home, you old pervert,” Pam shouted, drawing all eyes to them.

  The Sheriff’s face
grew bright red, even in the dim bar lights. “Ma’am, look, please don’t do this. I just wouldn’t feel right arresting a grieving woman. Now, quit acting crazy. Let’s just get you home. I’ll call you a cab if you’d prefer.”

  Pam picked up her glass, still half full of beer and threw it in his face. “I said go away.” She sat her glass back down angrily, a menacing smile on her face.

  Markowitz wiped his eyes slowly, blowing foam off his lips. He searched for his cuffs and Pam knew what would come next. “Pamela Underwood, you are under arrest for public intoxication and assault on an officer. You have the right to remain silent…”

  Pam didn’t listen to the rest of her rights being read to her, there was only one right she cared about now: the right to justice, and without even knowing it Officer Al Markowitz had just moved her one step closer to getting it.

  Chapter Fifty

  Rachael

  Abby held her hand in Rachael’s face. “Hello? Rachael? Anybody home? Earth to Rachael.”

  Rachael shook her head. “I’m sorry Abby, I was trying to listen. Do you recognize that woman over there?”

  Abby looked over her shoulder to the table on her left.

  “Who? Lela?”

  “No, the older lady beside her. Has she ever been here before?”

  “Oh, no. That must be the new one they brought in last night. I heard she attacked some cop.”

  “What?” Rachael gasped.

  “Yeah, some of the guys were talking about her this morning. I figured she was a repeater, but I’ve never seen her before.”

  “She just looks so familiar to me. I can’t figure it out.” She continued to stare at the woman, sifting through her brain for where she’d seen her before.

  “She doesn’t look familiar to me. You’ve probably seen her around town or something. Why does it matter so much?”

  “I guess it doesn’t. It’d just be nice to see someone from the outside for once.”

  “Right. Well, I’m done eating. Want to go sit outside for a while? They say it’s not too cold out today.”

  “Sure.” Rachael picked up her tray absentmindedly and tried to put the woman out of her mind. As they walked out the double doors to the gated yard, Rachael was surprised to see a small amount of snow on the ground. It wasn’t even enough to cover all of the grass, small sprigs still poked through, but it took Rachael’s breath away nonetheless.

  Abby bent down, picking up a small handful of snow and touching it to her lips. “My grandma used to make snow cream for me, every winter. She’d freeze bags of it and it’d be there even in the summer. When she died, they found six bags in her freezer, just waiting for us.”

  “My best friend’s mom used to make some for us too. On snow days, I’d go over to her house and we’d fill up bowls of it, it was like we were cooking.” Oh, Aud, why’d you have to go and make even the good memories bitter? Suddenly Rachael felt an ice cold glob of snow slither its way down her back. She laughed, fanning her sweatshirt so it would fall out. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  Abby stuck her tongue out at her, making Rachael laugh.

  “Think there’s enough snow for a snowball fight?”

  Rachael looked around to the white ground beneath her, some of it already melting. She bent over and scooped up a handful. “When there isn’t enough snow to make snowballs, my kids call it a snow-throw fight.” She screamed, tossing the snow at Abby and missing horribly. They both laughed, grabbing handfuls of snow and running away, forgetting about all of their problems, even if just for a moment.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Pam

  Pam threw her lunch away, placing her tray on the metal counter. Her heart pounded as she felt the metal fork sliding around in her shirt sleeve. She watched the lunch lady eyeing her tray, waiting for her to ask about the missing utensil. Instead, she began spraying it off, oblivious to anything suspicious. She’s probably better suited in a Kindergarten lunch room.

  Pam turned to walk out of the cafeteria, careful to make sure no one was behind her. Rachael and her friend had just left, so they couldn’t have gotten too far. Her pulse raced as she walked out the double cafeteria doors to the brick breezeway. She tried to remember the way back to the gathering room where Lela had shown her she could watch TV or read magazines, figuring Rachael must’ve gone that way. She was trying to decide whether the hall was to her left or right when she heard laughter. She looked over to see a small grassy area covered in snow, with picnic tables littered throughout. There was no one in sight until Rachael popped out from behind a table, throwing a snowball at her friend with very short black hair and pale skin. The girls didn’t see Pam at first, so she was free to watch them romp in the snow like children, not a care in the world. Like they were actually happy. How dare she play in the snow when Blaire will never see or touch or play in the snow again. She thought back to when Blaire was younger, trying to recall a single time they’d played in the snow together, built a snowman maybe, but she couldn’t. A combination of anger and nervousness built up in her throat as she ran her fingers over the fork, gently poking her fingers with the ends, wondering if they’d be enough to do the job.

  Quieting her thoughts she stepped forward onto the grass, clutching the fork in her large sleeve tightly. “Can I play?”

  ***

  Rachael

  “Can I play?” The cigarette scarred voice asked from behind her.

  Rachael spun on her heels to face the woman who’d looked so familiar in the cafeteria. She was a squat, blonde woman who might’ve been pretty once, but now looked wrinkled and exhausted. Her dark eyes almost looked eerily black, staring into Rachael’s eyes intently. “I’m sorry?”

  “I asked if I could play.”

  “Oh, this?” She looked at the snow melting in her palm. “We were just goofing off, not really playing. You’re new, right? I’m Rachael.”

  “Pam.”

  “It’s nice to meet you. This is Abby.”

  The woman seemed agitated by everything Rachael said. “Everything okay?” Abby asked, still breathing hard from laughter.

  “Oh, it’s fine. I just don’t understand how you girls are out here having fun. I mean, you are in jail after all.”

  “Oh.” Rachael couldn’t help the sickly feeling that fell over her, something was not right. “Well, it gets better. I mean, its jail so it’s never good but I just take it one day at a time. You can’t be sad all the time, it only makes it worse. After a few days here, you’ll settle in and it won’t seem so bad.”

  Pam smiled, though her smile gave Rachael a repulsive feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I see. I’m glad you’re all settled in then. I can’t help but think that the woman you murdered is far from ‘settled in’, wouldn’t you say?”

  Her sentence was so far off subject, it took Rachael a second to realize what had been said. “Excuse me?”

  “You are Rachael Abbott, aren’t you? The woman who murdered Blaire Underwood?”

  “I—” Rachael started to defend herself before trailing off. It was then she realized just where she knew the woman from. Then that she realized where she’d seen those haunting brown eyes before, once filled with oceans of tears, now only with white hot rage. “You were in the courtroom, the day of my trial. You were there. Did you know Blaire?” She stepped back, out of pure instinct.

  “She was my daughter,” Pam replied simply.

  “Oh.” Rachael let silence fill the space between them, unsure of what to say or how to react. Her throat grew tight with tension as she stared at the woman for too long.

  “Rach, we should go. We’re both sorry for your loss but we need to get back inside.” Abby filled the silence though neither Rachael nor Pam acknowledged that anything had been spoken. Abby pulled her arm, turning Rachael away and forcing her to walk the opposite direction, half dragging her.

  Rachael was merely a few steps from the door when pain shot through her back. Hot and sharp, it was unlike anything she’d ever felt bef
ore. She staggered, letting out an animal like cry. She was vaguely aware of Pam running away, of Abby’s worried hands trying to prevent her from falling, asking what was wrong. She felt her knees smack the concrete walkway though she felt no pain. She heard Abby’s bloodcurdling screams as she laid her down slowly. She smelled blood, though how she knew it was blood she was unsure. She was unsure of a lot of things, once she thought about it. What was this pain? How could anything hurt so badly? What was so warm, dripping thickly into her mouth? Why were tears falling from her eyes? Where was she? Why was everything getting dark?

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Shayna

  Shayna Steele did not like hospitals. After her sister’s death, she’d prayed never to step foot back into one. She rushed through the first set of double doors, her curls flying behind her. “Hampton,” she shouted frantically as she spied him pacing the hallway.

  “He won’t even bring her kids to see their mother.”

  “Huh?” she asked, desperately trying to catch her breath.

  “Caide. His wife is dying and he won’t even come to see her. Won’t even bring those kids to see her. Who does that? What kind of a person—” He sighed, meeting Shayna’s patient eyes.

  “How is she?” Shayna noticed the puffiness that surrounded his eyes.

  “They said we could go in, as long as we’re calm. It nicked an artery in her neck. Half an inch over and—” He stopped, breathing deeply and avoiding her eye contact. “I just can’t go in there and tell her that her kids aren’t coming. I can’t do it.”

  “She needs you. She needs to see you, Hampton. You keep her calm, I’ve seen you do it. You can do this.” She placed her hand on the back of his arm and let him lead her to Rachael’s room. Her hands shaking, she pushed their way into the room and felt a lump rise in her throat.

  Her blonde hair splayed across the pillow, Rachael had her neck covered in gauze and a small tube draining out of it into a bag draped beside the bed. Her skin looked nearly translucent under the fluorescent lights. Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of them shuffling into the room and Shayna found herself wondering if she might cry as she spied the cuffs hooking Rachael’s wrists to the hospital bed. She smiled at Rachael, trying not to glance at the pitiful look she knew Hampton would be wearing.