by Susan Shay
“They would if they’d seen what I’ve seen.” Cassie’s voice was soft but clear, with all the emotions of that morning neatly tucked away.
“Or even what I’ve seen.” The detective’s eyes held a sadness that hadn’t been there before. “We found Twyla’s body this morning.”
Cassie’s voice was low with sympathy. “She’d been cauterized, too, hadn’t she?”
Phillips looked startled for a moment, then shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not at liberty to say—but how did you know?”
Keegan almost chuckled at the astonishment on the cop’s face. The guy should be at least a little more skeptical. It shouldn’t be too hard for a policeman to figure out how she knew. She might have a contact in the department, a police scanner, or a way to hack into the department’s computer system. Of course, he’d never seen a scanner or computer in her apartment. That didn’t mean she couldn’t have one, though. There were tiny, handheld computers and folding keyboards available everywhere, it seemed. Where there’s a will...
“If I tell you, will you swear not to let it get in the paper?” The quaver was back in her voice.
Nice touch.
The detective nodded. “I’ll do my best. I promise.”
She drew her brows together as she watched the man. “You have to know, Detective, she was dead before it happened.”
Obviously miserable, he nodded. “Yeah, that’s what the medical examiner keeps telling us, but it’s hard to accept, anyway. Poor Twyla.”
After the heat of her gaze briefly warmed Keegan’s face, she looked back at Phillips. “I saw it when I was closing up one night at the bookstore. The murderer had been in the store, and I picked it up with the emotions he left there. It’s not admissible in court, but maybe it will help you catch him before he can kidnap again.”
Obviously a believer, the detective sucked in a quick breath. “There’ll be another kidnapping here in Stone Hill?”
After Cassie nodded, the man slammed his fist on the table. “Dammit, why can’t he go someplace else to do his dirty business?”
“I don’t know.” She paused before continuing. “I’ve had a dream where I’ve been kidnapped. I scream, then I hear another scream when I try to catch my breath. I think he’ll take two women, if he doesn’t have them already.
“He’s punishing these women for their sins until they ‘repent,’ then sending them to their rewards before they can sin again.”
Phillips nodded while he blinked hard. “But why is he cauterizing them?”
“To purify them—wipe away the sin that entered...during illicit sex.”
The man bowed his head. “Who thinks like that anymore? How could anyone in today’s world think sex is a sin? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Fundamentalists still think that way,” Keegan said, using the knowledge he’d gained when researching his parent’s cult. “I see church billboards all the time that read, The Bible says it, I believe it, and that’s all there is to it. And cultists make up their own rules. Do you have any unusual religious organizations around here?”
Absently Phillips ran one hand over his short graying hair. “Nothing more unusual than a group of foot-washing Baptists, and most of them are too old to even get out on Sunday night. I can’t see one of them killing anyone for their sins.”
“No, baptism is the accepted redemption path for most Baptists. But this guy… He doesn’t think the way the rest of us do.” Keegan tapped his temple. “There’s got to be something wrong mentally for him to be able to do this sort of thing.”
The detective looked from Keegan to Cassie. “Just to confirm my own assumption, this is a man we’re talking about, isn’t it?”
She paused for a long moment, as if searching for words that were hard coming. “I think whoever is doing this is either confused sexually or they’re doing it for or because of someone of the opposite sex.”
“You mean a man killing his girlfriends so his wife won’t find out about his affairs.” Disgusted, Phillips shook his head. “I hate people.”
“It’s more than trying to hide an affair. It’s as if the person is obeying an order or directive, and trying hard to please someone who’s impossible to please. He may think he’s getting these orders from God.” She took a breath, then blew it out and took a fresh one. “You have to publicize this. Put it in the paper, on television and radio. Tell women they must be careful. That anyone could be behind these murders. Anyone at all.”
Phillips dropped his gaze. “Sorry. I’m under orders not to. The city council is worried about starting a panic. They say it would be a real mess if all the women in Stone Hill got hysterical and started jamming the city’s phone lines. Besides, if word gets out, all the Christmas shoppers might go into Austin.”
Scooting to the edge of her seat, Cassie fisted her hands on the edge of the table. “You have to tell them! You can’t let one more unsuspecting woman get murdered.”
“That’s not my call.” With a sharp glance at Keegan, Phillips stood to go. “Thank you, Miss Cassie. I know how difficult it is for you to help us like this.”
Keegan walked the detective to the door and, making sure it locked behind him, returned to the coffee shop. Cassie sagged back in her chair. “God, what have I done?” she murmured, resting her head in her hands.
“With any luck, you’ve helped the women of Stone Hill.” He grazed his hand over her head, barely touching her hair. “And if you’ve saved a life, isn’t it worth it?”
Her sigh—long, soft, and slow—was more expressive than words. I certainly hope so.
Even as he wished he could spend all his time with her, keeping her safe, he knew if he did, it wouldn’t stop there. If he was with her that much, he wouldn’t be able to let her go until he’d made love to her—again and again and again. And that wasn’t going to happen.
Someone started beating on the door. “Guess I’d better let them in.”
She pushed back her chair and stood. “Maybe so. Do you know where Miriam is?”
Walking toward the front with her, he shook his head. “When I went home this morning, I found a note that said she’d be in and out, mostly out, for a few days. It worries me.”
Cassie’s blue eyes were full of concern. “Me, too. She’s never taken off much time at all, and never during the Christmas season. I just hope everything’s okay.”
Again someone knocked on the door, then asked, “Are you going to open up today or not?”
Wishing for the long, slow kiss he knew he couldn’t have, Keegan went to the door. After unlocking it, he opened it wide enough for Mack and Vern to enter. Behind them was the pastry delivery boy, who shoved the box of sweets into Keegan’s hands, turned, and left.
Vernon shook his head. “Manners get worse with ever’ generation. And this generation’s are in the toilet.”
Mack glared at the other man. “Not really, Vern. It’s just when kids are around sixteen, seventeen, what’s going on in their minds takes precedence over what’s going on outside them. That’s probably a good kid who’ll live to see better days.”
Vernon stumped into the store grumbling, “I hope you have coffee made, Keegan. I thought I was going to starve to death waiting out there.”
“Yup, it’s hot and fresh, just like you boys used to be,” Keegan answered, forcing a banter that he didn’t feel.
Vernon lowered his head to stare at Keegan from under lowered brows. “What were you and Terrence Phillips talking about? Someone been shoplifting books in here?”
“Not that I know of,” Keegan answered as he led the way to the coffee shop. “Cassie wanted to talk to them about the young women who’ve died here in town lately.”
“They’ll never catch whoever did it,” Vernon answered. “That bunch of Keystone Cops never catches anyone except innocent folks driving without a seatbelt.”
“Aw, quit your grouching. You deserved that ticket. As a retired sheriff, you should know better.” Mack glanced around the coffee shop as they w
alked to their favorite table. “Where is Miriam, anyway? We haven’t seen much of her lately.”
Keegan led the way back to the coffee shop, then poured two cups of coffee. “I haven’t spent much time with her, either. I think she has a new boyfriend.”
Chapter Twelve
“Miriam, are you going to be here for a while this afternoon?” Keegan watched as his sister shifted uncomfortably behind her desk. What was wrong with her these days? Whenever she hung around long enough to talk, she acted as if someone had dumped live coals down her pants. He gritted his teeth as he waited for her to answer.
Glancing from her watch to the wall clock, she pulled a stack of bills a little closer and finally picked up a pen. “Yeah, I’ll be here, probably until closing. Why?”
“Because I’m taking the afternoon off and I didn’t want Cassie to have to work by herself.” He didn’t add, Because it’s your store. The way you make your living. You really should be here, making sure things go the way they should.
He couldn’t say it, because in addition to being antsy these days, she looked fragile. Would she shatter if something went wrong? Sliding onto the edge of her desk, he leveled a look at her. “What’s the matter, Sis? What’s making you so jumpy?”
“Nothing is making me jumpy. It just happens that I have a lot on my mind. More than just this store and the problems here.” Her voice started to wobble. “Like my whole life.”
Apprehension singed the lining of his belly as if he’d just eaten a bowl of jalapenos. “Your whole life? Damn, Miriam. What is it?”
Eyes filling with tears, she shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s too late for anyone to help.”
As the heat in his gut ratcheted to a full blaze, he moved in, caught her chair arms, and turned her to face him. “Too late? What do you mean?”
“N-nothing, Bubba. The Christmas season gets to me every year. You’ve just never been here before to see it.” She lifted her gaze to briefly meet his, then glanced away. “We, uh, do the biggest part of our business each year in December, and this year the cash flow isn’t what it should be.”
Was she lying or could she really be that upset over a dip in the economy? “I have some money saved if you need it. How far behind are this year’s sales?”
“No...I couldn’t take your savings,” she answered, ignoring his question.
She’d always been so open with him, sharing what happened in her life until he knew as much about hers as his own. Saying that had changed was an understatement. What the hell happened? “Answer me. How much are this year’s figures off?”
Twisting her chair away from him, she shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t totaled it yet, but it seems like we aren’t doing as much as last year.”
“Maybe it seems as if we aren’t doing as much because you’re never here to see what gets sold.” He fought the rise in his voice. “Cassie makes out the deposit slips and I take them to the bank. If you haven’t totaled the numbers, how the hell would you know?”
Her face flushed. “Oh, never mind. I never could talk to you.” She jerked open a drawer, snatched her purse, and headed for the door.
Snagging her arm, he jerked her to a stop. “You can’t leave. I told you that I was taking the afternoon off, and I am. Do not leave Cassie here by herself.”
With a gasp, Miriam pulled her arm free, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. Like a spoiled child, she made a face and trudged back to her chair.
Hoping he could get out of the store before his frustration caused him to break something, he turned on his heel and stalked to where Cassie was straightening books. “I’m taking off for Austin.”
After a glance at a customer shopping nearby, she nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ll be back in a little while.” He lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. “I told Miriam she shouldn’t leave, but I’m not sure what she’ll do these days. Anyway, I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
The drive into the city took less than an hour. As if his car was on automatic, he drove straight to the paper and parked in the employee parking garage. Hey, it didn’t say that past employees couldn’t park there. And besides, by the time they discovered his car and called a wrecker to haul it away, he’d be out of there.
Entering by the side door, he skirted the front desk and took the back hallway to Clark O’Roark’s office. At least this one still had honest-to-God walls and a door. After knocking, he stuck his head inside. “Hey, Clark, you here?” Every wall in the room was lined with shelves, jammed with books on every subject. And it seemed every book had at least five pieces of paper hanging out of it. Stacks of newspapers filled every corner, and clutter took up most of the floor space. Only the green metal desk was neat. Keegan grinned as the familiar room made him relax.
Clark’s manicured beard might have turned white over the years, but his blue eyes were as sharp as ever as he got out of his chair to shake Keegan’s hand. Several inches shorter, he’d grown a belly that made him look like an escaped Santa Claus. “Hey, buddy! Got that psychic story you promised me?”
Damn. Wishing he’d never made the last trip to town, Keegan shook his head. “Sorry, man. Nothing there that’s worth the ink it would take to print it at this time. I’ve got another story you should be interested in, though.”
“Yeah?” Hiking his trousers, Clark sat on the edge of his desk, then motioned Keegan to sit in the only chair that wasn’t covered with something. “Tell me about it.”
As Keegan told him about the murders, Clark’s eyebrows drooped lower and lower. “I think I’ll pass on it.”
“What?” Dumbfounded, Keegan fumbled for the words he would need to convince the man. “Women are being kidnapped, tortured, and murdered, and you’ll pass on it? Why?”
“First, there’s a reporter that covers the police beat. What we print of that nature comes through him.” Slipping off the desk, he walked over to a shelf and pulled out a book. “And because we’ve already printed the stories of their deaths and their obits.”
“So you don’t want to do a story because someone might, what? Think it’s old news? Or because it’s a story that some guy who covers the police beat should have picked up on and didn’t?”
Face reddening, Clark sat in his chair, then rolled close to the desk. “Keegan, Stone Hill is quite a ways from here. I can’t be the hometown newspaper for every little Podunk town around. To be honest, nobody cares what happens out there.”
Keegan gripped the arms of the chair. “Then you won’t do it?”
All signs of the good old boy had left Clark’s face. “Nothing more than we’ve already printed.”
Almost shaking from the effort to control the frustration building in him, Keegan rose to his feet. “Death notices and obituaries aren’t enough to save lives. When the next woman dies, I hope you’re prepared to accept part of the blame.”
“Why should I? Do you honestly think a single article in a newspaper seventy miles away is going to make a difference?” Clark snorted, then shook his head. “As if most people even read the paper.”
Barely containing his fury, Keegan leaned over the desk. “Then damn you to hell!”
Clark’s mouth worked for a moment before he could find his voice. “L-listen, you’d better settle down or I’ll have to call security.”
“Too bad those women didn’t have a security agency to call to protect them, isn’t it?” With a sweep of his hand, he knocked a stack of papers off the edge of a chair and, without another word, stormed out of the room. When he was outside, he lengthened his stride to burn away the energy boiling through him.
What was wrong with everyone? Couldn’t they see that women were being tortured? Murdered? Someone had to put the word out before it happened again. When he reached his car, he slammed inside, started the engine and squealed out of the parking space, barely missing the bumper of the car behind him. Then, remembering to buckle his seatbelt, he pulled onto the street and headed for home.
What could he do? Biting
down on his back teeth, he turned the matter over in his mind. Maybe he should call in the FBI. But without being contacted by the local authorities, would they oblige him?
Maybe he should take out an ad in the Texas-Statesman. Warning: A serial killer is stalking the women of Stone Hill, Texas. Be aware of all suspicious characters if you have any connection with this town. The life you save could be your own.
But most likely, if they wouldn’t print the article he suggested, they wouldn’t publish his advertisement. Barely noticing the miles as they slipped by, he thought of waiting for the police to make their move, as Clark suggested. But what if they waited too long? What if Miriam or Cassie was hurt by this madman?
He gripped the steering wheel even tighter as he took a silent vow. No matter what, he wouldn’t let that happen.
When he arrived back at the bookstore, he was relieved to see Miriam’s car was still there. Even though she’d said she would stay, he hadn’t quite trusted her. As he pulled in, he glanced at the clock. Almost closing time. Maybe he’d get to say hi to her before she tore out of there to...? God only knew where she went each night, and it sure made for some lonely suppers in her apartment.
Maybe he should do something to try and get his mind off the serial killer. Stop obsessing. He could focus on his next move. Line up a job somewhere far the hell away from Stone Hill. Where they’d never heard of a small town serial killer.
How ludicrous was that, anyway? Serial killers didn’t target small towns. There were too many nosy neighbors and too few victims for a successful murderer to get along.
Until they caught the man, or he stopped killing, no way could Keegan leave. But that couldn’t stop him from making plans for the future, could it? As he glimpsed Cassie opening the door for a woman with her arms full of bags, he smiled grimly. Maybe he should inquire in Kansas City. After all, he’d never worked for The Star.
After stepping out of his car, Keegan hurried down the sidewalk to the door. Funny, he hadn’t noticed the chill in the air earlier. When he reached the door, he found it locked. Good. Twilight played tricks with vision, so why not lock up when the light started waning?
