She thought of Natalie’s family. How could they learn to live without their daughter? Brooke’s suffering was nothing compared to what they were enduring. Her eyes filled with tears. A few escaped to roll down her cheek and drop from her jaw. Sadness clogged her throat. A lone sob burst through.
Luke pulled her forward and wrapped his arms around her. Her head fell onto his chest, and tears spilled onto his shirt. She recovered her breath with a full-body shudder. He tucked her under his chin. One warm hand rubbed a slow circle in the center of her back. Brooke had no idea how much time passed as she drew strength from Luke’s quiet presence.
A knock sounded on the door. It opened. Chief O’Connell came into the room, his crutches banging on the metal doorframe. He produced a pack of crackers and a can of ginger ale from his pocket and set them on the table. “Luke, can I talk to you for a few minutes?”
Brooke lifted her head. She wiped her face with a hand. “You don’t need to leave the room.”
Mike gave her a quick appraisal. “We have the account information and permission from Maddie and from Natalie’s parents to access their online accounts.”
“How sure are you that it’s Natalie?” Her voice cracked.
The answer was in the chief’s pale blue eyes. “Dental records confirmed her identity a few minutes ago.”
Another wave of grief crashed over Brooke. Poor Natalie. “She was targeted because she attended my class.”
Chief O’Connell shifted on his crutches. “We don’t know that.”
Brooke stared him down.
“But it’s a strong possibility.” The chief’s face tightened. “I have to interview her family and friends. He handed Luke a piece of paper. “Here are the girls’ accounts, log-in information, passwords, etcetera. See what you can do with it. I’ve sent it to the state police too, but it’s not their only case.”
“I’ll get on it right away.” Luke pocketed the list.
“Let me know if you come up with anything.” O’Connell turned to Brooke. “Is there anything you can tell me about Maddie or Natalie that might tie them together?”
“I didn’t even know Maddie before this week.” Brooke rubbed her forehead. “Natalie and her sister attended my last women’s self-defense course, which obviously didn’t help much.” What else could she have taught Natalie to keep her safe? How had she failed?
“Brooke.” The chief leveled a serious gaze at her. “Natalie’s Mini Cooper was found on the side of the road on her route home from work. Her bumper was mangled. Both rear tires were flat. He didn’t just run her off the road. He rammed her car with his. There weren’t any houses or businesses in sight. Nowhere for her to run for help. The driver’s side window was smashed. She probably locked the door to try and keep him out. She tried to contact the police on her cell, but the signal out there was weak. The call didn’t go through. There were injuries to her hands and forearms that suggest she fought.” His voice trailed off. “But he was bigger and stronger.”
Brooke’s lungs expanded in a painful, shaking breath.
“This was not the work of an amateur. He knew what he was doing. The fact that Natalie couldn’t fight him off is not your fault.”
“But if it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t have been his target.” And thinking about targets, Brooke pulled out her phone. “Excuse me for a minute. I want to check on the kids, and I have to let Ian know what’s going on.”
She knew her kids were safe at Ian’s high-security apartment building, but a mother’s worries weren’t always about being rational. Fear for her kids was pure instinct.
Drizzle hit Brooke’s face as they walked from the police station to the car. “Where are we going?”
“I booked us into a hotel about twenty minutes from here.”
“I want to go home.”
“I know, but this is safer.” Luke steered her with a hand on the small of her back.
“For who?” Brooke protested. “I’d rather have him find me than take out his anger on another innocent young woman.”
“Brooke, I’m not going to let this guy have you no matter what.” Luke waited until she met his gaze. “And do you really think he would stop if he got you?”
“No.” Brooke settled into the passenger seat. “I’m out of clothes. If we’re going to be hiding for an indeterminate length of time, I’d like to pick up my computer. And I left my phone charger on my nightstand, and my phone is almost dead. It’s broad daylight. All this guy’s activity has been at night. How about we go back to my house for a few hours now and check into a hotel later?”
He considered her compromise for a few seconds. “All right.” He drove back to her house and parked out front. “Wait here with the doors locked. If you see anyone but me, drive away and call the police.”
Brooke stared at the house while Luke went inside. He didn’t return for ten long minutes.
“OK. Coast is clear.” He carried their bags into the kitchen. “I’ll heat up some soup.”
“I’m not hungry.” She dumped her purse on the table.
“You should eat anyway.” He set up his laptop on the table. He plugged in and booted up, then poured some soup into a saucepan. He turned on the burner under it.
Unable to sit, Brooke paced the kitchen. Good thing her knee had improved. She couldn’t contemplate being still with this much turmoil churning through her. Natalie’s face kept popping into her head, Brooke’s imagination battering it beyond recognition.
Standing at the stove, stirring soup, Luke frowned over his shoulder. “I’m going to work on identifying parallels in social media activity between the two women. With multiple sites and profiles, just downloading all the information will likely take a while. Why don’t you access Natalie’s accounts, read through them, and see if anything jumps out at you?”
She grabbed her laptop from her office and opened it next to Luke’s computer. He placed a bowl of chicken soup on the table at her other elbow, then brought her crackers. The scent wafted to her nose. She picked up a spoon. It hovered over the bowl as guilt rolled through her. How could she be hungry when a young woman was dead because of her? How could she eat when Natalie’s family was making funeral arrangements?
Luke sat down with his own late lunch. “You need to eat, Brooke. Making yourself sick serves no purpose. Helping the police find the killer is the best use of all that guilt and anger right now.”
Could he read her mind? She switched her computer on and ate a few spoonfuls while the laptop warmed up. Her stomach protested, then settled as the warm broth soothed her. Brooke managed to eat half the bowl while she checked her e-mail. Same old, same old from school. Pushing the bowl away, she braced herself and started surfing through Natalie’s social media profiles.
Natalie was active online, but she didn’t announce her minute-to-minute activities as Maddie had done. Brooke scrolled. Natalie subscribed to updates from Forever Fitness and the Coopersfield High School alumni page. Brooke moved to the photos section and stared at the pictures of the beautiful smiling girl whose ruined body was lying in a stainless-steel morgue drawer. Brooke’s stomach cramped. She breathed through her nose and fought the rise of nausea. Her emotions were not helping. Natalie’s killer had to be stopped, and Brooke needed to lock down her guilt if she was going to contribute.
Brooke scrolled through two years of pictures and stopped on a shot of Natalie’s high school soccer team. She opened a second window, signed on to Maddie’s account, and clicked the PHOTOS tab. Maddie’s field hockey team pictures popped up in the first few screens. Something clicked in Brooke’s brain. She went back to Natalie’s team picture. The photos were similar, which made sense because all the athletic team yearbook pictures looked alike. She arranged the windows to view the images side by side. Tiny words ran vertically up the left edge of both photos. Photographer’s credit? She enlarged the pictures until she could read the letters.
“Luke.”
“Did you find something?” He shifted his positio
n.
“Maybe.” She angled the computer so he could see the screen. “Look at these pictures.”
Luke leaned in. “We know both girls were high school athletes. Why would having their team pictures on their profiles be unusual?”
Brooke pointed to the name on both images.
OWEN ZIMMERMAN PHOTOGRAPHY.
“Coincidence?” Luke scratched his chin. “How many schools use the same photographer?”
“I don’t know.” Brooke sighed. “We’ve used Owen for years. He gives us a great package. You’re right. It could be the same for all the local schools.”
“It’s worth passing that on to Chief O’Connell.”
Brooke picked up her cell and dialed. She was instructed to dial 911 only if the call was an emergency. The line switched to voice mail. She left a message for the chief to call her back.
“The only two things that jump out between the girls’ accounts are Forever Fitness and the team pictures.” Brooke couldn’t let go of either. “Let’s take a ride to Owen’s studio. It’s right in town.”
“Brooke, we are assisting the police, not acting in their place.”
But the police were working on their own theories, and Brooke’s connections were spiderweb thin. “Whoever he is, he could be planning another murder right now.”
“And visiting Owen will accomplish what?”
“I just want to get a look inside his studio.”
“Why? I doubt a killer would leave evidence out in the open.”
“Then it won’t hurt to stop by. I’ll just say I want information on getting some family portraits done. Nothing suspicious about that. Besides, you said it yourself. The link between Owen and the girls is tenuous. Maybe I can find out where he was last night and eliminate him from our list.” Brooke jumped up, the thought of doing something active to help energizing her. She headed for the hall at a brisk pace. “Grab some workout clothes. I’m in the mood to try out some exercise equipment on the way back.”
“Damn it, Brooke!” Luke yelled from the kitchen. “We cannot go looking for a killer. What if you tip him off?”
“We’ll be very casual. I can’t just sit here. He could be hurting another woman right now.” Ignoring his expletive, she darted up the stairs. She found a pair of yoga pants in decent condition at the bottom of a drawer and tugged them on. What did she hope to find at Owen’s studio or Forever Fitness? Did she think she’d recognize Natalie’s killer?
Her research told her that killers often blended in with society. That’s how they got away with their crimes. Still, she had to try. What if she didn’t and another woman died tonight?
Natalie had been murdered because of her involvement with Brooke. She couldn’t let another one of her girls suffer the same fate. The killer was fixated on Brooke. Who knew what else he was planning. She had to do everything possible to find him before he acted out another sick plan.
Luke glanced at Brooke in the passenger seat of his car. “You called Ian earlier. How did he take the news?”
“Not well. He wants to keep the kids until this is all over.”
Great. More incentive for Brooke to pursue the killer.
“Why did I let you talk me into this?” Luke parked in front of a small brick house on Second Street. A discrete sign on the mailbox read OWEN ZIMMERMAN PHOTOGRAPHY in tasteful print.
“Because the association is weak and you don’t think we’re accomplishing anything.” Brooke got out of the car. “Basically, you’re humoring me.”
“So, why are we here?” And why did the idea of paying the local photographer a visit give Luke the willies?
Brooke led the way. “You said your program would take about an hour to run. We might as well do something useful while we’re waiting.”
He followed her up the walk. Hell, in those tight yoga pants, he’d follow her anywhere. A matching yard sign and arrow directed them to the side door, marked STUDIO.
Luke knocked. He angled his body slightly ahead of Brooke’s, just in case.
The door opened. The man who opened it was about forty. Shaved head. Shorter than Luke but stockier. Probably strong enough to carry a dead body.
Surprise puckered Owen’s brows. “Brooke?”
“Hi, Owen.” Brooke smiled and introduced Luke. “I’m sorry, I should have called first. Did we catch you at a bad time? I wanted to ask you a few questions about getting some family portraits done. For my mother. For Christmas. Is it too late to order for the holidays?”
“No, it’s OK.” Owen stepped back. “Come in.”
The left side of the studio was bare, dark wood floors, white walls. Lights on wheels and props were pushed into the far corner. Roll-down screens, like giant roller-window shades, hung from the back wall. In the front of the room, a couch, two chairs, and a coffee table were set up in conversation mode. Photo albums were spread on the table.
“What did you have in mind?” Owen asked.
“I’m not sure. Something plain but not cliché, if you know what I mean.” Brooke rolled a vague hand in the air. “I thought maybe you’d have some ideas.”
“Let me grab the proofs from a few recent sessions.” Owen walked to the coffee table. He rooted through a few stacks of small photo albums and selected two. He gestured to the sofa. “Have a seat and take a look at these. See if anything catches your eye.”
Brooke dropped onto the couch. Owen took the chair diagonal to her. Luke stayed on his feet. Sitting and looking at pictures wasn’t going to get them anywhere.
“Do you have a restroom?” Luke asked.
Owen pointed. “Through that doorway. First room on the left.”
“Thanks.” Luke followed Owen’s directions.
“Oh, I like this.” Brooke’s voice faded as Luke closed the door behind him.
Just as he’d hoped, a small office was opposite the bathroom. Luke ducked inside. If Brooke wanted answers about Owen Zimmerman, Luke was going to get them for her. Then he was going to get her somewhere safe for the night.
A computer hibernated on the desk. Images faded and appeared in a screen saver slideshow. He tapped the space bar and kept his ear on the muffled conversation in the other room. A quick perusal of the desk drawers didn’t yield anything interesting. The credenza was equally uneventful. The computer blinked to life. Luke took a quick peek at the hard drive files. Most of the files were full of images, as to be expected from a photographer, organized in folders by client name. A few layers down he pulled up an obscurely labeled folder: SPECIAL JOB.
The thumbnails were shocking enough Luke didn’t click to open any of them. He pulled out his keychain. A flash drive the size of a stick of gum dangled. Luke inserted it in the USB slot and copied the entire folder. Then he closed the files window and slipped out to the restroom to flush the toilet and run the sink for a few seconds.
In the studio, Owen had shifted to the couch next to Brooke, far too close considering Luke’s new opinion of the photographer.
Brooke smiled. “What do you think of this?”
It was an outdoor shot of a family in jeans and sweaters gathered around a German shepherd.
“Nice and natural.” Luke put on his game face and sat on Brooke’s other side.
She showed him a half-dozen pictures. “Which one do you think the kids will like?”
“The one with the dog, no question.” Luke would have said anything to get Brooke away from Owen. The flash drive was burning a hole in his pocket.
“I like that one too.” Brooke closed the book.
Owen opened an agenda book. “Do you want to set up a time to do the shoot?”
Brooke pursed her lips. “I’ll call you next week to make an appointment. I have to see which days the kids are with their father.”
“No problem.” Owen closed his book and set it on the table.
Brooke stood. “Thanks, Owen. My parents are going to love this picture.”
“Thanks for coming by.” Owen showed them to the door. “Talk to you next week.
”
They walked to the car and got in. Luke started the engine.
Brooke hooked her seatbelt. “Maybe I was wrong about Owen.”
“You weren’t.” Luke pulled away from the curb. “While you were looking at pictures, I took a quick tour through Owen’s computer.”
Brooke’s head snapped up. “I’m impressed.”
Luke clenched his fingers on the steering wheel. “Don’t be. What I did was illegal and dangerous. In fact, I can’t believe I did it. You’re obsession is contagious.”
“What did you find? Let me see it.”
“No way.” Luke turned toward Main Street and switched on his headlights. Above the quaint town, clouds were rolling in, bringing early twilight with them. “I’m handing the copies of the files over to Chief O’Connell. Although I obtained them illegally, so I’m not sure what he’ll do with them.”
“With what?”
“Pictures. Seriously, once you see them, you can’t unsee them. I’d really like to unsee those pictures. I’m not going to show you.”
“Will you just tell me what the hell you found?”
“Some very disturbing BDSM porn.”
Brooke shrugged. “People are into that these days.”
“Are you?”
Brooke blushed. “No, but to each his or her own.”
“This wasn’t a little bondage or submission session for bored suburban housewives to get off.” He felt like he needed to bleach his eyeballs. “This was violent.”
And bloody.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Scrape.
Maddie bristled as the branch outside rubbed against her window. The hairs on her neck lifted.
Just the wind. Just the wind. Just the wind.
But repeating the facts didn’t subdue her rampant paranoia. Her brain knew she was safe here with her parents, but her heart jolted at every noise, no matter how routine. Would her terror ever fade? Would she ever get back to normal? Tomorrow she had an appointment with a psychiatrist. Her dad was taking her, but she was already dreading leaving the house.
She Can Scream Page 23
