A Killer's Prey

by M. J. Eason

  Six years ago everyone but Kara believed Frankie Stephens, the Death Angel, died when his car plunged into the Potomac after a high-speed chase, even though his body was never recovered. Now, Davis saw the holes in that theory.

  But if Frankie hadn’t died that night, why had he waited six years to resurface? All the FBI profilers believed serial killers thrived on attention. They loved hearing about their crimes in the press. So where had Frankie been all these years?

  Davis closed his eyes and tried to nap. What awaited him in El Paso would be an emotional tug-of-war. But sleep proved elusive.

  When the seatbelt light went off, he pulled out the folders, glancing around briefly before opening them. The gruesome details contained in those folders would shock most normal people.

  The first new victim, Amanda Shelly, bore a striking resemblance to the original Angel death. But the most compelling piece of evidence that the Angel might still be alive came from the name of the victim. Her initials were the same as the Angel’s first victim. Whoever did this, enjoyed taunting them, flaunting his victims before them—just like Frankie. But more frightening to him was the name yet to come. Kara’s name. Without a doubt, Davis knew the Angel would come after her.

  Chapter Two

  “Hey, where are you? Are you coming in to work today or not?” Justine Yamez’s nineteen-year-old voice filtered through the noise in Kara’s head.

  “Hi. No, Justine, I’m not feeling very well. Can you handle things on your own today?” Of course, Kara knew she could.

  Located in one of the more exclusive shopping areas in El Paso, Kara’s boutique, like all the others in the area, had been experiencing a slump in sales due to the time of year. Late Indian summer by most business terms meant a lull in customers.

  “Sure. Are you coming down with something?” Justine’s arrival in her life had been an answer to prayer. When she walked into Kara’s shop two years earlier asking for a job, she proceeded to make Kara’s job easier, not to mention more entertaining. Now, at nineteen, Justine was at a crossroads in her life. She wasn’t quite ready for college yet. Instead, she decided to take a year off from school in spite of her family’s wishes. Her father, the corporate attorney, wanted Justine to follow his example like all the other Yamez children. But Justine’s heart leaned more along the lines of relief work abroad.

  “No, I think I just overdid it yesterday.” Kara didn’t miss Justine’s girlish giggle. She’d told Justine numerous times that she and Paul Juarez, the captain of her co-ed baseball team, were just friends. It still hadn’t stuck.

  “Okay, I get it,” Justine added at Kara’s pointed silence. “But for crying out loud would you date? Or just sleep with the guy. What’s it going to hurt? He certainly wants you badly enough. You need to start having some fun before you shrivel up inside.”

  Justine believed in living in the moment. Kara wished she could be so carefree. Unfortunately, she had responsibilities. She’d chosen to raise Ava on her own. Carefree was something she couldn’t afford to be.

  Everyone around town believed Ava to be the product of Kara’s failed marriage to a make-believe ex-husband named Adam Bryant, who’d later passed away. It seemed easier to make up a normal past than try and explain her history. Only the Apache people suspected the truth.

  Once Kara hung up, she walked outside to the back deck and sat down. Her head throbbed with pain. The voices of the dead called out to her from their resting place in the dusty front yard where Ryan left them. Kara hadn’t bothered to pick them up when she returned from her run. She’d simply walked past them, showered, and sat down on the back deck with Buster at her feet, wishing she could ignore them.

  Although Ryan didn’t initially say as much, Kara knew there were others. Two others to be exact. Rachel would be just his latest. But they all cried out to her, along with Rachel, the ex-wife of the man she both hated and loved.

  Kara had no idea how long she’d been sitting like this. She needed to pick up the folder and put it away somewhere safe before Ava got home from school but she couldn’t bear to touch the photos. If she touched them, she would feel their pain. And in experiencing their pain, they would become real to her. She’d want to do something to help them. She couldn’t. She’d left that part of her life behind in DC. She was a mother now—a boutique owner. She was no longer a psychic.

  As much as Kara tried to block out the voices of the dead, she tried even harder to break the link between her grandmother and herself. She couldn’t talk to Maggie about this and not fall apart. And she couldn’t fall apart for Ava’s sake.

  When the phone rang once more, Kara didn’t need to look at the caller ID to know it would be Maggie. She ignored the phone and listened as the answering machine picked up. Maggie never left messages. She detested modern technology.

  Silently, Kara promised to call her back later.

  She found an old box containing clippings of her past successes hidden away in the closet. Kara scooped the case photos up into the box without touching them, then closed the lid and shoved the box onto the highest shelf in her closet, safely out of Ava’s reach. For the moment, the voices grew silent.

  It felt as if hours had passed but in fact it was barely noon and she didn’t know what to do with herself. Too much empty time for thinking.

  Kara’s glance slid to the phone, thinking of Davis. If she picked up the phone, would she be able to reach him? Would he even want to hear from her?

  Slowly she dialed the familiar number to the VCIRCD headquarters and waited.

  “Good afternoon, VCIRCD’s DC Division. How may I direct your call?” the pleasant voice of the receptionist inquired politely.

  “Agent Davis Martin, please.”

  The silence following her request lengthened along with Kara’s fears. One click, followed by another, then another before the receptionist questioned, “May I ask who is calling, please?” It took Kara longer than it should to realize what the clicking noise represented but when she did, she slammed the receiver down.

  Idiot! She’d been out of the game far too long. She’d grown rusty. Davis’ ex-wife had just been murdered. Of course, they’d monitor his calls for clues.

  Kara still stood with the cordless handset in her hand when it rang once more and she feared the worst. Surely, not enough time had passed to trace the call. Still, she couldn’t pick up.

  The answering machine clicked on and her grandmother’s frantic voice came into her living room.

  “Kara, it’s your grandmother. Kara if you’re there pick up. Child, don’t do it. Don’t take the case. Don’t go back to the past with—”

  “Gran, I’m here.” Kara picked up the handset wanting only to reassure her grandmother.

  “Don’t take the case. It’s too dangerous for you.”

  Of course, Kara knew what her grandmother meant. After all, they shared the bond of vision.

  “I’m not. I’m not taking the case, Gran.” Kara paused for the moment before asking slowly, “What have you seen?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” This meant it had been bad. Whenever her grandmother refused to share something, it was bad.

  “Tell me…” Her grandmother remained silent. “Is Ava in danger?”

  Dear God…no.

  “No, child, but you are.” Kara drew much-needed air into her lungs. She couldn’t go through this again. She’d almost died the last time.

  “Not like that, child. It’s far worse. Don’t go there, Kara.”

  She wanted to press for answers but knew Maggie wouldn’t reveal them.

  “I’m not taking the case, Gran,” she said instead.

  “Thank God.” Maggie paused for a moment before asking, “You’ve seen him, haven’t you? He isn’t dead.”

  “Frankie Stephens is dead. He died that night. That’s over. Whoever is doing this now is just a copycat. They’ll catch him.”

  “You don’t believe that, Kara. I can tell it in your voice.”

  “They’ll catch him,” Ka
ra repeated once more and really tried this time to mean it.

  “Without your help?”

  “Yes, without my help.”

  ****

  El Paso, Texas appeared to be little more than a place for the desert sand to collect in the middle of nowhere.

  Why in God’s name had she come here? The heat assaulted Davis the second he walked out of the airport terminal.

  Dry desert heat.

  Inside the rental car, the temperature felt blistering. Even though it was early evening, the heat showed no sign of letting up.

  And Davis didn’t have any idea what to say to Kara.

  What do you say to someone you haven’t seen in six years? How’ve you been? Oh and by the way, why didn’t you tell me I have a child?

  He left the airport, still not ready to go to her just yet. He knew very little about her life here. She might be involved with someone. The thought was not nearly as terrifying as his reaction to it.

  He passed rows and rows of fast food joints along the highway leaving the airport. Davis pulled into one and got out. He found a phonebook but she wasn’t listed.

  Kara didn’t want anyone finding her.

  Ryan told him she owned a small boutique in town. He flipped through the yellow pages until he found the name of the shop. In Bloom.

  He called the number and waited through the fifth ring before the answering machine picked up. Hearing Kara’s voice after so long took him back to other times. He loved the sound of her voice. Soft and sexy, that Texas drawl drove him crazy and reminded him of what it had been like making love to her. The way she whispered his name when he held her close.

  Now her sexy voice informed him the store’s hours were from nine to six. Davis hung up and glanced at his watch. Just barely five-thirty.

  He went back to the rental, punched in the location of the shop and drove to the small shopping center in a more upscale section of town where he spotted the In Bloom.

  Ryan told him there had been a light blue BMW SUV parked in front of her house. He could only assume it belonged to Kara. The SUV wasn’t here, only a bright orange VW Bug.

  He parked next to the Bug and tried the door. The shop was unlocked. When he walked inside, a tiny bell above the door announced his presence to the only person still in the place. A young woman, who barely looked old enough to legally work, stood behind the counter counting the money in the register. She didn’t look at him until she’d tallied the last bill.

  Her Mexican heritage revealed itself in her long, flowing black hair, dark eyes, and a flawless olive complexion. The combination made her appear fragile, exotic.

  For a moment, she didn’t say anything but he could tell his appearance had her curious. He didn’t fit in.

  She stepped from behind the counter and came over to where he stood pretending to look through a group of women’s blouses.

  “May I help you find something?” She smiled as he fumbled with a hanger. When her eyes met his, something registered. He knew she’d figured it out.

  “Well, well. So you’re what she’s been hiding. I always knew it had to be good. No one moves to this God-forsaken place deliberately, not without having a very good reason. I’m guessing your Kara’s reason.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Davis asked trying not to reveal anything.

  “She’s not here,” she added without explanation

  “Where is she?” The girl didn’t answer. She just stared back at him, unnerving him.

  “I just want to talk to her.”

  “Uh huh. Well, you’ll have to do better than that. So, who are you and why do you want to talk to Kara? And more importantly, why doesn’t she want to talk to you?”

  When Davis left the shop, he headed back in the same direction he’d come. He’d learned, among other things from Justine Yamez that Kara hadn’t gone in to the shop at all today. Maybe after seeing Ryan and hearing about Rachel she kept right on running.

  God no.

  He waited another fifteen minutes before considering a possible plan. The girl promised to keep her mouth shut but how much weight did he place in that promise? After all, she considered Kara her friend as well as her boss.

  Ryan said Kara insisted she no longer possessed the gift but Davis didn’t believe that for a minute.

  Kara had hated her gift from day one. But she’d told him on countless occasions it wasn’t something that ever went away. She’d certainly tried enough in the past to block out the images.

  So, if he went there now, would she see him coming and run? He’d need to wait until dark at least. Hopefully give himself some advantage.

  He stopped in at a Mini Mart and grabbed cigarettes. Davis had stopped smoking after the first Angel case. But with the long grueling hours he’d put in recently trying to solve the new cases and the unspeakable evil surrounding the death of people he’d known personally, he needed some vice. Smoking beat the hell out of drinking.

  He unwrapped the cellophane from the cigarette pack and lit what would be the first of many cigarettes of the evening. The nicotine rushed to his head, sending it spinning for a moment. But the rush didn’t stick around long. He tossed aside the first and reached for another.

  Davis stood outside the Mini Mart loitering, while those passing by easily pegged him for an outsider. The suit and sunglasses made them suspicious. He hadn’t taken the time to change. His mind had been on what lay ahead.

  The cigarettes, added to the stress of the day, churned inside his empty stomach. He needed food to counteract their effects. Davis ignored the fast food joints, choosing a somewhat nicer restaurant instead where he hoped to find a quiet table to think about what to say to her.

  But too many other thoughts pressed down on him.

  God, he wished he could understand how he’d become so enmeshed in this thing. Why had the killer—because he couldn’t accept that Frankie might still be out there somewhere waiting to make a fool out of all of them all over—chosen to make Davis as well as Kara part of his gruesome game this time?

  Chapter Three

  Ava had been grumpy and sullen since Kara picked her up at the bus stop hours earlier. She complained about the homework Miss Clopay assigned and took no interest in their usual evening routine of reading. When Ava’s bedtime finally rolled around, Kara’s nerves were raw from trying to remain patient with her daughter.

  “Okay, little girl, off to bed you go.” When faced with going to her room, Ava’s sullenness turned to tears. She clung to her mother’s waist and sobbed.

  “Mommie, I can’t sleep in there! There are too many noises!” Kara’s pulse skipped a beat at her daughter’s confession.

  She picked Ava up in her arms, “Honey, what are you talking about? What noises?” The only sound in the house came from the low murmur of the TV in the living room.

  Please, God, not the voices of the dead…

  “It’s too quiet,” was Ava’s tearful response. At least Kara could breathe.

  “Then we’ll turn the radio on in your room to help you sleep and Buster can stay with you this one time, okay. Come on, baby, you need to get some rest.” Kara untangled Ava’s clinging arms and kissed her gently. With all of Ava’s emotional turmoil, sleep was not long in coming. Kara barely finished one page of the book they’d been reading before her daughter drifted off.

  With Ava finally out, Kara closed the door confident in Buster’s abilities and returned to the living room to the comforting sound of the TV.

  Sleep for her would not be possible. Now that she knew about the dead, the dreams of the Death Angel would be more real and more frightening than ever. They took on the feeling of a reality waiting for fulfillment.

  Inside her top dresser drawer, way in the back, she found the silk scarf. Kara kept it to remember, not that she needed much help.

  The second her fingers touched the silk, Frankie appeared before her. Even though she’d never seen his face, she knew his smile. Strangely innocent, it made her wonder how someone like Frankie could
lure all those women to their deaths. But then, Frankie wasn’t a monster until he found his victims, just a sweet, well-mannered kid. Attractive even, in a boy-next-door kind of way. Every young girl’s dream until the truth appeared.

  Kara took the scarf and stuffed it into the box with the photos. Tomorrow she would burn them all. And then, she would make plans to leave El Paso behind, because the sanctuary she so longed for no longer felt safe.

  Sitting in the dark, in her favorite chair, somehow, she must have drifted off for a moment. She was awakened to the sound of a door closing softly somewhere within the house.

  “Ava,” Kara whispered into the darkness only to have someone’s hand cover her mouth forcing the breath from her body.

  Oh God—Ava! Her thoughts were all for her daughter sleeping close by. Kara struggled to free herself from her attacker, her fingers searching frantically beneath the cushion of the chair.

  Working for the Bureau taught her to expect the unexpected. She’d expected this moment for years. But only she knew about the gun. Her fingers had just wrapped around its grip when suddenly her assailant realized what she intended to do.

  “I wouldn’t, Kara. I really wouldn’t.” His familiar voice slipped out of her fantasies, coming back to her from the past she’d tried so hard to leave behind—along with the Angel.

  Davis! Davis Martin was here!

  The gun clearly surprised him. In the beginning weeks of working at the Bureau, Kara had detested weapons. She still remembered how Davis had to force her into learning how to use one when they were working the Angel case. She’d taken to it easily enough. Almost as easily as she’d given him her heart.

  Kara pushed those memories aside. She couldn’t think about loving Davis now. Not when the flesh and blood version of him was standing close enough to feel each heartbeat, reminding her of all the times past when he’d held her close after making love. She needed to remain strong. Anger was the only way.