The plan, Seth said, was simple. They would both walk into the restaurant and wait by the door until Seth gave the signal, then they would walk outside, past Jess’s table. Seth would create a diversion and Kenny would swipe her phone off the table and run. Seth would wait a couple of seconds, shout for him to stop, then chase after him. Once they got around the corner, Kenny would hand over the phone and receive the other two hundred bucks he was due. Seth would then return to Jess’s table with the phone and Presto! Instant hero.
“You sure, man?” Kenny said, looking dubious. “You could do a lot better, know what I’m saying?”
Seth had anticipated this. Jess was by no means unattractive, but there were much finer specimens out there. “We’re soul mates,” he said. “I’ve seen her at the museum and the art galleries. We have so much in common.”
Kenny shrugged. “Whatever you say, man.”
“Come on. We have to do it now.”
Seth walked across the road with Kenny close behind him. The would-be actor was dressed in baggy pants and a grey pullover, the hood over his head. They walked inside and hovered by the entrance, Seth’s eyes firmly on Jess’s back. As she started slicing at her chicken once more, he squeezed Kenny’s arm and walked up to the journalist.
It was all about timing. Seth had practiced this a hundred times at home, but of course there was no way of knowing how heavy the purse was. He’d erred on the side of caution, with twenty pounds inside a practice bag, then walking past his kitchen table, tripping and pushing it to the floor.
Seth hesitated, waiting until Jess once again started attacking the chicken with her knife and fork, then made his move. He approached her from behind, and when he got to within a yard of her back, he pretended to trip, falling forwards with his arms outstretched.
He hit the bag perfectly. It flew off the table and hit a nearby diner’s chair, then fell to the ground, spilling its contents.
“I’m so sorry,” Seth said as he struggled to his knees. “Here, let me help you.” He began picking up the items that had fallen out. A wallet, perfume, notepad, hair clips.
“It’s fine,” Jess said, kneeling down next to him.
Seth paid her little attention. His focus was on Kenny, who was approaching the table. Seth saw him swipe the phone and walk away, and he counted to three before getting to his feet and giving Kenny his signal to run.
“Hey, you! Stop!”
Kenny burst into a sprint, and Seth chased after him. The boy was quick, a lot faster than Seth, and soon Kenny was out of sight around the corner of the next block. When Seth turned the corner, Kenny was standing casually, not even slightly out of breath. Unlike Seth, who was blowing hard.
“Gimme…the phone,” Seth wheezed.
“Money first,” Kenny said.
Seth huffed and dug into his pocket, handing over the cash. Kenny took it and gave the cell to Seth.
“Pleasure doing business with you.”
“Likewise,” Seth puffed.
“Good luck, man. Hope you get some sugar, know what I’m saying.”
Seth knew, but that wasn’t his objective. He turned and walked back toward the corner, then looked to see whether Kenny was still there. Thankfully, the actor was jogging in the opposite direction.
Seth was relieved to see the phone hadn’t gone to sleep. He’d assumed it would be roughly a minute from Kenny snatching it to him getting his hands on it, and he’d been right. If he’d been presented with a demand for a PIN number, it would have been a pointless venture.
He opened the contact list and changed the name of the Corrina Stone contact to xxx before blocking the number. He then created a new Corrina Stone contact under his own cell number before deleting all recent calls to and from xxx. If Jess checked it, she might wonder why Corrina’s entries had disappeared, but there was nothing he could do about that.
Seth swiped the app closed, put the cell to sleep, then rounded the corner and jogged back to the café. Jess was standing next to a waiter who had a phone to his ear.
“I believe this is yours,” Seth said, handing Jess her cell.
“Oh my God! You got it back!”
“I saw him drop it around the corner,” Seth lied. “I’m afraid I wasn’t able to catch him.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Jess surprised Seth by grabbing him and squeezing him tight. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Jess let him go and examined the cell for damage. Seeing none, she told the waiter to forget the call to the police. She had her phone back and just wanted to leave it at that. She then took a fifty out of her wallet and offered it to Seth.
“Please. I’m very grateful.”
Seth put his hands up. “No way. It was the least I could do. It was my fault to start with. If I hadn’t been so clumsy, none of this would have happened.”
Jess continued to hold out the money. “Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Seth smiled.
“At least let me buy you a coffee,” Jess pressed.
Seth looked at his watch. “I wish I could, but I’m already running late. You take care now.”
He walked away before Jess could say anything else, crossing the street and rounding the corner, where he hailed a cab.
As he sat in the back seat, he realized that this would probably be his last time in the city. As a free man, at least. The next few hours would decide his fate. Either he’d be killed or taken in, and Seth didn’t care which it was. To die would be no great loss. He’d accomplished his goal and would welcome an end to his torment. The nightmares, the guilt at not being able to help her, the constant rage at the machine. Spending the rest of his life behind bars was no big deal, either. He didn’t drink, despite what he’d written in his book. That was just another red herring, one of many that had bought him enough time to complete his mission. His last taste of alcohol had been ten years earlier, when he was fighting his demons, before he found his outlet for the pain. Seth didn’t smoke, and rarely watched television. As long as he had access to books, his life wouldn’t change drastically. He was an early riser, early sleeper. Prison life wouldn’t be that much different from his daily routine.
Seth had the driver drop him off at a mall in Woodland Hills. He’d secured his bike there, a mere ten miles from his home in the middle of nowhere. It was an easy ride, something he could comfortably do in forty minutes. This time, he managed it in thirty.
Once home, he checked the house and surroundings one more time. Everything was in place, everything set. All he had to do now was lure the prey into the trap.
* * *
Jess watched the stranger walk away, her nerves still jangling. It was like something out of a fairy tale. She thought she’d lost her phone for real, but the handsome prince had given chase without a thought for his own safety and retrieved it for her. Then he was gone.
“Surreal,” she murmured to herself. She checked the cell to see if it had been damaged when the thief dropped it, but there were no scratches. At least, no new ones. The ten-dollar protective case had done its job. Jess hit the wake-up button and was relieved to see it was working. Her entire life was on the phone, and she hadn’t got into the habit of backing it up. That was going to change the moment she got back to the office. If she lost her list of contacts, there was no way she could replace them all. Like many people, she didn’t even know her own family’s numbers, she just looked up the entry on her phone.
Jess paid her bill and walked back to the Telegraph building. Her piece on the tenth and eleventh chapters was almost done. All she had to do was a little background on the families and she could send it to Lehane.
Eleven chapters. Eleven dead people, yet so many more victims. She would be glad when it was all over. The nightmares had started a few days earlier. Images of the victims being mutilated, their silent screams reverberating in her head. The terror they endured was hard to imagine, and the sickest thing was that it was none of their doing. They were being punished for the sins of others. What kind of ma
dman would do that?
The world needed more people like her hero at the café, and fewer like Fifteen-X.
Jess settled down at her desk and opened the story she was working on. She’d decided to do a hundred words on the illegal logging industry to go with the eleventh chapter. The killer had already laid bare the father’s activities, but James Rodriguez was far from the only culprit. Most estimates put the cost of illegal logging at ten billion dollars a year.
Her phone chirped. Jess picked it up and saw a text message from Corrina Stone.
Meet me at ///exams.lease.spark. Urgent!
Jess looked up the location on her computer. It was just south of a rest stop on Piuma Road, a couple of miles north of Malibu Pier. She hit the Call symbol to find out what the agent wanted. The deadline for the morning run was approaching, and she didn’t want to miss it unless it was a genuine emergency.
It went straight to voicemail, the automated voice asking her to leave a message. Jess hung up and sent a message instead.
How urgent? Got a deadline.
She sent it and finished off her article while she waited for a reply. Five minutes later, the screen on her phone remained blank. Jess tried calling again, but there was still no answer. Maybe Corrina was out of cell range and didn’t have a signal. Or perhaps she’d cornered the killer and her phone was off so that it didn’t alert him. Whatever the reason, she would have to wait until she got there to find out.
She sent the copy to Lehane and told him she would finish it up later and was heading out to check on something important, then grabbed her jacket and bag and took the elevator to the underground parking lot.
She tried contacting Corrina several times on the way, but her calls and messages went unanswered. She just hoped it wasn’t going to be a wasted trip. If it was just another grave, she’d be royally pissed at Corrina Stone.
When she reached the highway rest stop, Jess was surprised to see it empty. She’d expected to see at least Corrina’s vehicle, maybe even a cruiser or two. She parked and called Corrina again, but with no luck. She got out of the car, then got her bearings.
Great!
It was an uphill climb through thick undergrowth. The folding bike was not going to handle the terrain, so she changed into the hiking boots she now kept in the trunk, then set off.
It was hard going. The trees and bushes were so dense that Jess had to fight for every yard. Branches scratched at her arms, face, legs, and sweat pooled in her bra.
“This better be worth it,” she grumbled as she navigated a fallen log.
“It will be.”
Jess jumped at the sound of the voice. She spun around and found herself face to face with the man who had chased down the phone thief. He seemed different, though. Earlier in the day, his face had been kind, full of compassion. Now, he radiated malice.
“Hi, Jess.”
The first thought into her head was, how does he know my name? But before she could ask, he lunged at her. Jess lurched backwards and stumbled before regaining her balance. She turned and tried to run, but she didn’t get more than a dozen yards before electricity surged through her. Her body froze and then she collapsed to the ground, face buried in dead leaves.
The pain from the electric shock was only starting to subside when she felt a sting in her thigh. She thought it was an insect, but when she slapped at it, she hit the stranger’s hand. He was holding a hypodermic needle.
He grabbed her wrist and effortlessly flipped her onto her back, then straddled her with his knees on her biceps.
“We meet again,” he grinned.
Panic struck Jess. She tried to shove him off her, but she didn’t have the strength.
“You know who I am, don’t you.”
It wasn’t a question, though the answer hit her suddenly, ferociously. The stun gun. The needle—probably containing Ketamine.
Jess nodded.
“Good. Now you just relax while it takes effect. It won’t be long now.”
Jess was already feeling woozy. Soon she would be unconscious. How long had he said it took? She tried to think back to the chapters he’d sent her. It was minutes, but how many? Two? Three? Five? She couldn’t remember, but that was all the time she had left. If someone didn’t save her in the next few moments…
She remembered the reason she was here. Corrina had summoned her. Corrina was here!
“HEEELLLPPP!”
His hand clamped down over her mouth, but he wasn’t angry.
“Who do you think is coming, Jess? Corrina Stone?”
Her eyes gave her away, but she didn’t care. Corrina would be there in seconds, hopefully to blow his head off.
“I’m afraid not,” he said. “As far as I know, she’s still in her office. She’s certainly not here.” His evil grin returned. “You see, it was I who sent the invitation.”
Jess was having trouble thinking straight. How could he have sent it? It came from Corrina’s cell.
“That’s why I borrowed your phone earlier. The kid who stole it, he was with me. I just needed to change your contacts so that you thought I was Corrina. Why else do you think she ignored your calls and messages? ‘How urgent? Got a deadline.’ Sound familiar?”
Fear gripped Jess as she realized that help wasn’t coming. She was alone with one of the most sadistic creatures on the planet, and she was powerless to stop him. Tears pooled in her eyes and trickled down her face.
“Why me?” she asked. The words sounded distant, as if spoken by someone else.
“Shhh. All will be explained later.”
* * *
Claire McMillan added the final line to her résumé and saved it to her hard drive. She had to admit, it was impressive. For her time at a small newspaper, anyway. Three literary prizes, six years of front-line crime reporting, an exemplary employment record. Any news organization would be lucky to have her.
The one she was aiming for was NBC. Writing for the newspapers was one thing, but Claire had a face made for television. Unlike that Duffey bitch. She’d be lucky to get work in radio.
The thought made her smile, but not for long. Claire would have moved on anyway, but in her own time. That had been taken away from her when the serial killer had picked Jess to tell his story.
Why not her? She was vastly more experienced than Jess and would have done a much better job. Claire winced when she read the copy that the amateur hack produced, mentally crossing out huge swathes and putting her own unique spin on it. She would have made it Pulitzer-worthy, not cringe-worthy.
She tried not to think about Jess. It just made her angry, and she needed to devote her energy to finding a new job. Lehane had given her an ultimatum: get used to being number two, or quit. The choice had been easy.
Claire looked up the number for the NBC anchor she’d laid the previous year. She would ask him to put a word in with the producers, and if he refused, she’d suggest contacting his wife.
Before she could call, an email arrived in her inbox. It was the subject line that grabbed her attention.
Fifteen Times a Killer
That was the same subject on the emails Jess printed out and hung on the office walls. Claire clicked it open and read it.
Hi Claire,
Ready to finish writing my story? I trusted Jess to do it, and I must say, she did an adequate job, but it’s time for her to…move on. I’m sure someone with your wealth of experience can do better.
I’ve attached chapters 12 and 13. You’ll find the bodies at ///saltwater.target.throat and ///edged.shopkeeper.sweeter
Yours,
15X
Claire was both elated and confused. To be given the task of completing the story was more than she could have hoped for, but Jess hadn’t mentioned getting another job. In fact, Lehane had told her that he’d tied Jess to the newspaper for at least one year. And why would Jess confide in a serial killer if she was planning to switch to another company?
Something wasn’t right. Anger boiled inside her as she pict
ured Jess sending the email herself, just to taunt her. She moved to delete it, but hesitated.
What if it was real? What if the killer genuinely wanted her to complete the story? If that was the case, what had Jess done to cause him to dispense with her?
Okay, think. Forget Jess for now. How to do this?
Jess was forwarding the chapters to the FBI. That should be her first move. She would contact agent Corrina Stone and tell her she was taking over from Jess at the killer’s request. Then she’d ask for access to all FBI files, just as her predecessor had. She’d write the best damn story she’d ever put to paper, and Lehane could suck it. She’d take it to a TV network. That would be her way in, and it would guarantee her a huge salary. With the promise of the rest of the story, she could name her price.
Claire looked up the switchboard number for the FBI. When she got through, she asked for Stone.
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Claire McMillan, LA Telegraph.”
“I’m sorry, Agent Stone is unavail—”
“I have something from the Fifteen-X killer. Two more chapters. If she wants them, she can call me back on this number in the next two minutes.”
Claire rattled off her cell number and hung up, then opened the email attachments.
After four minutes, she wondered if she’d played too strong a hand. After six, she was ready to just go to print and the hell with Corrina Stone. If she didn’t want the files, it wasn’t Claire’s fault.
Her phone rang just as Claire was reading through chapter twelve.
“Claire McMillan.”
“Corrina Stone. I understand you have something for me.”
“Yes,” Claire said. “Fifteen-X sent two more chapters. I want to see the police files for the original—”
“Wait. He sent them to you?”
“That’s right. I’m running the story now.”
“What happened to Jess? Was she fired?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. He said she’d moved on, that’s it.”
“Back up,” Corrina said. “Who said she’d moved on? Lehane?”
“No, Fifteen-X. It was in the email he sent me.”
Fifteen Times a Killer Page 26
