Innocent Target

by Elisabeth Rees

  “Those are the words we had etched onto Gina’s headstone,” he said. “It reminds me that she’s surrounded by light and nothing can hurt her now. She’s in perfect peace.”

  “Tell me about her,” Kitty said. “If you feel ready.”

  He usually hated to talk about Gina, preferring to keep her memory locked tightly away. But Kitty’s gentle voice coaxed him and he found himself speaking freely without even trying.

  “My sister was a strong girl,” he said. “She was so independent and never let anybody help her prepare for school in the morning. Then she broke her collarbone falling from her bike and she pestered me to braid her hair every day because she couldn’t lift her arms to do it herself. Our mother offered to help, but Gina insisted that I do it. She said my braids were the best in school.” He laughed. “I was teased a lot about that but I didn’t mind. I could never refuse Gina anything.”

  Kitty laughed, too. “I never had you pegged as a man who could braid hair.”

  “And you’d be right,” he said. “To tell you the truth, my braids were terrible and had always fallen out by the recess bell, but Gina never cared. She used to tear around the schoolyard with her hair flying behind her, pretending to be a superhero. She really was something else.”

  “She sounds like a cool kid.”

  “She could’ve been anything she wanted,” Ryan said, finding the words coming quickly and easily. “Even in kindergarten it was clear that she was really intelligent. She wanted to be a doctor or a lunch lady.” He laughed again. “She said that both jobs helped children to stay healthy, so there was some logic to her choices.”

  He wiped away a tear that had leaked from his eye, but it hadn’t sprung from a place of sadness. For the first time ever, he was reminiscing with joy, remembering Gina’s oddities and quirks, the things that had made him love her, the things that made him still love her.

  “Thank you,” he said quietly.

  “For what?”

  “For listening.”

  “Anytime.”

  He rotated to face her. “I’m sorry if I’ve been hard on you these last few days. You knew something wasn’t right about Harvey’s testimony and nobody believed you, not even me. I should’ve been more willing to listen. I let you down.”

  She leaned in close. “No, you didn’t let me down. You’ve kept me safe since you got here to Bethesda. We’ve had a difference of opinion, that’s all.” Her breath was warm on his lips, her mouth perilously close. “But now that we’re both on the same page, things can be different.”

  He pulled away. “No, Kitty, we’re not on the same page. There’s a lot of investigating to do before we can get to the truth.”

  Her face grew pained, and his heart heaved with regret.

  “I thought you’d realize the truth after you’d had time to think about it,” she whispered.

  “I need lots more time to look into things before I know where I stand,” he said. “What you’re asking is huge. You’re expecting me to throw my support behind a convicted murderer without even being sure of the facts.”

  “Okay,” she said, backing away from him. “I understand. I’ll leave you to think.”

  “Please, Kitty,” he said, holding an arm out to her. “Just because we don’t agree on this doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. I’m enjoying being with you right now.”

  “I can’t,” she said, continuing to back away. “I want you to be someone you’re not, and it hurts. I’d like to be by myself for a while. If I need you, I’ll let you know.”

  “What about me?” he said. “What if I need you?”

  “You don’t need me,” she said, going back inside. “You never needed me.”

  * * *

  Kitty sat on her bed and dried her eyes before going downstairs and facing Ryan again. She was embarrassed, hurt and sad, and she didn’t want him to see any of that raw emotion.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Shadow,” she said to the cat sitting at her feet. “I never wanted to end up caring about him.”

  Shadow meowed and headbutted her ankles as if understanding she was in turmoil, and she reached town to tickle his chin.

  How had this happened? She’d been doing okay by herself, relying on nobody and retreating into solitude at her lakeside home. Her feelings for Ryan had developed outside her control and now she didn’t know what to do with them. There was no way she would allow herself to grow even closer to a man who didn’t support her fight to free her father.

  There was a knock at the front door downstairs and Ryan opened up. Deputy Harmon’s voice filled the hallway and the two men began talking. She heard the words murder, missing and pattern.

  “Kitty!” Ryan was calling her. “We could really use your help down here.”

  “I’ll be there in a second,” she called back, fanning her eyes with her fingers.

  She stood, took a deep breath, ran a brush through her hair, slicked on some lip gloss and dabbed a little scent on her wrists.

  “Oh, will you stop looking at me like that?” she said to Shadow. “I’m not doing this for his benefit.”

  She found Ryan and Shane in the kitchen, sitting at the table, where seven photographs were spread across the pine top. Each one showed a young blonde woman, some of them smiling for the camera, some expressionless police mug shots. But their features were spookily similar, as if they could be family relations.

  Ryan put a hand on Kitty’s shoulder and steered her out of the kitchen, back into the hallway, standing close and leaning in.

  “Please don’t shut me out, Kitty,” he whispered. “I never meant to hurt your feelings.”

  She shrugged. “I’m not blaming you. It is what it is.”

  “What you said out there on the porch isn’t true. I do need you.” He put his other hand on her waist. “I’m only just now realizing how much.”

  She lifted her face so that it was only an inch or so from his. “It doesn’t matter, Ryan,” she said. “Ever since the guilty verdict was announced, I’ve been desperately hoping that someone, anyone, would listen to me and believe me when I say that justice hasn’t been served. Even the townsfolk who’ve been kind to me think I’m on a wild-goose chase. They don’t call me crazy to my face, but I know they think it. I’ve spent a year dreaming that one day somebody would hold me close and tell me I’m right and have nothing to be ashamed of. All I ever wanted was for someone to love me for who I am. I want someone who will choose to love me because I’m my father’s daughter, not in spite of it.”

  She bit the inside of her cheek, focusing on the physical discomfort. She would not cry again.

  “Can’t we try and find a way around this?” Ryan asked.

  “There is no way around it,” she said. “As soon as we catch this attacker, you should move out. I need to focus on my campaign to free my father, without distraction.”

  Shane’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Are you two lovebirds done yet?”

  “Let’s go,” she said, stepping away from him. “It sounds like we have work to do.”

  She entered the kitchen and sat at the table, giving her full attention to the color photographs spread across it. Ryan joined her, choosing the seat the farthest away.

  “Okay, Shane,” Ryan said. “Tell us what you’ve found out.”

  “I’ve been looking through the missing persons records like you asked,” Shane said. “And I found something interesting. During the last fifteen years, these seven young women have all been reported missing in Comanche County. Some of them were in trouble with the law and some were persistent runaways in the past. One of them turned up dead a couple years back, found drowned in a river with her hands tied, but nobody was ever arrested for her murder. Take a good look at them and tell me what you see.”

  “They all look the same,” Kitty said, sliding one of the pictures across the table. The
face of a pretty young woman smiled back at her, the sun shining on her back and streaming through her hair. She looked happy and wholesome, as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “But there’s something else that’s weird—they all look like Molly.”

  “Bingo!” Shane said, producing an eighth photo from his file: Molly’s.

  He placed the picture alongside the others, and the similarities were clear to see. All eight girls were blonde and blue-eyed, pale skinned and freckled, with the same slim, long-limbed frame.

  “This is no coincidence,” Ryan said. “How come this hasn’t been flagged before?”

  “Only one body was found, and apart from Molly, these girls all have troubled histories,” Shane replied. “They’re the type of people that are likely to skip town, so the police never really looked into their disappearances very closely, especially as they vanished about two years apart. There are hundreds of missing people in Oklahoma alone, so difficult cases like these don’t get much attention.”

  “You know what this could mean, don’t you, Shane?” Ryan asked.

  “Yes, sir. We might have a serial killer on our hands.”

  Kitty gasped. “A serial killer.”

  “It’s a possibility,” Shane said. “Repeat killers will often target the same type of person because they’re obsessed with a particular physical characteristic.”

  “And do you think that this serial killer also murdered Molly?” Kitty asked.

  “It seems likely,” Shane said. “The killer obviously didn’t have time to hide Molly’s body like he did with the others, so he tried to burn it instead. Maybe he acted on impulse when he attacked her and didn’t take the time to plan. He got sloppy.”

  “Which is why he asked Harvey for help,” Kitty said. “He was caught in the open and needed a safe place to clean up.”

  “I think that the body under the floor of the Starlight Bar might be a victim of the same killer, too,” Shane said. “Chances are she was young, blonde and blue-eyed.” He waved a hand over the pictures. “She might even be one of these.”

  “And Harvey possibly hid the body in exchange for cash,” Kitty said, her voice rising with the realization that they were putting all the pieces together. “He told me on the phone that he’d been young and stupid and he’d needed the money, so somebody could’ve paid him to help dispose of the body.”

  “It all adds up,” Shane said, looking at Ryan. “What do you think, boss?”

  “I agree,” he said. “I think we’re onto something big.”

  “So you both accept that my father didn’t murder Molly?” Kitty asked hopefully. “If she was murdered by a serial killer who’s still on the loose, then my dad’s innocent, right?”

  The glance exchanged between Ryan and Shane was impossible to read. They were silently communicating, and she didn’t like the vibes.

  “What?” she asked. “It all adds up. You just said so.”

  “Molly’s blood was in your dad’s car, Kitty,” Ryan said. “That’s a red flag right there.”

  “I already explained how that got there,” she protested. “Molly had fallen while walking to the party. She’d cut her knees.”

  Ryan wouldn’t meet her gaze. “We have to consider the possibility that your father was somehow involved in the murder that night. A victim’s blood in a vehicle is usually a dead giveaway. Especially when even your father admitted he was the last person known to have seen her alive.”

  “He’s right, Kitty,” Shane said gently. “Nobody saw Molly fall and hurt herself, and it all seems a little too convenient that she was already bleeding when your father gave her a ride. Perhaps your dad didn’t administer the fatal blow, but it’s likely that he was an accomplice at the very least.”

  “You’re wrong,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re now accusing my dad of multiple murders.”

  “Serial killers can sometimes work in pairs,” Shane said. “We should look at your father’s whereabouts when these girls went missing and see if we can spot a pattern.”

  Kitty stood so abruptly that her chair clattered to the floor. “This is ridiculous!” she shouted. “My father is not a serial killer, and I refuse to listen to this garbage anymore.”

  She stalked into the hallway, ignoring Ryan calling her back. Instead, she raced upstairs and into her room, where she threw herself onto the bed, buried her face in a pillow, and let out a deep and unrestrained scream.

  * * *

  Ryan stood in front of the television, watching the news correspondent on the screen. The somber-faced woman was reporting outside the ruins of the Starlight Bar, giving details on the apparent suicide of Harvey Flynn and the discovery of a decomposed body beneath the floorboards of his property.

  “The fifty-eight-year-old bar owner was a well-known member of the Bethesda community,” the reporter said to the camera. “So just what prompted him to take his own life last night? And who exactly is the mystery person that has been buried underneath his floor for many years? Anybody with information regarding this matter should contact Sheriff Jim Wilkins in Lawton.”

  Ryan switched off the TV with a sigh. Harvey’s death was being widely reported as suicide, but he knew different. Somebody out there had murdered Harvey to prevent him from revealing the man’s involvement in Molly’s death. The one person who might be able to shed some light on the matter was Harry Linklater. But he had been maintaining his innocence since day one and would be unlikely to change his story at this stage. And, Ryan told himself, Harry just might be telling the truth about his innocence. Just about anything was possible.

  A creak in the hallway alerted him to movement. He grabbed for his gun in its holster and Kitty’s voice floated through the air.

  “It’s okay, Ryan. It’s only me. I’m getting a glass of water.”

  He walked through to the kitchen to see her fill a glass with mineral water, add some ice and lemon, and take a sip. She padded across the linoleum floor in her socks, taking a bag of chips from a cupboard and putting it in the pocket of her sweatshirt.

  “You hungry?” he asked. “You didn’t have any dinner.”

  “I just want a snack. I’ll take it to my room.”

  “Can we talk first?”

  She placed the icy water on the counter and ran her finger up and down the condensation on the glass. “Is there anything left to say?”

  He could think of a million things, but he knew she wasn’t in the mood to hear them. The suggestion that her father might be one-half of a serial-killing duo had hit hard.

  “There’s a church service tomorrow to remember Harvey. I’ll be going along at 10:00 a.m. I wondered if you wanted to come with me.”

  “There’s a service to remember Harvey? Really? After everything he’s done?”

  “The townsfolk don’t know the full story,” he said. “None of us do, really. We can’t say for sure how that woman came to be buried beneath the floor of the bar, and the pastor decided it would be a nice gesture to say prayers for both Harvey and the unknown woman. It might help the town to heal.”

  She looked down at her feet. “You’re right. I’d like to come if you think it’s safe.”

  “I’ll be with you the whole time, and it’s a very public place, so there’s very little risk.”

  “Okay.”

  They stood in silence for long moments. Ryan enjoyed spending quiet time with her, liked the hush of nighttime by the lake and wished he wouldn’t have to leave this place. It already felt like home.

  “I’d like to go and see my dad soon,” she said. “He considered Harvey a good friend for many years, so he’ll be emotional I’m sure.”

  “I have some time on Monday afternoon if that’s good for you?”

  “Sure.”

  Their conversation was horribly stilted and awkward, and he hated sensing Kitty pulling away from him.

 
“Perhaps you’d reconsider coming inside the prison this time,” she said.

  “And meeting your father?”

  “Yes.”

  Remembering his promise to keep an open mind, he gave the question the consideration it deserved. He imagined himself sitting at a table with the convicted killer. Try as he might, he couldn’t conjure up Harry’s face. Every time he envisaged being at that table, he saw the face of Cody Jones in front of him.

  “I’m not sure I can do that, Kitty,” he said.

  She held his gaze for a long time. “I figured you’d say that.”

  “I want to try and help you. I really do.”

  In this low light, she appeared little more than a silhouette as she turned, picked up her glass and shook her head.

  “Well, stop trying, Ryan,” she said, walking away. “Because you’re just making it worse.”

  NINE

  Kitty pushed open the gate that led to the pretty white church. This was the first time in over a year she had attended a church service in Bethesda and she was nervous about stepping inside.

  She used to attend with her father after her mother died, but gradually, as her dad’s drinking increased, she’d found it more and more difficult to drag him out of bed on Sunday mornings. So she went alone, sidestepping people’s questions about her father’s health. Kitty had not set foot in a church since her father’s conviction, too full of sorrow at the unfairness of it all.

  Would God welcome her back? she wondered. She had raged at Him for a long time, blamed Him for her troubles, pushed her Bible aside and retreated into her grief. But recently she felt herself opening up to the joys of faith again, and Ryan had a lot to do with it. His own struggle with faith reassured her that she was normal, that God would forgive her disobedience.

  Ryan took her hand and squeezed it, and despite her best intentions, she squeezed back. She hated herself for needing him and wished she could simply switch off the complex feelings she had developed. He could not offer her what she wanted, and she would be a fool to pretend otherwise.