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Authors: Anita M. Whiting

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The nervous knot in her stomach, the one she hadn’t even been aware was there, dissolved immediately. She flung her arms

around him. “That is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me. How can I thank you?”

“Oh, I can think of a few ways,” he murmured suggestively.

Her laughter quickly changed to a moan as he slid his hands

down the slender line of her.

“You’re so small, so incredibly delicate,” he murmured, cupping the nape of her neck with his hand. “I’m afraid I’ll crush the breath out of you.”

“Let’s see who can’t breathe,” she taunted, running a nail along his chest.

“Is that a challenge?”

“What do you think?” she asked lips curving.

“I think I like that dare.”

“Then you’ll love this,” she whispered, easing herself on top of him. She tossed her long curls behind her as she arched back, taking him inside slowly, achingly.

“Can you still breathe?” she gasped, eyes cloudy with passion.

His laughter ended abruptly when she began to move against

him.

In the end they discovered neither of them could.

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Anita Whiting

Chapter Six

“He was just a baby,” the woman said, tears shining in her

eyes. “Both of them were.”

Brad and Alex sat in the front room of a small bungalow just outside of Richmond, Virginia. The neighborhood was quiet and middle class with well-kept lawns and freshly painted fences.

“I know these are very sad memories, Mrs. White, but it would really help if you could tell us as much as you remember about that day.”

The doorbell rang before the woman could respond and she

rose. “That will be Jackie. We agreed that meeting here together might be easier for both of us. It was her son that was killed with Justin. We’ve become very close giving each other emotional

support the past year.”

She opened the door and a tall, dark-haired woman entered.

She held herself stiffly, her expression tight.

“Thanks for coming, Jackie,” Renee White said, motioning for the other woman to have a seat. “This is Brad Norton and Alex Leahy. They want to ask us some questions about the day our sons were killed.”

Jackie settled next to Renee. Both of them appeared anxious

and uncomfortable. Madeline was tearing at a tissue she held in her hand while Jackie’s expression was closed and tight.

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A Killer's Agenda

“Mrs. White,” Alex began and stopped when the woman raised

a hand.

“Please call us by our first names, Renee and Jackie.”

Alex nodded. “All right, Renee, what do you remember about

that day?”

“Every single minute of it. Justin and Daniel, Jackie’s son, had just finished football practice.” She closed her eyes briefly. “I can still see Justin laughing at something Danny had said as they walked toward the car. It was my turn to pick them up that day.

Jackie and I carpooled because the other kids were in…” She

stopped and swallowed hard. “Anyway, I watched them walk across the school parking lot. I turned to wave at one of the other mothers when I heard the gunshots. At first, I had no idea that’s what they were, but when I turned back… both boys were lying on the

ground.” Her voice shook. “There was blood everywhere and I

remember screaming…" She stopped, lifting glistening eyes to them. “By the time the ambulance got there it was too late.”

Jackie put a hand on her friend’s, her expression tense. “What is it you want to know? It’s been over a year now. Our boys are gone and there’s nothing we can do about it. The police never did arrest anyone and it doesn’t look like they’re going to.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “The wounds are just healing. Is it really necessary to open them now?”

“We think it is, Jackie,” Brad said quietly. “My aunt was killed about six months ago in much the same way just outside

Charleston, South Carolina. We think it might have been by the same person.”

His words shocked both women. “How could that possibly be?”

Renee asked, her gaze going from Alex to Brad’s.

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Anita Whiting

“Because there have been other murders,” Alex said gently.

“Starting in Ohio and then in West Virginia, your boys here in Virginia and then a woman in Charlotte, North Carolina. The last victim was Brad’s aunt in Charleston.”

Jackie rose, crossing her arms, angry gaze boring into both of them. “What nonsense is this? The police made no mention of a serial killer which is what you obviously are suggesting. Besides, why our boys?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“You may be right,” Brad said calmly. “That’s why we are here, to get at the truth if we can. Were there any other witnesses?

Anyone who could give us a description?”

Renee shook her head, rubbing her forehead absently. “I wish there were. The police canvassed the neighborhood around the school for days, asked students and other football players if they had seen anything. No one was able to give us any information worth anything.”

“Only thing they were sure of,” Jackie said, “was that the shots were fired from relatively close range. The police believe the killer was in a car probably parked out of sight, but there were no witnesses to confirm that.”

“Did your boys have any enemies? Any punks that resented the jocks?”

Jackie shook her head. “It’s a small town. Everyone knows

everyone. If something like that was going on one of us would have known.”

“Were any of your other children at school that day?” Alex

asked.

Renee nodded. “David was a freshman last year. Jackie’s girls were still in elementary school at the time.”

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A Killer's Agenda

“Was he there that night?”

“He had soccer practice at the field in back of the school. He didn’t even know anything had happened until later.”

“We would still like to talk to him if he’s around,” Alex said.

Renee glanced at the mantel clock. “He’s still at practice. The school is about two miles down on the right. It should be finished in about fifteen minutes. He’s a tall boy with blond hair and blue eyes. I think he was wearing a red sweatshirt this morning.” A look of pain flashed over her face. “He looks a lot like Justin did.”

Brad and Alex both rose.

“Thank you for meeting with us,” Alex said, her eyes soft with sympathy. “I can’t imagine what you have gone through, but know if there is any way we can find who did this to your sons, we will.”

Renee smiled mistily, leaning forward to take her hand. “We

appreciate that. Maybe it would provide some closure.”

Jackie shook her head, anger still simmering in her eyes. “I still think your theory is a bit far-fetched, but if you’re right then I hope you find him. It’s lucky I don’t own a gun because I’m afraid of what I would do if I actually came face-to-face with someone who would do such a horrible thing.”

Renee put a hand on her arm. “It wouldn’t do any good, Jackie.

Nothing is going to bring back our sons.”

The other woman’s face crumpled. “I know,” she sobbed. “It’s just so unfair. I miss him so much!”

Renee looked up at the two of them, tears glistening in her

eyes. “It’s still so hard,” she said, her voice thick.

“I know,” Alex said softly, rising. “We’ll be in touch. Thank you.”

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Anita Whiting

It was only after they were in the car once again that Alex

turned to Brad, her eyes dark with emotion. “Those two women are still hurting a year after their sons were killed. That’s not how it’s supposed to be. You’re supposed to die before your children, not the other way around.”

“That’s why it’s so hard to accept. I know,” he answered,

negotiating a spurt of traffic.

“Problem is, they didn’t give us much to go on.”

“Maybe the son will know something.”

“I’ve already looked over the police reports and pulled up the newspapers from that day. They’ve got nothing. No eyewitness, no murder weapon, not even a description of the car.”

“What concerns me more is why those two boys? We at least

had a hint of a motive with Anna Steadman. At first, I thought maybe these two were decoys, a way to throw off the scent. But at a school in the middle of the day?”

“Jackie Thompson’s husband is a detective with Richmond’s

police force. I called him after I arranged a meeting with the two women thinking maybe your hunch about the law enforcement

angle might be right.”

“Anything?” Brad asked as he slowed to pull in the school.

“Nothing new,” she began and then suddenly put a hand on his arm, her expression going flat.

“Stop the car, Brad.”

He braked, glancing at her in concern. “What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer but instead opened the door and moved

around the hood toward the school. There were just a few cars in the lot and he was grateful for that as he put the car in park. He opened the door and stepped out. Following slowly, he almost ran

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A Killer's Agenda

into her when she stopped suddenly, eyes closed, and made a

complete turn.

“Justin is laughing at Daniel’s comment about Mommy having

to pick them up and how he couldn’t wait to get his license,” she started, her voice low and controlled. “He looks up to wave and it’s at that moment that he senses danger. Before he can turn, he feels the bullet rip through him. He falls down in shock, almost not feeling the pain until he looks at his hands covered in blood.” She shuddered, her eyes still closed. “He tries to warn his friend, reaches for him, but it’s too late. He sees his mother rushing toward him and he wants to tell her how much it hurts but the words won’t come out. Then everything goes dark.”

Tears were streaming down her face as she opened her eyes

but she appeared unaware of them, her gaze finding Brad’s. “It wasn’t a spray of bullets that killed them. It was two very carefully placed shots.”

Brad wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her back

to the car. “That doesn’t change things, honey. We already suspect it was the same man.”

She stopped and shook her head. “You don’t understand, Brad.

This wasn’t a decoy. He wanted to kill those boys. God knows for what reason but, although there were five or six shots fired, according to Daniel’s father, those shots were the first. I heard and felt it.”

He opened the car door, pausing and leaning against it.

“There’s got to be a connection, then. Something that ties him to those kids.”

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Anita Whiting

Alex turned as a group of boys emerged from behind the

school. Brad moved forward and walked toward them and shortly afterward returned with a tall, thin boy.

“David Thompson, this is Alex Leahy. She’s a private

investigator. Do you think you could give us just a few moments?”

He shrugged. “Sure, I guess its okay.” His eyes narrowed

suspiciously. “You check with my mom about this?”

“We did,” Alex said, handing him her cell phone, “but I’d like you to call her to confirm that we did.”

He took the phone and backed away. The conversation was

quick. He handed the phone back to her and raised suddenly wary eyes to both of them. “Mom says you have some questions about Justin.”

“We do,” Brad said, leaning casually against the car. “Pretty hard, losing a brother. Always wished I had one.”

“We fought a lot but he was always there for me.” He swallowed visibly. “I wish I could have been with him that day. Maybe I could have changed things.”

Alex started to move forward but Brad shot her a warning look.

“Yeah, I know. My aunt was killed just like your brother was. I keep on thinking if only I’d been in the car with her, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Guilt’s such a damn hard thing to deal with, no matter if it’s justified or not. And it isn’t,” he said straightening. “Nothing you could have done would have changed things, David. No more than anything I could have done. It’s just taken me a long time to realize that.”

David raised hopeful eyes. “You think so?”

Brad nodded. “That doesn’t change the fact that we need your help, though. Is there anything you can think of about that day

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A Killer's Agenda

that might help us find your brother’s killer? Any little thing that you remember?”

“Nah. Like I told the police, I was practicing soccer just like tonight. It sounded like a car backfiring and I didn’t even know anything had happened until I heard the sirens. By the time I got to the parking lot, they were already loading Justin and Danny into the ambulance.”

Brad scanned the area. The soccer fields were just visible from where they were standing. “There are two exits that I can see from here. One in back of us and the other runs parallel with the field.

Think hard, David. Did you see a car speeding away or catch a glimpse of someone you didn’t know?”

The boy obligingly was silent for a moment and then shook his head. “The sun was pretty low in the sky, just like today. There were a few people watching the practice but they didn’t leave in a hurry. Most of them were still there when we heard the

ambulance.”

Brad held out his hand. “Thanks, David. If you hear or think of anything else, give us a call will you? Your mom has our cards.”

“Yeah, sure,” David said, shaking Brad’s hand. He glanced at Alex who had been surprisingly quiet. “Haven’t seen too many lady investigators that look like you,” he said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” he apologized, lowering his gaze in embarrassment.

Alex smiled. “I know exactly what you meant, David. Believe me you’re not the first person to say that. Thanks for your help.”

“How good are you with that ball?” Brad asked.

David tossed him a surprised look. “You mean soccer? I’m

pretty good. Play mostly forward.”

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Anita Whiting

“Care to kick a few? I haven’t played soccer since college. I miss it.”

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