Don't Look Back (16 page)

She swallowed hard. “Did you get him?”

“It wasn’t him.”

A frown pulled her lips downward. “What? How do you know?”

As he explained what had transpired at Evan Johannes’s house, Jamie felt a coldness seep into her soul. “Is George still working on the profile of this guy?”

“He is. In fact, I talked to him on the way over here. He’s going back over all the facts that we have.”

“The . . . um . . .
hero
. . . obviously has access to a lot of medical equipment if he’s x-raying broken bones and casting them.”

“I know, we’re working on that one.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t remember . . .”

“You were under the influence of a lot of drugs, I believe.”

“Yes, for part of the time. And other times, I was horrifyingly lucid.” She turned away and gestured to Lisa’s covered body. “We’re waiting on a tox screen to come back on her.”

“I’m willing to bet she’s got some narcotics in her.”

Jamie nodded. She wouldn’t be surprised. “If they show up after all this time.”

“Anything on the handcuffs we pulled from the grave with the first body?”

A delicate tremor went through her at the mention of the handcuffs. “Not much. A few fibers that matched the shirt she had on.”

“What about the second body we found? The one you named Bianca?”

“They found a set of cuffs with her too.” And in spite of her revulsion, she’d examined every millimeter of them. Now thanks to Mark, she had a name. “Karen. He engraved the cuffs with their names.”

“Oh man.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment. “I thought her position in the grave looked similar to the first girl.”

Jamie nodded. “There’s no doubt in my mind that the same guy killed all four girls. I went over both sets of cuffs and there was nothing but dirt and fibers from their clothing. However, Mark found their names engraved almost microscopically on the cuffs.”

“Sick creep, isn’t he? So, nothing but fibers or dirt. He washed their clothing and dressed them after he killed them.”

“That’s what I think.”

“As far as the handcuffs are concerned, they’re the kind you can purchase online from a ton of dealers. They’re Smith & Wesson M&P lever lock cuffs. Virtually impossible to trace. If you had about a hundred people contacting every online seller and every store that sells handcuffs around here . . .” He rubbed his eyes. “All right, here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to put out a lead to every field office in the country requesting information on anyone who’s bought multiple pairs of handcuffs in a single purchase.” Shrugged. “Might be a waste of time, but . . .”

A puff of air escaped her lips as did a curl from the loose ponytail she’d hurriedly stuffed in a scrunchy earlier. Absently, she pinned it back, then shoved her hands in the pocket of her jeans. Her fingers closed over the small metal item she always kept with her and immediately comfort flooded her.

“What’s wrong, Jamie?”

“What?” She blinked. “Oh, nothing, just thinking. I didn’t ask Mark what kind of handcuffs they were, but I’d be willing to bet they’re the same.” She picked up the phone and dialed.

“Mark here.”

“What kind of cuffs were they?”

“Uh . . . hold on a second.” The line went dead for a minute, then shuffling, a scraping sound, then, “Smith & Wesson M&P lever lock cuffs.”

She thanked him and hung up. Looked at Dakota. “The same.”

“I’m going to call Jazz and have her ID all online dealers of those cuffs. I should have the results pretty fast. Then I guess we can start contacting them to see if any of them have done business with someone in South Carolina.”

A knock on the door brought her head around. Samantha stood there, looking pale and worn out.

Jamie blinked. “Sam?”

“Do you have a few minutes?”

“Sure.”

Dakota gave a small salute to the two ladies and exited the room. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Right.” Jamie turned to her sister. “What is it? Bad case?”

“The worst.”

“I’m sorry.”

“A fourteen-year-old kid met up with his online predator. We found him locked in the guy’s basement, strangled.”

Nausea swirled in her gut and tears found their way to the surface. “Why?” she whispered. “When will the evil end?”

Samantha wrapped her arms around Jamie’s shoulders. “When Jesus decides it’s time.”

“Some days I wish he’d hurry up.”

“In his time, sis, in his time.”

“I know.” Jamie pulled away from the comfort and said, “All right, what else is going on?”

Sam raised a brow, but didn’t bother to refute the question. “Can you get away for a couple of hours?”

Jamie looked at the bodies on the table. “Sure. There’s not much more I can do here. I’m trying to identify the other girl, but I’m not having much luck. I know her first name is Karen, but that’s it. I gave her to Jazz and she’s running her through the system. I didn’t have a matchup here with the missing girls already pulled. Where do you want to go?”

“To see Mom and Dad.”

“You’re still not getting any answer when you call?”

“Nope.”

“And you want to go talk with them.”

“This has gone on long enough. It’s time to nail them down and get to the bottom of it. I’m worried.”

Jamie blew out a sigh. “I know, I have been too, ever since you brought it to my attention, but I was scared to go over there because of . . .”

“The fact that you might have a stalker,” Samantha finished for her.

“Yeah.”

Samantha hesitated, chewing her lip as she studied Jamie.

“What?” Jamie demanded.

“I hate to tell you this, but chances are, if he’s been watching you for a while – and we think he has been – then he already knows where Mom and Dad live.”

That familiar sick feeling she got when things spiraled out of control consumed her. “Great.”

“That’s what’s got me a little concerned. They’re acting weird and . . .”

Jamie wasn’t slow. “And you think he may have contacted them and they’re scared. But surely they would have said something.” “Not if he threatened to kill you . . . or me . . . if they continued contact with us.”

Jamie slapped a hand on her hip. “But that’s crazy! Why would he do that if he’s after me?”

“To cut you off from family. To isolate you.”

“Has he contacted you?”

“No, I’d tell you if he had. But it could be he’s just getting started.”

“I just can’t see our parents keeping quiet about something like that. Especially Mom. She would have told me or called me regardless of what he may have threatened.”

“What if he sent them something?”

“Sent them . . . oh. You mean like the picture he sent me?”

“Right.”

Jamie grabbed two water bottles from the fridge. She handed one to Sam. “All right, let’s go.”

“The guys are meeting us there as soon as they get cleaned up.”

“Fine.”

It was all she could do to hold back the tremors that threatened to overtake her. Had this guy now included her parents in his circle of terror?

15

Dakota pulled to the curb of the Cash family home and watched a cruiser approach from the opposite direction. The officer waved and kept going. Ever since Sam had discussed her fears with him and Connor, they’d requested more security for the small neighborhood Jamie and Samantha had grown up in.

Until a threat was identified, the frequent drive-bys would have to suffice for now. Dakota had the officer verify that the Cashes were home. Now, he waited for Jamie and Samantha to show up.

Connor spoke from the passenger seat. “You think he’s threatened them?”

“I don’t know. It’s certainly possible. He wouldn’t be the first stalker that’s gone after the victim’s family.”

Three minutes later, Jamie and Samantha swung in the drive.

Jamie got out first and Dakota stepped out to greet her. He wanted to hug the tension from the shoulders she held so stiff. She was saying, “Maybe Samantha and I should go in and talk to them first. Just make sure we’re not jumping to conclusions.”

“Connor and I discussed it on the way over. You’re going to have to tell them about what’s been going on – ”

“No!” she practically shouted as Samantha joined them next to the car. Connor got out and placed a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. She jerked away and turned her back on them. Took a deep breath, then faced them once more. “No, not yet.”

“Jamie, I think Dakota’s right.” Samantha shot him a worried look. “Even if this has nothing to do with who’s after you right now, we still have to take into consideration that their safety may be in jeopardy.”

The crushing despair that flashed across Jamie’s pretty features distressed Dakota, and it was all he could do not to reach out and pull her into his arms. He hated being the bearer of bad news, and it seemed to be the only kind of news he’d been delivering lately.

“What’s going on out here?”

The gravelly voice jolted them all to attention.

“Hi, Dad,” Samantha called to the tall, thin man who looked like Ichabod’s twin.

Not attractive by any means with his gangly arms and legs and hangdog look, the man with the hunched shoulders had obviously felt more than his fair share of heavy sorrow. The wave of compassion Dakota felt for him was mixed with amazement that the man had produced these two beautiful daughters.

“We need to talk.”

Charles Cash shifted and Dakota would swear he saw fear flicker in the man’s eyes. He looked at Connor to see if he’d caught the expression.

He had.

Charles looked like he wanted to flee. Instead, he cleared his throat and did his best to hide his trepidation. “Uh, this isn’t a very good time. We’re just on our way out to that exercise class at the gym.”

“Is that why you have on your slippers?” Jamie asked.

Her dad flushed. “Well, I was just getting ready to change. You’ll have to call before you come back.”

Samantha nearly growled. “I’ve been calling. You’re avoiding me and I want to know why.”

This time the man’s throat bobbed.

“What is it, Charles? Who’s out there? Is it her again?”

“Her?” Samantha pushed past her dad to face her mother.

Jamie followed close behind. “Her who?”

The woman went pasty white and Dakota stepped forward to catch her should she keel over. She remained on her feet, placed a hand over her heart, and dragged in a ragged breath. “Oh, Samantha, Jamie. And the boys too. Oh my. Oh . . . well, come in and sit down, I suppose.” She ran a blue-veined hand through stylishly-cut straight gray hair that had once been as blonde as Samantha’s.

“Claire . . .”

“Hush, Charles.”

The man hushed.

The foursome trooped into the den area where Samantha perched herself on the end of the sofa. Jamie took the loveseat, and Dakota made a beeline for the cushion next to her.

Connor quirked a brow at him. Dakota chose to ignore the gesture as he inhaled the scent of the woman next to him. He settled his arm on the back of the small couch and let Jamie’s ponytail brush his bare arm.

Samantha started. “Were you expecting someone else at the door, Mom?”

“Er . . . no. Just a contrary saleswoman who can’t seem to take no for an answer.”

“Okay, then what’s going on?”

“What do you mean, darling?”

Samantha sputtered, “What do I . . . Mother!”

Interrupting, Jamie stood and paced to the other end of the den and back. “Has anyone contacted you about me?”

Dakota watched Charles’s eyes flutter. “What? Contacted us about you? No, not at all, why?”

Dakota leaned forward. “Sir, we really need you to tell us if you’ve been threatened in any way.”

“How could you . . . no, not threatened. No one’s threatened us. Why?” He frowned, the loose skin around his mouth drawing lines even deeper into the whiskerless face.

His eyes met his wife’s and Dakota knew something was going on – and before he left, he’d know what it was.

The Hero watched the house and wondered what was going on. When the foursome had talked on the porch with Jamie’s parents, he’d been able to hear a little bit. He’d followed the girls from the lab and they’d never known he was behind them even though he was sure Samantha kept a keen eye in her rearview mirror.

However, stealth was the name of the game and he’d been able to stay close enough to figure out where they were going. Once he’d realized they were going to their parents’ house, he’d fallen back and arrived only minutes after they pulled into the drive.

He’d driven past and circled back, avoiding the cruiser. Then parked in a driveway like he belonged. They never offered him more than a cursory glance when he’d pulled into the drive and pressed the button to open the garage door.

After watching the street for a few weeks in the early morning hours before work, he’d figured out most of the residents’ routines. The one that interested him the most was the house across from Jamie’s parents. A young couple with two small children, both parents worked while the kids went to daycare. They usually left around 7:30 in the morning and returned home around 5:30. After he’d picked the house and learned the routine of its occupants, he came back one morning at 7:25, parked down the street, then made his way to the house. No one noticed him.