Homecoming Homicides (2 page)

Traci followed the boy’s black button eyes as they moved down insistently to the note. Did he want her to read it?

“My name is Donny Willis,” she obliged. “I live at 5555 Skyline Road. Please take me home.”

“You’re real pretty,” said Donny. “Just like my mama. My mama was real pretty, too.”

“Thank you,” Traci said, her heart beating back to a near-normal pace. “But I really need to go now.”

“If my brother doesn’t come, I’m supposed to take the bus.”

Looking around, Traci suddenly felt exposed standing at the isolated bus stop as darkness got a chokehold on the sky. She’d passed a few stragglers, girls walking in pairs, scurrying home before curfew, probably packing heat. Normally the campus would have been alive with people. But nothing was normal anymore in Graysville. Every girl on campus was scared and wondering who the killer would grab next.

If she had her cell phone she could call one of her sorority sisters for a ride home. Or one of those walking or driving student-safe-escort services. Or 9-1-1. She looked around. There wasn’t a pay phone or a policeman in sight. Where were the cops when you needed them?

But if she went back to the sorority house, Flippy would find her and demand an explanation. Her friend, her
former
friend, deserved an explanation. But Traci had no excuse for her actions.

A fresh set of hot tears streamed from Traci’s eyes. Flippy had every right to hate her. Traci knew from the beginning she’d been wrong to poach what belonged to someone else. But she’d done it anyway.

Jack had been depressed about his football injury. He’d needed sympathy and a shoulder to cry on, and Traci had been more than available.

Tired of Jack’s self-pity routine, Flippy was too busy now with her own life to babysit him. Once, she’d even let it slip to Traci that she wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing by marrying Jack. That she’d waited so long for love to come along and it never had. That her mother had been thrilled when Jack finally proposed. Barbara Tannenbaum was a force of nature. Flippy had spent her entire life trying to please her mother, so she and Jack had set a date. But that could have been just girl talk, pre-wedding jitters. Jitters or not, Flippy’s uncertainty didn’t give Traci a license to steal. Or stab her best friend in the back.

It didn’t matter that Traci had secretly nursed a crush on Jack from the moment Flippy had introduced them and that Jack had fanned the flames by flirting with her every chance he got, especially when Flippy’s back was turned. One thing had led to another, and they’d become involved on the sly. And then Traci was in too deep, up to her neck in love with him. And now she’d lost them both.

Earlier that evening, Flippy had walked in on them in bed, and the whole house of cards had come crashing down. The last words she heard were Jack’s, feebly begging Flippy to come back to him. He hadn’t even been concerned about Traci’s fragile feelings.

“Are you taking the bus?” Donny interrupted her thoughts.

“No,” Traci said softly, her eyes looking away from Donny’s beady ones, her mouth closed clam tight, her breath coming now in rapid, shallow bursts.

“Will you wait with me?”

Traci shrugged and began to shiver. Her body had started to shut down after the adrenalin rush. She needed time to think about what to do next. Maybe riding the bus to the end of the world wasn’t such a bad idea. No, it was a really stupid idea.

She contemplated bolting from the bench when the blue city bus screeched to a stop in front of them and the driver cranked open the heavy steel doors.

“Donny? Your brother late again? Hop on. I’ll take you on home.”

“He says he lives at the end of the world,” Traci told the bus driver. “But there’s an address pinned to his shirt.”

The bus driver chuckled. “He’s been wearing that raggedy old note for years. It’s a wonder anyone can still read it. Says his mother wrote it. He lives at the last stop, the end of the bus line. He calls it the end of the world. Probably never been anyplace else.”

“I want to wait for my brother,” Donny said. “She can wait with me.” The boy turned to face Traci and nudged her, creeping uncomfortably closer into her personal space.

“I—uh, need to go,” said Traci, noticing that the full moon was on the rise.

“She can wait with me,” Donny repeated.

Then Donny started to rock. Back and forth. And rant. And refused to get on the bus.

“Wait with me,” Donny wailed, touching his face over and over as tears puddled on his puffy cheeks. His nostrils flared and dripped and his pupils dilated. And he continued to rock, while remaining bolted to the ground.

“You a friend of Donny’s or Rodney’s?” asked the driver.

“I don’t know any Rodney. He looked lost and I just wanted to help.”

“Look, miss, sometimes he gets like this. And he won’t stop. I hate to leave him here alone like this. No telling when that smart-ass brother of his will come back for him. But I have to keep to my schedule. Don’t want to lose my job, do I? And you can’t wait here. It’s not safe for a pretty girl like you, what with everything that’s going on around campus. You can ride along with us and I’ll drop you where you need to go after I finish my route.”

Traci shook her head hesitantly. Her every instinct told her it was definitely not a good idea.

“Please,” Donny sniffled, sensing victory.

Mentally challenged or not, he was nothing but a big manipulative mama’s boy, Traci realized as she started to ease away from the bus. But if Donny left, she’d be alone. That’s what it came down to. She didn’t want to get on the bus. Neither did she want to be alone.

“I might be able to stay for a few more minutes, just until his brother comes,” Traci relented, although everything in her argued against it.

“Thanks, miss. Now be careful out here. Why don’t you call the campus police to come pick you up, walk you home?”

Flippy worked for the campus police. Traci wouldn’t be calling anybody in that place.

Donny wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeve and looked back at her with that hundred-watt smile, like everything was all right again in his world.

“You’re pretty,” Donny repeated. “Just like my mama.”

The double doors closed with a loud whoosh, and the bus pulled away just as a green Thunderbird came roaring out of nowhere and pulled up in front of the bus stop.

“You’re late,” the boy accused, pointing his finger at the car, his fat face red and splotchy from crying.

“Sorry, bro. Hey, who’s your pretty little girlfriend?”

Donny blushed and stammered. “Sh-she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Did the bus driver happen to get a look at your new girlfriend?” Donny’s brother asked.

“I told you, she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Too bad.”

Traci leaned into the car, trying to get a look at the man inside, but it was dark and the man turned his face away as he switched off his headlights. “I was afraid to leave your brother alone. He was really upset.”

“She’s beautiful
and
she’s a Good Samaritan,” said the driver. “We hit the jackpot this time, big bro. Get in the car, Donny. Say thank you to your pretty little girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Donny insisted as he opened the car door and lumbered into the front seat.

“Donny doesn’t exactly have a way with words, does he?” mocked the faceless voice that floated from the car. “But I appreciate you waiting with my brother. I’d like to show my gratitude. Can I give you a lift anywhere?”

“N-no,” Traci stammered. “Th-thank you. Goodbye, Donny.” Traci edged away from the bus stop, gave a half-hearted wave, and started walking in the opposite direction of the car. The Thunderbird swerved, spun around in a cloud of dust and pulled up alongside her. A frisson of fear climbed up her spine and lodged in her brain. The car windows opened and the vehicle tracked Traci as she began to run.

The car kept rolling. Traci kept running. But she could still hear the man’s voice.

“I offered you a ride home. Are you always this rude? Don’t you know it’s not safe to be out alone at night?”

Traci kept up her pace.

“Grab her, Donny. Your girlfriend needs a lesson in manners.”

“But why?” the boy asked.

“Don’t ask questions. Don’t I always know what’s best for you? We’re just taking her home for a short visit. Wouldn’t you like a little company? It gets pretty lonely with just us guys around the house way out at the end of the world.”

“Don’t hurt her.”

“Now where would you get an idea like that? You watch too many movies, bro. Go ahead and get her, and be quick about it before someone else sees you.”

Traci risked a peek back as Donny stepped out of the car. He was as big as a giant, but he moved quickly and he was gaining on her.

“No, please.” Traci tried to shout, but the words came out as a strangled whisper. A sick knot of fear twisted in her throat, festered in the pit of her stomach, choking her as it rose into her mouth. A slick band of sweat glistened on her chest, pooled under her arms and froze there. Her knees buckled. Each breath tore out of her with the force of a jagged knife. But still she ran. She ran like her life depended on it.

Chapter Two

“Flippy, I mean Philippa, uh, Miss Tannenbaum, there’s an Officer Luke Slaughter from the Graysville Police Department here to see you.”

Despite her practiced calm, carefully cultivated from her beauty queen days, Flippy’s stomach shuddered as a tremor rumbled through her body. The seismic shift seized her fragile heart. She had never expected to see Luke Slaughter again, much less this soon, fully clothed, and certainly not under these circumstances.

“Send him in, Misty.”

Had she managed to keep the vibrating waves of tension from her voice? Just barely. She squeezed her eyes shut, remembering the last time she’d seen Luke Slaughter, bare and naked, sleeping beside her in her dump of an apartment. Actually, he’d had her in an unconscious octopus hold, hands everywhere, possessively clutching her body like so many tentacles, cutting off her circulation so she could barely breathe. At least it felt like she was suffocating. Had it only been a week ago? Could she face him here after what they’d done (what hadn’t they done?), and after how shabbily she’d treated him when the night was over? Despite the nauseated feeling in her stomach, the answer was “yes,” but it wouldn’t be fun.

It was only her first day on the job as part of the newly-created Campus-City Homecoming Homicides Task Force, and she wanted to make a good impression. So she couldn’t hide under her desk, although that was her first inclination when she heard Misty announce Luke’s arrival. But there was too much at stake for personal feelings to get in the way. They’d even called in Crystal & Hale, that new husband and wife team from the psychic detective agency in Atlanta. He was a former cop who had the misfortune of being named Jack, and she was that famous psychic, Crystal Ball Kate, who had accurately predicted the crash of Vince Rivers’ private jet and helped solve the Midtown Atlanta and Sydney Strangler cases.

Her big opportunity was about to walk through the door, and she didn’t intend to blow it. No matter how much it cost her personally. She’d just have to suck it up and remember who she was now—a professional, with her own office and her own receptionist.

She’d hired Misty Waters away from DaVinci’s, the local pizza hangout next door to the nondescript, but affordable, campus police department annex. Hired her for her personality and her multitasking ability. She’d seen the girl juggle six tables of rowdy college kids without breaking a sweat or dropping a plate. She certainly hadn’t hired her for her fashion sense, which seemed to be based on the concept that “less is more.” Flippy’s next order of business would be to persuade the ex-pizza tosser to upgrade her wardrobe and perhaps put on something more respectable and less
receptive
.

True, Misty might be a little rough around the edges, but Flippy could spot potential, and the girl had it with a capital “P.” Misty would be okay as long as she focused on answering the phone and not giving visitors “The Works”—a bird’s-eye view of her considerable toppings. Either way, she sincerely hoped hiring Misty Waters turned out to be a smart decision, because this case of murder and mayhem seemed to be spiraling out of control, and Flippy’s phone wouldn’t stop ringing.

As she looked up, Luke Slaughter backed into her office, magnificent butt first—his muscles straining under the weight of a large cardboard box. He turned to face her, while craning his neck back shamelessly in Misty’s direction. There was something vaguely familiar about the shape of the man’s butt. Or maybe it was that Dirty Harry-sized piece bulging out of his hip holster. Flippy tried to block out all thoughts about the night she’d just spent with Luke Slaughter. It wasn’t difficult to do, since she had been so hammered and intent on revenge against her serial cheating ex-fiancé, Jack Armstrong.

No doubt about it, the man looked good in a uniform. And out of it. And he was a warm body. Sufficient qualifications at the time for a revenge fuck. Flippy suppressed rogue thoughts of that night. A night that refused to stop flashing before her eyes. The only thing clear about that night was that it had been a big mistake. A mistake she’d never make again.

“Damn, Flippy, I like the way you’ve decorated the place.” Luke dropped the box on the floor, where it landed with an ungainly thud.

He wasn’t even pretending to look at her office furniture, a ragtag cast of characters that shouted yard sale.

“If you’re referring to Misty Waters, my
receptionist
, you can just stop drooling.”

“Misty Waters? You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not. She’s intelligent and she works for
me
. Keep that in mind and stop entertaining your pathetic fantasies.”

“Whoa, how about stowing the attitude, sweetheart.” Luke’s smile had vanished. “I didn’t ask to work this case with you, but I’m ready to play nice.”

“I
know
you didn’t ask for this.”

Flippy rose to her feet. “In fact, I
know
you bad-mouthed me to Chief Bradley, doing everything you could to keep me
off
the task force. I believe your exact words were, ‘Chief, she may be easy on the eyes, but she’s a bubble-headed beauty queen you can’t count on in a crunch. She’s not a particular fan of handguns. I wouldn’t want to stake my life on her. She couldn’t even last six days in law school.’ Am I getting warm?”