Jenna pushed the hair from her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “Kane will deal with them later. When they call tell them they’ll have to wait until we prepare a statement.” She palmed her forehead. “Oh, I almost forgot. Can you get someone out to repair the CCTV cameras? They’re out from the library back to Main Street. If you give Wolfe a call he’ll give you the name of someone.”
“Okay.” Maggie walked out the door and closed it softly behind her.
Jenna closed both hands around a cup of coffee and stared into the steaming brew. Her back hurt so bad it was an effort to sit in the chair, let alone lead a murder investigation. A soft knock came on the door. “Yes, come in.” She smiled at Emily’s worried expression. “Hi Em, what’s up?”
“What’s up, she says, as if some crazy man hadn’t just shot her.” Emily’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Dad said you’re lucky you took the rounds in the vest.” She held up a hand. “Before you come up with an excuse, I’ve come by to rub some of this into your back.” She held up a small box between thumb and finger and wiggled it. “Dad says it will help with the pain and the bruising and it lasts around twelve hours.”
Jenna shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”
“Dad told me you’d refuse and I was to persist.” Emily turned and locked the door. “I’m helping you, Jenna, if you like it or not.”
Jenna looked at her determined expression. “Sure. It hurts like hell and I can’t drug myself into oblivion. Tell your dad thanks.”
She allowed Emily to help her undress, then clenched her teeth and waited for the pain. To her surprise, the cream worked swiftly, easing the throbbing in her ribs. “That’s powerful stuff you have there.”
“Yeah, Dad said he used it in the field.” Emily finished and used some wipes to clean her hands. “Any idea who did this to you?” She helped Jenna dress.
Jenna eased back into her chair. “I have my suspicions but no evidence to back them up.”
“Why do you figure this maniac is targeting you? It’s not another rejected boyfriend, is it?” Emily squeezed her arm. “I’m always here if you need to talk, you know, woman to woman.”
“No, it’s nothing like that. Kane believes it’s a man with a problem with women in authority.” Jenna rubbed her temples. “The back is much better, thank you. Now if I could get rid of the headache I’d be good as new.”
“Well, if you need me, I’ll drop by again.” Emily smiled at her. “Just give me a call.” She headed for the door. “Same goes if Julie is a nuisance, I’ll come and take her over to Dad’s office.”
Jenna smiled. “She’s doing just fine.”
“Okay.” Emily unlocked the door. “Catch you later.”
* * *
Jenna sighed as the door clicked shut, and stared at the murder books on her desk containing the case files. The thumping in her head didn’t help her sift through the fragments of information swirling through her mind. The items left behind at the scenes were crucial pieces of evidence. Why hadn’t Lindy or Amanda’s parents mentioned them before? A silver necklace would be significant if one of the girls wore it regularly, and surely someone would notice a shawl of that size and color missing. She’d need to show both items to the parents of the murdered girls as soon as Wolfe sent the photographs. She frowned and sipped her coffee. If the items didn’t belong to either of the victims – then what?
A sinking feeling rolled over her as the implications set in. She’d been left with a “what if” and she’d solved many crimes with a “what if”. Could the shawl and necklace be trophies from the murderer’s previous kills? She allowed the disturbing possibility to percolate into her mind. Both Kane and Wolfe figured the Shadow Man had killed before. Had the killer left behind a few subtle clues to indicate just how many people he’d killed – and gotten away with? Perhaps he believed his kills hadn’t received enough recognition and no one feared him, so he’d play a game with her – and if he won, killing a sheriff and a ton load of teenagers would be all over the news and he’d be famous. If he craved publicity, she sure wouldn’t feed his ego by mentioning his alias. She’d insist the press stop calling him “Shadow Man” and the reason why. Who is he? Jenna sipped her coffee and stared into space. Panic gripped her stomach. Somehow, she had to fit the pieces together and find the killer before he struck again, but without solid evidence it was like trying to build a house from dry sand.
Forty-Two
He moved through the crowd listening to the gasps of horror, seeing the terror on some of the people’s faces and the unhidden morbid fascination on others. Parents moved their children far away from the spectacle he’d provided for the town’s entertainment. The quiet conversations from small groups of townsfolk amused him – as if a raised voice might upset the dead! A mark of respect, others might say, but they all stood around gawking at the dead girl – surely averting their eyes would be more respectful?
As he made his way to his truck, people passing by looked at him and raised their eyebrows or shook their heads as if to draw him into a conversation. He offered them no response – what could he say? “Hey, I see you’re admiring my work.”
Soon the flowers would arrive and teddy bears with notes of regret pinned to their chests would cover the bench where he’d left Amanda. Did they really believe
she’d appreciate the gifts, or did they make a show of leaving them to impress their friends? No doubt they’d light candles too, and leave them to drip wax over the sidewalk. People would gather for a nighttime vigil to show an outpouring of grief, even if they hadn’t known Amanda, as if praying would suddenly bring her back to life or prevent another girl dying.
No amount of praying will stop me. No cop is smart enough to outwit me. Many have tried and all have failed.
He couldn’t understand why women wailed on each other’s shoulders. All crying did was make them look unattractive. Crying never solved anything – in fact seeing them make those funny faces made him laugh. Most of them cried – the girls he’d killed – but at least the last thing they’d seen before the spark of life had faded from their eyes had been his smile.
Forty-Three
It had taken some time to track down Anderson as he moved from job to job, but with Rowley’s help, Kane delivered him and Kittredge to the interview rooms, then went to the kitchenette to pour himself a coffee. He leaned against the counter and listened to Rowley.
“You’re the profiler and I figure after listening to you, I’m starting to understand how different psychopaths are to normal people.” Rowley held up a hand. “Yeah, I know not every psychopath becomes a killer and they can have multiple mental disorders, but one thing I’ve noticed, they don’t stick out in a crowd.”
Kane sipped his coffee. “That’s the problem. Most of them could easily be a best friend or the nice man next door, who’s dismembering people in his cellar.” He indicated with his thumb to the interview rooms. “Take Kittredge and Anderson. Both men agreed to come in for questioning and they chatted like old friends on the way here.” He shrugged. “Either of them could be our man because the charm of a psychopath is why so many are never caught. They slip under the radar so easily.”
“I’m not so sure about Kittredge.” Rowley poured coffee from the jug into a cup. “He’s got a smart mouth but figures his remarks are funny when they’re actually sexist and crude. Some women obviously think he’s attractive, though. He’s overconfident and self-assured and reminds me of Ted Bundy.”