M for murder, p.17
M for Murder, page 17
‘I know you do and please don’t think that I don’t trust you. I do. It’s just very important to me that the job is completed. Do you understand?’
‘I understand.’
He had understood from the beginning the importance of the situation. Murder was not something to be treated lightly.
‘Good.’ The voice seemed reassured. ‘I guess I’ll leave the matter in your capable hands.’
‘I won’t let you down.’
‘I know you won’t.’ There was another pause. ‘Well, I guess I should leave you to get on. You’ll call me as soon as you have any further developments?’
‘Of course.’
‘Okay. Well good luck and happy hunting.’
The line went dead.
‘Happy hunting,’ he repeated to himself as he replaced the receiver, the faces of potential victims coming to mind.
‘I think it went well.’
‘Sure it went well. Did you see the looks on their faces?’
Max shook his head and laughed. ‘Trust me, it went well. Before we went in there I had visions of everyone trampling in a mad stampede to get off campus.’
The idea made Joel smile. ‘Come on, we told them there was a killer on the loose, not a pack of brain sucking zombies.’
‘Yeah, I guess so.’ Max swung the car into the parking space behind the police precinct and switched off the engine. ‘Maybe I was the one who was overreacting.’
‘Let’s hope so.’ Joel clicked off his seat belt and opened the door. ‘We have enough to deal with without having to worry about hysterical students.’
‘Tell me about it.’
When he returned to the campus, he reflected on the conference that had taken place earlier; the two Federal Agents having decided it was time to warn the students that a killer was on the loose.
Of course, several people already suspected that was the case, but this made it official.
The Feds decision to come clean had caused him, as far as he could see, two problems. His first thought was of Kylan. Sitting in the cafeteria sipping the acidic coffee, he wondered where she was. Did she know yet about what had gone on? And if so, what did she make of it all?
Although the only students who had been brought in to see the Feds were those who had the initial O, news of the murders was now sure to spread like wildfire. It was highly unlikely that, by the end of the night, there would be a single student left who didn’t know about what was going on.
What would Kylan do when she put two and two together?
She’d seen him twice now. Firstly, in the grocery store, then last Saturday at her house, and, on both occasions, she had been understandably spooked. Chances were that once she heard about the murders, if she hadn’t already heard the rumours, she would either bolt or go to the police about him.
He couldn’t afford to let her do either and he realised that he would have to watch her extra carefully.
His second problem was more imminent. Although the Feds hadn’t been specific about why those gathered for the conference were the most likely victims, people weren’t stupid, and it was obvious that every student who had been in the room had the same surname initial. The original Alphabet Murders had been notorious, and everyone was going to know it was the same pattern with the current victims. Once he had found victim O, it was going to be difficult to get her alone. Everyone was likely to be taking extra precautions, probably hanging round in large groups watching each other’s backs. And then, of course, there were those who would probably leave town, hoping to get away until it was all over.
He gave it some thought, his mind working overtime on how it would be possible to get the next victim and wondered if he was worrying unnecessarily. It might be a lot easier than he thought. Not everyone was as highly strung as Kylan Parker and most of them would probably let their guard slip at some point.
That was the problem with people these days, they all seemed to have the attitude that it couldn’t happen to them. Sipping his coffee, he smiled, thinking how very wrong they were.
As they walked into the precinct, Joel saw Rebecca Angell glance up from her desk. As soon as she realised it was him, she scowled. Grinning broadly, he waved in her direction, expecting to get a snide comment. She didn’t bite though and, glowering silently instead, turned back to her work.
He guessed that he deserved it. Ever since their conversation following the discovery of Emma Keeley’s body, he’d felt a little uncomfortable around her and, in the end, had decided it was easier just to go back to giving her a hard time.
He was being a jerk and he knew it, but he carried on regardless, reminding himself that it was the best course of action in the long run. He didn’t need the trouble of falling for someone like Rebecca Angell. Most women were trouble enough, but this one was too smart and sassy for her own good.
Strolling past her desk, he pulled open the second drawer of the filing cabinet where they had been keeping all the information on the murders committed by Boone and started flicking through the files.
Angell watched him suspiciously.
‘You know we’ve been through that entire cabinet already.’
‘I know, I know.’ Finding what he was looking for, Joel pulled out the file and closed the drawer. As he walked past her, he dropped the file on her desk.
‘Victim I?’ she said, studying the front page and glancing up at him, her eyebrows raised questioningly.
She had made the suggestion to him that they try to contact Boone’s one surviving victim, when she’d seen him out in the parking lot first thing that morning. At the time, Joel hadn’t really paid attention. He’d been in a foul mood since learning that Lawrie Parker’s prints didn’t match those on the vodka bottle. That, and knowing they now had another two unsolved murders, was enough to make him unnecessarily irritable. He recalled how he had snapped at her, telling her to quit wasting his time with stupid ideas, and how she had responded with a barrage of abuse, before storming off ahead of him into the office, letting the door slam in his face.
He had watched her go, loving how sexy she looked when she got mad and hating the fact that he noticed. It was almost worth pissing her off just to watch her cheeks flush and her green eyes flash angrily.
Throughout the morning he had thought about her suggestion more and more, realising that it wasn’t really such a bad one and, although he wasn’t sure they would gain anything from talking to Boone’s one surviving victim, at this stage it seemed they had nothing to lose. Except of course his pride, which he now had to swallow in front of Angell by admitting she was right.
‘I was thinking maybe we should call her after all,’ he grudgingly conceded, not prepared to stoop to a full apology. ‘See if she’s living locally and, if she is, then maybe we’ll bring her in for a chat.’
Angell nodded, though chose not to say anything. She didn’t have to. The gloating smile on her face was enough to let him know that she had won.
He watched as she opened the file, knew there wasn’t much information on Boone’s one surviving victim, just a police report on the attack and a copy text of the witness interview. Picking up the telephone, she began to punch in the number at the top of page.
23
Juniper, Oregon, Saturday 11th July 1989
When she heard that the police had found the body of Marcus Hyde, Jennifer went up to her room and started to pack.
Things were getting a little too close for comfort and she was more than a little scared. Ever since the conversation she’d had with Miranda a week earlier, she’d been on edge. Marcus’s death had just pushed her over. At first, she had told herself she was being paranoid. Miranda’s theory that the killer was working through the alphabet was crazy and it was no more than pure coincidence that the surnames of the seven victims matched the first seven letters of the alphabet. The more she thought about it, though, the more she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it might be true. Marcus Hyde, her ex-boyfriend and the eighth victim, had just about confirmed her fears and now she was worrying herself silly about who the next intended victim was.
Miranda Ingram or Jennifer Isaac.
Of course, there were probably close to a hundred students at the college whose surname had the initial I, but with twenty-five letters taken out of the alphabet, things had been narrowed down just a little too much for her liking. If she went home for a while, waited until it was all over, everything would be okay, and she could return safe in the knowledge that her life was not in danger.
She had just about finished packing when Miranda walked into the room. Until now, Jennifer had kept her plans to leave a secret, knowing that her friend would try to stop her, and she was right. Miranda eyed the case suspiciously.
‘What’s that for?’ she asked, sitting down on the edge of her bed. Jennifer avoided looking at her.
‘I think I’m gonna go visit my folks.’
‘In the middle of the week?’
‘Yeah, I figured I’d leave today.’
There was silence for a moment. Jennifer could feel Miranda’s eyes watching her. Eventually she asked, ‘Why?’
‘My mom’s not feeling too good,’ Jennifer lied. ‘I said I’d go home and help out until she’s back up on her feet.’
Another silence followed.
‘I don’t believe you. You’re going home because of the murders. You think you’re going to be the next victim, don’t you?’
Jennifer turned to face her friend. ‘So what if I am going home because of the murders? Don’t I have a right to be scared? Or do you think I’m just crazy?’
Miranda shook her head. ‘No, you’re not crazy. I do think you’re overreacting, though.’ ‘How am I possibly overreacting? If you’re right about this alphabet thing, then the next victim is going to have the surname initial I. That’s you and that’s me.’
‘And God knows how many other students on campus.’
Jennifer shook her head. ‘You just don’t get it, do you? Jonah’s dead, Erika’s dead, Marcus is dead. They were our friends, Miranda. If he can get them, he can get us.’
Miranda rolled her eyes, already looking bored with the conversation.
‘I told you on day one, Jen, if we stick together, we’ll be fine. He only kills one at a time. He’s not going to go for us so long as we stick together. If we’re careful we’ll be okay.’
‘Marcus was careful. Look what happened to him.’
‘Well Marcus couldn’t have been that careful, because he’s dead,’ Miranda said sharply. Her expression softened, and she gave Jennifer her most pleading look. ‘Come on, Jen, don’t let this sicko rule your life. If you stay, I promise we’ll watch each other like hawks.’
Jennifer hesitated. Home was safe. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t want to be here right now.’
‘And what about me when you go? What if I’m his intended victim? Who’s going to look out for me when you’re gone?’
‘Well, you could go home for a while as well.’
Miranda shook her head. ‘No way,’ she gave a derisive laugh. ‘I’m staying here. I’m not going to let some dumb killer scare me off.’ She raised her eyebrows questioningly at Jennifer. ‘I guess if he wants me, I’ll be pretty easy prey once you’re gone, won’t I?’
‘Don’t do this to me, Miranda.’
Miranda ran her fingers through her thick blonde hair.
‘Do what? You’re going home. I’m not going to stop you.’
Jennifer turned away, back to her packing, and started to fold the sweaters that she had laid out on the bed. She didn’t want to look at Miranda, didn’t want to see the accusation in her eyes.
‘I hear he likes to either strangle his victims or suffocate them,’ Miranda said in a casual voice. ‘What do you reckon he’ll do to me, Jen?’
Jennifer ignored her, knowing that Miranda was just trying to make her feel guilty about leaving. Right now, she was doing a pretty good job. Eventually she heard her friend get up and walk across to the door. She thought she’d already left the room when she called back to her.
‘Hey, Jen?’
Jennifer glanced up. Miranda stood in the doorway holding the black leather belt Jennifer hadn’t yet packed.
‘What?’
‘Remember to pack this, okay. I don’t fancy waking up tonight to find it wrapped around my neck.’
Smiling dryly, Miranda threw the belt at her and left the room.
Jennifer watched her go. She sighed loudly and cursed under her breath, hating Miranda for making her feel so damn guilty and annoyed with herself for giving in. As she bent to pick the belt up, she noticed a playing card lying on the floor, just under her roommate’s bed.
The joker.
Frowning, she picked it up, wondering when Miranda had developed an interest in cards, then dropped it on the desk at the end of her friend’s bed. Turning to her case, she began to unpack her clothes.
She didn’t see Miranda again until dinner, having taken precautions to avoid her. She didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she had won.
As she suspected, when she entered the cafeteria and her friend saw her, a broad grin spread across her face. The earlier conversation and all talk of Jennifer leaving had been wiped from the slate and everything was back to normal.
Normal, except for a serial killer running amok on the campus.
It had crossed Jennifer’s mind on several occasions that the killer might be someone she knew. Maybe a fellow student or professor. The thought was scary; more so than if he was a complete stranger. In all of her lectures, in the cafeteria at mealtimes, the clubs at night, it was possible that she may have conversed with a murderer.
During dinner, Miranda made plans to go over to the student bar on the other side of the campus. Jennifer didn’t want to go. Like most of the other students, she had come to realise that she was safer if she stayed in her room after dark. Miranda was being bull-headed though and said she would go even if it was by herself. Remembering that they were supposed to be watching out for each other, Jennifer reluctantly agreed to go with her.
As the two of them got ready in their room, she kept wondering if she had made the right decision in staying. After all, why should she be made to feel guilty about Miranda? If she wanted to, she should have gone home. As usual, Jennifer had been weak-willed enough to give in. She made a decision there and then that she would have to try to be more assertive in the future. That was if she was going to have a future after being dumb enough to stay.
The student bar, like most of the bars in town, was dead and Jennifer would have been surprised to find it any other way. Only half a dozen of the tables were occupied, and she didn’t recognise any faces from her own dorm. She guessed that most of the students there came from the dorms situated close by the bar. Nobody else would be foolish enough to wander further given the circumstances.
That was with the exception of her and Miranda of course.
Although Jennifer didn’t recognise anyone, Miranda spotted a couple of guys that she knew over at one of the tables in the corner, and she dragged Jennifer across, introducing them as Mike and Jason. Both were second-year students and seemed good fun. Mike appeared to be entranced with Miranda and flirted with her continually, while Jason, who made clear that he had a girlfriend and wasn’t coming on to Jennifer, turned out to be a master of one-liners and kept her amused with witty anecdotes and jokes. The four of them were on their second round of drinks when Jennifer looked up and saw him: the senior from Friday afternoons.
Lawrie.
She knew his name now, having overheard a conversation he’d been having with a friend one afternoon, and she watched him for a few minutes, only half paying attention to the story that Jason was recounting, as she tried to figure out if he was with anyone.
Lawrie sat on a bar stool, dressed in a black shirt and black jeans, chatting to one of the guys serving behind the bar, but he appeared to be pretty much alone. Needing to pee and knowing that to get to the bathroom she had to walk past the bar, Jennifer made her excuses and squeezed past Jason. She wasn’t too sure what exactly she planned on doing when she got to the bar, considering that in the last couple of months she hadn’t actually managed to pluck up the courage to speak to the guy, but she hadn’t seen him there before and, with her courage fuelled by the alcohol, wasn’t about to waste an opportunity.
Instead of approaching him straightaway, she squeezed past him unnoticed to the bathroom first, wanting to pee and check her appearance before she made her move. Judging by the full bottle of beer he was holding, she felt pretty confident that Lawrie wasn’t going anywhere just yet.
The bathroom was empty. Jennifer used the only one of the three stalls that didn’t have a broken door, washed her hands, ran a comb through her hair and touched up her lipstick. She smiled at herself in the mirror, trying to build up her confidence.
‘Go out there and knock him dead,’ she told her reflection in a low voice.
The couple of drinks she’d had were already making her feel a little lightheaded and she was feeling pretty good about herself. Pushing open the bathroom door, she headed straight for the bar, still not having a clue about what she was going to say.
Lawrie’s bar stool was empty.
Disappointed, Jennifer looked around to see where he’d gone and crashed straight into Professor Boone.
‘Oh my God!’ she yelled, almost jumping out of her skin. ‘Jeez! Sorry, Professor, you startled me.’
Professor Boone smiled at her and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘No harm done, Jennifer. Accidents happen.’
‘Yes, I guess so.’
She watched him walk away thinking how strange it was that Professor Boone was in the student bar. Sure, there were plenty of professors who frequented the place, but it didn’t seem to be Boone’s scene, and he kind of looked out of place.
Unable to see Lawrie anywhere, she headed back to her friends. At the table, she noticed one of them was missing.
