by Lisa Jackson
Father John had been a twisted serial killer, someone the kids would find macabre and fascinating.
Jay had not only a copy of the drawing from the autopsy, but photographs of the victim, which he would show later, then demonstrate how the science of forensics had helped lead the police to their killer. This case, he thought, would interest his class as the murderer had been familiar with All Saints Campus. Of course, Kristi Bentz might find it all a little more personal as her father had helped unmask the killer’s identity. He noticed that she straightened in her chair.
“Now we’ll look at a murder and work backward. You’ll see we have a photograph of the victim and the medical examiner’s notes.” He reached for a stack of papers and began passing them out. “We’ll look at the body the way the ME did. Start on page one, it’s a smaller version of the medical examiner’s notes….”
Tonight, Vlad thought, from his perch on the third floor. Tonight would be a perfect time for his next abduction. He glanced upward through the highest limbs of the trees to the sheer outline of the moon, barely visible through the slowly moving clouds.
But, of course, that was not how the process worked. He couldn’t just take a victim on her way home from a late class or the library or her job. He wasn’t allowed to hide in the backseat of their cars at night, nor stalk them as they went unknowingly about their business. No…he was required to wait, to play the game, to make certain everything went as meticulously planned. He could take a life tonight, but it would not be one of the elite, one of the “chosen.” Those who had been screened so carefully, those he deemed the royal ones. The privileged and college-educated. He had to be careful with them. They were being watched. But the others. Those he could maraud at will; though as ever, he must be careful. Always careful.
He heard the chime of the chapel bells and his pulse quickened. It was time.
Bong, bong, bong…
As they tolled off the hours, he felt a surge of excitement. Students began to pour out of the buildings, dashing hither and yon, talking, laughing, hurrying through the night, not realizing he was watching, that here, from his hiding spot, he could, if he were so inclined, pick them off one by one with a rifle, or a bow and arrow, or even a wrist rocket, a weapon he’d used as a child, sighting on birds and squirrels, even bats at night. His vision and hearing were so acute, even his sense of smell honed, that he could easily kill the prey of his choice, not that he needed a weapon.
But that was not the way it was to be.
That would be breaking the rules.
Tonight All Saints could not be his hunting ground.
His gut tightened as he spied several coeds, girls he’d seen on campus, students whose pictures he had tucked away. Several he knew by name and he smiled when he realized that one of them would be the next of the chosen ones. He rubbed his fingertips together and imagined their unwitting paths to him, which they themselves created, as they were the catalysts of their own demise…mistresses of their very own fates, the prophets of their own deaths.
Soon, he thought as a shadow passed over the moon and the air changed slightly. He smelled her scent first, then, turning, caught sight of her, Kristi Bentz, walking swiftly, her long legs eating up the concrete path leading from Knauss Hall. She was following someone…no, chasing him down as he strode to a parking lot at the edge of campus.
Even from this distance, he recognized the man.
The new professor.
Of course. His lips twisted as he eyed Jay McKnight, newest addition to the staff of All Saints.
The cop’s daughter waved and, hair streaming behind her, caught up with McKnight.
Hidden in the shadow of the tower, he felt his blood begin to run hot. From passion? Desire? Or anger? The night seeped through his skin and into his bones as his pulse elevated. His heart was thundering now, his muscles taut, his nerves tight as stretched rubber bands. He imagined what it would be like to touch her…to feel her respond to him, to slowly pull away each stitch of her clothing until she was bare to him. In his mind’s eye he saw her long limbs, muscular yet feminine…supple legs that would wrap around him as he leaned forward, his breath hot over her breasts, his teeth and tongue sliding over her nipples as he nipped….
His muscles became taut and his genitals responded, an erection growing rock hard.
No! He couldn’t allow himself to go too deep into the fantasy. Not yet. He had to save himself. Without a sound, he closed the window.
Slowly, on silent footsteps, he backed away from the glass panes to the stairs and, as he descended the well-worn steps, he tamped down his need.
He could not be rash.
He could not give in to quick judgments.
He had to follow the plan.
Meticulously.
Or all would be lost.
“Jay! Professor McKnight! Hey, wait up!” Kristi walked as fast as she could, trying to catch up with him. She’d left right after class and started home, then decided they needed to clear the air, so she’d retraced her steps, only to spy him heading out a back door. By the time she’d gotten close enough to call to him, he’d reached a staff parking lot. In the watery pool of illumination cast from a security light, he was loading his books and briefcase into the cab of a beat-up old pickup.
He looked over his shoulder and his jaw slid to one side. “Kristi Bentz.”
“Hi.” She nearly slid to a stop a good ten feet away from him. “I, uh, I was surprised that you were taking over Dr. Monroe’s class….”
“I bet.”
She inclined her head, feeling her face flush. “This is awkward. Look, I know we—I—didn’t leave things very good between us, and I thought—”
“Ancient history, Kris.”
She’d forgotten he’d called her that. He’d been the only one in her life who had shortened her name. “Okay.” She nodded. “But who knew we would be in the same classroom, or that you would be my professor, or—wait a minute,” she said as the truth suddenly dawned on her. “You knew. You had to have known.”
“As of a few days ago, yeah.” He nodded and opened the door a little wider.
A deep “woof” escaped from the darkened cab and a huge, muscular dog leaped to the ground. In the streetlight, the animal’s muscles rippled beneath a coat that looked like burnished copper.
Kristi took a step backward.
“This is Bruno,” he said.
“He’s mammoth!”
“Nah, just a little guy.” Leaning down, he stroked Bruno’s big head. “Gentle as a fawn unless you piss him off.”
“I won’t be doing that.”
Jay flashed a smile and scratched the big dog’s floppy ears. “Hurry up,” he said to Bruno. “Take care of your business.” Jay motioned to the edge of the lot where crepe myrtles lined the flower beds separating the campus from the parking area.
Bruno complied, sniffing the moist ground, then lifting his leg on a shrub while staring at Jay with baleful eyes.
“Good boy,” Jay said as the dog finished relieving himself and began to sniff the ground. “Later. Come on, load up.”
Bruno glanced at Kristi, then sprang into the passenger seat of the cab.
“So…why are you teaching here?” she asked.
“Change of pace. Things at the PD are still rough, never been right since Katrina, but I bet you know that.”
She nodded, thinking of her father and his long hours, frustration, and disintegrating attitude. She’d even overheard him talking about retirement, which was years off. It was odd because Rick Bentz had been born to be a cop. He was most alive when he was on the job. That dedication and work-above-all-else ethic had cost him his job in LA and his marriage to her mother. Ultimately, she feared, it would cost him his life. But lately, since the mother of all hurricanes and the storm’s aftermath, he’d been overworked, overstressed, and disenchanted.
“So, opportunity knocked and I answered.”
“And now I’m in your class.”
“Appears
so,” he drawled, and for the first time she saw beyond his own frustration to a bit of amusement at the situation. Oh, great. Just what she needed.
“Well, I just wanted to be sure that there were no hard feelings.”
He lifted a shoulder. “No feelings period.”
That stung a little bit, but she let it go. “Then we can go about this as if I’m just a student and you’re the prof.”
“Right.”
“Good.” She was still uneasy with the conversation; there seemed to be a million things they should be talking over, but why drag up all the old, hard feelings? If she could believe what he was saying, then they didn’t have a problem.
“So, can I give you a lift?” he asked.
“Oh—uh, no…I’ll cut across campus.” She hooked her thumb in the opposite direction.
“It’s late,” he said.
“I’m fine. Really.”
“Some girls have disappeared.”
“Yeah, I know, but I can take care of myself. Tae kwon do, remember?”
The smile broadened. “Oh, yeah,” he said.
A quicksilver memory slashed through her brain. She’d been a senior on a night not unlike this. They’d been alone in her father’s apartment and she’d made the mistake of telling him that with her martial arts skills she could take down any man who tried to bother her. She’d assured him, then said: “I can take care of myself.”
A don’t-give-me-any-of-that-feminist-crap smile had crossed his face. “Yeah, right.”
“I can.”
She’d insisted that with her skills, she could handle anyone who came near her. He’d called her on her bragging and the discussion had elevated into a dare. Then, before the terms had been hammered out, he’d grabbed her, swept her feet from her, and taken her to the ground, using a technique he’d learned as a high-school wrestler. Within seconds he’d pinned her and she’d been unable to twist away from his weight.
She remembered lying on the living room carpet, staring into his triumphant face, breathing hard, so furious she wanted to spit at him. Nose to nose, hearts pumping, they’d lain wedged between her father’s recliner and the television, each waiting for the other to move. Muscles tense. Ready. He’d known if he were so much as to shift his weight, she might be able to twist away; she was waiting for just that opportunity.
“Give?” he’d asked.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“I pinned you.”
“For now.”
He grinned, taunting her. “I’ve got to be heavy.”
She glared up at him and tried vainly to ignore her racing heart. The truth was he’d been crushing her, but there was more to it than that. She had to fight to keep from glancing at his lips, so near hers. Her blood pumped hard through her veins and she wondered what it would be like to make love to him. Right then. Right there. While they were still sweating and breathing hard from their wrestling. She saw his eyes darken, his pupils dilate as his own thoughts possibly mirrored hers. “Come on, Kris, I win,” he said, his voice low.
“It’s temporary…” She licked her lips and heard him groan, felt the hardness between his legs. She let out a little moan in reply and he lost control and kissed her. Hard. With a hot lust that spread from his bloodstream to hers. It was glorious.
And then she bit him.
Drawing blood.
He sucked in his breath in pain, his weight shifting just a bit. He swore, too, softly but dangerously as she started to wriggle free, struggling to gain enough room to twist and kick him as she’d learned in her last class.
But she stopped cold when she heard footsteps on the stairs outside the apartment door.
“Get off!” she ordered.
“What?”
Keys jangled on the other side of the door.
“It’s Dad! Get off!”
In one fluid motion, Jay rolled off her and onto his feet. Before she could tell him what to do, he sprang over the couch, landed in the hall, and slipped into the bathroom as Kristi quickly adjusted her clothes and threw herself in her father’s chair. She clicked on the remote just as the door swung open, revealing her father.
“Kristi?” Rick Bentz called as he spied her. “Oh…” Dropping his keys, wallet, and badge onto the entry hall table, he glanced at the television that was flickering on to a sports station. As if she’d ever been interested in a golf match. Cripes!
“Hi,” she said brightly, with more enthusiasm than she’d ever greeted him. She knew her face was red, her hair sweaty, guilt written all over her expression, but she pretended that everything was normal and that her father, a detective who’d spent his life being suspicious and who was an expert in recognizing when someone was lying, didn’t notice anything unusual.
“What’s going on?” he asked casually.
About that time Jay flushed the toilet loudly, ran water in the sink, and walked out of the bathroom. He, too, was red in the face and his lip was discolored, a bit of dark blood visible where she’d bit him. Kristi wanted to drop through the floor and disappear.
“Hi, Detective,” Jay said, and reached for his jacket, which had been slung over the back of the couch. “Gotta run. Work.”
“Good idea,” Rick Bentz said, his eyes narrowing on Jay. “You know there’s a rule in my house. One my daughter seems to have forgotten, so I’ll tell you. It’s archaic, I know, but hard and fast. There are to be no boys in this place when I’m not here.” He glared at Jay, then at Kristi.
“Sorry. Just bringing her home.”
“And ending up with a split lip?”
“Yeah. Kristi can explain,” Jay said, shooting her a look. “’Night, Kristi. Detective Bentz.” And then he left her to deal with her father and “the talk” in which her father asked her if he needed to make an appointment with a doctor; if she needed to be on the pill, or should he be buying her condoms. She explained about the wrestling match, about biting him to gain control, and her father exploded, telling her that she was pushing it, that boys don’t have any control, that she was asking for trouble.
“Way to go off the deep end, Dad,” she declared, furious. “For your information, not that it’s any of your business, I’m fine. I don’t need pills or anything yet and when I do, believe me, I’ll take care of it. Myself.”
And she had. Six months later.
So now, here she was, in the dead of night, declining a ride from Jay McKnight, the boy to whom she’d given her virginity, then tossed over. The boy who was now a man and her college professor.
“I’ll see you next week,” she said, and moved away from the truck.
“I’d feel better if you’d let me drive you.”
Shaking her head, she half smiled. “I can take care of myself,” she said, echoing the phrase from so long ago once more, then turned on the heel of a boot and headed toward Greek Row and the Wagner House.
“Call my cell if you need anything,” Jay threw after her, rattling off his number. Kristi lifted an arm but didn’t turn around as she headed toward the library. From there, she cut to the gate near her apartment house, aware that she was memorizing his number against her better judgment. She didn’t need Jay in her life.
She didn’t look behind her, but heard the sound of a truck’s engine cough, then catch. Good. She’d cleared the air with Jay and she was okay with it.
A second later, she heard the pickup drive out of the lot and she was on her way, hurrying across the dark campus, feeling the wind pluck at her hair.
There were a few other students out, but not many, and the shadows between the security lamps were thick and gloomy, seeming to shift with the rattling of the branches and the turn of the wind. The rain had stopped sometime during the past three hours, but the smell of damp earth was heavy in the air, the grass covered in dewy drops that shimmered in the moonlight.
Kristi angled toward the other side of the campus, to the gate near her apartment building. She cut behind Wagner House a
nd saw a movement…something out of the ordinary. Red flags went up in her mind and she flipped open the flap of her purse, her hand sliding into the pocket where she kept her pepper spray.
Don’t be silly, she told herself, it’s probably just a dog.
But she felt nervous sweat gather at the base of her spine. It wasn’t so much what she could see as what she couldn’t. She moved rapidly, on the alert, her pepper-spray canister clutched tight in her fist. She hated being a wimp. Hated it. She’d worked hard to be observant, to pay attention to her surroundings, to trust her feelings, and she’d been trained in self-defense so that she wouldn’t have to rely on anyone but herself.
But there was no reason to be foolhardy.
She thought of the weird sensation she’d gotten from the dark car rolling down the street before class, and the feeling every so often that she was being observed, watched by unseen eyes.
The result of all her research on the missing girls. The disturbing conversations she’d had with their families—people who truly didn’t care—were getting into her psyche.
She studied the shadowy shrubbery as she rounded a corner and cut across the quad. A person in a dark hooded jacket was walking in her direction. Kristi tensed, her muscles suddenly tight, her senses honed on the approaching figure.
Until she realized the person approaching her was a woman. A slight woman.
Kristi let out her breath as they passed. She caught a glimpse of a face in the dark hood and recognized Ariel, who, upon spying Kristi, veered a step away.
Kristi was about to say something when Ariel looked directly at her and in that moment, all color drained from Ariel’s face, her complexion turned ashen, her visage in shades of gray. Was it a trick of light? The silvery glow from a cloud-covered moon? The sheen from incandescent security lamps flickering in the mist?
“Ariel?” she said, turning, but the girl had headed down a brick path near the Commons and disappeared into the gloom.
But that draining of color…so much like the vision of her father…. Kristi’s heart pounded hard.