Killer in The Woods: A Psychological Thriller

by Flowers, R. Barri

* * *

  Karlene Sullivan watched as the man walked away and disappeared from sight. She breathed a sigh of relief. He was kind of cute, but there was still something creepy about him.

  Maybe she was letting what he said about that serial killer get to her. Who didn’t know that some deranged man was killing women? It was the talk of the town. But the cops had also said people should go about their normal lives and just be more diligent and responsible in the choices they made.

  So she was tanning in a crowded park in broad daylight. Or at least it had been broad daylight when she arrived. How much safer could it get?

  Besides, she kept pepper mace in her purse just in case some asshole who was turned on by her body tried to accost her. Such as the creepy perv she’d just sent on his way.

  Karlene decided it was probably a good idea to head home now. Her daughter had probably run the sitter ragged by now.

  She stood up and was about to grab her clothes, when she heard a slight rustling sound in the nearby bushes. Karlene’s heart skipped a beat when she turned around and saw the man rapidly approaching.

  * * *

  He had scurried away nonchalantly, sensing her watching his every move like a hawk. It wasn’t until he was out of view that he doubled back just as she had gotten up. The scarf was outstretched and ready for her soft neck.

  “You—!” she uttered in a frightened voice.

  “Afraid so,” he said dryly.

  She tried to dash towards her purse on the edge of the towel. But he would have none of it, moving quickly to wrap the scarf around her neck, twisting with raw determination. Her attempts to scream made barely more than a gasping sound as she clutched at her neck. She tried in vain to somehow kick him where it might actually do some good. But he warded off the blows as though nothing but a minor irritant.

  Say goodnight, bitch.

  He tightened the scarf till the veins in her neck threatened to burst.

  Vacant eyes were soon frozen on her pretty face. He looked at them thoughtfully for a moment, imagining the horror she felt before breathing her last breath, then released the corpse to the ground. He ambled away without looking back.

  It was time for him to keep a prior appointment.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Quinn ran alongside Todd Foxworth at the park. Both were drenched with perspiration, but keeping pace with one another. There had been a friendly, but serious, jogging rivalry between them ever since they met, and Quinn welcomed it, as opposed to the more leisurely jaunts he took with Selene.

  “The killings in The Woods are getting national attention,” Todd said. “I actually saw them talking about it on CNN and FOX last night. Not exactly a good way to attract tourists.”

  “It’s not the tourists I care about, it’s the people who live here,” Quinn replied. “As far as the news media goes, they’ll go after any story if it will prop their ratings, no matter how distasteful it is.”

  “Yeah, I suppose. But don’t blame the media if some wacko decided to strangle local women and they jumped on the bandwagon. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was exactly what the killer wanted.” Todd was breathing heavily. “I mean, don’t serial killers crave publicity?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” Quinn said. “But my guess is that whoever is doing this is ego driven and doesn’t really need the media to validate his sense of self-worth.”

  “So you’re saying he boosts his ego by murdering women?” Todd looked at Quinn. “I don’t get it. But why would I?”

  “You can’t know what goes on in the mind of a killer unless you’re walking in his shoes,” Quinn said.

  “True enough,” Todd said as he inched ahead of Quinn on the path. “Looks like you’re slowing down a bit there, buddy.”

  “Uh, I think it’s the other way around,” Quinn countered and pulled even, panting heavily.

  “Yeah, we’ll see about that!”

  Quinn wiped his brow, laboring, but was determined to hold his own. “So are you ever going to settle down and find yourself a real woman?”

  “You mean like marriage?”

  Quinn laughed. “I realize that’s like a foreign word to you, but there is such a thing—at least for some of us.”

  Todd chuckled. “Maybe if I met someone sweet, smart, and sexy like Selene, I’d think about it. But I’m cool just playing the field. Obviously there are plenty of women out there who feel the same way, especially in this town.”

  Quinn conceded that Bluffs Bay had more than its fair share of single women who seemed in no hurry to change that status. But he believed that most women in The Woods were spoken for. And the rest were probably being charmed and seduced by Todd at his spa.

  They passed some other joggers along a well-worn path, and soon drifted off to a side path used mainly by people walking their dogs and as a shortcut to the lake.

  “Has business picked up any since the reward money was offered?” Quinn asked.

  Todd shook his head. “Not really. I mean, who wants to get a spa treatment when this murdering bastard is out there?”

  “Yeah, good point,” Quinn said. “But life goes on, right? Women still want to be pampered and pretty, no matter what. I know my wife does.”

  Todd smiled. “Yeah, I can’t argue with you there. Men want to be pampered, too, even if we won’t admit it except to ourselves.”

  The two chuckled as they ran down the path.

  “By the way, some of us are getting together next Thursday at eight for a pickup basketball game at the community center,” Todd said. “Think you can make it?”

  “Yeah, sure. Why not?” Quinn replied, not knowing if Selene had other plans. It was a bridge he would cross when he got to it.

  “Hey, what’s that?” Todd asked uneasily.

  “What’s what?”

  Todd pointed to a clearing near the path.

  Quinn looked and saw something or someone half obscured by the bushes.

  The two men approached warily until it became obvious that they were looking at a dead woman in a bathing suit. There was some discoloration around her neck that was consistent with strangulation.

  By all accounts, it appeared as though The Woods Strangler had struck again.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Police cordoned off the area where the victim was discovered and curious onlookers were kept at bay. Detective Cramer arrived at the park as soon as he’d gotten word that The Woods Strangler had apparently killed another woman. He was sure the press would be all over this, and there was little he could do to stem the tide.

  Already on the scene was one of his investigators, Geoffrey Rawlings, and a number of officers, including Ashley Leighton. Cramer met her halfway. He immediately noticed the swelling beneath her right eye, though she’d done a good job to lessen its impact with makeup.

  “You look like you ran into a Mack truck or worse, Leighton,” he said candidly.

  Ashley chuckled self-consciously. “Just about. Try the side of a door that was supposed to be closed. It looked a lot worse a couple of days ago.”

  Cramer winced. “You should watch your step from now on.”

  “I intend to,” she promised and quickly changed the subject. “Sorry we had to drag you down here, Sir.”

  “Don’t apologize, Leighton. It’s my job, like yours.”

  “The job seems to be getting harder every day.” Ashley frowned, which made her shiner even more pronounced.

  “Yeah, you’ve got that right.” Cramer said.

  Rawlings joined them. He was African-American, in his mid thirties, and built like a fullback. Black Rastafarian locks hung around his broad face.

  “What do we have?” Cramer asked.

  “A dead Caucasian female, age twenty-nine,” he muttered. “According to the driver’s license in her purse, name’s Karlene Sullivan. Looks like she was strangled.”

  Cramer glanced at the spot where the victim still lay, covered by a white sheet. He grieved for her and those she left behind, knowing full well that wa
s hardly enough to satisfy those who wanted—demanded—action.

  “Any witnesses?”

  “None yet.”

  “Who found her?”

  “Two joggers,” Ashley answered bleakly.

  “Where are they?”

  “Over there.” Rawlings pointed to a couple of tall men in jogging attire, standing just outside the designated crime scene.

  Cramer lifted a brow in surprise, recognizing them as his neighbors. “I’ll talk to them,” he said thoughtfully. “Meanwhile, see what you can find out about Ms. Sullivan—and if anyone saw anything that might be of use to us.”

  “I’m on it,” Rawlings said.

  “So am I,” Ashley added.

  Cramer nodded and walked over to Quinn Herrera and Todd Foxworth. Both looked a bit worse for the wear, and he couldn’t blame them under the circumstances.

  “Wish I were meeting you two for a different reason,” Cramer muttered.

  “Yeah,” Quinn said.

  Todd concurred, running a hand through his hair. “Man, it’s getting really bad around here. You can’t even enjoy a nice run in the park without finding a dead body.”

  Cramer knew there was no humor intended and he wasn’t laughing. “How did you happen to find her? I mean, what brought you to this particular location somewhat off the beaten path?”

  Quinn glanced at Todd before saying, “No real reason. We’ve run in this area before, mainly to get away from other runners and pedestrians.”

  That made sense to Cramer. But the killer was obviously familiar with this part of the park, too. Maybe he was also a runner.

  “Did either of you see anyone else coming from this area?” Cramer asked.

  Todd lifted a brow. “If you’re asking if we saw the killer, the answer is no.”

  “We didn’t see anyone,” Quinn said.

  Cramer looked around. “You can’t really be sure of that, can you? In other words, maybe you did see the killer at some point while running, but you just weren’t aware of it—”

  “Yeah, maybe we did, when you put it that way,” Todd conceded. “But when we found the body, there was no one else around.”

  Quinn looked directly at the detective. “I can tell you this, Dennis. If we had seen the guy who killed her, you can be damn sure we wouldn’t have let him walk away!”

  Though it pleased Cramer to hear this, he couldn’t help but wonder if it meant Quinn was prepared to be violent with a suspect. Somehow it seemed to go against the grain of an easygoing man like Quinn Herrera who made a living without having to get his hands dirty. But, then again, Cramer figured anyone could be driven to acts of aggression if the right circumstances were there.

  “Well, if I have any more questions, I know where to find you.”

  “Anytime,” Todd said coolly.

  “There’s a community meeting this Friday,” Quinn said. “I think you should be there, Dennis. I’m sure people will want some answers...reassurances—”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Cramer said, though he wasn’t looking forward to it. At this point, he was doubtful he could provide the people of The Woods what they really wanted: the killer’s head on a silver platter.

  * * *

  Ashley hated that the effects of Robert’s fists were still evident on her face and elsewhere. She hoped that Dennis Cramer didn’t suspect the true nature of her swollen eye, and was glad he couldn’t see the other bruises on her body. Just what she needed—to put her career in jeopardy because of what went on behind closed doors at home. She simply couldn’t allow everything she had worked so hard for to fall by the wayside all because of Robert’s temper.

  Ashley spent more than an hour going through the routine of questioning everyone she could about the latest murder to rock this community. No one seemed to know anything. Or at least nothing they were willing to admit. She suspected people were afraid to get involved. Nobody wanted to be in the spotlight or subjected to police interrogations. Most of all, she felt the locals were afraid of the killer. No one wanted to be on his bad side, thereby becoming a potential target.

  It was obvious to her that the killer had set his sights on the most vulnerable females, not daring to go after those who might put up stiff resistance. Everyone else was probably safe. But that did not translate well in real terms.

  Ashley’s cell phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. It was her husband. The mere realization of that caused her to quiver. Great! That’s the last thing I need right now. Her face and body were still sore from his last beating.

  “Hi, Robert,” she said lowly, stepping to the side, away from investigators.

  “I was expecting you home two hours ago!” Robert said angrily. “What the hell is going on, Ashley?”

  “There’s been another murder—this time at The Woods Park,” she explained nervously. “I’m on the scene.”

  “Can’t they have someone else on the scene?” he snorted sarcastically.

  Ashley tensed. “I’m sorry, but it’s my job. I’ll try to be home as soon as possible.”

  “That’s not good enough! Maybe it’s time you gave that damned job up once and for all so I can see my wife again.”

  She switched the phone to her other ear. “That’s not fair, Robert. You’re gone just as much as I am with your job, and I accept that. Please respect what I’m doing.”

  “And just what the hell are you doing, Ashley?” he hissed. “Pretending to be a tough cop when we both know that you’re not cut out for it. Why the hell am I wasting my time talking to air anyway? I’m going out for a drink. Maybe you’ll finally show up by the time I get back.”

  Robert hung up before she could say another word.

  Ashley could feel his rage. It got even worse when he drank and, consequently, worse for her. She sighed at the prospect of receiving another beating when she got home.

  But, right now, she had to pretend that everything in her private life was normal, especially when her professional life had become so demanding these days.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Michel Giovanni stood amongst the onlookers at The Woods Park. They were all murmuring about the murder of the latest young woman while the cops went about their business. He noticed the hot, blonde officer who was asking questions and getting no answers that pleased her. Then she received a phone call and seemed to be shaken by the caller, even more than the brick wall she’d run into at the park while investigating the murder.

  Michel sensed that she had been talking to her old man. He recognized the fear in her face and could tell that one eye was swollen. After all, it was the same fear he had instilled in Selene. Right up to the time he allowed her to run away from him. Though he regretted having hurt her back then, at the time it seemed like the only way to get the respect a man deserved from his woman.

  The same type of respect Officer Leighton’s man probably demanded of her, otherwise she’d likely get more of what he’d already given her. Only worse.

  Michel turned his attention back to the matter at hand. The Woods Strangler had struck again. In the process, the people of the community were more uptight than ever. He moved away from the main crowd, watching with interest as the coroner removed the dead woman’s corpse in a body bag. An autopsy would probably reveal that she died the same way as her predecessors, and there was apparently little the cops could do about it.

  Except wait for the next one.

  He wondered if the reward money would be increased as the stakes kept getting higher.

  What he wouldn’t do to get his hands on that cash.

  All in good time.

  Michel drifted away from the scene of the crime. He would do well to keep a low profile. After all, he wouldn’t want the wrong people to get into his head. They might not like what they find.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Al’s Bar was not far from the Bluffs Bay police and fire departments. As such, it was a popular hangout for cops and firefighters, as well as others who were involved in civic functions. But on this
day it was nearly empty, at least by the standards Dennis Cramer had become used to. That was fine with him. He wasn’t much in the mood for company. Not unless it was a tall mug of beer.

  He had second thoughts about that when he spotted a familiar face. Robert Leighton was sitting at a table all by his lonesome, seemingly deep in thought. While he didn’t exactly hang in the same circles as the renowned criminal defense attorney, they were somewhat acquainted since Leighton’s wife, Ashley, worked for Cramer on the force. He’d chatted briefly with him a few times at police functions.

  “Mind if I join you?” Cramer asked.

  Robert looked up over the rim of his drink. Recognizing him, he said colorlessly, “Why the hell not?”

  Cramer ordered a beer from a waitress and wondered what type of small talk he should engage in with the attorney.

  Robert spoke first. “Heard about the latest murder...”

  Cramer assumed that Ashley had told him. “Yeah, looks like The Woods killer left his mark again.”

  “Too bad for the victim and her family,” Robert muttered. “And just about as bad for everyone else trying to survive this nightmare till the bastard is captured.”

  “No one wants that as much as I do,” Cramer emphasized. “My people, including your wife, have no plans to let up in our pursuit of this animal.”

  He got a reaction from the attorney when his wife was mentioned.

  “So I have to get used to Ashley working all hours of the day and night?” Robert asked brusquely.

  The waitress brought his beer and left.

  Cramer was well familiar with the strain on a marriage when one partner was a cop. It must have been doubly difficult when the other was a lawyer who defended assholes like the one they were trying to catch.

  “Well, we’ve got a rotating system set up, so no one has to work twenty-four hours straight,” he said. “But I won’t lie to you. As long as the city’s being terrorized by this killer, everyone on the force will be working their asses off.”