Killer in The Woods: A Psychological Thriller

by Flowers, R. Barri

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Officer Vernon Tucker went through the motions of his normal patrol. At fifty-three, he had been at this for half his life and through two wives and five kids. He covered The Woods district, which was like the elite detail in Bluffs Bay. At least it was before the killings started. Now it was a duty neither he nor his coworkers on the beat were particularly excited about. One never knew when this killer might take out another hot chick. In the meantime, everyone was on edge. Tucker feared that if they didn’t catch this guy soon, the FBI would come in and take over their case.

  The national media had already given the locals a bad rap as being inept since they hadn’t brought in a single viable suspect. The truth was they were playing it by the book, tracking down every lead, and following through in a professional manner. He had no doubt that the department and its determined detectives and investigators would crack the case. Then things could get back to normal.

  Tucker approached the cream-colored Cadillac that was parked in a residential section, halfway on the curb, as though the driver had been in a hurry or under the influence. He pulled up behind it. He couldn’t see anyone inside, but recalled that they were supposed to be on the lookout for such a vehicle.

  Tucker called it in. “What was that plate number?”

  As it was read back to him, Tucker confirmed it was the Cadillac in question that belonged to Michel Giovanni. He was a suspect in the arson fire at the shelter downtown.

  The officer looked around, but saw no sign of anyone.

  Tucker called for backup, and decided to check out the suspect’s vehicle. He lumbered out of his sedan, gun drawn, and stepped up to the car. Looking inside, he saw some empty beer cans and bottles and other personal effects that almost made it seem like the suspect had been living in his car.

  Where the hell was Giovanni now?

  * * *

  Detective Cramer was in a strategy meeting with the task force working The Woods Strangler case when an officer came in to inform him that Michel Giovanni’s vehicle had been spotted.

  She went on to say, “The car is parked on Rosedale Drive, near Woods Lane.”

  Cramer reacted. That was just three blocks from his house! More importantly, it was only a block from Selene Herrera’s place.

  “No sign of Giovanni?” he asked anxiously.

  “Nope,” she said. “Looks like the suspect abandoned the vehicle.”

  Cramer pondered this.

  “And a call came in reporting a possible break-in at a nearby house on Woods Lane—” the officer continued.

  “The Herreras’ house,” Cramer uttered instinctively. Damn.

  “A squad car is on its way, Sir.”

  “I’m headed over there, too,” he said under his breath.

  Turning to the task force, Cramer gathered his composure and spoke thoughtfully. “We might have a break in this case. Until we know for sure, let’s go on the assumption that our man is still on the loose and dangerous as ever.”

  Cramer instructed Geoffrey Rawlings to take over the meeting while he went to check on his friends and neighbors.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Selene could barely believe that Michel had broken into her house. She didn’t even want to think about what other crimes he might have committed. Or had in mind now.

  She took a step back, found the light switch on the wall, and turned it on.

  Michel stood there with a satisfied grin on his face. “Scared you, huh, baby?”

  “How did you get in here?” she snapped. What concerned her most was the fact that he was there at all. And Quinn was not.

  “I told you I could get to you whenever I wanted,” Michel boasted confidently, blocking her path to the stairs.

  Selene thought she detected alcohol on his breath. She could tell by his demeanor that he wasn’t drunk, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t still a threat to her.

  “I hope you realize that breaking and entering is a felony. Is that what you want, Michel? To be locked up?”

  Selene wondered if the power being out had affected the security system, since it hadn’t given her any indication that an intruder was in the house. Was that what Michel had counted on?

  “I didn’t break in anywhere,” Michel snorted. “I walked right through the front door. That bastard you’re living with must’ve left it open in his haste to get away from you.”

  So he knew Quinn wasn’t home, Selene thought. “Do you expect me to believe that? Quinn wouldn’t just leave the door open for anyone to walk in—least of all, you!”

  Michel smiled. “So maybe he’s careless—or just plain dumb.”

  Selene leveled her eyes at him. “First the power goes out, then you show up in the basement. That’s a little too convenient and we both know it.”

  Michel shrugged. “Hey, can I help it if things happen sometimes when you least expect them to? That doesn’t make me guilty of anything but missing my wife.”

  “I’m not your wife!” she retorted. “And stalking me like this won’t change that, Michel...”

  Selene realized that he had not been served with the temporary restraining order yet, since they couldn’t find him. Meaning Michel was not legally bound to stay away from her. And he obviously felt no moral obligation to do so. But that didn’t give him the right to break into her house or otherwise enter uninvited.

  Michel’s gaze hardened and, for an instant, Selene thought he was actually going to strike her. Instead, his features relaxed and his arms remained at his side.

  “We’ll always be married, Selene, no matter what a piece of paper says,” he muttered. “And this ain’t stalking. To me, it’s just being friendly. I’m communicating again with the woman I still love...”

  She glared at him. “You can call it whatever you want, but it won’t change things. I’m asking you to get out of my house and don’t come back. Quinn’s going to be home at any moment now. If he finds you here...”

  “He’ll do what?” Michel’s eyes widened with amusement. “He doesn’t want to mess with me!”

  Selene considered making a run for it. Or hitting Michel where it hurt. But other thoughts began to circulate in her mind. Such as the fire at S.A.W. House. And the mysterious phone call. Both seemed to have Michel’s signature all over them.

  Selene recalled Detective Cramer’s words: If he shows up again, maybe you can ask him where he’s holed up. Or stall him till we can get someone there—

  She weighed the risks of keeping Michel there versus trying to get him to leave, and decided she needed some answers from him while the opportunity presented itself. If he tried anything, she wouldn’t give in without a fight.

  “Did you set the fire at the shelter?”

  He frowned. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  Selene gritted her teeth. “And I suppose you don’t know anything about the crank call I received the other night either?”

  Michel leered at her. “Right again. Sounds like you’ve gotten yourself on someone’s bad side, baby.”

  “Yeah, yours!”

  “Can’t take credit for something I don’t know nothin’ about.”

  “Liar!” Selene was sure he was behind one, the other, or both. But proving it was a different story.

  “Next thing I know, you’ll be trying to pin this Woods Strangler rap on me, too.” Michel stepped closer and caressed her face with the back of his hand. “If I wanted to strangle someone, it wouldn’t be a woman I picked at random—”

  Selene winced at the feel of his calloused hand on her cheek. Her body tensed as the memories of Michel’s abuse came flooding back like a tidal wave.

  She knew she had to keep him talking.

  “You said you were working on some leads regarding the killer’s identity...” Selene stammered. “What did you find out?” She inched away, hoping Quinn would come running down the steps to rescue her.

  Michel s
nickered. “I’m still working on it.”

  Yeah, I’ll bet you are. “So who are you talking to?”

  “People who ain’t afraid to speak out,” he said evasively. “I’m guessing your psycho killer is a member of this upstanding community.”

  Selene thought about the anonymous caller implicating Quinn.

  “Like who—my husband?”

  Michel grinned mischievously. “Hey, if the shoe fits, he’s as good a suspect as the next guy.”

  “You need help if you really believe that,” Selene retorted, refusing to even dignify the suggestion. “Why don’t you go to the police with your outlandish theories—see what they’re worth.”

  “I will, when the time’s right.” Michel jutted his chin. “My first priority is to get you back where you belong.”

  He approached her, and she raised her arm defensively. “Stay away from me...”

  “Or what?” His brow crinkled. “You’ll beat me up? Call the cops? Sick your man on me?” He laughed derisively.

  “How about the next best thing? A good friend who hates like hell to see women being picked on by an asshole like you!”

  The voice boomed from above and Selene’s eyes darted toward the stairwell just as Todd Foxworth lunged at Michel. Both men fell to the floor. Once Michel overcame his shock, he threw a punch that barely grazed Todd’s shoulder. Before Selene could properly digest what she was seeing, Todd had gotten on top of Michel, who was face down, and twisted his right arm behind his back taking firm control of him.

  Michel groaned helplessly.

  “Are you okay, Selene?” Todd looked up, panting.

  “Yes,” she said, though her stomach was still tied up in knots. “How did you get—?”

  “I dropped by to see if Quinn wanted to run,” he explained. “Saw Elisa and she told me he had had already gone jogging, Marvin was at work, and she thought she saw someone lurking around your house. I found the front door open and told Elisa to call the police while I checked things out.” Todd took a breath. “I’ll keep him pinned down till they arrive.”

  “The power went out,” Selene said. “I think it must have interfered with the security alarm.”

  “I don’t think so,” Todd said. “I think you probably forgot to set it when Quinn left.”

  Had she? It had become routine to set the alarm when she was in the house—especially when she was alone. Had she unwittingly let Michel in?

  “Get off me, man,” Michel grunted, squirming beneath Todd’s evenly distributed weight.

  “Not a chance in hell!” Todd tightened his grip on Michel’s arm. “You picked the wrong house to break into or whatever you had in mind—”

  Michel looked at Selene. “It doesn’t have to be like this, baby. Tell this son of a bitch I’m not a burglar or strangler...”

  Todd raised a brow. “You know him?”

  She hated to admit it, but Selene heard the words come out of her mouth mechanically, “He’s my ex-husband—”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  By the time Quinn started to head home, he had put in four miles. As he got closer to his house, he slowed his pace considerably. He was looking forward to some quality time with Selene. Maybe they’d rent a video or go to a movie tonight.

  He came to a dead stop when he saw the police car in front of the house. Quinn’s heart nearly burst at the thought something had happened to Selene.

  No! Please don’t let anything have happened to her. All sorts of dark thoughts began rolling through his mind.

  He saw two burly uniformed officers emerge from the house with a slightly disheveled, tall, white man in handcuffs. Behind them, Selene stepped out, followed by Todd Foxworth.

  When Selene saw him, she ran over and wrapped her arms around him. She let her emotions go and started to cry.

  “It’s all right, honey,” he said soothingly, wondering if it really was.

  “I love you,” she sobbed.

  “I love you, too.” Quinn kissed the top of her head. “What happened? Are you hurt? What’s Todd doing here...?” His heart was still pounding.

  “He was looking for you,” Selene responded shakily. “And I’m fine, thank God.”

  Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. Obviously, there had been some trouble and the handcuffed man had caused it—with Selene his intended target. Was he The Woods Strangler? The man glared at Quinn, but said nothing as police shoved him roughly into the back seat of the squad car.

  At about the same time, another car drove up and Dennis Cramer emerged. He looked flustered.

  “Is everyone okay here?” Cramer’s eyes scanned the faces uneasily.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Todd said. “No one’s hurt. Though I wish I had given that asshole over there a beating while I had the chance.”

  Seeing Selene’s flushed face, it didn’t take much for Quinn to put two and two together. This wasn’t a common criminal who had broken into his home. And he probably wasn’t the maniac murdering females in The Woods. He was the man who’d been Selene’s worst nightmare for years.

  Michel Giovanni.

  Quinn couldn’t believe that he’d actually had the balls to show up at his house and further terrorize his wife.

  * * *

  Cramer stood in a small room with the fire inspector, arson investigator, and the abused young woman named Freda Gardner who had apparently seen the arsonist running from S.A.W. House. Through a one-way window, they viewed a lineup of six men that included Michel Giovanni.

  Cramer glared at Giovanni. He’d run a criminal background check on him and discovered that he’d been arrested twice for DUI, once for liquor law violations, and once for domestic battery. In the latter case, the charge was dropped when the victim—Selene—had a change of heart and let her husband off the hook.

  But there had been no indication that Giovanni was an arsonist. Of course, that didn’t mean he hadn’t become one during the process of stalking his ex-wife.

  And maybe even a serial killer, too.

  Cramer looked at the witness and could see signs of the beating her boyfriend had inflicted upon her.

  “Ms. Gardner, is the man you saw running from the shelter in the lineup?” She looked nervous, so he added, “Take your time. And, don’t worry, they can’t see or hear you.”

  Freda brushed away a lock of hair and peered through the window. She seemed to be focused on the suspect for a moment, but abruptly looked in the other direction. Finally, she said, “He ain’t there.”

  Cramer frowned, glancing at the arson investigator and fire inspector. He honed in on the witness. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she replied in a firm voice. “I don’t see him. Sorry.”

  Yeah, we all are, Cramer thought glumly.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he told her. “You did your duty. If we come up with another suspect, we’ll let you know. Meanwhile, I suggest you ditch the man who’s using you to sharpen his boxing skills. The shelter only works when you’re serious about breaking away from an abuser and prosecuting his ass.”

  * * *

  Michel Giovanni sat calmly in the small interrogation room. Across the table was the cop who had identified himself as Detective Cramer. Standing behind him was a black dude introduced as Homicide Investigator Rawlings.

  “Did you have anything to do with the fire at the shelter?” Cramer asked pointedly.

  “I don’t know nothin’ about that, man,” Michel replied evenly. He took a calming breath. They didn’t have anything on him regarding the fire. Or anything else that they could make stick, including the illegal gun he’d been smart enough not to have on him when he was arrested. That was why he had allowed this interrogation without benefit of counsel.

  “But you do know something about Selene Herrera, don’t you?” Cramer shot him a cold look. “What exactly did you hope to accomplish by breaking into her house?”

  “I already told you, man—I didn’t break into any house! The door was open and I walked in to visit my wife. End of
story.”

  “She’s not your wife anymore. Or have you conveniently forgotten that in choosing to stalk her?” Cramer said.

  Michel knew they were trying to get him to make a mistake so they could use it against him. But his Mamma didn’t raise a fool. He wouldn’t buckle under. Not with so much at stake.

  He looked squarely at the detective. “All right, so she’s my ex-wife. I forget sometimes. That isn’t a crime. And I haven’t been stalking her.”

  “What do you call harassing her at work and elsewhere?” Cramer demanded.

  “I call it just trying to make up for lost time. Yeah, I still love Selene, okay. So sue me. It still doesn’t amount to committing a capital offense.”

  Cramer glanced at Rawlings and back. “Well, that remains to be seen.”

  A vein bulged in Michel’s temple and he grew tense. “Look, I didn’t set any fire and I never broke into anyone’s house. So what are we talking about here?”

  “How about the murder of several women in The Woods?” Rawlings said. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  Michel had anticipated they would bring that up. After all, he knew Selene had been running off at the mouth to the cops. He also knew they were on a fishing expedition, hoping to get lucky and hook a big one.

  Not this time.

  He glared at the investigator. “Why the hell would I?”

  “Maybe because they reminded you of your ex-wife and everything you’d lost.”

  Michel sneered. “That’s crazy!”

  “Is it?” Rawlings peered at him. “Weren’t you practically bragging about collecting the reward money? Suppose you tell us what that’s all about, Giovanni. And you better have a damned good explanation—”

  Michel took his time, trying to find the right words to throw off their suspicions. Finally he said, “It’s simple, man. I’m just like any other concerned citizen—hoping to get all that money by identifying this Woods Strangler.”

  Cramer gazed at him suspiciously. “And how do you propose to do that? Do you have some inside information on the killer that no one else knows about?”