“I really wasn’t paying much attention around me. I was concentrating on getting through the door. That’s why I didn’t see him. I don’t know if he was watching her or not, but we ran into each other. Actually, it was probably me who ran into him — I don’t know. When we hit, he caught hold of me to keep me from falling.” Her throat tightened. “I — it — he frightened me.”
“Miss Williams. Miss Williams. Laken,” he prompted her, bringing her attention back to him.
“Yes, sorry.”
“What frightened you?”
“The cold hatred I felt.”
“You felt?” he urged softly.
“Yes, when he touched my brow.” She shivered, slipping back to the moment.
“He touched you?”
“Yes, he wiped his finger across my brow then licked it.”
“He licked your brow.” His glaze flickered to the side, and she noticed that Detective Jones had come up.
She shook her head as she looked back to Detective MacDaniels. “No, his finger.”
“Did he do anything else?”
Her heart thundered. “He said he had my taste now.”
The detectives exchanged looks.
“Did he say anything else?” Detective Jones spoke up.
“No, he went into the store.”
“You think the other woman was our victim?” Jones asked again.
“It was her,” she said firmly.
“All right,” MacDaniels said, trying to calm her. “Describe him.”
“I can’t, other then what I already gave you.”
“You looked right at him, he touched you, and you can’t describe him.”
She jerked at Jones’ remarks.
“It was dark and rainy. He had a large raincoat, the collar up, the hat pulled down. It was wide brimmed, kind of like the Indiana Jones type. All I could really see was his eyes. They were pale, that’s all I could tell.” She felt panic rise in her voice but couldn’t stop it.
“It’s all right,” MacDaniels soothed. “What happened next?”
“Nothing. I went home, took some medicine, went to bed. I didn’t know about the murder until I saw her picture in the paper.”
****
Mac felt his stomach clench. She was holding something back, he knew it. But what and why, after she had come down to the precinct? She wanted to help — he sensed that too.
“What makes you think it was him?” Jones’ question scored a hit by the way she jerked.
“Because I know.” The stress level was high in her voice. She sounded desperate.
Mac hated to but knew he had to start the pressure. He went in with a different tactic. “I understand he frightened you, Miss Williams, but that is no reason to believe he killed her.”
“But he did it.”
“What else did you see, Laken?” he pressed.
“Nothing.”
“Then why do you sound so certain?” He shot the question at her, keeping his tone sharp.
“Because I am.”
“There is no way that’s all. We couldn’t even arrest him on what you gave us.” His voice went cold, flat.
“I gave you all I can.”
The pleading in her eyes cut into him. He felt it like he’d never felt anything before. “No, you didn’t,” Mac countered. “What aren’t you telling us? What did you see?”
“Nothing.”
“Then you couldn’t know it was him.” He leaned forward, bearing down on her.
“Yes, I do. He hunted her down, and when he caught her, he pulled her up, and looked down into her eyes and stabbed her in the back. Then he just let her drop to the ground and stepped on her,” she cried out.
He knew it. The exaltation coursed through him. He had a witness. The satisfaction faded at the look on her face as she realized what she said. Her face dropped into her hands. He reached for her. His hand hovered over hers, but he wasn’t sure what to do. “Laken, I need you to tell me everything you saw.”
Her shoulders dropped in defeat. “I didn’t see it.”
“Miss Williams, don’t lie. You said he stabbed her in the back. And he stepped on her. We only released that information to about dozen people associated with the case.” He let it hang there.
Jonesy picked up where he left off. “Miss Williams, it’s illegal to withhold information besides the fact that this person could kill again.”
There was a sharp intake of breath. “He will kill again. I could feel it,” she murmured, raising her head, pleading filled her eyes. “I want to help. That’s why I’m here.”
Mac leaned forward. “Then why won’t you help us?
“I’m trying to, you just don’t understand.” Her shoulders dropped again. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand, so why won’t you tell me?”
She shook her head in defeat.
“You can back up to the pharmacy and go over it again. That was all correct?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“The description?” he questioned.
“That’s all there is. Everything I remember.”
“All right, after you left. What then?”
“I went home to bed just like I said. I’d been overworking. I was very sick. I was burning up.”
“Then how did you know she was stabbed in the back while facing him, and how can you say he’ll kill again?”
“Because I saw it in a dream.” Her outcry did nothing to soften the blow of her words.
Mac figured the same doubt that shadowed Jonesy’s face settled over his. The woman looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole.
“You’re saying you’re psychic?” Detective Jones’ voice was laced with skepticism.
“No,” Laken denied, looking from one to the other. “No, nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I keep hoping I’m wrong but I know I’m not. I saw the look of fear on her face the moment before he thrust the knife in her. I felt his thrill of invincibility as he took her life. There was no remorse, only pleasure, deep gratifying pleasure. He killed her, and he will kill again.”
Mac felt his thrill of having a witness slipping away, but there was another sense of loss that went far deeper. For the first time in a long time, he’d felt a rush of interest, and the woman was mental. He wanted to honestly give her the benefit of the doubt and concede the possibility. But unfortunately, his limited experience with psychics had taught him they were total frauds — people wanting fame, to feel important or different, some just preying on others’ pain.
He ached with the disappointment this woman would fit into one of those categories. Shoving his exasperation down, he rocked back in his chair, running his fingers through his hair, trying to regain his composure.
“You’re saying you dreamed it?” He fought to keep his words even.
“Yes.” There was a definite tremble in the answer.
“You were home sick?” By the pallor of her face, he could believe that.
“Yes.”
“And, you saw him kill her in your dream?”
“Yes.”
“But you can’t tell us what he looked like, other than the description of the man you ran into on your way home?”
“Yes.” Again, it was the one-word answer.
They were supposed to be courteous to everyone, even crackpots, but Mac wanted to yell at her so badly he had to hold his breath to keep it in. In the middle of his reflections, Jonesy picked up the questioning, moving around the desk beside him.
“If you could see her clearly enough to recognize her from one brief sighting, while you were sick, to know it was her in the paper, and he killed her, then why can’t you give us a better description of him?” Jonesy asked.
Great question, Mac thought, that should get her. Her answer froze him.
“Because, I saw it from his angle.” Her choked words were enough to shock him. “Look, I’m sorry I wasted you’re time. I can’t help you.” She stood quickly. “It was a
mistake to come here.” She turned, heading for the stairs, and though she never broke into a run, she disappeared before they had time to decide to go after her, not that either tried.
“Man.” Jonesy finally broke the silence. “I thought we had a real witness there for a minute.”
“Me, too.” Mac had to agree, but he’d felt he had something more ripped away. Laken Williams had touched him deeply.
“I’ve had enough of this. I’ve put in nine hours today already. I promised Connie a movie tonight. I say we call it a day and let the other team worry about it for a while.”
“What?” Mac had to force his attention back to his partner. “Oh, yeah, deal.” He looked at the paper he’d been writing information on. With a sigh, he placed it in his drawer and closed it with bitter finality.
Chapter Three
Laken didn’t slow down in her rush to leave the building until she reached the park across the street. She wanted to be away from the men, from their questions and their doubts. She wanted to be home, only she just couldn’t make it. Drained and shaky, she sank down on the grass under a tree and dropped her head wearily into her hands. Frustration flowed through her. She’d only been trying to help, but their questions had made her feel guilty. Maybe she was for not finding some way to stop the psycho, which was foolish. She hadn’t actually been there. She hadn’t even believed it was real until she saw the picture in the paper.
How was she supposed to stop him? The thought hit her hard, and she shook her head. She was an architect with her own problems at the moment. What did she know about catching killers? A big, fat nothing. She collapsed back against the tree. It wasn’t her responsibility, but he was going to kill again. She would never forget what she saw, what she felt.
She needed to find some way to stop him if she wanted to save her own sanity, but how? She came back to that simple question again. The police didn’t believe her. The pang she felt in her heart ripped deep, like a great sense of loss she didn’t understand. Maybe she was going insane.
With a groan, she tried to keep herself from throwing up. The hatred and anger of the hunter still burned in her. She didn’t want to remember it, but it was like it had infested her. She had to find a way to stop him, or she was afraid it would never leave. But for now what she needed to rest. Maybe get some sleep, but she was afraid to close her eyes, afraid of what she might see.
****
Mac didn’t know what drew his eyes across the street to the park, but he could hardly believe what he saw. There she was, sitting on the ground as if she’d just dropped there. Her head hung low. She looked defeated, and he hated the thought that he had helped do that to her.
It was sheer luck that he didn’t send up a chorus of horns as he cut across the street, not paying attention to cars. He kept his gaze locked on the woman.
“Miss Williams.” He wasn’t sure what else to say. “Are you all right?”
A tiny mirthless laugh came from her, and she tilted her head up. “Don’t worry, detective, I’m not going to go all psycho on you.”
The beautiful green and gold eyes were red-rimmed, but he couldn’t tell if she’d been crying. He started to squat down, but when his leg protested with a jab of pain, he settled on the grass beside her instead. “I wasn’t worried about you going psycho. I was wondering if you were all right.”
“Let’s see, I’ve been sick, had nightmares of someone murdered, had the worst two days ever with my career, made a fool of myself to the police so they think I’m a nutcase, if not possibly a killer. I’m not sure if I am all right.”
Mac wasn’t sure how to come back to that. Before he could formulate a comment, she started to talk again.
“I’m sorry. Sarcasm doesn’t become me. I don’t know why I said that, besides that it’s been a horrible day.”
“So what happened?” He studied her.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes, I do. I’m interested.”
She hesitated only a moment before she began. “I told you I’m an architect. Two months ago the president at the firm I work for announced the opportunity for anyone in the firm to work up a design for a new big project. We were given the guidelines and specs to go by. It was open for rough drawing to be done in a week then the top three were to be picked.
“Mine was one of the top three. We were then given the two months to do the complete plans. Unfortunately, I still had to do my other assigned work. So, all of my free time for the last two months has been working on the plans: nights, weekends, all of it. But I got my plans done, and they were good. Honestly, very, very good if I say so myself. One problem though — I kind of wore myself out. That’s how I got sick. Anyway, the presentation was yesterday at eleven o’clock. I was told it was at one by my supervisor. I’d been sick so I came in late. The presentation was already done when I got there.”
“Wait a minute, so after all that work, you didn’t get to present your plans?” Mac homed right in on the bottom line.
“Actually, I did find out today that my plans were presented.”
“Well, at least, that’s good.” He tried to sound positive.
“Yes, but the point is there was no change in the time. I was told one o’clock, more than once. And now my supervisor is avoiding me.”
“You think he set it so you’d miss the appointment?”
“I know he did. I wasn’t told the wrong time by mistake. I’m sure it was on purpose, but what I can’t figure out is why. I’ve worked for the company since I graduated. Four years. I do good work, but this was my first big chance to show what I can do on my own.”
“You really wanted this?”
“Yeah… I’ve been wondering lately if I want to stay here. I’m a small town girl. I don’t fit in good with the crowds and the dating scene here. You could call me old-fashioned. Actually, I’ve been called that and a few other things, because I won’t play the normal partying and dating games. I don’t believe I owe a guy a make-out session just because he takes me out. Anyway, if I landed this contract, it would say I could make it. Either way, I’m thinking it’s time to go off on my own, but I wanted to know I could make it first. It would have been a big feather in my cap.”
Unconsciously, Mac shifted and started to massage a cramp out of his leg. “You’re not the only one contemplating a career change.”
“What happened?” She nodded to his leg.
“Big confrontation.” He surprised himself when he started to tell her. He’d become good at brushing it off. But for some reason, he wanted her to know. “We about had this guy who killed three people in a string of robberies. Then this civilian walked right into the bust. There were police all around, and he didn’t even notice us.”
“You got him out of the way.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yeah, the gunman had turned on him. I was able to knock him away and draw the fire, but I got hit in the process. The jacket took the bullet that would’ve killed me. The blow is like getting hit with a sledge hammer. Knocked the breath out of me, and hurt so bad, it took me a minute before I realized I was hit in the leg, too.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“You’re quite a man.” The words seemed to slip free as if she’d thought them but hadn’t really meant to say them.
He felt heat spread through him at the look she gave him. “No different than the rest of the guys in that building.” He tilted his head toward the station.
“As I said, you’re quite a guy.”
He felt himself growing hotter. “You aren’t a cop groupie are you?”
She looked thoughtful. “I don’t think I’ve ever really known a police officer before.” She tilted her head to one side to look at him. “So, you’re thinking of retiring?”
“I don’t think I have much of a choice. I’m back on duty until the doctors decide how much of a recovery there will be, but I already know. I’m not going to pass the physical when it comes time. I can’t run, can’t jump. If I get more movement back, it wil
l be passable, and with a brace, I can have a decent active life. But not as an officer, not when someone’s life might depend on me.”
“When will you know?”
“My physical evaluation is set in a month.”
“You sound like you’ve accepted it.”
“I have. I don’t have much choice. I think I was a good cop but it’s time. I had been feeling like I was ready for a change before. My life has been too centered on the darkness in life. I worked narcotics right out of the academy, then homicide since. With either, you don’t get to see the good. I’m ready for the good.”
“You’re not married?”
“No. I was kind of tied to the job when I got out of the academy, and as I say the dark side. I’m not saying my life is all bad. I’ve made some good friends along the way, and I have a good family. My parents and sister’s family live a couple hours upstate. When I need a break, I head up to visit them.” Mac couldn’t believe he told her that.
“So what is your plan?”
“Believe it or not, I have a teaching degree. Three years of narcotics I spent undercover as a college student. I passed all my classes. I have a degree in teaching with a minor in forensic science. There’s a university about halfway between here and my hometown that’s looking for a professor. I have all the qualifications listed so I sent them a resume. I made it through the interview to the short list. I’m still waiting to hear back. You know the old saying, ‘those who can’t do, teach’.”
“No, I don’t believe that about you,” she said firmly. “You’re more than that. You don’t just survive, you come out on top.”
Looking in her eyes, he could see she truly believed what she said. It felt amazing to have her look at him like that. Still, it was a bit embarrassing. “I don’t have the job yet, and I don’t know what kind of a teacher I’ll be.”
“What kind do you think you’ll be?”
He had to think about that. “A pretty good one. I’ve taught a couple classes at the academy that went well. I had a couple professors that I liked and I tried to emulate them.”
“I think you’ll be great.”
“Oh really, and how’s that?”
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