by Tim Kizer
“When we find out who the phone belongs to,” Holly said as she wrote down Laura Thibodeaux’s name in the notes app on her phone.
Nick went through the next forty-eight search results for “woman’s body found in Texas” and found two more news stories about women murdered in Texas, but neither of the victims was between twenty and thirty-five years old.
The woman in the second photo looked to be between twenty and thirty-five, too, and had blond hair. She had been murdered on November 7, so Nick set the time range for the search engine to between November 7 and 12 of last year. He checked the top fifty search results and found one case where the victim was between twenty and thirty-five. The murdered woman’s name was Jessica Hall; her body had been discovered behind a Dumpster in Huntsville on November 9. Nick didn’t think she had been killed by Harry: according to the news story, she died of blunt force trauma to the head, while the woman in the picture had been stabbed in the chest and side (which Nick supposed was the cause of her death). Perhaps Harry had committed that murder in another state.
Nick gave the tablet back to Holly, and she asked, “Did you figure out who that woman was?”
“No.”
As Holly put the tablet in her bag, Nick said, “I’ll send him a text.”
He composed a message to Harry and showed it to Holly. It read: “Do you want your phone back?”
“Do you think he’ll kill another passenger in Houston?” Holly asked after he hit Send.
“He might.” Nick pulled out his phone, opened the Notes app, and wrote down both of Harry’s numbers.
“He might try to kill me. I think I’m his type.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll watch over you.”
Nick checked the battery level on the killer’s cell and saw that it was twelve percent. They needed to charge the phone.
He thought of a joke he had seen on a sign in front of an auto shop in Dallas: Energizer Bunny arrested, charged with battery.
“Can I borrow your phone charger?” he asked. “His phone is going to die soon.”
“Sure.” Holly disconnected the charger cable from her phone and gave it to Nick.
Fortunately, Holly’s charger fit the killer’s cell.
Nick sent Harry a text saying: “Did you kill Veronica?” and handed the phone to Holly, who put it in her bag.
Chapter 11
1
Nick spent ten minutes searching online for stores selling fingerprinting supplies in Houston, but without success. There were a lot of links to online sellers in the search results but none to brick-and-mortar stores. When he looked up “fingerprinting supplies” on Google Shopping, he found a children’s detective toolkit that contained fingerprinting powder and fingerprinting stickers. It was available in three Jay’s Electronics stores in Houston, the nearest of which was thirteen miles from the Houston bus station. The trip to and from the store would take at least an hour and the layover was only forty-six minutes.
He knew a couple of guys in Houston, but they were very busy people and wouldn’t be able to buy the detective kit for him.
“Do you have any friends in Houston?” Nick asked Holly.
“No. Why?”
He showed her the product page of the detective kit. “I want to get this.”
“What for?”
“I want to lift Harry’s fingerprints from his phone battery. We could send them to your cop friend so he would run them through the police database.”
“You know how to lift fingerprints?”
“I’ve seen it done in movies. I think it's easy.”
The killer’s phone vibrated, and Holly took it out.
The killer sent a reply: “Maybe.”
Harry admitted that he might have murdered Veronica.
Nick looked at Sam. The guy was awake. He could have sent the message.
Nick texted back to the killer: “Are you on this bus?”
Holly asked, “Do you have a knife?”
“No.” Nick gave the killer’s cell to Holly. “We could hand the phone over to the Houston police so they would lift Harry’s fingerprints.”
“I think we should try to catch him ourselves.”
“Okay.”
A few minutes later Holly’s phone rang, and she answered it. When she hung up, she told Nick it was her cop friend.
“He says both numbers are disposable.”
2
Harry replied at a quarter to four, as the bus passed through Conroe, Texas. His text read: “George, give the phone to the girl.”
Nick answered: “OK.”
A new message appeared moments later: “Are you afraid of death, Holly Williams.”
Was Holly’s last name Williams? Did the killer know her full name?
Had he gotten it from her email account?
Holly whispered, “He knows my name. How does he know my name?”
Her brow furrowed in thought.
“Maybe he overheard you say it,” Nick said.
“He might’ve seen it on my suitcase tag.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah.”
The killer couldn’t have seen his name on his suitcase tag because he had no suitcase. And he hadn’t put a tag on his bag.
Harry messaged: “I want my phone back.”
Nick replied: “Are you on this bus?”
Harry texted back: “Yes. Where are you headed?”
“Tallahassee.”
Nick figured it wouldn’t be wise to give the killer Holly’s real destination.
Harry asked: “What time does your bus leave?”
“5 pm.”
Was Harry going to get on Holly’s bus?
The killer texted: “I know where you live, Holly. Give me back my phone.”
“Do you think he really knows where I live?” Holly said.
“He might be lying.”
The killer messaged: “3416 Martel Ave.”
Holly’s eyes widened. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “He’s not lying. This is my address.”
How did Harry know where Holly lived? He couldn’t have gotten her address from her email account.
Maybe he had a cop friend.
Maybe Harry was a cop himself.
“He might’ve had a cop help him find out your address,” Nick said.
Harry texted: “If you want to live, give me back my phone, Holly.”
Nick responded: “Let’s meet in Houston.”
“If we don’t catch him, you’ll have to find another place to live,” he told Holly.
She nodded.
3
Harry still hadn’t replied when the bus pulled into the Houston bus station.
“Don’t leave the terminal,” Nick said as the bus driver told the passengers not to forget their belongings.
“Okay.” Holly unplugged Harry’s phone from the charger and held it out to Nick. “I want to give it to you for safekeeping.”
“All right.” Nick took the phone.
The battery level on the killer’s cell was now thirty-two percent. It should last at least an hour.
“Give me your phone number, just in case,” Nick said.
Holly told him her number and he added it to his contacts.
Chapter 12
1
What will happen to Veronica’s luggage if no one picks it up? Eric wondered as he watched baggage handlers unload bags and suitcases from the storage compartment under the bus.
Would the bus company try to contact Veronica? How long would they keep her luggage? Would they eventually discard it or hand it over to the police?
A baggage handler pulled out Eric’s duffel bag and set it down, but Eric made no move to pick it up: Holly had asked him to see if the killer took Veronica’s luggage or tore off the tag.
Eric couldn’t remember what kind of suitcase Veronica had had; he wasn’t even sure she’d had any luggage. He had been so nervous at the Dallas station that he had paid little attention to other passengers. He was nervous now and hoped it didn’t show.<
br />
Would the bus company assume that Veronica had simply forgotten to pick up her suitcase?
Of course they would. It wouldn’t even cross their minds she might have been murdered.
Poor girl. We should have kept an eye on the bastard in Buffalo.
But how could they have known that he was going to kill someone in Buffalo? The stop was only fifteen minutes long.
Holly stood about six feet from Eric, waiting for the baggage handler to retrieve her suitcase from the belly of the bus. Would the killer dare to take Veronica’s luggage while Holly was here? Probably not. But he might remove the tag.
Holly was brave, very brave, and Eric admired her for that. She knew that the killer could murder her, brutally, but it didn’t stop her. Her life was now in real danger: if the killer was not brought to justice, he would track her down and slaughter her. Eric was afraid the killer would find Holly even if she moved to another city.
The man they suspected of killing Veronica stood not far from Holly, with his arms folded across his chest, his eyes hidden by sunglasses. Did he know what kind of suitcase, or bag, Veronica had had? The killer might have had his eye on Veronica since before they boarded the bus, and memorized what the girl’s luggage looked like.
The baggage handler unloaded Holly’s suitcase, and she went over to it, checked the tag, and then pulled out the handle. As she walked away, she glanced at Eric, and their eyes met for a moment. They didn’t acknowledge each other in any way because they didn’t want the killer, who might be watching Holly, to find out that they knew each other.
Veronica’s suspected killer was still standing by the bus. He wasn’t waiting for a baggage handler to take out his luggage as he only had a carry-on bag. Was he going to pick up Veronica’s suitcase?
Eric shifted his eyes to the purple plastic suitcase that had been unloaded about ten seconds ago and was still waiting to be collected. Was it Veronica’s?
Veronica’s suspected killer pulled a phone from his pocket and tapped the screen.
Eric stepped closer to the purple suitcase, glanced at the tag, and saw that the suitcase belonged to Veronica Mendez. It must be the murdered girl. Eric moved away from Veronica’s suitcase and took out his cell. There was one new text message from Holly: “Is he still there?”
Eric replied: “Yes.”
Veronica’s suspected killer pocketed his phone, adjusted his fanny pack, and picked up his bag.
Did he notice that I’m watching him?
I’ve looked at him only a few times, and besides, it would have been hard for him to see me looking at him because I’m wearing sunglasses.
Veronica’s suspected killer turned around and headed to the terminal. When he walked inside, Eric texted Holly: “He went into the terminal.”
Why didn’t he take Veronica’s suitcase?
Maybe he hadn’t intended to take it.
Maybe he was watching someone.
Eric texted Holly: “Where are you at?” then grabbed his duffel bag and went into the terminal.
2
Osiris didn’t remove his sunglasses when he walked into the terminal, and he was going to keep them on until he boarded the bus to Miami. It didn’t take him long to find Holly Williams: she sat on a bench in the waiting area, next to a tired-looking young man with close-cropped hair, her black suitcase at her feet.
Osiris checked his watch. It was 4:33 p.m. The bus to Miami departed in twenty-eight minutes.
Should they take Holly now or later, in Beaumont or Baton Rouge?
Osiris had already sent Holly’s picture to Castor, and his partner had said that she was hot.
He couldn’t wait to snatch Holly; however, he needed her to be on the bus to Miami because there was something he wanted to do, something that promised to be a lot of fun.
Castor sat on a bench in the last row, wearing sunglasses and the same wig and dress he’d worn in Buffalo. His wheelchair stood in the aisle, beside the bench. Only ticketed passengers could enter the waiting area, so Castor had bought a ticket from Houston to Victoria, Texas, six days ago.
An attractive woman in her twenties, with short black hair and thin eyebrows sat two rows behind Holly. Osiris recognized her: she had been one of the passengers on the bus. Her tits were smaller than Veronica’s; she had on a blue T-shirt and black leggings.
Apparently, Houston was not her destination.
Let’s take her.
Osiris pulled out his phone and texted Castor: “The young one in the fourth row. I’m gonna buy her a drink. Be ready.”
Castor read his message as he walked to his target.
“Hi,” Osiris said to the woman in the black leggings, smiling.
“Hi,” she replied.
Osiris sat down next to her and set his bag on the floor. “How’s it going?” He spoke softly so Holly wouldn’t hear him.
“Fine.” The woman smiled.
The name on her suitcase tag was Lucia Vazquez.
Lucia. It was a pretty name.
“We were on the same bus,” Osiris said.
Lucia looked at him appraisingly. “Yes.”
“I’m Nick, by the way.”
“Lucia.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I buy you a soda?”
He had thought of offering to buy her a coffee, and decided against it: he was afraid the coffee sold here was nasty.
Lucia smiled again. “Sure.”
“What would you like?”
“Sprite or Diet Coke.”
“When does your bus leave?”
“Five o’clock.”
“I’ll be back in five minutes.”
As Osiris went to the station café, he read Castor’s reply: “OK.”
While he was standing in line at the café counter, Osiris opened his fanny pack, took out a small plastic vial containing powdered sedative, and palmed it. The sedative wasn’t as strong as the one he had injected into Veronica Mendez: it would knock Lucia out in five to seven minutes.
“May I take your order?” asked the clerk, a plump woman with graying hair.
“Two small sodas,” Osiris replied.
He paid for the drinks with cash and walked to the soda dispensers. Keeping the vial hidden in his palm, Osiris flipped open the cap with his thumb, grabbed a small cup, dumped the sedative into it, and then held it under the Sprite spout. When the cup was full, he placed the empty vial in his fanny pack and put a lid on the cup.
Osiris filled his cup with Dr Pepper, picked up two straws, and went back to the seating area.
Chapter 13
1
After finding Holly, Eric scanned the seating area and sat in the second row, beside a middle-aged black man in a brown cowboy hat.
The man they suspected of killing Veronica ambled down the aisle and took a seat in the fourth row on the other side of the seating area, next to a young woman with short black hair. Eric had seen her before: she had sat a few rows behind him on the bus.
What’s he up to? Is he going to kill someone at this station?
Is he planning to kill this woman?
Eric could hear Veronica’s suspected killer and the woman talking to each other but couldn’t make out what they were saying.
The terminal was full of people. Where could he kill without being seen? The only place Eric could think of was the restroom.
Is he going to follow her into the ladies’ room?
There were restrooms to his right; he could watch them easily.
Veronica’s suspected killer stood up and left the seating area. Where was he going?
Should I follow him? He might have gone looking for his next victim.
Eric looked around for Ralph. His friend was nowhere in sight. Maybe he’d gone to the restroom.
Eric got up and went after Veronica’s suspected killer. He spotted Ralph coming out of the station café with a plastic-wrapped sandwich in his hand a moment before Veronica’s suspected killer
entered it. Eric didn’t go into the café, and as Ralph passed him, they didn’t acknowledge each other.
Veronica’s suspected killer must have gotten hungry or thirsty or both.
Eric texted Holly and Ralph: “I’m watching him. He’s in the café. I think he might try to kill someone in the restroom.”
About two minutes later, the man they suspected of killing Veronica came out with two cups (Eric figured the second cup was for the woman with the black hair) and returned to the seating area.
After asking a station employee what gate the bus to Miami left from—it was Gate D—Eric went back to his seat. Veronica’s suspected killer and the woman with the black hair were chatting, sipping their drinks through straws.
2
Holly was still sitting on the bench when Osiris came back to the seating area. She looked uneasy, probably because she was afraid she would end up like Veronica.
“Here’s your Sprite.” Osiris handed Lucia her drink and a straw.
“Thanks.” Lucia unwrapped her straw and put it in her cup. Osiris did the same.
Lucia took a long sip and said, “It’s hot today.”
Osiris nodded. “Yeah.”
She trusted him, she didn’t think he had roofied her drink. She must have thought it made no sense to roofie a woman at a bus station.
Lucia took another sip.
“I read it’s one hundred and five in Tucson,” Osiris said.
“Wow, that’s really hot.”
“Yeah.”
“I’d never move to Arizona. There must be a lot of people with skin cancer there.”
Drink, my darling, drink. Less talking, more drinking.
“I bet there are.”
Osiris glanced at his watch. It was 4:40 p.m. The passengers would start boarding Lucia’s bus in five, ten minutes.
“Are you waiting for a bus?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you going?”
“Miami.”
“I love Miami. Do you live there?”
“No. I’m going there to visit a friend.”
“Have you ever been to New Orleans?”
“Yes.”
“I go there every year.”