Targeted (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 9)

by Becky Durfee

  “Nine and a half wide.”

  Glancing under the table, the detective nodded with verification.

  “You want to take my shoes with you?” he asked bitterly. “You can. You can also polygraph me, take my blood, my fingerprints, my DNA…I’ve got nothing to hide. Maybe all that will show you I didn’t do it.”

  “None of that will be necessary,” Detective Brennan replied, “for now.” She began to scoot out of the booth as she asked, “Do you have any scheduled trips out of town in the upcoming weeks?”

  “My wife has Huntington’s; I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Well, then, Mr. Lewis, I won’t keep you any longer. Thank you for the information. We’ll be in touch if it becomes necessary.”

  He responded only by following her movements with his eyes as she stood.

  Jenny stayed behind as the detective headed toward the front door. Hoping she had successfully portrayed herself as the “good cop,” she extended her hand to Jason and said, “I wish you the best. I have to say, I admire your dedication to your wife. I know a lot of people wouldn’t be able to do what you are doing.”

  He looked at her for a moment before accepting her offer. Shaking her hand, he simply replied, “Thank you.”

  Her hand didn’t burn from the contact.

  Chapter 7

  “I don’t know how this works,” Jenny confessed as she and Zack sat in the lobby of the tire store. “My hand didn’t burn when I touched Jason, but I am not sure of why that happens in the first place. In the past, when I have made contact with a killer, I can feel it…but is that because the victim knows who their murderer is and they’re letting me know? Or will I always feel that burning sensation if I come in contact with someone who has taken a life?”

  “That would be cool if it were true,” Zack observed. “You could just walk around touching everyone. You could have a cop with handcuffs with you, and if your hand burned, you could just tell the cop, ‘Arrest this one.’”

  “Um, this is America,” Jenny replied. “I’m not sure things work that way here.”

  Zack shrugged a shoulder. “It would still be cool.”

  Jenny shook her head, freeing her mind of that thought. “It could be that Jason actually did do it, but if Lisa and Sonya don’t know that, my hand wouldn’t have burned when I touched him.”

  “So, in other words, this tells you very little.”

  “Well, if it turns out he did do it, then I know the burn thing only works when the victims are aware of their killer. Although,” she added with a twisted face, “his shoes were the wrong size. By a lot. I mean, I can understand wearing a different sized shoe to commit a crime in order to throw the investigators off, but five sizes? That would be like wearing clown shoes. Besides, do you really think he could climb through a window? He wasn’t exactly the picture of fitness.”

  “I’m assuming, then, that you don’t think he did it.”

  Blowing out an exhale, she confessed, “No, I really don’t.”

  “That makes two of the three,” Zack said. “You don’t believe it was Luke Thomas, either. Does that mean the number one suspect in your mind is Scott Swiegart?”

  “I’d have to meet him first before I can decide on that.”

  “It is a bit strange that he works with Sonya and was apparently trying to date Lisa…don’t you think?”

  “He’s either guilty or he’s one of the unluckiest guys in the world.”

  The two sat in silence as they each toyed with their phones. Glancing at her husband, Jenny remarked, “Do you realize I pumped breast milk in the bathroom of a diner?”

  “Classy,” Zack replied.

  “And then I rode in a tow truck with a breast pump on my lap,” she added with a frown. “What on earth happened to my pride?”

  “If it makes you feel any better, the driver probably didn’t know it was a breast pump,” Zack said. “It looks like an ordinary black case; they do a pretty good job of disguising it, actually. I bet the driver was more worried about it being a bomb.”

  “Why would I want to blow up a tow truck?”

  “Why would some dude slit the throats of sleeping college students?”

  “Touche.” Jenny’s mind switched from how little pride she had to the motivation behind the killer’s actions. “The waitress at the diner said something that struck me…she said, Why now? Why all of the sudden would this person start killing college girls? Something must have happened to trigger him.”

  “Maybe his meds got changed.”

  Jenny let out a sigh. “We would never know that unless we caught him and asked him that.”

  “Exactly,” Zack replied. “There very well may have been a trigger, but we may not know what it was until after we catch this guy.”

  Jenny’s phone rang in her hand; she answered it with a quick, “Hello?”

  “Jenny. Detective Brennan. You got a minute?”

  “Unfortunately, I have lots of minutes. We’re getting new tires put on. What’s up?”

  “We looked around the neighboring businesses, seeing if anyone had a security camera pointed in the direction of your car. I was hopeful that we could get a look at the perpetrator, and maybe that’s the guy we’re looking for in the Lee and Penne cases.”

  “Were you able to find one?” Jenny’s heart began to beat a little faster.

  “Afraid not,” she replied. “The place that you parked—behind the diner but far away from the other stores—is one of the few places in the lot that isn’t monitored.”

  “Great,” Jenny muttered. “What about Jensen’s Drug Store?”

  “They have a camera, but—believe it or not—it isn’t working.”

  Wiping her eyes with her free hand, Jenny replied with only a sigh.

  “Yeah, I was disappointed, too,” the detective announced. “Just do me a favor and be careful. If this is our guy, we know what he’s capable of.”

  “All too well,” she said. “Don’t worry; I’ll be safe. I won’t go anywhere alone.”

  She hung up the phone, and after a few minutes she heard the man behind the counter announce, “Honda Civic?”

  “I think that’s our cue,” Zack said to Jenny as they stood up and headed to the counter.

  The mechanic told the couple about what he had done, summarizing the charges. “It’s a shame,” he added. “Those old tires still had a lot of life left in them.”

  “I know,” Jenny replied. “I just got them not too long ago.”

  “So, what happened?” the man asked with a smirk as he swiped Zack’s credit card. “Did you piss somebody off?”

  “It’s distinctly possible,” Jenny said. If only the man knew.

  “Are you a teacher or something? Is some kid angry about an F?”

  “Somebody’s definitely angry,” she replied. “We just don’t know about what.”

  “It’s sad that whole ordeal took so long,” Jenny noted as she and Zack looked for parking space on Center Street, where the three bars were housed. “We totally missed our opportunity to go to the park.”

  “Tomorrow,” Zack replied. “We can go in the morning.”

  Jenny nodded as she found a vacant spot. “I know; it’s just a complete waste of an afternoon dealing with flat tires. We could have been much more productive with our time.”

  “Well, somebody had other designs for our day…and they won.”

  The exited the car, looking at the nearly empty street in front of them. The three popular bars were all within sight, on the same side of the street with some small businesses in between. “Where do you want to start?” Zack asked.

  “I seem to remember that Shenanigans was Lisa’s favorite; maybe we should start there.”

  “That sounds good. The only problem is that it’s only eight o’clock. That’s like noon to these college kids. They probably won’t even hit the bars until ten or so.”

  “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” Jenny replied. “If it’s nearly empty, I may be able to get a b
etter reading. If it’s crawling with people, there may be too much going on for me to get the messages the girls are trying to send.”

  “Well, then, by all means.” He gestured his arm in the direction of Shenanigans, inviting Jenny to lead the way.

  As they approached the door, a large man dressed in a black t-shirt with a Shenanigans emblem held out his arm, blocking their path. “Hang on a minute,” he said. “I need to see IDs.”

  “Really?” Jenny asked, feeling both flattered and surprised. “Don’t I look old enough?”

  “We card everyone, ma’am,” the bouncer replied. “House rule.”

  “Dude,” Zack began, “you were better off saying she looked young.”

  The bouncer laughed. “You’re right. Duly noted.” He held up Jenny’s license to the light, saying, “Tennessee, huh? What brings you here to ole Bennett, Missouri?” He handed her card back to her.

  “Investigation, actually,” Jenny replied as he checked Zack’s license as well. “We’re looking into the murders that have happened here recently, and we’re retracing the girls’ steps.”

  “Yeah,” he said with a shake of his head, “both girls used to come in here quite a bit. They were regulars.”

  “Do you know of anyone who might have had their eye on them? Anyone who appeared suspicious?”

  He shook his head. “I usually only work the door. I see them come in; I see them go out. Whatever happens in between is on someone else’s watch.”

  “Did they ever leave with the same guy?” Zack asked.

  The bouncer shrugged. “So many people leave here in pairs, only to leave in different pairs the next week. It’s too hard to keep track of.”

  Jenny smiled. “Well, thanks for your help.”

  “Good luck to you, ma’am,” he replied.

  After taking a few steps toward the doorway, Jenny turned to Zack and whispered, “When did I become a ma’am?”

  “Probably around the time you gave birth.”

  They opened the door, revealing a long, skinny room that went back much deeper than Jenny had expected. The bar extended about halfway down the right wall, with very little room to stand to the left of it. Behind the bar, some booths and high-top tables were positioned in front of a small stage, which currently didn’t feature a band. The unnecessarily loud music currently came through the speakers, and the room smelled of stale beer.

  Leaning over so she could be near Zack’s ear, she yelled, “People actually like this place?”

  “College kids? Sure,” he replied, equally as loudly. “They have different standards than you do, ma’am.”

  “I guess I am old,” she admitted with a frown. “I can’t see the attraction to this place.”

  “Alcohol, music and a room full of potential mates,” Zack declared. “It’s pretty much all they need at that age.”

  “I wasn’t that way,” Jenny said.

  “You were the exception.”

  “My feet are sticking to the floor.”

  “Focus on the mission.”

  Zack was right; Jenny needed to remember her purpose for being there. Tucking her disgust away, she asked, “Shall we go have a seat?”

  “After you.”

  She headed to the booth in the corner, where the music was quieter and she could actually hear herself think. “One of the guys at the meeting this morning said that Luke Thomas hangs out here quite a bit.”

  “He’s that tall guy who lives upstairs from Sonya, right?”

  Jenny nodded. “Although,” she added, “I wouldn’t think the star basketball player would drink that much. Wouldn’t that be detrimental to his athletic career?”

  “Maybe,” Zack said with a shrug. “It’s not like Perdion University is a huge contender for the final four or anything. He might still tie one on from time to time.”

  “Greg didn’t drink that much because he was a running back,” Jenny noted, referring to her first husband. “But he may have over-emphasized the importance of that role in his own head.” Looking around, she added, “I don’t know why anyone would want to hang out here if they’re not drinking, though.”

  “Girls,” Zack said flatly.

  “Aren’t there girls all over campus? Why would Luke need to come here for girls?”

  “The girls here are drunk. That’s a big help for a guy looking to hook up.”

  “Luke’s a good-looking kid, and he’s an athlete. I bet he has girls falling all over him.”

  Zack shrugged. “Alcohol still makes it easier.”

  A waitress approached them, asking if they wanted anything to eat or drink. “You have food here?” Zack asked.

  “Yup,” the waitress replied. “It’s all listed on the card.”

  In the center of the table, a stand displayed a list of all of the available appetizers. After a quick look, Zack said, “I’ll have an order of nachos and a Sam Adams.”

  “We just had dinner,” Jenny said with a mixture of awe and disgust. “How can you possibly…” She held up her hand, stopping herself. This was Zack, after all. He could eat anything at any time. “I’ll just have a water, please,” she told the waitress, who then turned and walked away.

  “So, are you getting any feelings or anything?”

  “Not yet,” Jenny said, “but I haven’t tried that hard.”

  “Why don’t you give it a whirl? I’ve got to hit the head anyway.”

  Jenny nodded as Zack got up and walked away. She closed her eyes, leaning back in her seat, allowing herself to fully relax. A funny feeling washed over her as three fashionable college girls appeared in the booth around her, each wearing a bright smile.

  “How are you ladies doing tonight?” A dark-haired young man had approached the table, beer in hand. He looked as if he’d been drinking heavily.

  One of the girls looked up at him, saying, “We’re doing fine. How about yourself?”

  “I’m doing great. You all look like you could use a refill.”

  Jenny glanced down at the nearly-empty cup in her hand, her bright nail polish showing despite the dim lighting. “We are running a little low,” she announced.

  “What are you drinking?” the man asked. “I’ll fill your pitcher.”

  “Yuengling,” a blond girl replied flirtatiously.

  Reaching over and grabbing the empty pitcher from the table, the man said, “Yuengling it is. I’ll be right back.”

  With half-closed eyes, one of the girls turned to the blond and said, “We’re not drinking Yuengling.”

  “We are if we’re not paying for it,” the blond replied.

  “You do realize he’s going to expect somebody’s phone number for this,” Jenny heard herself say.

  The blond shrugged. “That’s his problem. Just because he buys us a pitcher, that doesn’t mean we owe him a date. It’s how the game goes.”

  “Well, then, here’s to the game,” one of the girls proposed.

  The four young women raised their plastic cups to the center of the table. “To the game!” they all agreed, finishing their drinks in one giant gulp.

  The girls disappeared, leaving Jenny by herself in the booth in the nearly-deserted bar. She wiped her hands down her face, realizing this was going to be a complicated case to solve. With alcohol thrown into the mix, the suspect pool just became immeasurably larger.

  Zack returned, taking his seat across from her. “Any luck?” he asked.

  “Of sorts,” she replied, telling his about her latest vision. “It seems Sonya was a bit of a partier.”

  “How do you know it was Sonya?”

  “The hands,” she said. “Sonya always wore fluorescent nail polish, so it’s easy for me to figure out who’s who. But if Sonya and her friends were willing to accept the drinks men bought them and then reject the guys at the end of the night, that could have very easily made somebody angry.”

  “If I remember it right, Sonya was killed on a weeknight, after she had spent the night at home studying,” Zack said. “If that was the
trigger for this guy, it wasn’t a knee-jerk reaction. He must have remembered her, figured out where she lived and planned it.”

  A thought occurred to Jenny, causing her to stand up and announce, “I’ll be right back.”

  Trotting off toward the door, Jenny noticed the music got louder and louder, almost reaching the point of being painful. Once again, she struggled to see the draw of this place.

  Mercifully, the sound disappeared once she got outside and the door closed behind her. She approached the bouncer who sat on a stool, looking bored. “Excuse me,” she said, “I’m sorry to bother you.”

  He smiled at her. “You’re not bothering anything. There’s nothing to bother at this point.”

  “When does it normally get busy?”

  “It becomes steady around ten-thirty.”

  “That’s my bedtime,” Jenny announced with a giggle. “No wonder you called me ma’am.”

  “Not a partier?” he asked.

  “I wasn’t even a partier back when I was supposed to be one. I do have a question for you, though, if you don’t mind.”

  “Ask away.”

  “What’s it like when people leave here? Like, do they often leave all at once, in a big herd or something?”

  “Well, people stagger out of here throughout the night, but when closing time hits, which is two in the morning, there is mass exodus.”

  “And a lot of the people who leave here are drunk?”

  “That’s a bit of an understatement.”

  Jenny looked around at the street, noticing her car was one of the few parked there. “Do they drive home?”

  “Generally not,” the bouncer replied. “A lot of the campus housing is within walking distance.”

  “Doesn’t it get cold here in the middle of the winter at two in the morning?”

  “Yup, but they don’t care,” he replied. “Put enough alcohol in them, and they don’t feel the cold.”

  “You probably do, sitting out here,” she said with a smile.

  “When it gets real bad, I stand inside the doorway.”

  “Okay, so, when the kids leave, is it peaceful? Rowdy? Loud?

  “It depends on the night. Sometimes it’s uneventful, other nights I’m breaking up brawls.”