by Laura Scott
Bad enough he was failing as a father; he refused to fail in finding answers for Liza’s parents as well.
Megan was scheduled to work in the Madison crime lab on Monday, so she hand-delivered the Point beer bottle that had been left in her motel room on Saturday night. After it was safely logged and tagged, she returned to her space in the lab and tried to focus on her work. Heaven knew there was plenty to keep her busy.
About an hour into her shift, Raoul Lee returned her phone call. “I got your message,” he said bluntly.
“Thanks for calling me back,” Megan said, infusing warmth into her tone. “How have you been, Raoul?”
“Bryan Cordell is in charge of the micro lab in Madison,” Raoul said, brushing past her attempt to be civil. “You can talk to him directly, I’ve already paved the way for you since he owes me a favor. He’ll get your evidence moved to the top of the heap.”
She recognized Bryan Cordell’s name, of course, considering he was one of the department heads. She was impressed that Raoul knew him well enough to call in a favor, although she suspected Raoul’s reputation for being a brilliant scientist probably helped. Raoul had worked in several well-known crime labs before coming to Chicago. All the big centers fought for his expertise.
She’d been lucky to learn from the best of the best.
“Great, thanks for the tip.” She didn’t report to Bryan but knew how to find him. “I will talk to him if you think it will help. I really appreciate the information.”
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. She was getting the distinct impression that Raoul wasn’t very happy with her. “Are you okay, Raoul? Is there something I can do for you? Is something wrong?”
Another long pause. “Nothing is wrong. Do you have time to get together, Megan?” Raoul asked, unexpectedly. “I know you’re working in Madison and living in Crystal Lake, but are you coming back to Chicago anytime soon?”
“No, I’m sorry, but I don’t have any plans to come back to Chicago anytime soon. And I’m fairly busy at the moment, helping the Madison crime lab get caught up on their DNA testing. I like living in Crystal Lake.”
To be honest, she actually liked being around the interim sheriff Luke Torretti. Crystal Lake would be a nice place to live, if not for the murder of a young girl.
A killer who was taunting Megan.
“Fine. I have to go. Call me again when you don’t need a favor.” Raoul hung up, and there had been no mistaking the annoyance in his tone.
With a wince, she hung up the phone. Her former mentor was not happy with her.
Because she’d only called him when she needed help? Maybe. She stared down at her phone for a long moment. When was the last time she’d kept in touch with her friends? Months. Years. Since the trial. Even before the trial, when she’d buried herself in sorrow and work.
Maybe Raoul was right to be upset with her. Being a friend was a two-way street. She needed to keep in touch with her friends if she wanted them to be there for her.
Vowing to do better, she finished the DNA sample she was working on and then took a break to call Bryan Cordell. Luckily his number was listed in the online staff directory.
He asked her to come to his office, so she walked down the hall to where the management offices were located. The lab didn’t have any windows, but the offices lined the outside of the building, and with the doors open she could see outside. She was surprised to discover it was overcast. The sky looked dark and thunderous, as if it were about to rain.
“Come in,” Bryan said, greeting her heartily. He was older than she’d anticipated, maybe in his sixties. He gestured to the chair opposite his desk and she sat down.
“Thank you. I’m sure Raoul told you we’re working on a brutal murder of a teenage girl in Crystal Lake, Wisconsin. I know your DNA testing is behind, as I’ve been hired to assist with the backlog, but if there was a way to put Liza Campbell’s evidence at the top of the list, I’d appreciate it. We certainly need all the help we can get.”
“We? Are you working the case too?” he asked.
“Only in a volunteer capacity.” She didn’t add that she would have been dragged into the investigation anyway, since the murderer had chosen her backyard as the place to kill his young victim.
“I’m aware of the Liza Campbell case—her autopsy is being performed as we speak. Exactly what evidence do you need rushed?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say all of it. She thought back to the clues they’d collected so far and what, in her opinion, should be top priority. “We’d like to match the thread found at the suspected scene of the crime to the fabric of her shorts,” she said. “We’d also like to match up the soil samples from that same area to what was embedded in the heel of her shoe, if possible. I’d like to know if there are any particles embedded in the braided rope, either from a specific type of glove or maybe skin cells. And I brought in a Point beer bottle that we suspect is the bottle that Liza was drinking from, but we need that verified as well.”
“Hmm. The thread and soil won’t be an issue, we can complete that readily enough. The rope will take some time, but I could put someone on that too. The DNA testing on the bottle might be a problem,” he mused slowly. “We’re getting pressure from the governor to get the oldest samples done first, before adding new ones.”
“I understand, sir. But we might be dealing with a copycat murderer. There are some similarities between Liza’s murder and Paul Sherman’s victims. Since he’s still in jail, serving three consecutive life sentences, we have to assume someone is copying his M.O. The sooner we have something to go on, the more likely we can avoid more victims.”
Bryan stared at her thoughtfully for a moment and then nodded. “All right, you’ve convinced me. I’ll move the beer bottle to the top of the DNA list.”
“Thank you, sir.” She gave him the ID number of the evidence she’d turned in that morning, and then rose to her feet. “I appreciate your help on this.”
“Ms. O’Ryan?” he called, when she’d reached the doorway.
“Yes?” she turned back around to face him.
“I understand you’re a temporary employee here, correct?” She nodded and he continued, “After Raoul called, I looked you up. Your credentials are impressive. If you’re interested in a permanent position here in the lab, let me know.”
She didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “Thanks, sir, I will.”
After leaving Bryan’s office she returned to her corner of the lab and began to work in earnest. DNA testing couldn’t be rushed; however, she could work through her lunch if necessary.
She did take a few seconds to call Luke but was sent straight to his voice mail. She left him a message about Liza’s autopsy and the evidence that would hopefully be processed by the end of the day.
As she worked, she kept an eye on her phone, wishing Luke would return her call. And she couldn’t help but wonder, what would Luke think if she accepted a permanent full-time position in Madison?
“Megan, time to clock out,” Sharon said from behind her, pulling her attention away from the DNA sample she’d almost finished.
Surprised, she glanced up at the clock. It was later than she’d realized. “I’ll have this sample finished in twenty minutes.”
Sharon frowned. “I don’t know, we’re not supposed to allow employees to work overtime.”
It was one of the most frustrating things about working for the state government. They had a tremendous backlog of DNA samples yet they were bound by budget constraints and wouldn’t approve overtime to get the job done. “I’m only part-time, and a temporary position at that. I’m not even scheduled to work tomorrow. Surely another twenty minutes won’t matter.”
Her supervisor hesitated, then granted her permission with a nod. “You’re right. Go ahead and finish what you’re working on.”
“Thanks.” Glancing around, she noticed the lab was pretty much deserted. The other technologists must have left at five o’clock on t
he dot.
As she finished up her sample, she wondered about Liza’s evidence. Bryan had moved them to the top of the list, but she hadn’t heard anything about the results. Had they finished them? Had they sent them directly to the sheriff’s department?
Luke hadn’t returned her phone call and she tried not to take that personally. Obviously he was busy, between his sheriff’s duties and his son. He wasn’t avoiding her.
Was he?
She clocked out at five-thirty and made her way outside. The moment she opened the door, she stepped into a deluge of rain.
Ducking her head, she dashed across the basically deserted parking lot to her car. The storm clouds stretched across the sky made it seem later than five-thirty in the evening.
With her windshield wipers on high, she slowly headed onto the interstate. The traffic was light, thankfully. But she quickly noticed the dark green car that kept pace behind her.
She frowned, staring at her rearview mirror. Was the car really following her? Or was this another instance where her paranoia was getting the better of her? She drove past an exit ramp, and the green car stayed roughly two car lengths behind her.
The message written on her bathroom mirror hadn’t been her imagination. Nor had the break-in to her motel room.
She switched lanes and the green car did the same less than a minute later. She took her foot off the gas pedal, encouraging the car to come closer so she could memorize the license-plate number.
Despite the hazards of talking on the phone while driving in the rain, she flipped open her cell phone and called Luke. She quickly slipped on the ear piece.
This time, he picked up the call. “Hi, Megan. I got your message, thanks. Today we have a lot of good news. We’ve verified that Sean Mathews is in the army, so he’s off our suspect list. The test results on Liza’s autopsy, the thread we found and the soil have all come in. They’re a match. We’ve confirmed she was murdered outside your house.”
“That’s great, Luke,” she said, truly glad to hear the news.
“The contents of the Point beer bottle revealed traces of Rohypnol in the contents, and they’re checking the tox screen on Liza’s blood to see if the drug is in her system as well.”
“Really?” For a moment she was distracted from the green car steadily following her. “Paul Sherman used drugs to subdue his victims. Another similarity in the killer’s M.O.”
“Yeah, although he wasn’t always consistent. He used ether on a couple of women, instead of putting the drug in their drinks.”
She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. Yes, she was very familiar with how Sherman subdued his victims. Katie’s autopsy had showed she had Rohypnol in her bloodstream. “I know, but you’ll find that in my sister’s case, she was given Rohypnol just like Liza was. It could be that Sherman couldn’t get anymore ether after the first two victims. Or it could be a matter of how he stalked his victims. Maybe he learned that following them for a while, meeting them first in some bar, added to the thrill of the crime.”
“Could be,” Luke agreed.
A horrible thought struck. “Luke, what if the copycat killer is re-creating all of Sherman’s crimes? Sherman’s last victim had Rohypnol in her drug screen, and so this killer has done the same with Liza? Maybe he plans to re-create the other two victims as well?”
There was a long silence on the other end of the line as Luke digested her theory. “Well, if he is a copycat killer, he will strike again.”
“I know.” She hesitated and glanced in the rearview mirror again. “Would you do me a favor? There’s a car that seems to be following me, the license plate number is RFL 994. Would you run it through the DMV system?”
“What? Where are you?” Luke demanded. She could hear the tapping of the keyboard as he brought up the DMV system. “You should have said something right away. I’ll have a squad car meet you.”
“I’m about fifteen miles from Crystal Lake, just past Lyon Road, exit two-thirty-two.” She strove to hide her nervousness. “It’s pouring like crazy, so he could be driving behind me to follow my taillights.” It was the only explanation she could come up with. In her experience, people tended to pass each other on the highway, not keep a consistent pace behind them.
Of course, if he was following her, he wasn’t trying very hard to hide the fact.
The thought made her relax a bit.
“Okay, the car is registered to a Willie Johannes, he’s a seventy-two-year-old man, five foot eleven inches and two hundred and fifty pounds.”
Not a guy who would likely be following her. Even as she watched, the car dropped back a few feet. “Is there anything you can find out about Willie? Like where he lives? Maybe he lives near Crystal Lake and this is all just a big coincidence.”
“Hang on a minute,” Luke muttered. She could hear the keyboard tapping again. “I sent a deputy out to meet you, so help is on the way. I’ll look up our friend Willie.”
Just talking to Luke made her feel calmer. Not just because he was the sheriff in charge of a murder investigation, although that certainly helped. But her feelings were for the man, not the office.
Jake had been a cop too, but he hadn’t inspired the same confidence. The same sense of safeness. The reassurance of being protected.
No, in fact, just the opposite. She’d always been on edge around Jake. His unpredictable nature had made her nervous. She’d never been sure what to expect with Jake. One minute he was happy-go-lucky, the next he was surly.
Luke seemed to be there for her, no matter what. Hard to believe she’d only known him for a few days.
She glanced again in the rearview mirror, perturbed to note the green car had closed the gap between them. Did the guy know she was on the phone with the authorities? Was he sensing she was trying to get away?
Despite the rain, she stepped a little harder on the gas pedal.
“Megan? I want you to take the next exit, which is Highway ZZ, okay?” There was obvious tension in Luke’s tone. “Don’t use your blinker, just get off the highway at the very last moment. I want you to put as much distance as you can between you and the guy following you.”
“Why?” She passed a sign that claimed Hwy ZZ was two miles ahead. Two miles that would seem like twenty. “What have you found out?”
“Willie Johannes, whose last known address was just outside of Madison, died two years ago. We don’t know who is driving the car behind you, and it could be our killer.”
TEN
Megan gripped the steering wheel tightly as she peered through the rain, trying to gauge the distance to the exit. One hundred feet, fifty feet, twenty feet, ten feet, now!
She yanked the steering wheel to the right, her stomach clenching in fear when the rear end of her car fish-tailed on the slick pavement. She managed to bring the car back under control, barely noticing the way her cell phone sailed across the car from the passenger seat, landing somewhere on the floor, breaking her connection with Luke.
As she approached the stop sign at the bottom of the exit ramp, she risked a glance in the rearview mirror. Horrified, she watched as the green car clipped the edge of the guard rail, jumping the edge of the ramp to follow her off the interstate.
Her heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach. There was no mistaking the driver’s intent.
Liza’s killer was coming after her!
The driver of the green car closed the gap quickly, and just as she reached the stop sign, he rammed into her car from behind. Her little Sunfire spun crazily on the slick road and skidded right toward the deep culvert lining the road.
She wrenched the steering wheel at the last minute, in an attempt to save her car engine. She slid sideways, her passenger side taking the brunt of the damage as she hit the bottom of the culvert with a bone-jarring thud. Frantically, she pulled on the door handle, thankful to have the strength to raise the driver’s side door. In the distance she could hear the faint wail of police sirens.
Too far away. The sheriff’s de
puty would never get here in time.
She crawled out of the car and scrambled up the edge of the ditch using her hands to grab weeds and brush to help keep her balance. Her low-heeled shoes sank into the mud, so she kicked them off. From somewhere behind her, she heard the soft snick of a car door shutting.
No! He was coming after her!
Brushing the rain from her eyes, she desperately surveyed the landscape and considered her options as she ran. She needed shelter. A place to hide. There were some trees about a hundred feet from the edge of the road, but to reach them she’d be in full view.
Regardless, she headed in that direction.
Please Lord, save me!
She ran as fast as she could in her bare feet, fully expecting the sound of gunfire. Or to be grabbed roughly from behind, a braided rope tossed around her neck. The wailing sirens grew louder and louder.
Help was on the way. She only needed to hang on for a few minutes longer.
She reached the grove of trees and kept going, weaving among the towering tree trunks, the leaves overhead cutting down the force of the rain. She was soaked to the skin, shivering as she stumbled over roots and pushed away tree branches that slapped her in the face. Finally she stopped, hanging on to a tree trunk and breathing heavily.
She glanced at the spot where her car had gone into the ditch. There was no sign of the green car. Not parked on the road or anywhere on the highway going in either direction as far as she could see.
He was gone.
She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the smooth bark.
Thank You, Lord. Thank You for protecting me.
She remained in her hiding place until the deputy’s squad car pulled over to the side of the road, right next to her slightly crumpled car. Then, releasing her grip on the tree trunk, she hobbled across the grassy terrain, back toward the edge of the road lined by the ditch. The deputy was shining his flashlight inside her car.