by Laura Scott
“Yeah, whatever.” Was there a hint of understanding in Sam’s eyes? Or was that just wishful thinking?
“So where were you?”
There was a long pause. “We decided to do a little camping, out by the deserted farm,” Sam reluctantly admitted. “You know, where that big red barn is off Highway JJ? I just needed to get away from everything for a while.”
Luke stared at Sam, hoping, praying his son was telling him the truth. “You should have told me and Doug’s mom where you were,” he insisted.
“Sorry.” Sam glanced at the dirty dishes on the counter, the evidence of the cozy meal. “Guess you wish I would have stayed away longer, huh?”
“No, of course not,” Megan said briskly, coming back into the room. “Sam, this is your home. Your father was just being nice to me since I was run off the road earlier this evening.”
Sam’s eyes widened in surprise, both by Megan including herself in the conversation and by her revelation. “Ran off the road? You mean on purpose?”
“Yes, but we don’t know who the driver was,” Luke was quick to answer. “But that was another reason I was worried about you. There is a killer out there, and just because his first target happened to be a young girl doesn’t mean you’re safe. No one around here is safe until we get this guy into custody.”
“All right, next time I’ll let you know where I am,” Sam slowly agreed. “The reason you didn’t hear from us is because we left without taking our cell-phone chargers. Both our phone batteries went dead.”
He wanted to give Sam another lecture on being irresponsible, but decided—since they’d managed to have a relatively nonconfrontational conversation—to leave well enough alone.
“Well, all that matters now is that you’re home, safe and sound,” Megan said quietly, mirroring his thoughts.
Sam glanced at her warily, as if not sure whether to believe she was sincere or not.
“Sam, I need to take Megan back to the sheriff’s department. Are you hungry? There’s a leftover steak you could throw on the grill.”
“Yeah, I could eat,” Sam murmured.
Megan had gathered all her things together, but Luke was reluctant to leave. Seemed like every time he left, Sam pulled a disappearing act. But he couldn’t ask Megan to go by herself, especially when she didn’t have a car. “Sam—will you be here when I get back?” he hesitantly asked.
Sam hunched his shoulders and nodded. “It’s not like I can go anywhere, Doug has my truck.”
“All right,” Luke said, feeling slightly better. “I’ll see you in less than twenty minutes. Okay?”
Sam nodded and crossed over to the fridge to pull out the steak.
“Bye, Sam,” Megan said, touching his son’s arm with an ease he envied. “Take care.”
“You too,” Sam murmured, surprising Luke by smiling at Megan.
He tried not to gape at Sam like a hooked fish. When was the last time he’d seen his son smile? Luke could barely remember.
Luke scooped up his keys from the table, following Megan outside. Neither one of them said anything, as they climbed into the squad car.
“I’m sorry if you were embarrassed by Sam walking in on us,” Luke said finally breaking the silence.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said quickly. “I’m just so glad Sam’s home. What a relief to know he’s safe. I’m sure that has to be a load of worry off your shoulders.”
“Yeah.” He wasn’t sure how to turn the conversation back to the kiss they’d shared in the kitchen without being blunt. Was she upset with him for crossing the line? She’d kissed him back, so he couldn’t be sure.
He kept his turbulent thoughts to himself. The drive back to headquarters didn’t take long.
He escorted Megan inside, nodding at Walter Grogan, the oldest dispatcher they had in the department. Walter was well past the age of retirement, but insisted he would work until he couldn’t. Luke made the introductions. “Walt, this is Megan O’Ryan. Megan, Walter Grogan.”
Walt gave a brief nod. “Heard you were staying in the back office,” he said gruffly.
“Just for a while,” she admitted.
“Keep an eye on her, okay, Walt?” Luke asked.
“’Course I will.”
Luke walked Megan down to the office she was using as sleeping quarters. “Anything I can get for you?” he asked, pausing in the doorway.
“No, thanks. I’m fine.” She smiled at him. “Go home to your son, Luke.”
He hesitated, wishing he dared kiss her again, but the moment had long passed. “Sleep well, Megan,” he murmured, before turning to walk away with the intent of taking her advice.
Returning home to mend his relationship with his son, if possible.
Megan stretched out on the cot and then stared blindly at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, the images of the night flashed through her mind like a preview of a movie.
The car ramming into her. The crazy spin on the slick roads as her car slid sideways into the ditch. The unmistakable sound of a car door closing. Her frantic scramble for shelter.
Her whispered prayer for safety.
The wails of sirens as Deputy Scott came to her rescue.
She was safe. There was no reason to keep ruminating on the series of events. She needed to figure out a way to erase the memories from her mind.
Would God help? Maybe. She couldn’t deny that she’d reached out for Him when she feared for her life.
What could it hurt? She closed her eyes and tried to pray.
Help me find peace, Lord. And give us the strength and wisdom to find Liza’s killer before anyone else gets hurt. Amen.
She felt better afterward, but somehow sleep continued to elude her, so she got up from her cot and turned the office light back on. With a sigh, she pulled the files for the Sherman murders toward her.
If she couldn’t sleep, then she would work. She’d asked for God’s help, and maybe this was his way of answering her plea. She couldn’t help but think there had to be a clue in here, somewhere. If they were dealing with a copycat murderer, and it seemed likely they were, then the clue might be in the details of the investigation from the previous murders.
Liza had been given Rohypnol, just like Katie. And Liza fought her murderer like Katie had. But Katie had scraped her nails down Sherman’s skin, helping them to get a DNA match.
It had been fate, or maybe God’s will, when they’d found a DNA match in the system. Paul Sherman’s criminal record, from the aggravated assault when he’d been sixteen, had resulted in a match with the DNA discovered at the crime scene.
Matching Sherman’s DNA to the skin found under Katie’s nails had sealed his fate. Now he was in jail, where he’d never assault or murder anyone again.
She reviewed the facts of Liza’s murder. There was evidence that Liza had struggled, the soil in the heels of her shoes confirmed that. But Liza hadn’t gotten DNA evidence from her assailant.
And even if she had, there was no guarantee the killer already had DNA on file.
Megan went back over the first two murder victims. The M.O. on those two were almost exactly the same. Both girls had been subdued by a compound resembling ether. There had been traces of the drug on their lips and on their skin. In the rope around their necks they’d found traces of plastic from what they thought were plastic gloves worn by the killer. Both girls had been found outside the Irish pubs. But they’d never known for sure if the victims had actually been killed there or somewhere else. They’d found no evidence one way or the other.
The crime scenes had been almost too clean.
The detail nagged at her. Why had Sherman changed his M.O. for Katie? Maybe Katie had been more of an impulse killing. The patrons of the pub had confirmed Sherman had been inside, talking to Katie. No one had heard them arguing, and she’d always wondered what had transpired between the two of them.
Had Katie turned down his advances? Was that why he’d slipped her the drug and then wa
ited for her outside the bar at closing time?
With a frown, she went back to Katie’s autopsy. Particles of latex had been found in the rope around her neck. There had been evidence that Katie had been murdered right there on the asphalt parking lot. Small bits of asphalt had been found imbedded in the back of her scalp.
Likely a simple miscalculation on Sherman’s part as to how much of the drug she’d ingested.
Maybe in the first two cases, he’d come back to kill the girls at a later date. And with Katie, he hadn’t wanted to wait.
So how did that tie into Liza’s murder?
She stared at the results until her vision blurred. With tears. With fatigue. With a suffocating sense of loss.
She closed her eyes and tried to get a grip on her emotions.
Katie was gone. No matter how much she wished she could go back and change what had happened. The goal now was to find Liza’s murderer and to prevent any more girls from becoming victims.
Including herself.
The next morning, Megan didn’t feel nearly as exhausted as she’d anticipated. When she’d finally crawled back into her cot, she’d fallen soundly asleep.
God answering her prayers? Maybe.
She washed up in the tiny bathroom the best she could, swiped a brush through her shoulder-length hair and then ventured out to the main area of the department. Luke was already standing there, impressive in his freshly pressed uniform. Did he get his shirts done at the dry cleaners? Or iron them himself?
For some reason, the image of Luke wielding an iron made her want to smile.
“Hi, Megan.” The warmth in his eyes caught her a little off-guard. “How did you sleep?”
“Pretty good, thanks. Any news?” she asked, even though she knew it wasn’t likely.
“Your car is being looked at first thing this morning. Apparently they don’t think the damage is as bad as they originally thought,” he responded.
“That’s good to hear.”
“They’re going to drop it off here later today, but in the meantime, I have an idea I’d like to run past you.”
She was surprised, but nodded and followed him into his office. She sat in the chair across from his desk, watching him expectantly.
“What do you think about going with me to the Illinois state prison to talk to Sherman?” he asked.
Her mouth dropped open in surprise. She’d considered the same thing herself, after going through the minor details differences between the victims. “There’s no guarantee he’ll talk to us,” she warned.
“I know. But what else do we have to go on? At the very least we could see if either Kyle Sherman or Everett Dobrowski has been in to see him.”
“What do we know about them?” Megan asked.
“Kyle Sherman lives outside of Rockford, Illinois. He works as a security guard. Everett Dobrowski lives in Minneapolis. He’s in college there. Neither one have criminal records on file, other than minor traffic citations. We’re still working on verifying both of their alibis during the time frame of Liza’s murder.”
She nodded slowly. So far, neither one of the potential links to Sherman seemed like viable possibilities. But knowing Luke, he would follow through on every detail, no matter what.
“If facing Paul Sherman is too difficult for you, then I’ll go alone,” Luke said.
She forced a smile and shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m also off work today, so I wouldn’t mind taking a road trip to the prison.”
“Are you sure?” His gaze searched hers for a moment. “We’ll grab something to eat on the way if you don’t mind. It’s a long drive.”
Megan tried not to imagine what it would be like to see her sister’s murderer again. She’d faced Paul Sherman with his cold eyes at the trial, of course, but hadn’t anticipated ever having to see him again.
Her stomach twisted painfully. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could do this.
Lord, give me strength.
After a quick breakfast from a drive-through fast-food restaurant on the highway, they were on their way.
“How are things with Sam?” she asked, changing the subject from the murders to his son. “Was he home last night when you got there?”
Luke nodded. “Yeah, he was home. Things seem to be okay, at least for the moment. He had to work today, so that should keep him out of trouble for a few hours.”
“He’s not a bad kid, Luke,” she murmured. “I was wrong in my first impression of him.”
Luke grimaced and shrugged. “Maybe not that bad, but remember he was drinking the night of Liza’s murder. And was the last person to see her alive. I can’t help but worry about him.”
“True, but I guess what I meant was that deep down, Sam’s a good person. I’ve been around a lot of twisted criminals, and Sam is far from that. He was shocked when he heard I was run off the road. He cares about what happens to people.”
Luke nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I think too. But I’m glad to hear you confirm my opinion. I’m afraid that my viewpoint is a bit skewed. I don’t want to think the worst of Sam, either.”
She longed to touch him, to place her hand on his arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry, we’ll get through this. I believe we’re going to find this guy.”
He glanced at her in surprise. “That sounds suspiciously like faith.”
She blushed and looked up at him. “It is. I’ve been thinking about faith a lot lately. Ever since attending church on Sunday. Last night, when I was run off the road, I prayed to God for protection. He answered my prayers.”
Luke’s smile warmed her toes. “I’m glad to hear that. Believe me, I was praying for him to keep you safe, too.”
“And then again, last night, I prayed for help in finding Liza’s killer,” she said. “I have to believe God is going to show us the way.”
“I know He will.”
Gladness overwhelmed her when he reached over to entwine his fingers around hers.
Feeling at peace for the first time in a very long time, she held his hand all the way to the Illinois state prison.
Luke shut off the car and turned to face her. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she admitted. Her stomach was a mass of knots, but she knew that Sherman couldn’t hurt her. Or anyone else. Not anymore.
As they walked inside the prison, she couldn’t help looking around curiously. She’d never been inside a prison before. Luke had called ahead, so the prison staff were expecting them.
They had to go through a metal detector and a search prior to gaining entrance to the building.
Finally they were led to the main desk. “You’ll need to sign the visitor logbook, Sheriff,” the guard instructed. “You’re the second visitor for this inmate today.”
“What?” Luke stared at the guard in shock, still holding the pen in his hand. “What do you mean? Who else was here?”
“I dunno, some guy. I think his name is there in the log. He just left an hour and a half ago.”
A chill snaked down her spine as she stepped up to see the logbook.
The name scrawled beside Paul Sherman’s was none other than Willie Johannes, the seventy-two-year-old man who died two years ago.
The same stolen identification used by the man who’d run her off the road.
TWELVE
“Describe him for me,” Luke demanded in a no-nonsense tone. He could barely contain his excitement.
For a minute the guard frowned. “Average-looking guy, about five-nine or five-ten, with short brown hair, glasses. Wore jeans and a casual T-shirt.”
“How old?”
“I don’t know, anywhere from twenty-five to thirty-five. I didn’t think too much about it.”
“Do you have video cameras? I want to see him.”
“Yeah, we probably have him on tape.” Suddenly the guard seemed to realize there was more to his questions than idle curiosity. “Uh, I think I’d better get my supervisor.”
“Good idea.” Luke
wasn’t going to leave here without seeing this guy, and if that meant he’d have to call to get in touch with a judge to get a court order, he would. The mayor would certainly support him, now that they finally had a lead. Getting a picture of their suspect would be huge.
“Do you think it’s possible there really is a Willie Johannes involved in this?” Megan asked, her freckles standing out dramatically against her pale skin.
“No. I think he’s toying with us again. Only this time, he made a mistake.” He didn’t bother to hide his satisfaction. “We’re on to him now, Megan.”
The supervisor came out and introduced himself. “I’m Grayson Lang. I understand you’re here investigating a murder?”
“Yes.” Luke quickly filled the guard in on the events to date. “If you could show us your video of Sherman’s visitor, I’d appreciate it. We have strong reason to believe he’s our top suspect.”
“All right. Come this way.” Grayson Lang led them through the back door to the private, interior offices of the prison. They went down the hall to a small room where a guard sat, surrounded by video screens. “Josh, pull up the tape from about two hours ago, would you?”
Josh glanced over at them and then nodded. “Sure.” His fingers worked the controls. “Watch here,” he said, tapping the center console.
Luke practically held his breath as they watched the entrance of the prison. Finally they saw the man the guard behind the desk had described. Josh froze the image on the screen.
“Does he look familiar?” Luke asked glancing at Megan.
She slowly shook her head. “I never saw him before in my life.”
He’d never seen the guy either, but at least they had a face to go with the fake name, which was more than they had a few minutes ago. “Would you make a copy of this for me?” he asked Grayson.
The supervisor hesitated for a moment, and then shrugged. “Can you get me a court order? Or at least a formal request?”
“If I have to.” He was already pulling out his phone. “I’d also like a copy of the audiotape of their conversation,” Luke added, as he waited for Judge Hennepin to answer. The more he thought about it, the more he realized it would be far better to go through the legal routes to make sure there were no loopholes in the case later.