by JB Lynn
Smiling, Emily shook her head, waving him away.
Once he was out of earshot, Ginny slid into the chair he’d occupied. “He is kind of cute, like a puppy.”
“Puppies are cute for a while…until they pee on your shoes.”
Ginny chuckled. “True.” Turning serious, she leaned toward Emily and pitched her voice low. “How are you holding up?”
“Laurie’s a wreck. She—”
“I didn’t ask about her,” Ginny interrupted. “I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Em, you found a dead body. How can you be fine?”
“I didn’t know her. She’s Laurie’s…was Laurie’s friend.”
“Uncle Sam said you were a mess. That you fell apart, and now I find you sitting here, calm as can be, flirting with Evan Swann like nothing happened. That is not normal, Em. I’m concerned.”
“I was not flirting with Evan.”
“It sure sounded like you were.”
“He was flirting with me.”
Exasperated, Ginny threw her hands into the air. “Who cares? The point is you’re not fine.”
Emily squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. She hated admitting to weakness of any kind. The winter before she’d gone into work every day despite the fact she’d been battling pneumonia. Weakness was not a word she welcomed into her vocabulary. “Your uncle looked pretty shaken up.”
“He was. He’d been called a couple of times before to take pictures for the sheriff’s department, but those were all property damage things. He’s joined at the hip with that camera. I make fun of him, but he’s even got a show at the library this month. You should check it out.”
“Well now he’s got photographs of Jackie Willet’s body to round out his collection.”
Jerking back in her chair, Ginny inhaled sharply. “That’s a horrible thing to say!”
Emily closed her eyes. Had she really let those awful words escape her mouth? “I’m sorry.”
“He was worried about you, Em. He came to my shop soaking wet just to tell me you might need a friend right about now.”
“I…” Her knee-jerk reaction was to say she didn’t need anything, anyone, but she caught herself. While she had no problem deceiving herself, she wasn’t in the habit of lying to her friends. “I could use a friend about now.”
“Then let me help you. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I can’t afford to fall apart, Ginny. I just can’t. Laurie needs me. She was already so upset over…over the accident and now this…I don’t know how to help her.”
Ginny’s chair scraped against the floor as she stood. Emily opened her eyes at the noise and looked up. Tears welled in Ginny’s eyes as she bent and grabbed Emily in a fierce bear hug, cutting off her air supply. “I know a little bit about what it’s like to have something terrible happen to a friend. She’ll get through this, Em. We’ll all get through this.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“We’ve done it before.”
Emily blinked away tears. Until this moment, she’d never realized the toll her kidnapping had taken on her friend. “I never thanked you.”
“For what?”
“For being my friend. For staying my friend when everyone else treated me like a leper. For not running away when everyone else did.”
“Now it’s your turn,” Ginny admonished on a tear-choked whisper. “Just don’t run away. Talk to me. Let me help you.”
Emily took a deep breath before blurting out, “I’m not fine.” She half expected the admission to shatter her into a million pieces. It didn’t, much to her surprise.
“I know, but you will be.” Sniffling, she released Emily and sank back into her chair. She smiled. “Okay, now that we’ve got the heavy-duty drama out of the way, I’ve been thinking about something.”
Grateful that her friend was lightening the mood and changing the subject, Emily grinned back.
“A little birdie told me you were K.I.S.S.I.N.G Bailey O’Neil last night.”
Emily opened her mouth to ask where she’d heard that, but then decided that asking might open a whole set of questions she wasn’t prepared to answer, like, What the hell had she been doing kissing him?
“You know what else I’ve heard?”
“What?”
“He’s housebroken. He’s not going to be all cute, and then go and pee on your favorite shoes.”
Like the teenage-girl best friends they’d once been, the two dissolved into uncontrollable giggles.
Not wanting to go home, for fear the coroner’s van would still be there picking up Jackie Willet’s body, Emily drove Laurie and Anna to the only movie theater in a thirty-mile radius. Bailey had called while Emily was in the coffee shop of the hospital to warn her that the entire county shared resources and there was a good chance it would be hours before the corpse was removed. The two girls were understandably distraught about their friend’s death. Emily didn’t want to expose them to witnessing the aftermath firsthand.
She glanced in the rearview mirror. Despite the generous width of the backseat, the two friends sat shoulder-to-shoulder. Laurie, slumped in her seat, stared aimlessly out the side window, while Anna sat ramrod straight, eyes forward. Catching Emily’s reflected gaze, she offered a tight, half-smile.
“I never gave Jackie back her biology notes,” Laurie muttered.
Emily tightened her grip on the steering wheel as the tone of her sister’s grief lanced through her. “It’s okay, Laurie.”
“She let me borrow them and I copied them and brought them to school but…but she wasn’t at lunch. She was already dead by then, wasn’t she?”
Emily nodded, her throat tightening too much for her to speak. A quick glance in the mirror revealed that Anna had slipped an arm around Laurie’s shoulders. Emily remembered Ginny doing the same thing for her when there were no words that could offer comfort. She was glad her sister had such a supportive friend.
“I know this whole thing is a terrible shock. If there’s anything you want to talk about…” Emily trailed off, afraid the girls would think she was prying. She knew from experience that sometimes the only way to get through a difficult situation was to keep everything bottled in.
“It just doesn’t make sense,” Anna said.
“What doesn’t?”
“She was always so careful. Her parents are big on the whole, ‘Don’t go anywhere alone’, ‘Don’t talk to strangers’, thing. She never even missed curfew.”
“Maybe she met someone new?” Emily suggested.
“No,” Laurie said quietly. “We would have known. She would have told us.”
“What about you two?” Emily asked. “Have you met anyone recently? Seen anyone strange hanging around?”
“Nope,” the two girls said in unison.
Turning into the movie-theater parking lot, Emily mused aloud, “I’m sure Bailey…I mean Deputy O’Neil will catch whoever did this, but it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to stay alert and stay together.” She tried to find the right balance between urging the girls to vigilant and scaring them further. It wasn’t her warning they latched on to.
“Deputy Dimples?” Anna asked.
Emily chuckled. “Is that what he’s called now?’ When she’d been the girls’ age he’d been called Bailey the Babe Magnet.
After spending a small fortune on movie tickets and at the concession stand, the three made their way into the dark and cold theater. Although Emily insisted on accompanying the girls into the theater, she let them sit by themselves. Laurie and Anna were seated in the third row from the front, as though being so close to the screen somehow allowed them a greater motion-picture experience. Emily was fairly certain they’d end up with stiff necks by the end, after tilting their heads back for the duration of the movie.
She’d chosen a seat at the middle of the theater, close enough to keep an eye on her sister and her friend, without being intrusive, or at least being as unobtrusive as an adult could be. N
ormally Emily sat in the last row of a theater, close to an exit. The middle seats felt foreign. Everything felt off. A prickling sensation tickled the back of her neck. She felt as though she was being watched. The girls were giggling. Oblivious.
Emily glanced around the movie theater surreptitiously. It was fairly empty. A small group of teenagers huddled in one corner. Two couples obviously on a double-date sat a few rows in front of her. She didn’t see anyone who looked out of place, but she couldn’t see who was behind her.
The teenagers in the corner made a show of “shushing” the audience as the lights dimmed. They fell silent, watching the movie trailers. Emily white-knuckled the arms of her seat, trying to ignore the prickly feeling at the base of her neck.
He watched her while she sat in the movie theater. He wondered whether she could sense he was here. She’d glanced back a few times, as though she was looking for something, someone, but she hadn’t noticed him. He sat in the last seat of the back row, in the darkest corner of the theater. No one would notice him here. No one would see what he was doing.
Once the movie started and the audience was engrossed in the film, he reached into his pocket. He pulled a lock of hair out of the pocket. It was silky soft against his palm. He rolled the strands between his fingers, delighting in the texture. He brushed the hairs against his cheek rhythmically.
All the while he watched her, imagining how she’d feel.
He held the hair under his nose and inhaled the sweet, sweet scent. With his free hand he unzipped his pants and began to stroke himself. He wore no underwear. He never did. He liked easy access. As Pop was so fond of saying, patience was not a virtue he possessed. He liked getting off whenever the mood struck, anywhere the mood struck. He liked the occasional wide-eyed look of shock that crossed women’s faces when he brushed up against them. He liked the look more when the girls saw him for the first time.
She was so close. He could practically feel her.
He stroked himself with the hair. God that felt good. So good. He was getting close. So close.
He jammed the hair back into his pocket. He zipped up his pants. He gripped the armrests so tightly his hands cramped. His body demanded release, but it wasn’t time yet.
He was saving himself for her.
Chapter 12
Sipping his eleventh cup of coffee for the day, Bailey watched as a nondescript sedan pulled to a stop in front of the sheriff’s department. FBI Special Agent Sebastian Black had arrived and he hadn’t come alone.
Bailey didn’t miss his partner Chase Morgan’s grimace of pain as he climbed out of the passenger side of the car or the way he swayed unsteadily. Bailey had heard that the older agent had been shot on the job, but couldn’t remember when. Weeks earlier? Months? He didn’t look like he was up to field work.
Swallowing the bitter dregs of his coffee, Bailey did his best to ignore the sense of guilt that churned in his gut. It had been there since he’d seen Jackie Willet’s perfectly made-up face and had been fueled by Emily’s anguished expression. The discovery had been traumatizing for her…as if she didn’t have enough to worry about.
He had enough to worry about, without having Emily occupy his thoughts. Maybe it had been a mistake to call and ask her to come back. Perhaps he should have just put Laurie on the first bus to New York City and let Emily sort everything out from there. She obviously hadn’t wanted to come back to Lakeside Acres.
Then again, neither had he.
“The things we do for family,” he muttered, repeating a phrase he’d heard his father wear out. He watched as Sebastian emerged from behind the wheel of the sedan. While Chase Morgan sported the wrinkled-and-rumpled look, his partner was perfectly pressed and polished. The casual observer would never know he’d just made the three-hour drive from New York City.
Joe Schmoe off the street would probably think that Special Agent Chase Morgan looked like a man without a care in the world, but even from this distance Bailey could tell that he was on the edge. Chase had been the agent in charge when the FBI had first realized they had a serial killer trolling up and down the Eastern Seaboard. He’d been chasing the depraved monster for almost a decade now.
A few long strides carried Bailey outside just in time to catch Sebastian wrinkling his nose and saying, “It smells like fish.”
“It’s a lake community, city boy. It always smells like this after it rains.” Bailey raised his hand to return Chase’s wave of greeting.
“It smells like dead fish.” Sebastian came around the car, casting a quick, appraising glance in his partner’s direction. “You okay?”
“Just a little stiff.”
Sebastian tilted his head to the left indicating that he didn’t believe his colleague’s assurance, but didn’t pursue the matter. Instead he turned his attention back to Bailey. “Is there really no hotel in this excuse for a town?”
There it was again, the challenge. Bailey once again ignored it. “Nope, but there is a nice bed-and-breakfast. I made you some reservations there.”
“I hate B&Bs.”
Bailey let that one go. He knew that Sebastian wasn’t complaining about the night’s lodging or the smell of dead fish. He was just upset that The Baby Doll Strangler had struck again. They all knew that if they couldn’t catch him before he claimed his next victim, they wouldn’t get a chance for another year. That was the killer’s pattern. He’d kill two girls and then drop off the radar for up to twelve months.
Bailey waved for them to follow him into the sheriff’s department, which looked like every other local police department. Small and cramped, it was a bit dingy and depressing. The bitter scent of coffee that had been left sitting on a warmer for too long hung in the air. “Thanks for coming.”
Sebastian’s disbelief was almost palpable. Bailey knew exactly what he must be thinking: He gave up a career with the FBI for this?
“It’s good to see you.” Chase shook his hand. “How’ve you been?”
Sebastian, who had no patience for such niceties, chimed in, “Listen, I don’t want to get into a jurisdictional pissing match with your boss, so I want to clear our involvement in this investigation with him.”
Bailey crossed his arms across his chest. He’d asked for Sebastian help, not a time-and energy-wasting competition. “Gonna be tough to do considering he died two days ago. Since I’m the senior deputy, and I called you in, I guarantee there will be no headaches from my end.”
“Where’s the girl?” Sebastian looked around the office as though expecting to find her body propped up beside a desk.
“In the morgue at the hospital. County medical examiner is coming around first thing tomorrow to perform the autopsy.”
“Why wasn’t he here today?”
“She was just here yesterday.”
“You’ve had two murders?”
Bailey shook his head tightly. “Autopsy on the sheriff.”
“Suspicious?” That Sebastian found it so was obvious in the tone of his voice.
Bailey could practically hear the agent’s thoughts. This small town wasn’t exactly a hotbed of violent crime. What were the chances of two people dying within days of each other?
“Just a car accident,” Bailey assured them. “He was on duty though, so according to protocol one had to be performed.”
Bailey could tell the strain in his voice made Chase curious. Before the older agent could get a chance to pursue it, Bailey said, “About the autopsy on the girl…”
Sebastian put his hands on his hips, telegraphing his impatience. “What about it?”
“I can’t be there.”
“Jesus, Bailey. You call me to come all the way out to this hick town and you can’t bother to show for the autopsy? Why the hell not?”
“It’s…I’ve got to bury my father.”
“Your father, the sheriff?” Chase asked carefully.
He nodded.
“I’m sorry for your loss. He must have been a good man.”
Bailey didn’t kno
w how to respond to that. On paper, his father was a good man. He’d dedicated his career to law enforcement, but if you asked the townspeople he was hired to protect what they thought of him, they’d probably say Freddy O’Neil could be a bully with a terrible temper. Bailey steered the conversation away from the dead man to the dead girl. “Where would you like to start?”
“We’d like to see where she was found. Maybe talk to whoever found her?”
“Emily Wright. Jackie’s body was left at the driveway of the Wright house.” Bailey leveled a dead-eyed glare at Sebastian. “Go easy on her. Her father was just involved in a serious boating accident.”
Even though the lights were off and it was dark, Emily paced back and forth across the Big Room. She didn’t even glance in the direction of the lake. She was too busy worrying about the two FBI agents on their way over. When Bailey had asked if it would be okay to stop by, she’d quickly agreed, thinking some quiet time spent catching up with him would be just the thing to calm her nerves. That was before he’d said he was bringing along two Feds who wanted to talk to her. She had done nothing wrong, and now she was waiting to be interrogated.
The headlights of a car bounced off the darkness. Hurrying to the front door, she stood on tiptoes to look through the peephole. The second she recognized Bailey’s distorted features she yanked the door open, quickly apprising the pair of men who stood behind him. The older man, in his early forties, smiled a greeting. His partner just stared at her like she was a piece of evidence to examine.
“Hi, Emily. Thanks for letting us come out. This is Special Agent—”
“Dammit!” She’d been so eager to see Bailey, she’d forgotten about the security system.
Bailey jerked back as though she’d slapped him. “You said it would be okay—”
“Come in. Come in.” She interrupted again, grabbing his arm and dragging him inside. She motioned for the two men standing behind him to follow. “I forgot the damn alarm.” Turning her back on the three, she feverishly punched in the alarm code. “I hate this thing. Every time I open the freakin’ door…” Finally she was rewarded with a green light. She spun back around to face her visitors.