by Rita Herron
And where had the perp taken the women?
* * *
AS SOON AS Justin returned to the counter, the waitress sat the food he’d ordered on the counter. Amanda appeared next to him, grabbed the glass of water and sipped it.
“Suzy and Julie weren’t here yesterday.”
Justin gestured for her to sit down and eat. “I checked out back just in case but didn’t see anything.”
Her features softened in relief, and she sank onto the stool and picked up her burger. “I’ve been thinking about the possibility of a female suspect. We need to talk to the school counselor and the cheerleading coach.”
“Eat and then we will.” Justin dug into his food ravenously.
Amanda dipped a few fries in ketchup and inhaled them, then retrieved her phone and punched in a number. Seconds later, she spoke, “Lynn, this is Sheriff Blair. I need to talk to you ASAP. It’s urgent. Please call me back.”
“No answer at her place either?”
Amanda shook her head. He hoped that wasn’t a bad sign.
They finished their food in silence; then he reached for the bill. Amanda reached for it at the same time, and their fingers touched. A current of awareness shot through him, and his gaze was drawn to her mouth. She flicked her tongue out to lick away a drop of ketchup, and hunger bolted through him.
The memory of that kiss teased at his senses.
Hell, he could become obsessed with her mouth.
If they weren’t working together, looking for a murderer, he might give in and take her to bed. Get his fill so he could put her out of his mind.
Once would do it. No, twice. Maybe three times.
Dammit. She was getting to him bad.
“I’ve got it,” he said, his voice harsher than he’d intended.
She jerked her hand away. “Fine. I’ll meet you at the car.” She headed toward the ladies’ room, and he forced himself not to watch her hips sway as she walked.
He paid the bill and left a nice tip, then strode outside. Sunset had long come and gone, and the town was quiet.
As if nothing bad had ever happened in Sunset Mesa.
Not as if a murderer had been kidnapping and killing young women for a decade.
“I called and talked to Deidre Anderson, the cheerleading coach,” Amanda said when she got in the car. “She’s expecting us.”
Amanda drove two streets over and turned into a small neighborhood with stucco houses. A bicycle and skateboard had been left in the drive, indicating the woman had teenagers herself.
They walked to the door in silence, feeling tension that had as much to do with the heat building between them as it did the case. Maybe it was more intense because of the case and the fact that Justin was afraid Amanda might be targeted next.
Justin knocked, and a slender woman who was wearing a warm-up suit and had ash-blond hair opened the door. “Hi, Amanda,” she said. “You must be the Texas Ranger who was at the school today. I’m Deidre Anderson.”
“Sergeant Justin Thorpe. Thanks for letting us stop by. Can we come in?”
“Please.” She gestured for them to enter and five minutes later they were seated at a modest kitchen table with coffee.
“How can I help?” Deidre asked.
“It’s about Kelly’s death.” Amanda filled Deidre in on the information they had on the missing-persons case so far and their speculations about Donald Reisling and his father.
“We’ve been operating under the assumption that the killer is male,” Justin said. “But I saw an unidentified female disguised as a cleaning woman enter Suzy Turner’s apartment last night, so we are considering the possibility that we might be looking for a female.”
Deidre stirred sweetener into her coffee, then added a hefty amount of hazelnut creamer. “I don’t understand how I can help.”
“We found some evidence linking the girls’ disappearances to the class reunion at the high school, so we’ve been looking at the students from that graduating class, their connections and any enemies who might want to target them. That’s the reason we wanted to talk to you.”
“A photo of the cheerleading squad was used as Suzy’s screen saver,” Amanda explained. “It started me thinking that perhaps a classmate at the time, a girl who tried out for cheerleading and didn’t make it, might have harbored a grudge against the ones on the squad.”
Justin sipped his coffee. “Can you think of anyone who fits that description?”
“Gosh.” Deidre traced a finger along the rim of her mug. “There are girls who try out and don’t make it every year. It’s hard for me to remember ten years ago.” She walked over to a bookcase, pulled a yearbook from the shelf and flipped through it. “I can’t imagine anyone being so angry over not making the squad to kill because of it.”
“It was most likely someone who already had emotional problems. Maybe someone from a bad home life,” Amanda said. “She probably suffered from low self-esteem.”
Deidre sank into a chair and continued thumbing through the yearbook. She paused at a photograph of the cheerleaders at a pep rally, then seemed to be scrutinizing the teens gathered on the stands.
Her finger paused on a brunette in the second row who wore thick glasses and had buck teeth.
“Hmm, I do remember this girl trying out. Her name was Bernadette Willis. I think I cut her the first day. Poor girl just wasn’t coordinated.”
Or pretty enough, Justin thought. “How did she handle the rejection?”
“She seemed upset, but so did the other girls who didn’t make it.”
“Why does she stick out to you?” Justin asked.
Deidre tapped the photo again. “It’s just...I faintly remember something about her family, that her father had run out on her and her mother that year.”
“What about the mother?”
“She was an alcoholic. Crashed her car into a tree a few weeks after the father left. Bernie had to live in a group home for teens after that.”
Amanda heaved a breath. “Her whole life fell apart,” Amanda said. “Then she was dumped into the system. No telling what happened to her there.”
* * *
AMANDA STRUGGLED TO recall if she and Bernie had shared any classes together. Maybe chemistry or biology lab? She faintly remembered rumors about her having emotional problems, that she was angry all the time.
They needed to talk to the school counselor, then maybe the social worker, and find out all they could about her.
If she’d suffered some kind of breakdown, it might explain why she’d started exacting her revenge.
Amanda’s phone buzzed, sending a wave of fear through her. She checked the number, her chest clenching as she answered. “Sheriff Blair.”
“Sheriff, it’s Eileen Faust. You have to get over to the event center.”
“What’s wrong, Mrs. Faust?”
“Suzy Turner...I found her here and... Amanda, she’s dead.”
Chapter Seventeen
“We have to go, Justin,” Amanda said. “That was Lynn Faust’s mother. She found Suzy Turner’s body at the event center.”
Deidre gasped. Justin’s jaw tightened as he stood.
“Let us know if you think of anything else, Deidre,” Amanda called over her shoulder as she and Justin rushed to the door.
A gusty breeze hit her as she stepped outside, and a hint of rain scented the air. She couldn’t believe that Suzy was dead, too.
How many more women had to die before she stopped this maniac?
Her hand trembled as she tossed Justin the keys. “You drive. I’m going to try and reach Julie and Lynn again on the way.”
Justin jumped in, started the engine and called for a crime team and the ME as he backed out of the Anderson driveway.
For once Amanda was glad to have someone else to rely on. She felt frail and vulnerable and...as if she’d failed.
Emotions welled inside her, threatening to overflow.
But she had to maintain control. When she found this unsu
b and had him—or her—in custody, then she could fall apart.
Justin maneuvered through the subdivision and turned onto the road leading into town. She punched Julie’s number again, but, just as she’d feared, no one answered, so she left another voice mail.
Next she tried Lynn, and got her voice mail, as well. “It’s Sheriff Blair. It’s important I talk to you, Lynn. You may be in danger. Call me immediately.”
The event center slid into view, and she pointed it out to Justin. “Park in the lot on the left.”
Justin veered into the space, turned to her and placed his hand on hers. “If you need me to handle this, I can, Amanda. I understand that you knew these women and their families and that this case is tearing you apart.”
Tears burned the backs of Amanda’s eyelids, but she blinked them back. The last time she’d cried had been at her father’s funeral. She couldn’t break down now.
“I did know them. That’s why I have to stop this madness.” The temptation to hang on to his hand fluttered through her, but she had to resist.
Suzy’s mother was waiting for news. News that was not going to be what she wanted to hear because Amanda had failed to find this psycho.
If Julie and Lynn died, their blood would be on her hands, too.
* * *
JUSTIN CURSED AS he climbed from the squad car. Amanda was blaming herself, but Suzy’s death was just as much his fault as hers.
He should have figured out who this perp was by now. Instead, he felt as if they were chasing leads all over town. First Terry Sumter, then Donald Reisling and his father, then Carlton Butts’s brother and now this Bernadette Willis was a suspect.
The fact that Amanda hadn’t been able to get hold of Julie or Lynn meant they might already be in trouble.
Dead on his watch.
Amanda straightened her spine as they approached the front door of the building, but a middle-aged woman wearing a white skirt and sweater rushed out, her face streaked with horror and tears.
“Sheriff, it’s so awful,” she cried. “Suzy...she’s in there....Why would someone do this?”
Amanda paused to calm her, her voice soft. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Faust. When did you find her?”
“Right before I called you,” she said, hysteria lacing her voice. “What’s happening in this town? First Kelly Lambert and now Suzy! And that horrid mess at the school. Who’s doing this?”
“We’re doing everything we can to figure that out,” Amanda said firmly.
Justin tried to telegraph to her that it would be all right.
But both of them knew that was a lie.
The town’s residents, more specifically the young women of Sunset Mesa in Amanda’s very own graduating class, were being targeted by a killer who was growing bolder by the minute.
“How did the killer get into your building?” he asked.
Mrs. Faust pressed two fingers to her forehead as if thinking about the question. “I don’t know. I didn’t have anything here today, so I stopped by tonight to drop off some flower arrangements for a luncheon we’re having tomorrow.”
“What type of luncheon?” Amanda asked.
“It was a mother-daughter event, one we set up every year to honor the mothers and daughters the day before the reunion begins. The country club mothers put it together.”
“So not every female in the class is invited?” Amanda said. “Just the ones whose parents belong to the club?”
Mrs. Faust wiped at her eyes. “That’s right. Why? Does that mean something?”
“It means whoever left Suzy’s body here chose this spot to make a point just as they chose the school,” Justin said.
“Because he or she felt left out of the group,” Amanda pointed out.
“Stay here with her,” Justin told Amanda. “I’ll go in and examine the scene. Send the crime scene team and ME in when they arrive.”
Justin headed inside to check out the body. He heard Amanda asking about Lynn as he entered the building, then only the echo of his footsteps as he walked across the slick marble floor. The exterior of the building was nondescript, but the inside was upscale. White tablecloths were draped over several round tables and more rectangular serving tables jutted up against the wall. Silver and china plates had been set, rose-colored napkins tied with white lace atop the plates and bouquets of fresh roses filled a cart, obviously centerpieces waiting to be distributed.
The room looked formal and classic, just waiting for the socialites to adorn it.
Except for the dead body perched in a sitting position on a dark green velvet sofa on the stage.
Justin had never seen Suzy Turner in person, but in her photograph she was a pretty girl. Yet the green eyes that had been lit up in the photograph were now wide, glazed with shock and fear, and her normally olive skin was pale with death.
He yanked gloves from his pocket and inched toward her, a wave of anger and sadness hitting him. Suzy Turner might have made mistakes as a teenager; maybe she’d even been mean to some guy or girl. But she had been a kid ten years ago and didn’t deserve to die and be left like this.
He knelt and brushed his hand across her cheek in a silent apology, giving her a moment of quiet reverence before he did anything else.
Swallowing back emotions, he examined her neck. The same type of bruise pattern indicated she’d been strangled with a man’s belt. Her dress looked disheveled, probably from the killer moving her body, but again there was no visible evidence of sexual assault.
Heart hammering, he checked her hands. One lay across her heart as if the killer had positioned it there, while the other dangled open by her side.
Using his cell phone, he snapped some photos of her exact body position and the area, then lifted her hand from her chest and slowly uncurled her fingers.
Just as he’d expected, inside lay a class ring.
He lifted it up and examined the inside and saw the initials JK.
Julie Kane.
Was the killer sending a message that Julie Kane was next?
* * *
AMANDA FELT MRS. FAUST’S horror deep in her bones. “Listen to me, Mrs. Faust. I promise Sergeant Thorpe and I will find out who did this. But right now, I need you to talk to me. Did you see anything out of the ordinary when you arrived? An open window? Broken lock? A car leaving the place?”
“No, no,” Mrs. Faust murmured. “The parking lot was empty. I don’t know how the killer got in. Maybe he broke the lock.”
“Did you touch anything when you went inside?”
“The door,” she said. “The kitchen counter in the back room.” She looked frazzled. “Maybe the walls. I brought the flowers in the back door, then put them on the cart to move them to the ballroom. That’s when...I found Suzy.” She gripped Amanda’s arms. “Does Suzy’s mother know?”
Dread balled in her stomach. That would be the worst part. “Not yet. I’m going to send my deputy out to tell her while Sergeant Thorpe and I investigate.”
“Do you know who did it?” she cried.
“We have a couple of suspects we’re interviewing. I need to ask you something else.”
Fear deepened the grooves around her mouth. “What?”
“Have you seen or talked to Lynn today?”
Mrs. Faust shook her head. “No, we spoke yesterday. She was shopping for a dress for the dance Saturday night, then she said she was going to meet Suzy...” Realization dawned, and the woman gasped. “My God, no...”
Her legs buckled, and Amanda caught her before she collapsed. She eased her down on the front steps to the building and urged her to take deep breaths.
But the woman’s fingernails dug into Amanda’s arms. “You think this maniac has my daughter?”
“I don’t know, but I called and left her a message to phone me ASAP. Where does she live?”
“In Austin,” Mrs. Faust said. “But she’s been staying at the inn in town. A couple of her friends were supposed to be coming in tonight, and they wanted to be together. It w
as Julie Kane’s idea.” Her voice cracked. “Lynn said it would be like old times, a big slumber party.”
Amanda’s throat thickened. “Keep trying to call her and let me know if you hear back. Maybe she and her friends are out shopping and having dinner and took in a show or something.”
She prayed that was true, but her gut instinct warned her it wasn’t the case. She remembered her conversation with Deidre Anderson. “Mrs. Faust, do you remember a classmate of ours named Bernadette Willis?”
The woman’s eyebrows bunched together. “Just that the mother was a drunk. Someone in town said the daughter was crazy, too. That she had to go to some kind of juvenile delinquent home before she came here because she tried to kill her mother.”
Amanda’s heart stuttered. If that was true, it meant Bernadette had a history of violence.
She might be the unsub they were looking for.
* * *
JUSTIN GREETED THE crime scene team and ME, the sight of Suzy’s body giving the team pause as it had him.
“How did the killer get her in here without anyone seeing or hearing something? This building is right on the edge of town,” Lieutenant Gibbons said.
Justin had already checked out the exits and entry points. “I took a look around. There’s a back exit that connects to the parking lot. He probably waited until it was dark. There are no surveillance cameras, and apparently no security system.”
Unbelievable for a place that catered nice events, but it was a small town and everyone knew everyone else, so Mrs. Faust had probably thought they were safe.
“Look carefully—even a hair might be able to help us nail this perp,” Justin said. “And keep in mind that we may be looking for a female.”
“What makes you suggest that?” Dr. Sagebrush asked.
Justin explained about Bernadette Willis and the cleaning woman at Suzy’s condo complex.
The crime scene team went to work snapping pictures and searching the room. Another tech went outside to rope off the area as a crime scene. They wouldn’t be having the luncheon here tomorrow.
Amanda entered, her mouth in a grim line.
Emotions darkened her face at the sight of Suzy, a battle raging for control in her eyes.