“It’s a small town,” Mike said.
It was the neighborly sense of trust that made it so easy for a serial killer to move unseen through the town. There were no security cameras. People left their keys in their cars and their doors unlocked. And they didn’t hesitate to walk alone at night.
And while a part of Mike was frustrated by the thought that they were all more or less sitting ducks, a greater part of him was saddened by the thought that their innocence was going to be stripped away.
Even if they caught the bastard who was terrorizing Jaci, things in Heron would never be the same.
Rewinding the video to watch it again, Mike was interrupted when Jaci made a strangled sound, her head turned toward the window.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “It’s Carol.”
“What?” Mike jumped to his feet, heading toward his private door to wrench it open.
It wasn’t until he caught sight of the woman stumbling across the nearby park that he finally accepted the she truly was alive.
God. He’d tried desperately to hold on to hope, but he’d known deep in his heart that the likelihood of her being alive was almost nonexistent.
The killer had slaughtered at least three other women, and probably many, many more.
Plus, Jaci had received another bloody locket.
Why offer his gruesome tribute if he hadn’t killed his victim?
Unless Carol had managed to escape.
Shaking off his weird sense of disbelief, Mike forced his heavy feet to move forward. He met Carol as she reached the edge of the parking lot, wrapping his arm around her waist and leading her directly into his office.
The crowd was still gathered at the corner. The sooner he got her away from prying eyes, the better.
Rylan was waiting as Mike led Carol over the threshold, firmly closing the door behind them. At the same time, Jaci was moving his chair away from the desk and swiveling it so Mike could ease his companion onto the worn leather cushion.
He crouched directly in front of the shivering woman, his worried gaze skimming over her.
Her white slacks were grubby, as if she’d been rolling in dust, and a couple of cobwebs were clinging to her cherry-red sweater. Her face was the shade of paste and a trickle of blood ran from her temple down her cheek. Her lower face was red and chapped, as if she’d been rubbing it against something rough.
Or as if she’d just ripped off duct tape.
His gaze skimmed down to her throat where dark bruises that looked like fingerprints stained her pale skin.
A combination of relief, anger, and unease churned through Mike as he reached to brush away a cobweb.
“We should get you to the hospital,” he said.
Carol shuddered, her expression dazed. “I’m fine.”
“I prefer a doctor tell me that,” he informed her.
A fleeting smile touched her lips. “I promise I’ll go get myself checked out later. First I want to make my report.”
He scowled. “Stubborn.”
“I was born and bred in Missouri,” Carol said, a bit of color returning to her cheeks. “Stubborn is what we do.”
“Here.” Jaci suddenly appeared at Carol’s side with a glass of water.
The older woman grabbed the glass and drank deeply. Using her momentary distraction, Mike nodded toward Rylan. He knew Carol well enough to accept that she wasn’t leaving until she’d told him what had happened to her. But he wasn’t going to let her stubbornness put her health at risk.
Plus, she needed to be thoroughly examined for any evidence. If she’d been in close contact with the killer, then there was a chance he might have left behind a DNA sample that would allow them to track down the bastard. Or at least put him away once they had him in custody.
Meeting his gaze, Rylan instantly understood what he wanted. Crossing to the far side of the office, Rylan pulled out his cell phone to call for an ambulance.
Mike returned his attention to Carol, who started to cough from gulping the water so fast.
“Breathe,” he commanded in soft tones as Jaci took the empty glass from the older woman’s hand and stepped back, allowing Carol a sense of privacy. He waited for her to stop coughing before urging her to speak. “Now tell me what happened,” he said.
Her hands twisted together in her lap, tiny shivers still shaking her body. But with a courage he fiercely admired, she squared her shoulders and met his steady gaze.
“I went out last night with Larry.” She forced the words out, her voice husky. From lingering fear, or had her throat been damaged? “It was going well enough, but I started thinking back to our conversation about fireworks.”
“Fireworks?” Rylan questioned as he put away his phone and regarded Mike with a lift of his brows.
Mike ignored the interruption, giving Carol’s fingers another squeeze.
“And?”
“And I decided we weren’t going to be more than friends, so I asked him to bring me home.”
“Was he angry?” Mike demanded.
Carol looked confused. Then she gave a sharp shake of her head as she realized he was asking if Larry had been responsible for hurting her.
“No. Nothing like that. He was a perfect gentleman.” She winced, as if the movement of her head was painful. “It’s a shame I couldn’t feel more for him.”
Mike’s lips twisted. Yeah. It was a shame that a person couldn’t choose whom to love with their head and not their heart.
“Larry took you home?” he asked as Carol became lost in silent regret.
“Yeah.” She glanced toward Jaci, who hurried to refill the glass. Tugging her hand out of Mike’s grasp, she accepted the water and took another deep drink. “I waited for him to drive away and I went inside,” she at last continued.
Mike visualized Carol waving good-bye to her date and then walking up the steps to her front porch.
“Did you notice anything before you went inside?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Carol shuddered. “But I wasn’t paying much attention.”
“No car parked in the street that you didn’t recognize?” Mike pressed. “Was the porch light on or off?”
The older woman’s brow furrowed. “I don’t remember seeing any car. I think I would have noticed that.” She paused. “And I’m pretty sure the porch light was off.”
Mike gave an encouraging nod. “What happened next?”
“I went inside.”
“Was the door locked?” Mike asked.
Carol paused, clearly trying to organize her scattered thoughts.
“Oh,” she finally breathed. “Now that I think about it, I didn’t have to use my key.” She hunched her shoulders. “I didn’t really notice since it’s not that unusual for me to forget to turn the latch when I’m in a hurry.”
“Someone was waiting inside?”
The older woman made a muffled sound of fear before she was grimly tilting her chin, refusing to give in to the panic that no doubt threatened to consume her.
“Yes.” Carol licked her lips. “I went into the kitchen to get a bottle of water. I was almost to the fridge when I felt a pair of hands around my neck.” A shudder shook through her body and the empty glass fell to the floor. Her fingers lifted to touch the splotches of color on her throat. “I tried to scream but he just kept squeezing. I thought I was going to die.”
Jaci hurried across the room to grab Mike’s Windbreaker that he’d hung on a hook on the back of the door. Then, returning to Carol, she wrapped it around her shoulders. The office felt smothering hot to Mike, but Carol was in shock.
“It’s okay,” Jaci said softly. “You’re safe now.”
“Thank God,” Carol rasped. “Thank God, thank God.”
Mike resisted the impulse to tug her out of the chair and into his arms. Right now, Carol didn’t need him to be a friend. She needed him to be a sheriff who could capture the bastard who’d attacked her in her own home.
“Can you tell me what happened after you felt
him grab you by the neck?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head, this time making sure she didn’t rattle her sore brains. “I passed out.”
“Do you know how long you were unconscious?” he asked.
“Not for very long,” she said. “It was still dark when I woke up.”
Mike gave a slow nod. Was it possible that she’d woken up before the killer expected? He might have left the locket and then planned to return and finish off Carol at his leisure. Serial killers liked to take their time with victims, didn’t they?
Or maybe he was interrupted.
“Where were you?” he abruptly asked.
Surprisingly Carol hesitated, biting her lower lip. “You’re not going to like this.”
Mike frowned. “Tell me.”
“I was in the small shed behind your house.”
It took a full minute for Mike to absorb what she was telling him.
While he’d been sleeping, and then during the hours he’d wasted trying to locate Christopher, his friend had been locked in the old shed just a hundred yards from his back door?
The wooden structure had been there when Mike had moved in, but the roof leaked and the boards were rotting around the edge of the floor. He’d been intending to have it torn down, but he never could seem to find the time.
Now he surged upright, a blast of fury shaking his tightly coiled body.
“That bastard,” he hissed.
He felt Rylan moving to stand next to him, as if the other man understood that he was on the point of doing something idiotic. Like running out the door and arresting everyone he could round up. If he locked up everyone in town, he was bound to catch the serial killer. Right?
Easily sensing his distress, Carol pasted on a stiff smile.
“You should have seen me. I was tied up like a Christmas goose and I had a piece of duct tape over my mouth. It was something more than one of my ex-husbands always wanted to do.”
Her attempt to tease Mike out of his grim mood fell flat. He felt sick to his stomach.
He’d originally thought Carol’s disappearance had been somehow related to Jaci. The killer clearly had a weird fascination with her. Or it could have been that Carol simply had been a target of convenience. He could have known she lived alone and that he could take her without attracting notice.
Now he realized that she’d been taken because of him.
The killer was telling him that he wasn’t afraid of the law. And in particular, the sheriff.
It was a direct insult.
Mike struggled to regain control of his emotions as Rylan smoothly took command.
“How did you get away?”
Carol absently rubbed her wrists, which were sore and raw.
“It took me hours, but I finally managed to wriggle my hands enough to loosen the ropes.”
Rylan nodded. “Then you walked here?”
“Yeah, I wasn’t thinking very clearly.” She glanced toward Mike. “I knew you would be frantic. I had to get here and tell you that I was okay.”
“I was frantic,” Mike assured her, squashing his anger as he once again squatted down in front of her.
This woman had escaped a lunatic and then walked across town to make sure he wouldn’t be worried about her. He needed to concentrate on her needs, not allow himself to be consumed with anger.
“What can you tell us about him?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’m sorry.” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “Believe me, I spent the past few hours trying to recall anything that might help, but there’s nothing.”
“You didn’t see him?” Mike asked.
“No.” Her features tightened as she forced herself to think back to the moment she’d been attacked. “He came from behind. I could see a fuzzy reflection in the kitchen window, but he had on a mask and a heavy hoodie.”
Mike turned his head to share a glance with Rylan. They were both leaping to similar conclusions. The guy on the video leaving the locket at Jaci’s garage had been wearing a hoodie. It had to be the same person.
“Was he wearing gloves?” Rylan asked.
Carol paused before giving a small nod. “Yes. I remember feeling the leather against my skin.”
Mike frowned. He could hear the distant sound of sirens. Which meant he had only a couple of minutes to get any clues that might lead him to the stalker.
“Do you know how tall he was?” he asked.
“A few inches taller than me,” Carol said. “I could feel his chin pressing the back of my head.”
He smiled. Carol was proving to be almost as efficient in her role as witness as she was as an assistant.
“Less than six foot?”
She gave a slow nod. “I think so. But he was strong. I thought he was going to snap my neck in two.”
His smile faded as he lifted a hand to lightly touch her temple where blood stained her skin. He couldn’t see any visible wound.
“Did he hit you?” he demanded, his fingers pushing aside her tangled hair.
“No. I don’t know how I got the cut. It’s not very deep,” Carol assured him.
Mike’s spine stiffened as he caught sight of the clump of hair that had been cut off at the root, and the shallow wound that looked like it could have come from a razor.
He exchanged another glance with Rylan. This had to be the spot where the stalker had gotten the hair and blood to put in the locket.
Of course, he hadn’t had the latest locket tested for DNA, but it didn’t take a genius to guess that it was going to match this woman.
The sound of sirens became deafening as the ambulance pulled into the lot.
“Your ride is here,” he murmured, about to rise and open the door.
Carol reached up to grab his hand, her expression troubled. “I don’t understand.”
He grimaced. He hated like hell that she’d gotten caught up in this mess. She certainly didn’t deserve to be terrorized just because she happened to work in the sheriff’s office.
“None of this makes any sense,” he told her.
Her grip tightened. “No . . . I mean, I don’t understand why he didn’t kill me.”
Mike slowly shoved himself upright, gazing down at her pale face.
“Did he say anything to you?”
“Just one thing,” she whispered, her eyes darkening with a lingering fear. “A pawn for a queen.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jaci couldn’t shake the sensation that she was trapped in a nightmare as she watched Carol being loaded into the ambulance.
Mike had been right. None of this made any sense.
Why would anyone hurt Anne or Carol? And why would that person create some sick necklace with their hair and blood and leave it on Jaci’s garage?
She paced from one end of the floor to the other, her stomach tied in tight knots as Rylan and Mike returned to the office.
“A pawn for a queen?” she questioned, latching on to the last words Carol had said. They’d been nagging at her. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know, but he’s toying with us,” Rylan growled, glancing toward Mike. “That’s the only reason he left Carol alive and stashed in your shed.”
The sheriff nodded, his anger a tangible force in the air. He was clearly shaken by the knowledge that Carol had not only been kidnapped, but that she’d been left on his property.
He turned his head to stab Jaci with a fierce frown. “Jaci, you have to get out of town.”
“I agree,” Rylan said without hesitation.
She halted her pacing, glaring at the two men. “And go where?”
Rylan stepped toward her. “To my condo.”
She shook her head. Running away might be a temporary solution, but it did nothing to solve her true problem.
Only catching the person responsible for killing Anne would bring an end to the nightmare.
“How do you know this killer wouldn’t follow?” she demanded. “Or go into hiding until I come back again?”
Rylan’s lips parted, but before he could speak there was a pounding on the office door.
Mike stomped across the floor. “Now what?”
Jaci glanced out the window, instantly recognizing the silver-haired man dressed in an expensive cashmere sweater and charcoal slacks.
“It’s my stepfather,” she said, her gaze turning toward Rylan in confusion. “Why would he be here?”
Mike opened the door and was nearly plowed over as the older man stormed into the office.
“Blake, please come in,” Mike growled, slamming shut the door behind the man.
Belatedly realizing that the sheriff wasn’t alone, the older man came to an abrupt halt, his face smoothing as he offered a strained smile. Blake Hamilton was nothing if not polite.
“Hello, Jaci,” he said, his gaze turning toward the man who’d moved to stand at her side. “And Rylan. I heard you were in town.”
Jaci suppressed her grimace.
Blake had never been an evil stepfather. On the few occasions that Jaci had visited his big house on the hill, he’d treated her with a cool civility. But Jaci had been painfully aware that he’d forced her mother to choose between being a mother to her baby daughter or becoming his wife.
That wasn’t something a girl could forget.
Or forgive.
“Can I help you?” Mike demanded as he studied the older man with blatant impatience.
The man grimaced, nervously twisting his diamond wedding band.
“Payton didn’t come home for lunch.”
Any other day, Jaci would have mocked her stepfather for overreacting. A grown woman didn’t have to tell her parents if she decided she didn’t want to go home for lunch.
But today they all stiffened, a thick tension filling the office.
“Were you expecting her?” Mike asked.
“Yes.” Blake’s face was drawn as he struggled to contain his concern. “I tried to call, but she didn’t answer.”
The tension ramped up. Mike moved to grab his spare Windbreaker from a small coat closet.
“Do you know the last place she was supposed to be?” he asked the older man.
“The food bank at the back of the Baptist church,” Blake said.
Mike slid on his jacket. “Did you go there?”
Blake nodded. “Yes. Her car is in the parking lot, but no one inside has seen her.” He gave a helpless glance toward Jaci before returning his attention to Mike. “It’s like she just vanished.”
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