“I know the facility,” Adam said. Charlotte’s grandfather Robert had spent the last two years of his life there. Diagnosed with Alzheimer’s at seventy, he’d remained at the cottage until Charlotte’s grandmother Mildred had been unable to care for him any longer. Adam and Charlotte had been newlyweds when the decision was made to move him. He’d helped load Robert’s things onto a truck and also unload them at the center. In the two years that followed, he and Charlotte had visited the facility several times a week every week. “What’s the name of the guy who reported the plates missing?”
“Conrad O’Reilly.” He glanced at his phone again. “Twenty-nine. High school graduate. Three speeding tickets in the past year, but no criminal record. I already scheduled an interview with him. He’s out of town until Monday. I’m meeting him at nine in the morning on Tuesday.”
“Out of town where?”
“Portland. His great-uncle died, and he’s attending the funeral.”
“Have you verified that?” Adam asked.
“In the ten minutes since I was given the information? No?” River responded. There was no mistaking the edge of sarcasm in his voice. He knew his job. He didn’t need to be reminded of the proper way to do it.
“Right. Sorry. This whole thing has got me on edge,” Adam admitted. “The Night Stalker is a little too close to home.”
“I thought home was in Boston,” Honor said.
“Figure of speech. This is where I grew up. I know the town and the people and the way life works here.”
“And you thought that because it was a small town with nice people in it, a serial killer couldn’t emerge from its folds?” River tucked his phone away.
“You know that’s not the case, River. I’ve seen all kinds of trouble coming from all kinds of places. I just mean that he’s too close to people I care about. I’ve seen what he can do. I’ve studied what he’s done. I’ve talked to the families of his victims, and I know exactly what the world lost when he snuffed out the lives of the women he killed. I want to find him. I want to throw him in prison, and I don’t want him to ever have a chance to come out.”
“We’re on the same page, then. This guy has been on the loose for too long. He’s hurt too many people.” He sighed. “In the profile you wrote up, you mentioned that he probably had a job that allowed him to travel.”
“That’s right.”
“Probably something in the medical field.”
“Also correct.”
“It seems to me that O’Reilly comes close to that.”
“If working as a maintenance person at a memory care center counts as being in a medical field, I guess you’re right.” But it was a stretch. Especially because Adam’s profile also suggested that the killer was a college graduate, a high-level professional, someone with disposable income that would allow him the financial freedom most people never obtained.
“I want to check his work history, find out just how much time he’s taken off the past few years,” River continued. “Maybe we can take a ride out there tomorrow. Before he returns.”
“I hope you’re not thinking of gathering information without getting the proper warrants,” Honor said. “The last thing any of us want is to find evidence and then have it be inadmissible in court.”
“I’ll get the proper warrants,” River assured her. “Once we catch this guy, he’s not going free on a technicality. Looks like they’re heading out.” He pointed to the tow truck that was slowly making its way back across the dock.
“We’re done here.” Adam turned away, anxious to return to the cottage.
Anxious to return to Charlotte.
He could admit that to himself.
He refused to think about what it meant, though.
She’d made her feelings clear: she didn’t want him in her life.
He didn’t blame her. He’d walked away when she’d needed him most. He’d had a dozen excuses for it. He’d justified it in a hundred different ways, but the more time had passed, the more he’d realized the truth. He’d left because he hadn’t been able to handle watching her mourn. There’d been nothing he could offer her. No comfort. No words that would make the nightmare go away.
His own heartbreak had nearly destroyed him, but watching Charlotte pick at her food, listening to her cry at night, looking on as her skin paled and her body grew frail, had made him feel helpless.
He’d hated that feeling, and he’d run from it, not her.
He should have explained it to her a long time ago.
Instead, he’d moved on, created a new life, achieved all the goals and dreams he’d once shared with Charlotte. But she hadn’t been there to cheer him on, and the victories had seemed as hollow as the place in his soul that had once been filled with Daniel’s giggles and Charlotte’s laughter.
He pushed the thought away, forcing himself to focus on the case. If it were a puzzle, they were ready to place the last piece. Only it was missing, fallen in the crack of the heating vent or between old warped floorboards. Eventually, they’d track it down. Hopefully before someone else was hurt.
He passed the old shack where Savannah had been staying. He’d already walked through it, searching for any evidence that she hadn’t spent her time there alone. He believed the Night Stalker was a lone wolf, a hunter who preferred his solitary pursuit, but there had been cases where a serial killer had solicited help from others. It was rare, but not unheard of, and Adam had to consider the possibility that Savannah wasn’t as innocent as she was pretending to be.
His cell phone rang, and he answered without glancing at the caller ID. “Whitfield here,” he said.
There was a quiet gasp of air, and then silence.
“Hello?” he prodded, glancing at the screen. The number wasn’t one in his contact list.
“Adam?” a shaky female voice said. “Is that you?”
“Yes. Who’s calling?”
“Bubbles Raymond. Your old neighbor,” she said as if they hadn’t seen each other several times in the days since he’d arrived in town.
“Is everything okay, Bubbles?”
“Well, no, it isn’t. There’s a man in my hospital room, and he refuses to leave.”
“A man?”
“Yes. He says he’s a coworker of yours. His name is Shane.” A masculine voice rumbled in the background, and she sighed. “Sam. That’s his name.”
“He is my coworker, Bubbles. Didn’t he show you his ID?”
“He did, but I thought it might be fake.” She lowered her voice to a loud whisper. “He looks shifty.”
“Shifty, huh?” he said, biting back laughter. Sam was a lot of things, but shifty wasn’t one of them. He wore suits, ties and polished shoes. Kept his hair trimmed and his face smooth. Spoke with a Southern drawl that made him sound more friendly than sinister.
“Yes,” she hissed. “I woke up, and there he was just sitting in a chair staring at me. I asked him to leave, and he refused. I wanted to call the police, but he told me to call you first. He’s the one who gave me this number. A very strange thing for a murderer to do.”
“He’s not a murderer, Bubbles. He’s there to protect you.”
“From what? His beady-eyed glare?”
He did laugh at that. “I’ve never seen him glare at anyone.”
“He’s glaring at me.”
“Are you wearing your glasses? Maybe you’re not seeing him properly.”
“Now, how would I be wearing my glasses? I fell in the lake, remember? I got knocked unconscious and nearly drowned. Do you really think I managed to keep track of where my glasses went?” she asked.
“If anyone would be capable of it, you would be.”
She laughed, the sound as light and sweet as a spring breeze. “I’ve missed you, Adam. Why did you wait so long to come back?”
“I guess I needed to figur
e a few things out.”
“And did you manage it?”
“Maybe. How are you feeling?”
“Like I fell in a lake and nearly died,” she responded. “I’ve been thinking about that.”
“What?”
“Me falling in the lake.”
“What about it?”
“I don’t think I fell.”
“No?” He kept his tone neutral, but his pulse jumped, his heart galloping in his chest. Honor and River must have noticed the change. They both stepped closer, watching him expectantly.
“I’m pretty careful around the water nowadays. I mean, I swim but only during the day. At my age, you can’t be too careful. One fall, one broken hip, and it’s all over. You’re in a nursing home for the rest of your life, eating pureed peas and lumpy mashed potatoes at every meal and crying because your family never comes to visit.”
“Charlotte and I would never make you move into a nursing home. You know that,” he reassured her. “And if you decided you wanted to live in one, we’d sneak you in some contraband food.”
“What are we talking about here? Steak? Or cupcakes and cookies, candy and pie?”
“All of the above,” he responded, and she laughed again.
He waited until she quieted, and then he moved the conversation back to where it had begun. Her concern about her tumble into the lake. “You said you didn’t think you fell,” he said. “What do you think happened?”
“That’s a good question. A very good question. I don’t have an answer. I’ve got nothing in this old brain but a giant-size headache. The doctor said things will start coming back to me, but since he looks like he graduated from elementary school last week, I’m not sure I can believe him.”
“I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about, and I’m positive he’s a little older than middle school age.”
“Humph,” she replied, her disgust seeping through the phone. “Whether or not that’s true isn’t the point. The point is, I can’t remember a thing after I walked out Charlotte’s door. I think, though...” Her voice drifted off, and he didn’t try to fill the silence with questions or suggestions. He didn’t want to lead her in any direction. He wanted her to remember the truth. Not something that had been planted in her head.
“You know,” she murmured. “I feel like I saw someone after that. A man. But I don’t remember being afraid, and you’d think I would have been. You’d think if some stranger who wanted to off Charlotte and kill me in the process had been lurking outside, I’d have been terrified. Wouldn’t you think that?”
“Yes,” he responded, his mind spinning with possibilities.
She could be mistaken and hadn’t seen anyone.
She could have seen a stranger and didn’t remember her fear.
Or she could have seen someone she knew, someone so familiar she had no reason to be afraid.
“But I don’t remember being afraid. Then again, I don’t really remember anything. Just walking outside to get Clover and maybe seeing someone.” She sighed. “It’s all very frustrating. You know how good my memory has always been.”
“It will come back to you. Just like the doctor said. For now, try not to worry about it. Just rest and heal. Charlotte and I will be at the hospital later. Is there anything you want us to bring?”
“A grandbaby would be nice, but since the two of you are no longer married, I’ll settle for my bed jacket and some toiletries. Charlotte knows what I like, and she has a key to my place.”
“I’ll have her grab a few things. See you soon, Bubbles,” he said, disconnecting the call and sliding the phone into his pocket.
“What’s going on?” Honor asked as they reached the Cadillac. A small rental car was parked behind it, and she unlocked the door and opened it but didn’t get in.
“That was Charlotte’s neighbor.”
“The one who nearly drowned?” she asked, and he nodded.
“She wasn’t very happy to have a bodyguard sitting in her room. She said Sam is shifty.”
River laughed at that, climbing in behind the wheel of the Cadillac. “If he’s shifty, I’d like to know what I am.”
“Don’t ask Bubbles. She’s not known for her subtlety, and you might get your feelings hurt.”
He laughed again. “It would take a lot more than an old lady to hurt my feelings.”
“What feelings?” Honor asked, and Adam got the impression it was only partly a joke.
“I have plenty, but now isn’t the time to discuss them,” River replied without any heat. “I’m more interested in hearing what else Bubbles had to say. From this end of the conversation, it sounded like she might have remembered something.”
“Maybe. She said she thought she remembered seeing someone when she walked out of Charlotte’s house. A man. She wasn’t afraid at the time, and she’s not sure the memory is real, but she mentioned it, so it’s worrying me.”
“She nearly drowned, Adam,” Honor said. “She has a head injury. The chances of her being right about this are pretty slim.”
“Not in my mind. I’ve known Bubbles for most of my life. She doesn’t overstate things, and she doesn’t speak unless she’s sure about something.”
“You knew her most of your life,” River pointed out. “But you’ve been away from Whisper Lake for nearly six years. People change a lot in that amount of time.”
“Maybe,” he agreed as he got in the car.
“You’re not convinced,” River said as he executed a U-turn and followed Honor’s car back toward the cottage.
“I guess I’m not. The way I see it, things add up better if the person Bubbles saw was familiar to her,” he replied.
“Want to elaborate on that?” River asked as he pulled into the driveway and parked behind Honor’s car.
She got out of her vehicle, waved at them and jogged into the house.
“The killer knows who Charlotte is,” Adam said as she disappeared from view. “Despite all the effort we’ve put into keeping her identity quiet, he’s found her.”
“Leaks happen.”
“True, but it’s just as likely that he saw her the night he abducted Bethany. That he recognized her. That he’s known all along that she’s the one who ruined his plans.”
“You think he’s coming after her out of revenge?”
“What other motivation would there be? If she’d seen and recognized him, we’d already know his identity, and he’d already be in jail. He’s an intelligent person. I’m sure he’s thought that through.”
“You have a point, but I’m not sure I buy the revenge thing. He’s killed nine women. As far as we know, Bethany is his only failure. If I were him, I’d lay low for a while, then go on the hunt again.”
“You’re putting your ability to reason on him, River. The guy isn’t killing because he’s filled with logic and sensibility. He’s killing because he’s sick. His brain doesn’t work the same way as yours or mine. In his mind, he didn’t fail because he made mistakes. He failed because of Charlotte. The rage he’s experienced because of that isn’t going to be extinguished until he makes her pay.” He stated the facts without adding any emotion to them, without explaining just how terrifying he found them.
“There could be something more to it,” River said as he opened the door and got out of the car.
“What’s that?”
“Bethany fits the profile of the Night Stalker’s victims perfectly.”
“Right.”
“Maybe she’s been the target all along.” River tossed the thought out, and it took a second for Adam to realize what he’d said, what he was implying.
They’d already reached the front door, but Adam didn’t open it. “You’re saying that every other victim was a replacement for her?” he asked, and River shrugged.
“You’re the profiler, Adam. You tell me if it
makes sense. The way I see things, Bethany’s case is the one-off, the thing that doesn’t make sense. Why go to big-city hospitals every other time, and then suddenly decide to hunt close to home? Why change things up now when his other methods have proved successful?”
“Bethany got engaged a few months ago,” Adam said, thinking through the information he had, plugging it into the situation River was outlining.
“Don’t most couples post the announcement in the paper? Maybe our guy saw the announcement and panicked.”
“Some do, but even if Bethany and her fiancé didn’t put an announcement in the paper, people in town would have known they were planning to get married. News travels fast in Whisper Lake.”
“So, let’s say the Night Stalker has been obsessed with Bethany. Let’s say each one of the women he killed was someone he’d hoped could take her place and give him the relationship he’s been craving. None of them worked out. They all disappointed him, and so he had to kill them.” River’s voice nearly vibrated with the force of his excitement. He was onto something, and he knew it.
Adam knew it, too. He could feel the truth, sense the way it all fit together.
“That would explain the length of time he held some of them prisoner. The ones who fulfilled his fantasy the best lived the longest,” he said.
“If that was the case, what would he do if he found out Bethany was getting married?” River asked.
“He’d probably decide it was time to give the real thing a go. He’d do what he’d been wanting to all along. He’d kidnap Bethany in the hopes of convincing her that he was a better choice than her fiancé.”
“And if someone got in the way of that? If someone stopped him from achieving the goal? Then revenge would probably be a whole lot more important than laying low.”
Night Stalker Page 10