Predator

by Terri Blackstock

  He looked at her. “Krista, you can’t seriously be blaming yourself.”

  She didn’t answer, and for a moment he thought she was going to shut down. She’d probably never meant to get so personal with him. But he was glad for the glimpse into her heart.

  “Really, Krista,” he said softly. “How could it be your fault?”

  The corners of her mouth trembled. “It was my job. I’ve been helping raise her since she was born. My mom died after complications from having her when I was eleven. My dad…he was so changed by Mom’s death…he couldn’t really connect with either of us that well for a while. I kind of took over, like her surrogate mother.”

  “Tough duty for an eleven-year-old. But even your mother couldn’t have protected Ella from this guy.”

  She clutched the steering wheel, her knuckles white. “Why didn’t I teach her the dangers of online predators? I had her password.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I was so busy working with the girls in our ministry that I neglected my own sister!”

  He touched her arm. “Krista, it wasn’t neglect. You couldn’t be there for her twenty-four / seven.”

  “If I had just watched her Internet activity, she’d be alive.” Tears welled in her eyes. “But…maybe I can save another girl. Someone else who’s making herself prey for this guy. Maybe I can catch him and stop him.”

  Something in her tone told him she had a plan. Was she going to go looking for this guy? “Krista, it’s fine to be strong and courageous. But don’t let your guts lead you into danger yourself.”

  She looked at him then with those intense eyes. “That’s what real love is all about. Putting yourself on the line.”

  “For people you don’t know?”

  “I don’t have to know them to care what happens to them.” Sighing, she turned the ignition. “The coast is probably clear by now.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  She was quiet as she pulled out into traffic and headed back to the school, where Ryan’s car was parked. As he turned her words over in his mind, he told himself he was reading too much into them. She hadn’t said she was going to do anything stupid. She was a rational person, after all.

  By the time they reached the school, Ryan had convinced himself that Krista’s plan was to speak at more schools about the dangers of online communities.

  As she pulled up next to his car, Krista looked over at him. “Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it.”

  He sat motionless for a moment, not wanting to get out. “I know what you think of me.”

  Her chuckle had no glee behind it. “Oh yeah? What do I think?”

  “That I’m some corporate pig who’s just trying to make a buck.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “But the truth is, I was just a computer nerd, fooling around with an idea, and it got blown all out of proportion.”

  “Poor you.”

  Man, she was tough. “I’m not complaining,” he said. “I just don’t like being painted with that brush of yours. When I watched you get up and talk to those kids today, I was amazed. You had them in the palm of your hand. They were riveted.”

  “They knew Ella,” she said. “She was well-liked. Her death hurt all of them.”

  “But it was more than that,” he said. “You’re a good speaker. I’m guessing that you make a big impact on all the girls you work with.”

  That didn’t seem to give her any pleasure. “Thank you.”

  “I’m just saying that you have determination and a passion that comes out in your speaking. If you went on TV and did interviews…”

  “I don’t want to go on TV and talk about Ella.”

  “Then would you consider just coming to talk to my board of directors?” The words were out before he could recall them.

  She snapped a look at him. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I don’t think it would hurt anything for them to hear from you directly. In fact, it might be a good thing. I can’t promise you that the changes will be made, but it could at least give them the perspective that I’ve gotten from listening to you.”

  Her face softened. “I would really appreciate that opportunity.”

  Their eyes locked, and he fought the urge to push a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “You remind me of the way I used to be,” he said.

  Again, she whispered a laugh. “Why do you say that?”

  “Confidence, passion…feelings I used to have.”

  “Used to? You seem pretty confident to me.”

  He shrugged. “Things have changed a lot since I started in my dorm room. I was happier sitting in a twelve-by-fourteen room with a bunch of computers and a few friends, trying to fill a need, than I’ve ever been running a major corporation. But again, I can’t complain.”

  “It sounds a little like complaining.”

  “No, not at all. I’m happy to be where I am. Who would have expected a kid like me to make this much money? I was raised by a single mom who worked two jobs. I only went to MIT because I got a full ride.”

  “Willow’s offer must’ve blown you away.”

  “It did. I bought my mom a new house. Helped her retire.”

  She almost smiled. “That’s nice.”

  “Yeah, it was kind of fun. She always did everything for everyone else. No one ever did much for her. She was the casserole queen at church. When someone died or was sick, she was the first one over with her casserole and a hug.” He paused and lowered his voice. “But then she met Louis, her new husband, and he started milking me for as much money as I’d give them.”

  “Really? Your mom let him do that?”

  He wished he had some water; suddenly his mouth was dry. Why had he taken the conversation here?

  “She was lonely and she loved him.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “They’re divorced.” He hoped she caught the period on the end of that sentence. He opened his door and started to get out.

  “You grew up in church?” she asked, stopping him.

  He smiled. So that was what impressed her. “That’s right. Every time the doors opened.”

  “Do you still go?”

  “No, haven’t been in years.”

  Her disappointment was clear, and he wished he had a better answer. “Did you stop believing?”

  He wondered why the question made him so uncomfortable. “Not really. I still believe in God.”

  “You just don’t think he’s worthy of worship?” The words came softly, just above a whisper. Not accusing.

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t give it much thought anymore. Church isn’t what it should be.”

  “What do you think it should be?”

  “I don’t know. Honest, authentic, not just a list of don’ts.”

  “My church is honest and authentic. You should come with me sometime.”

  He smiled and checked her eyes. Was she serious? The thought of going anywhere with her energized him. “I’d like that.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Because I’m the enemy, according to your board of directors. One of those people you’re not supposed to get mixed up with.”

  He knew she was right, but if he had this chance to spend more time with her, he wasn’t going to let it pass. “They can’t keep me from going to church.”

  “Okay. You can go with me sometime. Meanwhile, I’ll be waiting to hear back from you about talking to your board of directors.”

  He nodded, wondering if he should have even mentioned it. He might talk himself out of it before it actually happened. He got out of the car, leaned back in. “About Megan, I’m going to keep working on this. I really want the killer to be found. I want you to know that GrapeVyne will do everything we can to help the FBI find him.”

  “Thank you.” She reached in her purse and pulled out a business card, handed it to him. “Just in case you find out anything…”

  He took the card. “All right, then we’ll be in touch.�
� He took a last look at her, wishing he could stay a little longer. Finally, he got into his car.

  Twenty

  Krista’s house was dark when she got home, but her father’s car sat in the garage. She stepped into the house, went into the living room where he usually sat watching the news. He wasn’t there. She turned on the light, chasing away the dark shadows that hung like specters over the place, and walked into the hallway.

  “Dad?” she called.

  “In here.” She heard his voice coming from Ella’s room, and she stepped into the doorway and saw him sitting in the dark on Ella’s bed, his legs crossed beneath him, his back leaning against the wall. How many times had she seen her sister sitting like that on the bed, watching The Hills on television and talking to her friends on her laptop?

  She turned on the lamp. Her dad’s face came into view. His eyes were red, bloodshot. “Dad, are you all right?”

  His lips were tight, and his tongue seemed to rub something on his teeth. “He’ll kill more of them,” he said in a hoarse voice. “It’s not over. He’s kindled his bloodlust now. It’s going to get even worse.”

  She went to the bed and sat down next to him, touched his knee. “Dad, I’m so sorry I sent you to that apartment. I never would’ve done it if I’d really thought—”

  “The cop fell asleep,” he cut in. “She warned them. And the guy who was supposed to be watching out for her…fell asleep.” He rubbed his mouth. “Have they notified Karen’s parents yet?”

  “I don’t know. I’m sure they probably have.”

  His eyes settled on some distant target, and she knew he was imagining the phone call those parents had gotten.

  “I spoke at the high school this afternoon,” she said, hoping to change the subject. “I think it went well. I’m hoping that some of the kids will listen.”

  “The killer could be one of them. It could be anybody. A kid…a teacher.”

  “Megan says it was a middle-aged man, not a young man, if he’s the same one who killed Ella.”

  He locked into her eyes. “Middle-aged? Really? I thought it was…one of her friends.” His eyes filled with tears again, and he raised his hand to rub the stubble on his jaw. “I thought it was Tim Moore.”

  “I met Tim at the funeral,” she said. “I never thought it was him.” She wondered how long he’d been sitting here like this. The despair in his eyes was severe…She’d never seen him like this. But he’d never had a child murdered before.

  “What has this world come to?” he choked out. “I don’t want to live in a world like this.”

  The thought of her father committing suicide had occurred to her more than once. “Dad, I need you. Please don’t think like that.”

  “Everything is so meaningless. What we’ve built…our family…where’s the hope?”

  Krista racked her brain for some fragment of what he needed. “Today when I was speaking to the high school, Ryan Adkins was there.”

  “Who is Ryan Adkins?”

  “He’s the CEO of GrapeVyne Corporation. It’s a big victory to have him there, Dad. It means he’s listening to me, that he cares. That’s hope.”

  “He doesn’t care,” he sneered. “He’s the one who created this whole system that makes young girls spill their guts to any stranger who’s watching. He probably just came so he could figure out how much damage you were going to do to his company.”

  “Actually, it’s more than that. He went with me to see Megan, and he helped her identify a few people on her GrapeVyne list who could possibly be the culprit. They probably have fake identities, of course, but it’s possible that this is a start. He’s telling the FBI. Dad, if this brings about changes in GrapeVyne and saves other lives, then maybe Ella’s death does have a purpose. Maybe it’s so we would get out there and do something about it. Educate the public. Maybe God has given us a forum here.”

  “A forum?” He said the word as though it sickened him. “I never asked for a forum. I never wanted to be famous for having lost a child. First God took my wife, and now he’s taken my child. If you can find a purpose in that with your precious ‘forum,’ then you’re welcome to it. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

  Her dad had been the one to teach her about purpose and meaning. Though he hadn’t ever done Bible studies in their home, he did always get them to church. And when they asked him questions, he answered with wisdom and insight, from a perspective of God’s kingdom. It shook her to know that his faith was waning, that doubts were crowding over him.

  “Maybe it is just my forum. If I can really help people and protect lives, then I want to try. Ryan even said that I could come and speak to the board of directors of GrapeVyne. That’s a huge opportunity, because it could make them take notice and really make some changes.”

  “They won’t listen to you,” he said. “They’re all about profits.”

  “I don’t think Ryan really is. He seems like a nice guy. Somebody like us.”

  He got up and walked from the room, his shoulders hunched and eyes on the floor. “Waste your time if you want to.”

  Krista stayed on Ella’s bed, drowning in the wake of his despair. “Ella, what’s happening to us?” she whispered. She knew her sister couldn’t hear. She was up in heaven with their mother, sitting at the feet of Jesus, thrilled to be there, with no more sadness and no more heartache. She wouldn’t want to come home if she could.

  Krista walked out into the hall and looked toward her father’s bedroom. He’d gone into the dark again, and closed the door behind him. She imagined him sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into darkness. Was he suicidal? Had it gotten that bad? Had her stupid decision to send him over to Megan’s apartment been more than he could take?

  She checked the cabinet in the bathroom where they kept their prescription drugs, went through each bottle and made sure there was nothing with which he could do himself harm. They didn’t have any guns in the house. He’d always been an avid pacifist.

  She went into the kitchen and looked around. Her father probably hadn’t eaten any more than she had in the last few days. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d choked down a meal, and her clothes were looser than they’d been three weeks ago.

  That was something she could do for him. Make him a meal.

  She opened the refrigerator, stared at the contents. She needed to go to the grocery store. It was almost empty. But she found some cold cuts and lettuce that had not yet spoiled. She made a sandwich, found some chips in the pantry, poured a glass of iced tea, and took it back to her father.

  “Dad?” she asked at the door. There was no answer, so she opened it, looked inside. He wasn’t on the bed. She turned on the light and saw him across the room, sitting in a rocking chair staring into the dark.

  “Daddy, I want you to eat something. I made you a sandwich.”

  “I can’t eat, Krista.”

  She took it to him anyway, set it on the table next to him. “Dad, I need for you to eat. Can you do it for me?”

  He drew in a deep breath, let it out in a long sigh. “You aren’t eating either.”

  “I will. I promise I’ll eat if you will. Ella wouldn’t want her death to do us both in. This is a horrible time, and I don’t know how we’re going to get through it, but I need you to live. Ella is happy. She’s with Mom, and she’s in a place she wouldn’t want to come home from. Whatever happened to her, I have to believe it’s all out of her memory now. There are no more tears in heaven.”

  He seemed to shake out of his reverie, and she saw his eyes fill with the image of what she had just described.

  “Please, Daddy. Take a bite.”

  He picked up the sandwich, brought it to his mouth and ate. She knew how it tasted to him. He might as well be eating cardboard. He chewed slowly, deliberately. “Eat the whole thing, even if you don’t feel like it. Please?”

  “You need to let me be, Krista,” he muttered.

  She got up. “Dad, I’m just trying to save what’s left of my fa
mily. I can’t lose anyone else.”

  She watched him force himself to take another bite, saw the slow, methodical chewing. “There’s iced tea in the glass. I’ll get you more if you want.”

  “Thank you, sweetie. Now you go eat too.”

  She left the room, and as she rounded the corner into the living room, she realized he’d turned the light back off. Why was he drawn to the darkness now? Did he think somehow he would find Ella there? Ella was in the light, not in dark shadows. But they each had to cope with their grief in their own way.

  She went to her computer, turned it on, and pulled up Maxi Greer’s GrapeVyne page. She had her own way of dealing with her grief. Luring the killer would bring resolution to both of their pain. No matter what it cost her, she would make him pay.

  Twenty-one

  The clothes Megan had worn into the hospital weren’t fit to be worn out. They were soaked with blood and mud, and they’d been shredded as nurses had cut them from her body. Her broken jaw was wired, so she couldn’t move it, and tape and bandages covered cuts and lacerations. Her right leg was in a brace that kept her from moving her injured knee.

  Her face was swollen beyond recognition, and some of her bruises had turned black, as though her flesh was dying and rotting off. The doctors assured her it was just pooled blood, and the bruises would fade in the next week or two.

  They’d given her a wheelchair for the ride to her parents’ rental van, and her mother walked behind her, carrying crutches that she would use to get around at home.

  Home. She couldn’t go back to her apartment, not to live. Karen’s blood was probably still on that regal bed she’d bought when they moved in. Her parents had money, and they’d given her a credit card to outfit her room and the living room. Karen had found an opulent, carved wooden headboard that cost $5,000, the kind of bed you’d keep for fifty years, then pass on to your grandchild. The mattress was top-of-the-line. Megan imagined it soaked in blood now.