Don't Breathe: A Gripping Serial Killer Thriller (Darkwater Cove Psychological Thriller Book 6)

by Dan Padavona

  Fury courses through her body. She wants to slap the sanctimonious grin off his face. Instead, she pulls the door, remembers he locked it, and twists the bolt. As she bounds down the stairs, a high heel catches the carpet. She rolls her heel and falls against the wall. Ankle throbbing, her hair mussed, she limps to the front door as he slides into the hallway on socked feet. There’s worry in his eyes now. She could report Sean. Ruin his scholarship, label him as a rapist.

  “I didn’t mean what I said. About your mother, about you being a psycho. You’re not.” She rips the chain off the door. “Come back, Jennifer. It was just a misunderstanding. I thought you wanted to…if I’d known you weren’t comfortable—”

  The door slams.

  Jennifer stands on the porch, arms crossed and head hanging. The humid night gropes her body. She can’t see the street through the haze of tears. Now what? Call Kaitlyn and make herself look like a fool?

  She swipes the tears from her eyes and smooths her rumpled shirt. When she lifts her head, Julian stands at the curb.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Friday, September 18th

  8:30 p.m.

  Darcy hasn’t touched her chicken. Across the table, Ketchum crunches on a taco shell and wipes salsa off his mouth. At the next table, a waitress wearing a blue flowered skirt sets plates in front of hungry customers. Darcy loves Mexican food, but she shouldn’t have suggested a late dinner.

  “Will you eat something?” Ketchum asks. “Your food is getting cold. Oh, great. Now you made me sound like my grandmother.”

  She grunts and flips through the case files, searching for anything she missed. It’s too late to save Nadia Ames and Brit Ryan. But if her theories are correct, another woman will go missing in the next twenty-four hours. Though the killer hasn’t attracted attention from local authorities, and the villages of Smith Town and Genoa Cove don’t believe he exists, he’s escalating. Just like the Doll Face Killer and Michael Rivers.

  “Suit yourself.” Ketchum munches on his second taco and points at Darcy’s mole chicken. “Mind if I take a piece?”

  Darcy raises an eyebrow. Ketchum hasn’t eaten since lunch, but his stomach seems bottomless tonight.

  “Sure, go for it.”

  As she studies the case notes, her eyes drift to her phone. She hasn’t heard from Julian since eight o’clock. Julian tracked Jennifer to a boy’s house, though he’s withholding the kid’s name until he catches Jennifer on the way out. A tension headache bleeds down her neck and into her shoulders. She’ll ground Jennifer. Her daughter left Darcy without a choice. At least she’s safe with Julian outside the house, though Jennifer is asking for trouble and should know better.

  When Ketchum reaches for his water glass, his phone rings. He squints at the screen. When will he get his eyes checked?

  “It’s Detective Moshen,” he says, wiping his mouth on his napkin.

  Ketchum puts the phone to his ear while Darcy picks at her meal. She can’t stomach food with multiple worries digging at her. She watches Ketchum as he nods, his face going slack. Then he snaps his fingers and points at Darcy’s bag. Working together since summer allows them to communicate without speaking. He wants a pen. And probably something to write on. The restaurant won’t appreciate Ketchum scribbling on the tablecloth.

  She hands him a pen and her notepad. He rips a sheet off and jots a name, followed by notes. She can’t read his writing from the other side of the table. It’s obvious he’s alarmed. Dinner is over, she thinks as she takes one more bite out of her chicken.

  “We’ve got another missing woman in Smith Town,” Ketchum says after Moshen hangs up. “Ali Haynes, age twenty-five.”

  “She’s the right age,” Darcy says, remembering Brit and Nadia were in their mid-twenties.

  “That’s not all. She teaches at Smith Town High School.”

  Darcy drops her fork. Nadia Ames and Brit Ryan attended Smith Town High with Kealan Hart. Rising from her chair, Darcy collects her belongings. Ketchum leaves two fifties on the table and nods at their waitress, pointing at the money.

  “Let me help with the bill,” Darcy says, searching through her wallet.

  “You get the next meal. Hopefully, you’ll eat your food next time.”

  Ketchum directs the SUV through village traffic, the street lights glaring across the windshield. Darcy glances through the window.

  “This isn’t the way to the police department.”

  “We’re heading across town. Another teacher, a friend of Ali Haynes, reported Ali missing.”

  “Who are we meeting with?”

  “Annika Bava. She claims Ali never showed up for school today, and she was supposed to meet with a student this afternoon.”

  “How long has Haynes been missing?”

  Ketchum presses his lips together.

  “Bava called Smith Town PD at four o’clock.”

  “Adan, it’s after eight-thirty.”

  “I know. Pinder took the call. Since Haynes hasn’t been missing for twenty-four hours—”

  “Twenty-four hours is just the rule of thumb they use in movies. Given the circumstances, Pinder should have acted on the information immediately. Why is Goshen telling us?”

  Ketchum pulls the SUV down a tree-line street and slows to avoid a bicyclist.

  “Goshen and Pinder don’t see eye-to-eye. If I had to guess, Goshen knows Pinder is shady and would love for us to knock him down a notch.”

  Ketchum glares through the windshield as if he has something more to say.

  “What else?”

  “This information stays between us until we learn more. Pinder dropped forty grand on a new boat yesterday. This is a guy who moved into a crappy studio apartment on the wrong side of Smith Town after he lost his house to bankruptcy last year.”

  “How can he afford a boat?”

  “For the same reason he didn’t press Kealan Hart on his alibi.”

  “He took a bribe.”

  “That’s Goshen’s theory. We don’t have proof, but it explains Pinder’s performance on this case. Even for him, this is extraordinary incompetence.”

  Darcy chews the corner of her mouth. How do cops like Pinder get promoted when the force overflows with talent?

  Ketchum stops the SUV in front of a quaint ranch with cherry-red siding. Annika stands on the porch with a coffee mug in hand. The teacher stands five feet tall in clogs. Her black hair lounges atop her head in a bun, and she wears a hazel shawl over her shoulders. She waves from the top step and takes a nervous sip from her mug. Pressed for time, Ketchum makes quick introductions.

  “What makes you believe Ali Haynes is in trouble?”

  “Ali never misses school. In her two years at Smith Town High, she hasn’t called in once. And she’s paranoid she’ll lose her job.”

  “Why would the school fire her?”

  “Ali isn’t tenured. Neither of us are. The school district hates its teachers, and Principal Diaz is one year from retirement. He’s mailing in the rest of his career and doesn’t want trouble.”

  Darcy narrows her eyes.

  “Trouble?”

  “Smith Town High has a bullying problem. Most schools do, but ours turned nasty this year. This class has been trouble since they were in grade school. Talk to any of the teachers, and they’ll tell you it’s true. One girl—her father walked out on the family, and the mother works two minimum wage jobs to keep food on the table—takes the brunt of the bullying. Ali stuck up for the girl and went to Diaz. He ignored the problem and blamed Ali for stirring up trouble. She’s convinced Diaz wants to fire her and make the problem go away.”

  “Do you think Diaz would hurt Haynes?”

  Annika touches her heart.

  “I didn’t mean to give the wrong impression. No way Principal Diaz would hurt a fly. He’s a bureaucrat.”

  “Start at the beginning. When did you first discover Ali Haynes was missing?”

  “Well, we arrive at school at the same time every morning and walk
in together. I figured she was running late, but then I noticed Mrs. Ortega, our resident substitute, took Ali’s morning class. I called the office and asked if Ali was sick, and the secretary said she never showed up for school. She’d never abandon her classes.”

  “Did you contact her?”

  “I sent her texts all morning. She never replied. During lunch hour, I drove past her house and saw her car in the driveway. I rang the doorbell. No answer. I worried maybe she’d hurt herself or gotten too sick to answer the door, so I called the police.”

  “What did they tell you?”

  “According to the detective I spoke with…Pinder?”

  “Detective Pinder, yes.”

  “He responded and searched the house. Ali wasn’t home. Then the detective came up with the ludicrous idea that Ali skipped out on her job and played hooky for the day. And left her car in the driveway? What kind of investigative work is that?”

  Darcy swallows her feelings about Detective Pinder.

  “Did Ms. Haynes have issues with anyone at the school?” Ketchum asks.

  “They didn’t listen to Ali enough to have a problem with her.”

  “What about boyfriends? Was she seeing anyone?”

  “No, but someone sent Ali flowers Tuesday. No card. I figured she had a mystery boyfriend.”

  Darcy shares a look with Ketchum.

  “Do you recall which florist the flowers came from?” Darcy asks.

  “It’s weird. The bouquet showed up in the main office with Ali’s name written beside it. The school requires visitors to check in. No delivery workers signed in that day.”

  “So it’s likely someone in the school left the flowers.”

  “I guess so.”

  “And Ali Haynes wasn’t seeing a coworker.”

  “It’s against school rules. Ali wouldn’t take the risk.”

  Ketchum scans through the case notes and pulls out a picture of Kealan Hart.

  “Do you recognize this man?”

  Annika angles the picture toward the light and narrows her eyes.

  “I’ve seen this guy around town. He’s a big shot, right?”

  “The mayor’s son. His name is Kealan Hart. Has he ever made advances toward Ali Haynes?”

  “Not that I know of.” The teacher scratches her forehead. “Now that I think about it, this Kealan Hart fellow was at a school assembly with his father during the spring.”

  “Hart came to the school?”

  “Yes. Some kind of fundraiser.”

  “Did he have any contact with Ali Haynes?”

  Annika’s eyes widen.

  “He must have. Ali served on the assembly committee last semester. She ensured guest speakers had everything they needed.”

  “Did Ali Haynes take the flowers home?” Ketchum asks.

  The teacher scrunches her face.

  “The secretary tossed the bouquet in the trash because the flowers had a spider infestation.”

  Spiders. This isn’t a coincidence.

  After Darcy and Ketchum finish interviewing Annika, Ketchum radios Chief Renfroe at the Smith Town PD. After a brief debate, the chief agrees to put surveillance on Kealan Hart’s residence.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Friday, September 18th

  9:15 p.m.

  Jennifer glares out the window so Julian won’t see her cry. How could she be so stupid? Hunter warned her about Sean Braden, and she should have known what Sean expected after he invited her up to his bedroom. She curses herself for trusting Sean when he promised they’d only kiss and watch the football game.

  Julian’s hands squeeze the life out of the steering wheel as he drives down the coast road. It took a lot of pleading before Jennifer convinced Julian not to bang on the Braden’s door and drag Sean out of his house. He wants to arrest the boy. That would amplify Jennifer’s humiliation. Everyone at school would hear the story. Sean didn’t rape Jennifer. He might have had she not fought him off, but she escaped his bedroom before the unthinkable happened.

  “I need to tell your mother,” he says, breaking the silence. “You understand that, right?”

  “Don’t tell Mom. She’ll freak out and make everything worse. I don’t want everyone finding out.”

  “You can’t let him get away with this. You remember what happened with Aaron Torres and his sister.”

  A shiver runs through Jennifer. How long did Aaron and Sam Tatum plan to rape Bethany?

  “If nobody stops this kid, he’ll do it again,” Julian says, shooting Jennifer a meaningful stare. “The next girl won’t be strong enough to fight him off.”

  He’s right. A black cloud blots out the moon and thickens the darkness around the car. For a horrifying moment, she pictures the house in the wilderness where Eric Stetson chained her to a furnace. In the gloom, she screams for Stetson to stop as he strangles the life out of Sandy Young. Jennifer will never purge the memory—Sandy’s frantic spasms as he cut off her airflow. Stetson forced Jennifer to watch. How did it begin for Eric Stetson? Did he rape girls during high school before he became a kidnapper and murderer? Sean might become another Aaron Torres or Eric Stetson.

  Jennifer won’t allow him to get away with this. She’ll deal with the boy on her own terms. She’s worked toward this moment since the Georgia abduction. Until now, she’s hidden it well. Locked her anger inside a dark room and thrown away the key. It’s time. Julian and Mom won’t understand, but this is something she needs to do.

  “I want you to talk to Cynthia,” Julian says, drawing Jennifer out of her thoughts.

  “Why should I talk with Cynthia?”

  “Because…” His mouth clamps shut. He doesn’t want to say too much. “She works with rape victims and she’s a good listener.”

  “Sean didn’t rape me.”

  He exhales.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer.” Surprised, she turns toward Julian. “Look, I don’t want to be a hard ass. This isn’t something you can brush under the rug. Cynthia will understand. More than you can imagine.”

  She stares at Julian while he focuses his attention on the road. Since he married Mom and moved in with them, Jennifer and Julian have become closer than she’d thought possible. He’s more than a father. He’s her protector, another big brother, a friend who has her back. Because they’re close, she’s learned to read him. From the way his jaw works back and forth, she knows he’s thinking about Sean. Planning to go after the boy and stop him from hurting anyone else. And there’s more to Cynthia’s story than he’s divulging.

  The night barrels toward the windshield. There’s just enough light to see the waves pounding the shore. Sparkling lights in the distance mark their neighborhood. Soon, she’ll be safe at home, locked inside her bedroom with her phone and computer to keep her company.

  Her nails dig into the upholstery. She stops before she tears a hole in the passenger seat. The door to her dark thoughts swings open. She’s inside Eric Stetson’s secret house again. Only this time, Stetson doesn’t own the house. Jennifer does. Pitiful screams carry from the bedroom. Chains clink and drag across the floor as her captor begs Jennifer to release him.

  Not this time, Sean. She’s sick of being the victim. It’s someone else’s turn to pay the price.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Friday, September 18th

  9:15 p.m.

  Ketchum and Darcy step from the SUV and cross the lawn outside Ali Haynes’s house. It’s a small two-story with yellow paint. The closest neighbor is too far away to hear a scream inside the house. Ketchum catches the crease in Darcy’s brow and pulls to a stop before the stoop.

  “What’s eating at you?”

  “Why would Kealan Hart murder two women and kidnap another?”

  “The breakup with Nadia. That’s his stressor.”

  “I’d believe it if he’d remained true to Nadia. He cheated on her. Or at least he tried to with Brit Ryan. Who knows how many women he propositioned while he dated Nadia?”

  Ketchum dr
ops his shoulders.

  “Five minutes ago, you were dead certain Kealan Hart kidnapped Haynes. Bava placed Hart inside the school last spring, and he met with the teacher.”

  Darcy rubs her chin.

  “And he stole the necklace out of Nadia’s bedroom.”

  “Don’t forget your theory about Hart sleeping in Nadia’s bed after she died.”

  Grief could explain Hart’s actions. Before Darcy works through the mystery, Ketchum lifts his chin at the security sign sticking out of the bushes along the house.

  “Gilmore Security Systems,” he says, moving toward the bushes for a better look. “Isn’t that the firm you hired?”

  “The same system Richard Chaney defeated to break into my house.”

  “I take it you don’t endorse Gilmore.”

  Darcy shrugs.

  “They make the best systems in North Carolina. Problem is, a smart criminal knows how to bypass any security system, and Chaney had an electronics background.”

  Ketchum paces the front of the house, examining the windows.

  “This place can’t be worth more than the faded paint job, and Haynes was in her second year of teaching. Can’t imagine she splurged on a security system. You figure the sign is a fake?”

  Shaking her head, Darcy tilts her head toward the second floor.

  “Mine is state-of-the-art, but Gilmore sells entry level systems. They’re not expensive. Even a high-tech system costs less than three-hundred, and you can get the monthly fee down to ten or fifteen, if you’re only interested in the basics.”

  “So the system should have warned Haynes. How did this guy break in?”

  Darcy taps her finger against her cheek.

  “I’ve never seen a security system that covered the second-floor windows unless there was an access point, like stairs or a ladder.”

  Darcy rounds the house as Ketchum rushes to catch up to her. The grass grows past her shins in the backyard. A tiny porch sits off the back door, and a light shines over the stove inside the kitchen. Scanning the ground, she searches for imprints, a sign the killer set a ladder in the grass and climbed through a window.