Her Last Breath: A Chilling Psychological Thriller (Wolf Lake Thriller Book 1)

by Dan Padavona

  “You shouldn’t watch it. Does your mother know you saw the murder?”

  “No. And please don’t tell her.”

  “I realize I just met you and your mother. But I’m obligated to tell her if I’m worried about you. And I am.”

  “I looked away during the bad parts. And anyway, this isn’t about the video. Someone drove down the road earlier, and he slowed when he passed our houses.”

  “ A good detective doesn’t jump to conclusions. What makes you think it was the man who threw the body into the lake? Yes, it’s true some killers return to crime scenes. But the murder didn’t occur at the lake.”

  She sighed and wrung her hands.

  “Maybe you’re right. But the person who drove past scared me.”

  “Did you recognize the car?”

  “It wasn’t anybody who lives around here. I can’t get around much, so I spend too much time watching people drive past. I’ve probably memorized every vehicle on this road.”

  What if Scout saw LeVar Hopkins? Darren Holt claimed Hopkins canvassed this road multiple times in recent days.

  “If I showed you a picture of the vehicle, would you recognize it?”

  “Yes.”

  Thomas dug his phone out of his pocket. He called up the photograph of LeVar Hopkins driving past the Wolf Lake Inn. Then he reconsidered. If Scout was picking faces out of a book of convicted criminals, he’d display several photographs and force her to choose the correct picture. He opened a browser and searched for black sedans. A myriad of choices filled his screen.

  “Is this the car?” he asked, showing her a black Lincoln.

  She raised the phone to her face and shook her head.

  “Not that one.”

  He swiped to a different car, and she gave him the same answer. After he showed her five different vehicles, he found a black Chrysler Limited on a used car site.

  “All right. How about this one?”

  Her eyes lit.

  “That looks like the car. But there’s something different about it.”

  Could be LeVar drove an older model. He showed her the photograph of LeVar’s Limited.

  “That’s it. That’s the one!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Jeremy Hyde sat inside the Chevrolet Trax and watched the deputy push the disabled girl down the shoulder. With night thickening by the minute, he harbored no fear they’d see him. The SUV slumbered below the shoulder amid the forest, the grill angled toward the road. When they crossed in front of him, goosebumps spread over his body. If he twisted the ignition and punched the accelerator, he’d crush the deputy and girl and leave them to die. They wouldn’t have time to escape.

  The little bitch wanted to catch him. How amusing.

  Jeremy had taken an interest in the mother. Her name was Naomi Mourning, and she lived alone with the girl. The information proved simple to find on the internet. Watching her from the trees Sunday night increased his hunger to kill again. But his focus shifted to the girl now. He frequented the same teen investigation forum. He found it easy to hide behind an anonymous user name and profile picture. He hid among them. An insurgent. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  The wonderful thing about teens was they couldn’t keep their mouths shut. It wasn’t a surprise the girl in the wheelchair gave herself away. Though she hid her name online, she revealed she lived in Wolf Lake and had seen the body on the shore. What was that saying about loose lips and sinking ships?

  His hand moved to the serrated survival knife on his hip. He stroked the hilt. A part of him wanted to slip out of the vehicle and follow them down the road. The dark would hide him until it was too late. He’d drag the blade across the cop’s throat first and let him bleed out on the shoulder. Did she believe a false hero would save him?

  Jeremy pulled a camera off the seat and zoomed in on the girl. Click-click. Then he focused on the deputy and snapped another picture.

  You could find anything on the internet these days. Not only had he learned the deputy’s back story with the LAPD, he’d discovered the daughter of his red-hot neighbor was the same girl tracking him on the forum. This was perfect. Three birds, one stone.

  They were easy to track and kill because they were so predictable. The only surprise was how much these people cared about the teenage whore. Since when did society give a damn when a worthless hooker died? His body quivered with amusement. The deputy, the media, the so-called amateur sleuths all wondered what he’d done with the head. In two days, the world would learn.

  Now the deputy pushed the girl too far down the road for him to see. The windows misted over. A heavy fog would form overnight, allowing him to creep unseen to both of their doorsteps and kill them all. Would tonight be the night, or would Jeremy toy with his prey?

  He started the engine and crawled out of hiding. Instead of following the deputy and girl through the darkness, he turned right and headed for Naomi Mourning’s house.

  Play time was over.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The fog didn’t burn off until ten o’clock Wednesday morning. Puffy clouds against a sea-blue backdrop hinted at afternoon storms as Thomas rode shotgun in the cruiser. Tristam Lambert, working a quick turnaround—an evening shift followed by a day shift—navigated the cruiser out of Wolf Lake and toward Harmon.

  “Does Harmon PD realize we’re searching for LeVar Hopkins?” Thomas asked, clamping a travel mug of coffee between his thighs.

  The tall deputy scratched behind his ear.

  “Yep. They have two patrol units keeping an eye out for LeVar. Someone will see him.”

  The properties became stunted and rundown as they approached Harmon. Then they merged onto the highway, and the buildings rose before them like alien giants. Traffic choked the roads, reminding Thomas of Los Angeles. He didn’t miss sitting in traffic for hours just to drive ten miles.

  “The Royals run this section of the city,” Lambert said, pointing toward a row of abandoned buildings covered by graffiti. “The Harmon Kings are moving in on their territory, taking one bloody piece at a time.”

  Harmon had gang issues when Thomas grew up in Wolf Lake, but nothing like this.

  “I checked the statistics. There were seven homicides linked to Harmon gang activity last year, up from five the year before. That’s a forty percent increase.”

  “Harmon rivals the big northeast cities for gang-related murders. It gets worse every year.” Lambert drove with one hand on the wheel and ate a roast beef sandwich with the other. “Which is why I live in Wolf Lake. How’s the village treating you since you returned?”

  Besides a grisly murder and the news his father was dying from lung cancer?

  “Every village has its issues, but I’ll like it better than Los Angeles. Deputy Aguilar tells me you grew up in Minnesota.”

  He nodded.

  “Another small town, minus the lake and wealth.”

  “Did you always want to be a police officer?”

  A memory pulled a grin out of Lambert.

  “Nah. I had it in my head that I’d play professional football. I was pretty good in high school. Then I hit college, and I wasn’t the biggest and strongest guy on the team anymore. That was my wake up call. I quit school my sophomore year and joined the army, did a few tours overseas, and pursued a law enforcement career after I got out.”

  “How did you end up in Wolf Lake?”

  The deputy shrugged.

  “A buddy from my army days sent me the job listing. He lives on the north end of the county and has a wife and three kids.” Lambert fiddled with the radio. “Luck brought me to Wolf Lake, but the village grew on me. I prefer living where neighbors know each other.”

  “The village has a lot of history and tradition.”

  Lambert swallowed the last of his sandwich and gave Thomas a playful slap on the shoulder.

  “Speaking of tradition, are you going to the Magnolia Dance Friday night?”

  A flood of memories rushed at Thomas. Every April,
the village closed off three blocks in the center of town. Local musicians played on a stage, and everyone came out to dance. The locals considered the Magnolia Dance more romantic than Valentine’s Day. It marked the beginning of true spring in Wolf Lake and began the march toward summer. He hadn’t attended the dance since high school when Thomas took Chelsey. His throat constricted when he pictured her, a pink magnolia tucked behind her ear. His father drove them to the dance.

  “I forgot about the celebration.”

  “Yeah, right. You should go. That’s your best chance to meet someone.”

  Thomas set his elbow on the sill and rested his chin on his palm.

  “The Magnolia Dance isn’t for me. Besides, I’ve only been back a week, and I can’t go alone. I don’t know anyone my age outside the office.”

  “Take Aguilar.”

  Thomas felt a jolt run through him. He tried to picture the muscle-bound deputy in a dress and failed miserably.

  “I don’t believe Deputy Aguilar would attend a dance with me.”

  “Why not? She went stag last April and giggled at the drunk people. Said it was the best time she had all year.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Think about it. Who else could you take and have no pressure? It’s not like she’s interested in hooking up. So you go together, nobody feels awkward, and you search the faces for someone you want to meet. You never can predict when lightning will strike.”

  Scratching his chin, Thomas glanced at Lambert.

  “What about you? Who are you going with?”

  “I’ll be on shift.”

  “How convenient.”

  “Gray has me working the dance, so I’ll keep an eye on the two of you. Don’t get out of line, and there won’t be any trouble.”

  Thomas tapped his feet.

  “You’re not taking no for an answer, are you?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “All right. I’ll ask Deputy Aguilar.”

  How the heck would he approach Aguilar? He imagined the conversation.

  “Hey, we just met a few days ago. But how about you and I make a date for the most romantic celebration of the year?”

  Yeah, it sounded ridiculous.

  Lambert glanced across the seats.

  “I have to say, before Gray told us, I’d never have guessed you had…” Lambert coughed into his hand as Thomas stared straight ahead. “That didn’t sound as bad inside my head.”

  “You don’t need to apologize. I’ve lived with Asperger’s my entire life. It’s a mild case.”

  “How do you want to handle this?” Lambert asked, desperate to change the subject. He took the exit ramp into the heart of the city. “If we find LeVar Hopkins, he won’t sit down and have a peaceful conversation with us.”

  “I’d like LeVar to tell us why he spends so much time in Wolf Lake.”

  “Was there another sighting?”

  Thomas bit a thumbnail.

  “My neighbor’s daughter, the teenager in the wheelchair I told you about, saw a black Chrysler Limited crawl past her house yesterday.”

  “Crawled past her house, or past yours?”

  “That’s a good point.”

  “Could be he’s scoping out the new deputy in town, wondering if you’ll get in his way.”

  “This rumor that the Kings traffic drugs across the lake seems far-fetched. There has to be another reason he hangs around the shore.”

  “Yeah, so he can dump bodies after dark.”

  The cruiser stopped at a traffic light. A bearded homeless man in a drab sports coat and high-top sneakers staggered to the passenger door with an open hand. Thomas dug into his wallet.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Lambert said. “He’ll just take it to buy booze. And don’t make eye contact.”

  “It’s no problem.” Thomas unrolled the window and handed the man a ten-dollar bill. “Buy yourself something with nutritious value.”

  “I will, sir…officer. And God bless you.”

  The light changed, and Lambert directed the cruiser down a side street lined with vape shops and adult magazine stores. When they passed an alleyway with a rusty green garbage container, the deputy turned his head and slammed the brakes. Thomas braced his arms against the dash, then reached for his gun.

  “What happened?”

  “It’s him. LeVar took off down the alley.”

  Thomas glanced past Lambert as a black teenager with dreadlocks shot down the alleyway and took a sharp right. He opened the door and hopped out.

  “I’ll go after LeVar. Circle around and cut off his escape route.”

  Tires squealed. Thomas crossed behind the cruiser and held up a hand as a sports car skidded to a halt. He squeezed between two parked sedans, hopped the curb, and sprinted down the alley. A rotten meat scent spilled out of the garbage container. Rats picked at chicken bones on the broken macadam.

  His arms and legs pumped. Thomas knew Lambert had the best chance of catching LeVar. Though he kept in shape, Thomas couldn’t outrun an eighteen-year-old with a sprinter physique. But as he followed the gang member’s route, Thomas was shocked to see LeVar two hundred feet ahead. He’d gained on the boy. A surge of adrenaline shot through his body. LeVar looked over his shoulder, spotted Thomas, and ran faster. At the end of another alleyway, the teen stopped when the cruiser screeched to a halt, blocking his escape route. The boy turned on a dime and cut past a row of brownstone apartments. Thomas pointed in the direction LeVar ran, and Lambert threw the cruiser into reverse.

  Chain-link fences guarded the apartments. An elderly white woman with a cigarette dangling between her lips eyed him from the steps. When Thomas asked which direction LeVar ran, the woman turned her head and took a long drag on the cigarette. The clamor of a metal trash can toppling caught Thomas’s attention. He raced toward the noise as LeVar, who’d fallen, dragged himself up and limped toward an abandoned warehouse. Boards covered half the windows. The open windows were soulless eyes peering out at the city. When LeVar kicked through a doorway, Thomas raised the radio to his lips.

  “Lambert, he’s inside a warehouse on the corner of Greenbriar and State.”

  “Roger that. Backup is on the way.”

  Sirens howled inside the city. His chest heaving, Thomas drew his weapon and plunged inside the warehouse. Dust motes swam through shafts of light. Vermin droppings covered the floor, and the warehouse smelled like urine and vomit. Two doorways stood closed to his left and right. Another door hung open straight ahead. It led down a dark hallway. His heart pounded as he listened.

  Footfalls thumped at the end of the hall before another door slammed. Thomas radioed to Lambert again and hurried toward the hallway. Insulation and spiderwebs hung from the ceiling, and missing ceiling tiles revealed rusted pipes and frayed wires. His shoe crunched on a piece of glass. Two hypodermic needles lay amid the trash. Another door opened and closed inside the warehouse. The sirens drew closer, though it was impossible to gauge their distance inside the rundown labyrinth.

  Thomas crossed a storage room littered with decaying cardboard boxes. Reams of paper drifted like phantoms as the wind crawled through the building. He’d lost LeVar. Lambert and local backup might catch the teenager if they blocked the exits. But that wouldn’t stop LeVar from leaping out a broken window and sprinting down another alley.

  A noise on the other side of a closed door brought Thomas to a stop. He placed his back against the wall and waited, one hand edging toward the cobweb-covered doorknob. A floorboard squealed from the next room.

  Drawing a breath, Thomas reached for the door and spun through the entryway with the Glock raised.

  The gun barrel pushed against his back. His vision clouded as the phantom of a gunshot wound from six months ago clawed at his insides. He heard the blast of the gun, then frantic yells as the task force hit the ground.

  “Freeze!”

  A woman’s voice. Thomas lowered his weapon and glanced over his shoulder.

  Chelsey Byrd fixed her gun o
n him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Shit!”

  Chelsey stuffed the pistol into her holster.

  “Chelsey? What are you doing here?”

  “I should ask you the same question.”

  Chelsey wore a black leather jacket, blue jeans, and running sneakers. She was better dressed to chase a fleeing suspect than Thomas. At the far end of the building, a window shattered.

  “Dammit,” Chelsey said, pacing the room. “I lost him.”

  “Why are you chasing LeVar Hopkins?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “This badge says it is my business. LeVar Hopkins is a suspect in the Wolf Lake murder. You shouldn’t be here, and it’s illegal to interfere in a county investigation.”

  She sniffed.

  “Back for one week, and you already run the place.”

  “What’s your stake in this, Chelsey? You realize how dangerous this part of Harmon is.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Are you certain? What if I was LeVar, or a member of the Kings?”

  “Then I would have squeezed the trigger. Don’t act like I can’t take care of myself, Thomas. I got the jump on you.”

  He opened his mouth to argue and bit his lip. She was right.

  “Let’s start over. My partner and I spotted LeVar a few blocks east of the warehouse, and I chased him inside. Why are you after LeVar?”

  Chelsey set a hand on her hip and stared at the open ceiling tiles in frustration. She fished inside her leather jacket, removed a white card, and handed it to Thomas. He turned the card over in his hand and stared.

  Chelsey Byrd

  Private Investigator

  Wolf Lake Consulting

  “You’re a private investigator?”

  She squared her shoulders.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Wolf Lake Consulting. Wait, I just met someone from Wolf Lake Consulting. Raven?”

  Chelsey took the card back and stuffed it inside her wallet.

  “She’s my partner, yes. How do you know Raven?”