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

by Dan Padavona

  “What do you intend to do about Anthony Fisher?”

  Gray rocked back in his chair.

  “He delivered the box. I can’t release him until we’re certain he didn’t know about the contents.” The sheriff brushed his mustache. “This murder is gang related. I can feel it in my bones.”

  “The Kings don’t have any white members,” Lambert said.

  “Then we should focus on the Royals and Troy Dean.”

  Thomas scratched his chin.

  “Why would the Royals murder their own prostitute? A pretty woman like Erika Windrow must bring in a lot of money.”

  “What if she shorted the Royals on cash and owed them?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  Gray rapped his knuckles on the desk.

  “Follow that path. Link the 315 Royals to the murder and find out who had motive to kill Erika Windrow.”

  Thomas edged the door shut and stared at Lambert. The deputy threw his hands up in frustration.

  “I’ll talk to Fisher again,” said Lambert. “But it seems he would have told us if a Royals gang member paid him to send the box. Why would he cover for a sworn enemy?”

  “I don’t understand it, either.”

  As Lambert wandered back to the cell, Thomas’s phone rang. He was about to call Naomi again. Relief flooded his body when he read his neighbor’s name on the screen.

  “Naomi, I called you earlier.”

  “The killer is watching us right now.”

  With the phone clamped between his ear and shoulder, Thomas opened Gray’s door and motioned the sheriff to follow.

  “The killer is near your house? Can you see him now?”

  Gray’s eyes widened. He mouthed, “Mourning?”

  Thomas nodded and held up a thumb. While Gray fastened the holster and straightened his hat, Thomas wrote everything Naomi told him. This was their chance to catch the madman before he escaped. His priority was keeping Naomi and Scout safe, but even driving at twice the speed limit, Thomas wouldn’t reach the lake for ten minutes.

  “Get inside, lock the house, and don’t answer the door for anyone you don’t know. I’m calling Ranger Holt. We’ll be there soon.”

  His body thrummed with tension. The killer targeted Scout and posted the video for the world to see, an open challenge to the sheriff’s department. As Gray and Thomas hurried to the cruiser, Thomas phoned Darren. The ranger was at his cabin and could reach the Mourning residence in five minutes. Gray called Aguilar from the car and told the deputy to meet them at the lake.

  The trip took less than ten minutes. To Thomas, it seemed like hours before the cruiser pulled into the Mourning’s driveway. Darren opened the door as Gray and Thomas approached.

  “Did you see anyone along the lake?” Thomas asked.

  “Nobody,” Darren said.

  Thomas found Naomi and Scout in the living room, the girl’s face pallid and shocked, Naomi seated on the edge of the couch with her face buried in her hands.

  “Tell us what happened,” Thomas said as Gray moved from window to window, peeking through the curtains.

  Naomi had been in the yard, tidying the guest house windows while Scout sat near the lake shore. The Virtual Searchers forum posted the link as soon as the killer uploaded the file. The forum administrator ran a routine which searched the internet for files uploaded under the Max Cady and ScorchedEarth666 sock puppet accounts. After the admin received an alert and noticed Scout’s name in the title, he realized the killer was recording the girl.

  “All right,” Thomas said. “You’re safe now, but I need to see the video.”

  Naomi retrieved her laptop. As the recording played, Thomas focused on the shooting angle. He waved Darren over and turned the screen toward the ranger.

  “Does it look to you like he’s shooting from Mrs. Kimble’s yard?”

  Darren bent closer and narrowed his eyes.

  “From the trees, yes. Look at the top left of the screen. There’s a blue spot where the water reflects off the lens. He was close to the shore.”

  Another vehicle pulled along the shoulder, and Thomas spotted Deputy Aguilar striding toward the ramp as Gray opened the front door. After they briefed Gray and Aguilar on the killer’s position, the sheriff took the deputy outside to search Mrs. Kimble’s property.

  “Any way to track this guy from the upload?” Darren asked.

  Thomas shook his head.

  “The video will tell us where and when he uploaded the file. But he’s using assumed names, and so far we haven’t linked the sock puppet accounts to an actual person.”

  Outside, Gray discovered a shoe print among the trees and called the forensics team. The print location aligned with the video angle.

  “It isn’t safe here,” Naomi said, shivering as she cupped her arms. “I’m taking Scout to her father’s house in Ithaca.”

  Thomas eyed Gray, who shook his head.

  “I don’t recommend you do that,” said Thomas. “You’re safe with the sheriff’s department watching over you.”

  “You can’t be two places at once, and it’s a small department.”

  “I’m off work through the weekend, and I’m not leaving you alone. Let’s get you out of the house. I have a guest room upstairs at my place. No sense in you being alone now that the killer recorded Scout.”

  “I don’t know,” Naomi said, dropping her gaze to the floor. She sniffed and brushed a tear off her face. “We outfitted our house with ramps, and you can’t get Scout’s wheelchair up the stairs.”

  “That’s nothing we can’t work out. The important thing is I move you to a different location and protect you. My house is defensible.”

  “Is it? He broke into your house too.”

  He tapped his holster.

  “I’ll be ready if he tries again.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Savory scents wafted through the A-frame’s kitchen as Naomi stirred a pot of beef stew. Thomas offered to cook or order food. Naomi refused and said she’d lose her mind if she didn’t stay busy. Now Uncle Truman’s former house smelled like the good old days, Aunt Louise and Uncle Truman hosting Thomas for the weekend, the boats passing by outside the windows. Then he’d felt secure, shielded from the world. Thomas didn’t trust the memories. Nobody was safe until they caught the killer.

  The last rays of the sun vanished behind the western hills. Red spilled across the lake’s placid waters.

  Thomas lowered the phone and leaned against the counter while Naomi added a dash of salt. He’d just talked to Gray at the office. The forensics team confirmed the shoe print matched a print taken behind the A-frame. Meanwhile, Lambert worked overtime and studied the video for anything they missed. Aguilar was in Harmon, coordinating with the city police department and questioning the prostitutes again.

  Scout sat in her wheelchair beside the kitchen table. The girl hadn’t spoken in hours, and Thomas could see the terror scuttling on spider’s legs beneath the girl’s skin. With Darren’s help, he’d carried Scout and the wheelchair up the deck stairs and into the house. When this nightmare was over, he’d knock down the steps and add a ramp. He wanted Scout and Naomi to visit and never worry about accommodations.

  After the frantic afternoon, Scout had forgotten her phone charger inside her bedroom. Now her phone battery was dead, and it was obvious the girl wanted to access the internet and read the Virtual Searchers forum.

  “Take it as a blessing,” Naomi told Scout as she lowered the burner flame. “The last thing you should do is read the sleuthing website. That’s how all this trouble started.”

  Scout turned her head and bit back an argument as an idea occurred to Thomas. By studying the killer’s videos, they’d discovered he was Caucasian and lived in Harmon. The killer was careful, but he’d slipped up more than once. This was their best chance to catch him.

  “Naomi, I’d like your permission to bring Scout into the investigation.”

  Suddenly awake, Scout glanced between Thomas and
her mother. Naomi’s mouth dropped open.

  “I don’t like the sound of this. How would Scout assist you?”

  Thomas studied the girl, astonished by the inquisitiveness lighting her eyes.

  “Scout drew the killer’s attention because she came so close to catching him. She has ways to track this guy we haven’t thought of.”

  “I’m not comfortable with Scout talking to people she’s never met. Do you really believe half the members on that forum are teenagers? They might be adults…or anyone.”

  “Exactly.” When Scout glanced at Thomas, he folded his arms. “What do you know about this friend of yours?”

  “You mean Harpy?”

  “Tell me about her.”

  Naomi set the spoon down and turned her attention to her daughter. Scout shrugged.

  “There’s not much to say. She’s about my age, and she’s the most active member on the forum.”

  “Where does she live?”

  “I never asked. She mentioned snow in January the same weekend we had a storm, so I figured she lives in the northeast.”

  “Does Harpy know you live in Wolf Lake?” Scout licked her lips. “Be honest.”

  “Yes.”

  Naomi exhaled and said, “I told you never to divulge your name or location on that forum.”

  “It was only Harpy,” Scout said, picking at her shirt. The girl couldn’t decide what to do with her hands. “And I didn’t give her my name.”

  Thomas tapped his foot and considered his options.

  “Sheriff Gray is useless with technology, and Deputy Aguilar hasn’t returned from Harmon yet. But Deputy Lambert knows his way around computers, and he’s searching the forum now.” Thomas glanced at Naomi. “What if we contacted the Virtual Searchers website for Harpy’s identity?”

  Naomi scrunched her brow.

  “Do you have the technology?”

  “If the sleuthing forum provides Harpy’s IP address, I can trace her location.”

  They were both staring at Scout now. The girl’s fingers curled around the chair arms.

  “You’re asking me to betray a friend. She’ll never forgive me.”

  “The greater risk is Harpy isn’t who she claims to be.”

  Thomas bore his eyes into the her until Scout recognized the danger.

  “All right. Do what you need to do.”

  “I’ll call Lambert and have him track down the forum’s contact information. In the meantime, I’d like Scout to show me how she tracked the killer’s sock puppet accounts.” Thomas stared at Naomi. “If you approve.”

  Naomi chewed a nail.

  “I’ll allow it.”

  Thomas retrieved his laptop from upstairs and set it on the kitchen table. Pulling a chair beside Scout as Naomi stood on tiptoe and peeked over their shoulders, Thomas unlocked his screen and turned the computer to Scout. The girl’s fingers raced across the keyboard as Thomas studied her technique. She opened an application unfamiliar to Thomas. After she retrieved images from the animal murder recordings, Scout dragged the pictures into the application. Similar images filled the screen. Most were false positives, but three originated from the guinea pig video. Half the images came from Max Cady, the remaining portion from ScorchedEarth666.

  “This is how I linked the sock puppet accounts,” Scout said, pointing out matching images.

  “How did you determine the second account wasn’t just a fan uploading the killer’s pictures?”

  “The EXIF data. All these images came from Harmon around the same time. Basically between December and February.”

  Thomas rested his chin on his fist.

  “What if you searched for images from ScorchedEarth666?”

  “I already did that. That’s how I found the table top reflection of his hands.”

  Thomas figured the killer hid behind additional user names.

  “And did you pull that picture into your application?”

  Scout scrunched her face.

  “No, I didn’t think of that.”

  “Give it a try.”

  Naomi pulled a chair beside the table and watched her daughter work. She appeared taken aback by Scout’s knowledge. Until now, she’d seen the investigations as a hobby. Now she appreciated Scout’s knowledge, recognized what her daughter could become with the proper guidance and training.

  Five rows of six images, thirty photographs in all, filled the application’s window. Thomas leaned forward and studied each image. Most were Halloween-themed pictures of skulls, not identical to the original image. Three rows down, his eyes stopped. Scout tapped her finger against the screen.

  “It’s the same skull image,” Scout said. “But ScorchedEarth666 didn’t upload this photograph.”

  “Who did?”

  Scout clicked on the picture. The right side of the screen filled with data.

  “RoyalsNY2. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Was the killer a member of the 315 Royals as Gray theorized?

  “Maybe. Search his account. What else has he uploaded?”

  Scout’s fingers flew across the keyboard, her eyes alive from the hunt.

  Three pages of pictures loaded. Scout handed Thomas the mouse, and he scrolled through the rows.

  “What are you looking for?” Naomi asked, her hand set on the back of his chair.

  “These photographs date back two years.” Thomas loaded a second page of pictures. “I’m searching for anything that tells me who this guy is.”

  “They’re just random photos. It’s like he got bored in his apartment and recorded anything he saw.”

  Thomas recognized the desk. This was the same room where he’d photographed the skull and surrounded Erika Windrow’s head with candles.

  A random photograph of the door and wall, taken at a sharp, tilted angle. A cracked and stained ceiling, photographed from carpet level.

  “Wait, what’s that,” Scout said when Thomas enlarged another wall shot.

  She tapped her finger against a curtained window. In the distance, red letters glimmered atop a high-rise. Thomas couldn’t read the blurred letters. But he knew what they spelled.

  Thomas copied the photograph and sent it to Lambert at the office.

  “That’s the First National Bank of Harmon.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Full dark bled down the bedroom window. Thomas was uncomfortable leaving Scout and Naomi alone downstairs. But he couldn’t coordinate with Harmon PD with his neighbors in the same room and eavesdropping on the investigation. Fifteen minutes from now, Deputy Aguilar, who’d worked since late morning and needed a break, would arrive to watch over Naomi and Scout. Thomas would take her place in the field.

  His laptop displayed a Google Maps view of Harmon, centered on the First National Bank. Detective Barnes, a gruff sounding man with a baritone voice, worked on the other end of the line. Thomas heard the man typing at his terminal.

  “He shot the picture from at least ten floors up,” Thomas told Barnes.

  “I’ve got four high-rise apartment buildings within a one-mile radius of The First National Bank.”

  Thomas scribbled the addresses as Barnes read them off. He plugged each into the search bar and viewed the bank from their locations. The first three apartment buildings had six, five, and eight floors, respectively.

  “No, he’s higher up.”

  Barnes exhaled.

  “All right. Try Bellview Apartments on Main.”

  Thomas entered the location. Bellview Apartments had sixteen floors, tall enough to match the angle in the photograph. But something was wrong. He switched the view to a three-dimensional image. Panning around the screen, he located the bank. The red letters shone atop the building, but they were backward.

  “No good. This view is on the west side of the bank, but the picture was taken from the east.”

  “Those are the apartment complexes within a mile of the bank that meet your criteria.”

  “Expand the radius. Give it another half-mile.” />
  An irritated groan. Barnes went quiet as he pulled up a new list of apartment buildings.

  “Try the complex at 46 Tasker Boulevard. The building sits east-southeast of the bank.”

  Thomas entered the new coordinates. The angle and distance looked right.

  “That has to be the building.”

  “Trouble is, the complex has fourteen floors and two hundred tenants. How in the hell will you narrow it down?”

  Shuffling his papers, Thomas grabbed the description of the man Anthony Fisher met. He read it back to Barnes.

  “That sound like anyone you know?”

  “It doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “Which of your detectives covers the 315 Royals?”

  “We all do.” Barnes grumbled. “But Detective Edwards knows the Royals better than anyone.”

  “Is Detective Edwards in tonight?”

  “She’s out on a call.”

  “Patch me through to her. It’s urgent.”

  Barnes wasn’t happy. He hadn’t met Thomas and didn’t appreciate a county deputy acting like he ran point on a Harmon gang case. Thomas waited on hold for three minutes, the phone dead quiet as if he’d lost the connection. He was ready to hang up and call back when Detective Edwards answered.

  “Good evening, Detective Edwards. This is Deputy Thomas Shepherd with the Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department. I understand you cover 315 Royals activity.”

  “Among other things, including the Kings. What are you looking for?”

  “I’m searching for a Royals member who meets the following description. It could be a former member, someone the new recruits wouldn’t recognize.”

  Thomas read the description.

  After a pause, Edwards said, “Shit. That sounds like Jeremy Hyde.”

  Thomas tore a sheet off his memo pad and wrote the name.

  “Is Hyde currently in the Royals?”

  “No. Hyde ran with the Royals two years ago, but didn’t stick. The guy was a loose cannon. He did six months for assaulting a woman in the Target parking lot. Grabbed her by the throat and pinned her against a car. Two workers pulled Hyde off the woman and phoned the police after he ran off.”