Little Girls Sleeping: An absolutely gripping crime thriller

by Jennifer Chase

  “Let’s clear the rest of the property,” ordered McGaven. He pulled at Katie’s arm, making her avert her eyes from the threat. “Now!” he insisted.

  Katie managed to blink and direct her attention back to the search. McGaven turned to check on her as he made his way to the sliding doors leading outside.

  Cautiously he slid them open. Katie moved through after him and stepped into the backyard, where the large dog run was located. She looked for Cisco but didn’t see him anywhere. Her mind settled into the unthinkable, but she struggled to move forward, to convince herself that she would find him safe.

  McGaven kept his back close to the house and continued to clear areas, alert and ready for anything.

  Katie did the same on the other side. There was no sign of anyone—or Cisco. Overwhelming grief began to take hold of her. After everything she and Cisco had been through, now a killer was stalking her wanting to take revenge on her dog. This couldn’t be happening.

  She returned to the back exit of the house and, leaning against the siding, slid down to the ground. She was done. All her energy rushed out of her.

  McGaven joined her at the doors. He was in the middle of a cell-phone call requesting police and backup.

  Katie sat on the ground with her head in her hands.

  McGaven finished his call. “We don’t know. There’s no evidence that something went bad here.”

  She looked up at him. He had no idea what she had been through, and probably wouldn’t understand even if he knew.

  She sat for another five minutes.

  A dog barked in the distance.

  Katie looked at McGaven with hope.

  The barking became louder, and there was no doubt now that it was the deep bark of a German shepherd.

  Katie stood up. “Cisco!”

  Within twenty seconds, the large black dog crashed through the bushes, running as fast as he could to get to Katie. He knocked her to the ground with licks and whines. “Cisco,” she whispered, unable to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks.

  “Is he okay?” asked McGaven.

  Katie checked all over the dog’s body but couldn’t see any visible injuries. “I think he’s alright.” She continued to kiss and hug him.

  “I wonder if he bit the intruder?” The deputy gestured to the saliva around the dog’s mouth.

  She pondered on the likelihood. “Can we take a swab of his mouth for DNA?”

  McGaven kneeled down to pet the dog. “I don’t know.”

  “It’s worth a try. I’ll text John and ask him.” She began composing her text.

  McGaven smiled at her.

  “What?” she said.

  “John, huh?”

  She made a face at him. “He said to call him that. What’s the big deal?”

  “Nothing. He’s not married, you know…” He continued to smile.

  Katie hugged Cisco close to her, relieved that nothing had happened to him. There were many questions that needed answers: Who was the intruder? Why was Cisco outside? And what was the primary motive for the break-in? Unfortunately, she knew the answer to that one.

  Sirens approached in the distance.

  Thirty-Seven

  Katie was instructed to hold the swab stick firm and keep it in Cisco’s mouth for forty-five seconds, petting him the entire time. She made sure that she moved the stick around the dog’s cheeks and gums to pick up anything of significance.

  “You’re such a good boy, Cisco,” she praised.

  She put the swab stick into a tube and sealed the top. It was headed to the forensic lab for testing for blood or anything foreign that might identify the intruder. It was a long shot, but no clue was overlooked.

  “Wow, a real military hero,” said Jamie as he took the tube and put it into the chain of custody with the rest of the evidence from Katie’s house.

  “He definitely saved my life on several occasions,” said Katie, petting the dog energetically.

  She stayed out of the way as the team of professionals went to work. Someone had been inside her home, her sanctuary—her parents’ house, where she was raised. It angered her as much as it chilled her. He’d torn things up, touched her personal belongings, and spent time looking around.

  The CSI team had completed their search of the property. Nothing tangible had come to light, but it was obvious that the front door had been pried open with a special type of tool—not an ordinary screwdriver or crowbar.

  Katie waited patiently with Cisco in the one area of the living room that hadn’t been trashed. Cisco’s ears were poised and alert, waiting for anything out of the ordinary. He seemed to be more protective of Katie than usual.

  She watched her uncle checking that everyone did their job correctly. He moved with purpose and gave orders to the patrol officer to make sure they didn’t miss anything in the surrounding properties’ searches.

  McGaven assisted John, pointing out their route and the evidence discovered.

  Several patrol officers kept watch at the front of the house, while others searched the back couple of acres and spoke with neighbors to find out whether they had seen or heard anything.

  The daylight had dwindled and it had turned dark outside, making Katie feel vulnerable. She swallowed more than necessary, trying to keep the familiar creeping anxiety at bay while not showing to others that something was terribly wrong. An overwhelming sense of vertigo reared its ugly head, causing her vision to distort and the hush of conversations all around her to appear jumbled. She hated that sensation more than anything else.

  She pulled her legs up onto the sofa as Cisco made himself comfortable next to her. Vivid thoughts and images held her mind hostage. The broken lock on the front door. The message sprayed on the wall in her private room. Knowing that someone had spent time inside her house, destroying her things and leaving such an evil message, socked her in the gut.

  “Katie?” John stood in front of her holding several evidence bags. His expression was solemn; it was clear that he was extremely concerned. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, fine.” She tried to smile.

  “I think we’re done here. I wanted to apologize…”

  “Apologize? For what?” she asked.

  “I had Jamie and Don dust for prints all around your office, since that was where the perpetrator spent a lot of the time. There’s black dusting powder left behind. We don’t have time to clean it up right now.”

  “Oh,” said Katie. She figured she would have to clean the walls anyway and repaint. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “There wasn’t a lot of evidence left behind; we’ll see what we can come up with at the lab. I’ll let you know anything we find that might help.”

  “Thank you,” she managed to say.

  The forensic supervisor hesitated, and then said, “I couldn’t help but read your flow charts and profiling for the investigation. Pretty impressive work, Detective Scott.”

  “I guess the person who broke in here doesn’t share your opinion,” she said.

  He chuckled. “I guess you’re right. Take care of yourself, and I hope you’re staying somewhere else tonight.”

  Katie smiled as she watched him leave through the open front door and walk to the forensics van. He looked back once toward the house.

  “He’s right,” said Sheriff Scott.

  “About?”

  “Your presentation of the investigation details was quite impressive.”

  Katie remained quiet, thinking about how she was going to proceed now. Her concentration was shattered, and she would have to watch her back until the killer was apprehended. This new burden was almost too much for her to manage.

  “You’re not staying here tonight,” her uncle said.

  “I’ll be fine. Nobody is coming back tonight. Not after this big show of cops.” She tried to make it sound like it was not a big deal, when in fact it was terrifying. The house felt like a haunted shell.

  “I’ve already talked to Claire and she’s made up t
he spare room for you and Cisco,” he said adamantly. “A couple of days of rest should be in order as well.”

  “There’s no way I can take time off. I have work to do. Dena Matthews is still missing.”

  The sheriff sighed, but surprisingly didn’t argue with her.

  “He’s ratcheted up his anger,” Katie said. “Especially after I found his special place. See how quickly he left another body. I’m more worried about Dena than about my safety.” She watched her uncle’s reaction. She knew he wanted to drag her out of the house, but that he also respected her opinion.

  “Okay,” he said. “This is how it’s going down. If you stay here tonight, I want an officer staying with you, just until we have a security system installed tomorrow.”

  “But—”

  “And a new heavier front door with a solid lock. Not this quaint farmhouse door.”

  “Don’t you think—” she began.

  “That’s how it’s going to go, no objections.” He stood his ground.

  “Okay, fine,” she sighed. “I’m too tired to argue.”

  * * *

  After the team from the sheriff’s department had left, Katie began to clean up the worst of the mess. She would save the rest for the next day. Exhaustion had set in, her physical and mental capabilities suffering from the overload of the case, which had now crept into her home life.

  The silence wasn’t a comforting friend; rather, it became a questionable and unnerving reminder that there was someone out there who wanted to scare her—and possibly harm her.

  “I finally got the door lock to work,” said McGaven.

  His voice startled Katie and she responded quickly. “Thank you. I guess someone will be fitting the alarm and a new door tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Sorry? For what?”

  “That you’re going through this along with everything else.” His voice faded a bit.

  “You know, you don’t have to stay here. I’ll be just fine. There will be people coming tomorrow morning, probably early, to install everything.”

  “Nope. I have my orders,” he said adamantly.

  “Did you call your wife?” she asked.

  “Girlfriend,” he corrected. “Don’t worry, she knows what’s been going on. Her dad and brother are cops, so she’s very understanding.” He smiled.

  Katie couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of his girlfriend.

  “I can take the couch,” he said.

  “Nope, there’s a guest room for you—it has a private bath, too. It looks like the intruder didn’t bother to deface that room,” Katie said sourly.

  McGaven followed her to the room that had been her parents’ bedroom.

  “I’ll make the last rounds with Cisco,” he announced.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m beat. I’m going to try to get some sleep. Goodnight.”

  “Night,” he said as he went to check the doors for the umpteenth time, and most likely make a loop around her backyard for good measure.

  * * *

  Katie fell asleep immediately, but her slumber was erratic as she tossed and turned, waking frequently. Each time, she listened intently for any sound that seemed out of place.

  A soft creak.

  A hurried footstep.

  A door slowly opening.

  It was always the same. Quiet. The only sound she heard was Cisco snoring at the corner of her bed. She listened to his steady breathing for a few minutes, and the sound relaxed her enough to fall back to sleep.

  Suddenly she heard a low, menacing voice: “You will never find me.”

  Jolted awake, she sat up expecting there to be someone at the foot of her bed. Of course, there was no one. She waited another minute, but no sound interrupted the silence.

  Letting out a long sigh, she leaned back against her headboard. It was still dark outside, and too early to get up. Sleep was a necessity, but she wouldn’t waste moments of wakefulness because she never knew how long her days were going to be.

  She reached over to her nightstand and retrieved her journal from the small drawer. She was relieved that it had been tucked in a safe place. Switching on the lamp and opening the book to a clean page, she began to write.

  Friday, 0430 hours

  * * *

  Today was a bad day—worse than any I’ve had since being home. The thought of losing Cisco makes my heart break. It’s one of my biggest fears. It turned out okay, but it still doesn’t take away from the high stakes I’ve been presented with. My biggest task is finding the killer in time before he kills Dena.

  My emotions are running riot. Anxiety. Loss. Rekindled friendship. New and chance meetings. However, it eases my mind that my partner has my back, at least for now. The way it should be. Always. I miss my old team. Please God, watch over them and protect the weary soldiers. I continue to survive one day at a time…

  Thirty-Eight

  The high-pitched squeal of an electric screwdriver followed by banging noises woke Katie. She had been in a deep sleep, fighting unforeseen demons, which made it difficult for her to fully wake up. The sounds reverberating around her room and in her head made her ready for combat.

  It was the usual shortness of breath.

  Heaviness pressing against her chest.

  The unending tenseness of the muscles running down her legs.

  She readied herself for the worst and leaped out of bed. As she gazed at the window, the sun shone through the sheer curtains and her bad dream melted away. Then she remembered the night before, and it all tumbled back with a vengeance.

  Her home had a new history—it was no longer a place of safety. Now fully awake, she took a deep breath, grabbed a sweatshirt and walked out of her bedroom. Even Cisco didn’t greet her as usual; there was so much going on, the dog was more interested in hanging out with the guys working.

  She quietly walked down the hallway and peered into the living room. There were two men at the entrance trying to hang the new front door properly, while McGaven was in the kitchen, cooking.

  “Wow,” she said. “I have no idea how I could sleep during this.” She saw John Blackburn working on a keypad that he was installing near the front door. Quickly she ran her fingers through her tousled hair.

  “Hey,” said McGaven. He was stirring up some scrambled eggs in a skillet. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, but you had eggs. And it’s one of the few things I can make that actually tastes good.”

  Still looking around, Katie said, “Thank you. All of you.” To McGaven, “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Too late,” he replied, smiling.

  “Coffee?” she managed to say.

  McGaven motioned to the coffee maker behind him.

  Her feelings of embarrassment dissipated because she was in the company of friends; people who had her best interests at heart. It meant so much to her. It also made her miss her army team that much more.

  She wrapped her fingers around a hot cup of coffee. Cisco gave her his usual good-morning licks and nudges against her arm. His tail wagged uncontrollably. She realized that he too needed the support of people who were friends.

  She took a seat at one of the bar stools that was still intact.

  “Oh,” said McGaven. “The boss said you’re not allowed to come to work today. His strict orders.”

  “That’s fine,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “I’ve got everything I need here. As soon as I figure out how to clean some of that paint off my walls, I’m going to get started.” She smiled at McGaven and took another sip of coffee. He scraped eggs onto two plates, and put one in front of her.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” said John.

  “What?” replied Katie. She was a little bit self-conscious about how she appeared after a terrible night’s sleep.

  The forensic supervisor walked toward the kitchen. Katie couldn’t help but notice that he looked rested and relaxed, as if nothing fazed him.


  He explained, “I have a mixture that should take most of the spray paint off the walls. It won’t be pretty until you repaint the room, but you can at least work for now.”

  “Sounds great,” she said.

  McGaven shoveled a large forkful of eggs into his mouth. “That is precisely why you want a forensic person as your friend.”

  “That and so you know how to make a murder scene look like an accident,” said one of the men hanging the front door.

  John smiled. “I have a couple of cameras to install outside first.”

  “No problem,” Katie said. “How’d you get roped in to work on my security system?”

  “Why not?” he said as he went outside.

  McGaven shrugged. “A man of few words.”

  Cisco barked, wanting his share of the eggs. Katie tossed him a small morsel and then began to eat her breakfast.

  * * *

  After several cups of coffee, Katie changed into work clothes and systematically cleaned her office from top to bottom. To her surprise, the intruder hadn’t rummaged through her drawers, so all her office supplies, computer components, and personal items remained untouched, though pieces of paper and notes had been strewn over the floor.

  She knew forensics had completely documented the scene, but she wanted to take a few photos herself to attach to the wall. She snapped several, creating a panoramic view of YOU WILL NEVER FIND ME.

  The words pummeled at her like projectiles. They made the investigation that much more urgent. It was a race for her life and the life of another innocent child.

  She moved a ladder closer to the main investigative notes on the wall and climbed up. Studying the scrawled letters within the scattered black fingerprint dust, she fought back the creeping anxiety of hopelessness. It was like facing the devil, eye to eye, toe to toe, and knowing you didn’t have the power to overcome the madness.

  Holding a bottle full of John’s unidentified cleaning potion, Katie squeezed the trigger with her right forefinger and sprayed a small portion onto the wall, watching the tiny bubbles roll over the black paint. As instructed, she dabbed the area with a clean rag. It actually began to work. The paint slowly lightened, leaving a dull, ghostly remnant behind. She continued to carefully pat the solution around her notes, spending more than a half-hour continuing the effective repetitive technique.