I woke with a start. Instead of being scared, I was furious. I was not going to be haunted by this man. I was going to haunt him. In the half-light of the early morning, I believed that I knew exactly where to find the killer.
SHOWING UP AT Espresso Yourself well before my regular time, I was relieved to see that the coffee shop wasn’t busy yet. It usually drew a pretty good crowd on weekend mornings. I waved to Makayla from a relatively private café table in the corner and watched as she slid a tray of apple scones into the oven to bake and then walked around the counter to join me. She had a coffee cup in one hand and a newspaper in the other.
“Girl, you’re famous. It’s not quite the front page, but it’s mighty close.” Makayla tossed today’s edition of the Dunston Herald onto the table. Her face was etched with concern as she placed my latte next to the paper.
My eye was immediately drawn to a large photograph showing Sean and me. The caption read:
Officer Sean Griffiths and literary agent Lila Wilkins leaving the Novel Idea offices after a false alarm.
“Oh no,” I murmured, fearing what the article would say. It was a short piece and mostly rehashed the details of Melissa’s and Tilly’s deaths while adding several quotes from frightened residents of both Dunston and Inspiration Valley. Unfortunately, the intrepid reporter had interviewed Kirk Mason, who’d told him all about yesterday’s case of mistaken identity and my foolish deduction that he was the murderer. I sighed in dismay. Why would he have shared the story with the reporter? Did he hope it would gain him notoriety and therefore increase his chances of having a publisher buy his book? And couldn’t Jude have kept from going into such detail about the murder case with his new client? I’d have to have words with my coworker when I saw him next.
Makayla waited until I’d finished reading before putting her hand over mine. “I don’t like this, Lila. There’s your face and name in black and white for all the world to see. Now everybody knows where you work and it’d be a snap of the fingers to find out where you live. You gotta tell me—and don’t you dare go sugarcoating your answer—if there’s any chance this guy could come looking for you.”
Staring at the photo in the paper again, I recalled my mother’s warning about the tall, dark figure and weighed the possibility that Justyn would view me as a threat. We’d come face-to-face in an empty hallway during the book festival, and since then, it was likely that he’d seen me with both of his victims prior to their deaths. If he got hold of this article, he’d undoubtedly feel enraged that another woman was trying to manipulate the course of his future.
Meeting Makayla’s eyes, I said, “Yes, I believe he might come after me. I don’t think he spent all of his anger killing Melissa and Tilly. In my opinion, he’s released a darkness inside of himself that he can’t call back. It controls him now.”
Makayla raised her arms skyward. “Lord have mercy, why do you end up in the middle of such wicked plots? Can’t you and Sean just live in a nice, steamy romance novel and stay away from the true crime stories?”
“Rest assured,” I said with a calm determination that was only partially genuine, “I have a plan.”
She rolled her eyes. “Somehow, that makes me even more anxious.”
“Well, I hope you’re still willing to help me. I think I know where Justyn is, but I don’t want to investigate this place alone.”
“What about Sean?” Makayla asked.
I shook my head. “It’s just a theory. If I’m right, we’ll call him and he can zip on over and make the arrest. But I don’t want to waste his time if I’m wrong. I already did that once by calling him in on a wild-goose chase yesterday. I won’t be like the boy who cried wolf.”
“All right, I’m in.”
Squeezing my friend’s hand in gratitude, I said, “Great. And can we take your car? I don’t think my scooter is the best vehicle for a stakeout.”
Makayla laughed, a sound as lovely as the ringing of church bells. “And don’t forget that I’ve got cup holders. We’re not playing at Starsky and Hutch without our lattes.”
I WAS AT my desk before any of my coworkers arrived at Novel Idea. Leaving my door open, I put on some Mozart sonatas and reached for the packet from Thomas Wipple that I’d received yesterday. I was barely into the first page when Vicky walked past my door.
“You’re hard at work early, especially for a Saturday!” she proclaimed. “It’s a rare day that someone gets to the office before me.”
I smiled in response and continued reading, pleased to see that T. J. West had removed the teddy bear from the victim’s arms and deleted any reference to children in the murder. The writing was even more engaging than in his first submission, and I felt that unique thrill that told me I could sell this project.
After sending Thomas Wipple an email requesting the complete manuscript, I tackled the overflowing pile of papers in my in-tray. Bentley breezed past, nodding her head in my direction. Gratified that she’d witnessed my dedication to the job, I turned my attention to a proposal for a cozy mystery whose protagonist was a pastry chef in a large restaurant. In the midst of pondering whether the writer might be better suited to cookbook writing than fiction, the phone rang.
“Hi, Mom,” Trey said, sounding weary. “I guess Nana told you about last night? It was not a good scene—all those cops and freaked-out co-op people running all over the place. Plus, I really laid into Jasper. I probably shouldn’t have, and a cop tried to hold me back, but I was just so mad.”
“I understand, honey. You felt betrayed.”
“Yeah. And not just me.” He sighed heavily. “Did Nana tell you that Iris stayed with us last night? She has a lot to figure out now. Jasper’s disappeared and the co-op’s closing. She’s got a cousin or something in Connecticut she could go to, but…”
“Things will fall into place, Trey. Somehow they always do.” My heart went out to my son, who seemed to be shouldering burdens too heavy for such a young man. “What are your plans for today?”
Immediately his voice perked up. “Nana’s lending us her truck and Iris and I are driving to UNC Wilmington to check out the campus and the town. If Iris likes it, she can go online and request an application. We’ve already looked at the website a bunch of times. I’m hoping to start in January, and Iris can take classes part-time until she’s officially accepted.”
Buoyant after that phone call, I found it difficult to concentrate on writing a response to the pastry chef writer. I was tempted to pick up the phone again to call Sean and tell him the good news about Trey’s decision. And I wanted the official update on the co-op raid and whether or not Jasper had been captured. However, this morning Sean had texted me to say he was thinking of me and Trey, but he’d be busy all day and didn’t know when he’d be able to call, so I chose not to bother him. Besides, if I did get through to him, I might let something slip about my excursion with Makayla tonight, and he’d want to talk me out of it. Instead, I turned my attention back to my work and endeavored to stay focused.
My diligence paid off, and by the end of the day I was caught up on correspondence and filing, I had made several phone calls, and the stack of proposals in my in-tray had disappeared. Satisfied that I’d made up for the time I’d taken away from work recently, I left the office feeling guilt-free.
Makayla was already sitting in her car in front of the building. When I slid into the passenger seat, she held up a paper bag. “Sandwiches from Big Ed’s for the stakeout—a couple of Columbos. Seemed fitting, somehow. Turkey, hummus, cucumber, and spinach on a whole-grain kaiser.”
I shot her a grateful smile. “Thanks. I was so focused on our outing that I didn’t think about dinner.”
“So where are we off to, Starsky?”
“Fuller Street in Dunston. When Tilly—I mean Mattie—gave birth to Justyn, she lived on this road. At least that’s where she was found shortly after she abandoned him. It was listed in Justyn’s Social Services file.” I briefly wondered what Sean would say if he knew I was actin
g on information from Melissa’s case files. Ignoring the thought, I continued. “Most of the buildings in that part of Dunston are in a state of disrepair, if not condemned.”
“And yet that’s where we’re headed,” Makayla said ruefully.
“The police haven’t been able to find Justyn anywhere else,” I said. “Wouldn’t it make sense, if Justyn is revisiting his past and punishing people for their supposed crimes, that he’d hang out in the place where his misery began?”
Makayla nodded as she drove out of town. “Sounds like a good theory. But it’s also possible that we’re on a wild-goose chase.”
“I know. But what if we aren’t? We could break this case and get him off the street before he hurts anyone else.”
“At the very least, we have good sandwiches and coffee to keep us going.” Makayla flashed me a wide smile. “And if things get real boring, we can sing ‘Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer.’”
I groaned. “Please, no! With a son who was a Boy Scout, I’ve had enough of that song to last a lifetime.”
Makayla laughed. “Okay, no singing, den mother. Let’s go stalk our bad guy.”
DUSK HAD FALLEN by the time we arrived at our destination. In the shadowy light, a dilapidated two-story apartment building lurked eerily between an empty lot and a mountain of debris from the demolished buildings nearby. It was small and narrow, and I doubted there could be more than six or eight apartments inside. Makayla parked across from it, alongside a small house with peeled paint and a sagging roof, and turned off the engine.
“Man, they could really use some neighborhood improvement here. You sure you want to do this?”
I nodded and pointed across the street to the apartment building. “That one’s not completely boarded up. See the door? It’s been propped open with a cinder block. I bet that’s where Justyn was born.” I gripped the car door handle. “Let’s check it out.”
Makayla grabbed my arm. “Girl, have you gone and lost your mind? If he’s in there, you’d be an easier target than a lame duck. And if he’s not, well, the whole building could fall down around you. I’ve seen playing card houses that look more stable!”
“But we won’t know it’s the right place if we don’t check it out. I just need to see if there’s any sign that someone’s taken up residence in this building—any evidence that Justyn’s been here.” I held up my bag. “I have no intention of confronting him, but if he is inside, I came prepared. I’ve got a can of pepper spray and my phone has 911 on speed dial. We’ll just peek in the doorway, okay?”
Makayla exhaled and reached into the glove compartment. “Okay, but I’m also taking my flashlight and this handy pocketknife I keep in the car. We are not going in that place blind and unarmed. Sorry, Lila, but your pepper spray just isn’t enough to make me feel good about this.”
As we crossed the road, the streetlights came on, casting a dim and eerie glow on the building entry. I stuck my head in, but all I could see was darkness. I pushed on the door and it creaked open. Suddenly, it swung in all the way and I lost my balance, tumbling inside.
“Damn it,” I whispered in anger and pain as my leg fell through a piece of rough and jagged wood. I knew it was wood from the feel of a dozen splinters piercing my skin at once.
“You all right?” Makayla aimed her flashlight at me.
I shielded my eyes from the glare. “Yes, be careful you don’t fall. Can you point the light at the ground?”
The beam illuminated a rickety ramp made of plywood, which had been placed where the steps had once been. The wood was partially rotted, and my leg was wedged in up to my thigh. No matter how hard I tried, I could not get enough leverage to push myself up and out of it.
“Oh, girl, it looks like I need to come inside after all.” Makayla gingerly climbed down the ramp and used her knife to pry away enough of the wood to free my leg. It was bruised and there were several fragments of wood beneath my skin, which was painful, but I was otherwise unharmed.
We had made enough noise that if there was someone inside the building, they would certainly have heard us. But all was silent. The place felt utterly empty, and as if by mutual agreement, we turned down the short corridor. To the right were stairs, and beyond that were four open doorways. Makayla cast her light down the hall and we followed its beacon, looking in each apartment as we passed. The sound of our footsteps bounced off the cement floor. A freakish sense of déjà vu settled on me as I recalled the gloomy corridor in the town hall where I had previously encountered Justyn, and I had to make an effort to stay calm.
“Watch you don’t trip on that,” Makayla whispered as she aimed her light on a crumbled pile of bricks. “This place is nasty. I don’t want to breathe in here. It smells like dirty diapers and week-old trash. Probably full of rats, too.”
I shuddered. “It doesn’t seem like anyone’s been in these apartments for a long time. Let’s go. This place gives me the creeps.”
We’d just spun around when the door to the street suddenly opened, briefly illuminating our decrepit surroundings. Almost immediately, the light was obscured by a shadow. Silhouetted in the entrance stood a tall, thin man in a long black trench coat. I instantly recognized the body shape and dark glare. It was Justyn!
My heart pounded and I sucked in a quick, fearful breath. Makayla seized my wrist in terror. “That’s him, isn’t it?” she hissed in my ear.
I nodded. He kicked away the brick that served as a doorpost, and the door slammed behind him as he shone his own flashlight at us.
“Do I know you?” he demanded. I squinted as he directed the beam at my eyes. “You,” he growled, then jumped down past the broken ramp and strode menacingly toward us.
“Hold it right there, mister.” Makayla blinded him with her flashlight. She brandished her knife in her other hand.
Justyn narrowed his eyes and his eyebrow rings glinted. “Oh, what a cute little knife.”
Without warning, he charged at Makayla, knocking her on her back. The flashlight fell out of her hand, clattered onto the concrete, and rolled in the direction of the entrance. Makayla became a dark heap on the floor.
“Makayla!” I reached down to help her, but Justyn’s hard fingers dug into the soft tissue of my forearm and I cried out.
“Why are you getting up in my business?” he snarled close to my face, his foul breath assaulting my nostrils. “I’m done with all you interfering bitches.”
He dragged me toward the stairs. I tried to pull back, tried to pry his fingers from my arm, but his grip was viselike. I kicked at him and twisted my body this way and that, but he was incredibly strong for one so wiry.
“Let me go!” I screamed. “Help!”
Without warning, his hold on me loosened and he crumpled to the ground. Makayla stood over him, holding a brick. She dropped it and grabbed my hand. “Let’s get out of here and call the police.”
“You hit him with a brick?” I asked dazedly. “Did you know that that’s how he killed—”
“Come on!” she commanded, yanking my arm. I hobbled, trying to keep up with her as we ran to her car. My leg was throbbing.
Once we were safely locked inside, our hearts pounding, we assessed my injury.
“That looks nasty,” Makayla declared. “All those splinters.”
Ignoring the pain, I opened my cell phone to call Sean.
“Sean!” I exclaimed when he answered. “We found him! We’ve got Justyn. For real this time.”
“Slow down, Lila. What are you saying? And who’s ‘we’?”
I took a deep breath and described what had happened.
“So he’s still in the building?”
“Makayla hit him with a brick. He’s unconscious.” I sent an apprehensive glance at Makayla. “Or dead. You need to come now.”
“Stay in the car with the doors locked,” he commanded, his voice tight with anger and worry.
When I hung up, Makayla spoke in an unsteady voice. “I don’t think I hit him hard enough to kill him.”
We sat like that, silent and holding trembling hands, until sirens heralded two police cruisers. They pulled up in front of the building. Sean stepped out of one of them and approached our car.
“Are you two all right?” he asked when Makayla rolled down her window, letting in a blast of cold air.
“We’re safe enough, even though we’re both shaking like leaves in the wind.” She glanced in my direction. “Her leg’s hurt, though.”
Sean hurried around to the passenger side and yanked open my door. He inspected my flesh, speckled with a multitude of splinters and starting to turn a bluish purple. “That looks painful.”
I shrugged. “It’ll be fine. I kind of deserve it for not being more careful.”
He hugged me tight and then held my gaze. His rugged face and kind blue eyes were a balm. “I’m glad you weren’t seriously hurt,” he said. I knew he was angry, but he was also too relieved to chastise us. In a flash, his demeanor changed and his gaze slid toward the decrepit apartment building. “Is he inside?”
At my nod, he said, “We’ll take it from here. We need your statements, but I think you need to get your leg checked out, Lila. Makayla, are you okay to drive? Can you take her to the ER?”
“Yessir, Officer,” Makayla said with forced bravado.
“All right then, we’ll get your statements first thing in the morning. Just take care of that injury.”
Reluctantly, I let go of his strong arm and climbed back in the car. As we drove away, I watched the policemen gathering at the entrance to Justyn’s building. I hoped this would truly mark the end of the nightmare he’d created.
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