Janie’s mother, Jeanette Frazier, greeted them at the door. Ushering the trio into the living area, she reminded them, “Janie hasn’t been herself since it happened. My daughter hasn’t stopped shaking for the past twenty-four hours. I’m mostly seeing to it that David is taken care of while Janie tries to deal with all of this. But every time I think about what could’ve happened to her in that house and to my grandson, I get sick to my stomach and break out in a cold sweat.”
“I don’t blame you,” Skye said. “She got lucky, Mrs. Frazier. And she knows it. But she’ll move past this…eventually.”
“Call me Jeanette. And I hope you’re right, Miss Cree because my Janie is a good person, a good mother even though she has to work and do the parenting for two people sometimes.”
“What about David?” Josh asked which earned him a glare from Jeanette. “David saw this guy, too, right?”
“Surely, you don’t intend to question a three-year-old, do you?” Jeanette wanted to know, wringing her hands. She sent an accusing scowl toward the detective. “You didn’t mention that you wanted to talk to David when you called.”
But it was Josh who answered. “Don’t worry, we won’t talk to David. I doubt he’d be able to tell us much anyway because of his young age.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Janie exclaimed from the doorway.
Three pairs of eyes stared at their survivor. They hadn’t expected the woman to be so petite. The little brunette couldn’t have stood any taller than five-three at the most. She looked as if she might weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet.
“So you took down a man who outweighed you by seventy pounds and had you in height by seven or eight inches?” Skye asked, clearly impressed.
Before she replied, Janie turned to her mother and suggested, “Mom, will you go make sure David is occupied while I talk to these people?”
“Sure, honey. You call me if you need anything.”
As soon as Jeanette had left the room, Janie sunk down into the nearest chair. She finally addressed Skye’s question. “I guess I was able to take down the asshole because David ran into the room and he turned his attention on my child. It was all fear then. I thought he’d hurt my son. And when I saw an opening, I took it. I was afraid he was going to hurt David,” Janie repeated, her eyes misting over at the reminder.
“From reading the police report, I’d say you kicked his fucking ass and broke his nose,” Skye commented. “Way to go, Janie!”
Janie couldn’t help it. That assessment caused her to crack a grin. Her smile broke some of the tension in the room. “You know it wasn’t until much later that morning that I realized who tried to attack me in my house. I’d seen the news, never ever considered I’d be a potential victim.”
“What can you tell us about him?” Harry wanted to know, getting right down to business. “From the report I read, we already know he wore some kind of a ski mask. We know you wouldn’t recognize him again. We’re not dragging you anywhere to look at a lineup of suspects. There’s no need. So relax here. We just want to see if, by any chance, you can give us something, remember anything that might help us catch this guy.”
Janie shook her head and corrected Harry. “Well, for one, I never said he wore a ski mask. That to me means like a knitted cap or something. This was more lightweight and sheer. A stretchy fabric almost like what Spider-Man wears.” At that, Janie smiled a little wider. “That’s what David asked me after the cops left and I was putting him to bed at Tara’s. It was Tara’s house I ran to, to get away. Anyway, when I was trying to get David to go back to sleep, he asked why Spider-Man came into our house naked.”
“Interesting,” Skye mumbled, as if considering the child’s take on what he saw. “Could this mask have been homemade?”
“Sure, I guess. It reminded me of one of those masks the wrestlers we sometimes watch on television wear. But instead of ending around the mouth this one covered his entire face and his throat area. It was shiny, too. At least that’s what I remember thinking.”
Josh exchanged glances with Skye as if keying in on the wrestler angle. “You mean it sparkled or glistened in the light?” he asked.
Janie closed her eyes to try to remember. “Sort of, I guess I’d say it glistened more than sparkled. Huh, that’s odd.”
“What?” Skye prompted.
“When I fell asleep on the sofa, the lights were on and so was the TV. Oh my God! When I woke up the only light came from my little kitchen, the light above the stove. He must have turned the light on in there.” Both of Janie’s hands flew to her mouth. “I just realized. He must’ve been in my house with us for some time before I woke up, long enough to make himself at home. I remember trying to wake up because I could hear footsteps. I don’t know how much time passed before I was able to fully come awake. I remembering thinking it was David and hoped he would go back to sleep. Then I heard a dragging sound or some kind of thumping along the floor. I thought David had gotten up to play.”
Janie sat there stricken at the realization. “I make sure I lock all the doors and check them every night. Like I said, I’d listened to the news. He got in anyway. I didn’t respond to the noise I heard soon enough. I thought it came from outside, a cat or dog. But…how did he get in?”
Harry thumbed through the police report. “The two officers agreed that he made entry into the house by way of the window in the smaller bedroom.”
Janie’s eyes went wide and she swallowed hard, before her hand moved to her stomach. “David’s room? I think I might be sick. I’ve already told my landlord I can’t live there after what happened.”
“Anything else, at all, you remember about the guy?” Josh asked.
“He wore Paco Rabanne cologne.”
Skye’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding? How do you know that?”
“I work in a salon all day, cutting hair. Men come and go all the time. I recognize their aftershave. Actually it’s kind of a game with me guessing which fragrance they use. His was Paco Rabanne, not exactly cheap either.”
“That sells for at least fifty bucks,” Josh said in agreement.
“Sometimes more,” Janie added. “My ex got it as a Christmas gift one year.”
“Mommy!” David shouted from the doorway before he ran and crawled into Janie’s lap.
Janie wrapped her arms around his little body and brought him into her. “This is David.”
“Hi,” David said, not a bit shy for a three-year-old. “Are you gonna catch da naked man wif da dog?”
Skye looked at Harry then at Josh. “What dog? The naked man had a dog?” Skye asked clearly perplexed by that news.
David bobbed his little head up and down. “Right dere,” the little boy said, pointing to the upper part of his arm. “The doggie was right dere.”
“A tattoo,” Skye reasoned. “Just the face, David? Or did the picture have a body with it?”
“Doggie face,” David replied.
“What kind of doggie?” Harry said, almost jumping off the couch in the direction of the child.
But Janie gave the detective a hard stare. “Detective, he isn’t old enough to know about different breeds of dogs.”
“But he could point to a picture if he recognized the same kind, right?” Josh proffered. “Couldn’t he?” It was worth a shot. Josh brought out his iPhone, searched the Internet for a website featuring photos of all kinds of dogs. “Would you like to see my phone, David? It has pictures of doggies.”
For the next forty-five minutes, Josh took the little boy through a series of websites until David finally pointed to one. “Dat one. It looks like dat one.”
Josh glanced at the screen, held up the phone for Skye to see.
“I thought it would be a bulldog,” Skye admitted, as she stared at the image. She shrugged one shoulder. “You know, like some kind of fierce dog. That’s a terrier, a cute one at that.”
Josh turned to Janie. “You didn’t see the tattoo, did you, Janie?” Josh asked, hoping for any type of
confirmation other than a flimsy lead from a three-year-old witness.
But Janie shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t notice it. I was too shaken and scared of what he might do to my son.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Josh mumbled as they turned to go.
Outside as they stood on the street, the three of them went over what they’d learned.
“He wears a mask that looks like Spider-Man,” Josh said.
“Or the wrestlers on television,” Skye added, biting her lip. “And he has a tattoo of a cute little terrier on the upper part of his arm.”
“He wears expensive aftershave lotion and spent time in the house before waking Janie up to assault her.”
“How reliable is information from a toddler anyway?” Harry pointed out.
“Reliable or not, it’s more than we had before we got here,” Skye reasoned, as they headed to the car.
Chapter 18 Book 2
An eager fourteen-year-old Frank waited for his girlfriend, Denise Holland, at the secret place they liked to meet after school.
The abandoned winery had been closed down decades earlier by his own grandfather back in the seventies. Located a good half mile out of town, down a road no one bothered using any more, the old building was off the main thoroughfare, the spot remote.
They had to ride their bikes to get here. But since the afternoon was warm and sunny, everything a spring day in May should be, it gave the two of them a chance to be alone to talk and to maybe neck. The last time they’d been together here, Denise had let him get to second base. Since then, he hadn’t been able to think of anything else.
While he sat in the overgrown courtyard on the concrete rim of the circular water fountain, waiting for Denise, Frank grew impatient. The idea of touching Denise’s boobs, what there was of them, got him excited. He hoped she would let him fondle them again today. Of course, hers weren’t like any of the others he’d felt. Denise’s were small and round and the nipples didn’t stick out the way he preferred but they were still breasts.
But as he sat among the weeds and scrub, tapping a stick he’d found on the ground Frank realized this was the perfect, out-of-the-way spot for two kids to meet who had sorta been going steady since they’d gone to the spring dance together back in April. It was now almost the end of the school year when they could spend a lot more time together. That is, if the two of them could manage to sneak away at camp this summer. Since Denise was a member of the same church he went to, his mother liked Denise just fine which was a huge plus. His mother didn’t like everyone.
Frank had to admit that bringing Denise around lately had helped him get along so much better with the old bat.
When he looked up and spotted Denise pedaling her bicycle along the dusty road, he became less annoyed with her. Even late, he was glad to see Denise and her long flowing reddish-brown hair. He liked her freckles, her upturned nose, and the innocent way her green eyes always searched his for approval.
As Denise got closer, Frank waved in greeting. But he could tell by the look on her sweaty face that something was wrong.
“What took you so long?”
Winded, Denise almost tumbled off her bike. She rummaged through her knapsack and came up with the ring he’d given her two weeks ago. “I started not to come. But I thought you deserved to hear it from me before Tommy Platt told you.”
Frank’s forehead creased with troubled lines. He didn’t like Tommy Platt who sat behind him in biology class and always gave him a hard time about something. “Tell me what? What’s stupid Tommy got to tell me?” Then he saw his ring in her hand, the one he’d taken from old lady Harbison’s house. Denise was reaching out to give the jewelry back to him.
“We’re…I’ve…sorta…decided to go out with Tommy tomorrow night to the movies. He’s taking me to see Godzilla.”
“Why? I thought you liked me. I thought you wanted to spend time with me.”
“I did. I do. But your mother never lets you do anything fun. I want to go to the movies with my boyfriend. And you never can go without sneaking around,” Denise pointed out. “Just last week you got in trouble for it when we went to see that comedy, Krippendorf’s Tribe.”
“But you belong to the same church as me. You know it’s against their rules to watch that filth on the big screen.”
“My mom and dad have decided to go somewhere else though.”
“Leave? Go to another church, you mean?” His mother wasn’t going to like hearing that, Frank decided. She would never let him see Denise again anyway once she got wind of it. “Why? Your parents are making a huge mistake.”
“Because they’ve decided to start going to the one over on Eighth Street.”
“You mean the Methodist?”
“That’s the one.”
His mother didn’t like the Methodists. Frank shifted his feet. “So because I can’t go to the movies without having to sneak around you’re breaking up with me?”
“I’m breaking up with you because you have a temper. You’re always on the verge of exploding. Like right this minute, you’ve got this look in your eyes like you could strangle me or something.”
Frank took the stick he was holding and brought it down across her face. “You bitch!” he screamed.
Stunned at the sudden blow, Denise stumbled backward. She felt the sting along with the blood from the nick across her cheek. “What the heck is wrong with you anyway? Why did you hit me?” When she saw Frank take a few more steps toward her, getting closer, she started backing away from him.
Frank saw the fear in Denise’s eyes first. That fear fueled his rage. It excited him much more than her breasts ever had. He hit her again with the stick. When she tripped over a patch of burweed, he pounced and took her completely all the way down to the dirt. She struggled but finally Frank climbed on top of her. Before he could stop himself, he found his hands reaching, and then wrapping around Denise’s narrow neck. His fingers kept up the pressure, tightening and tightening until he watched as the life slowly went out of Denise’s fourteen-year-old eyes.
It wasn’t until after when he sat next to Denise’s lifeless body that he came back to himself—and realized he’d ejaculated in his shorts.
How the hell did he plan to explain that to his mother? he wondered. And where was he going to hide Denise so no one would know what he’d done?
Chapter 19 Book 2
Fresh from his victorious bout in the octagon where he had annihilated his latest challenger, Frank decided a celebration was in order. Tonight, he had some time on his hands. He intended to make the most of it. He would treat himself to a road trip, a different community entirely. Before the night was done it would yield a gorgeous blonde. That would make for a consummate week, the icing on the cake, so to speak.
Not for the first time, Frank had decided a change of scenery would spice things up, especially now that he’d left a survivor. Even though the news outlets hadn’t used her name, Frank knew that meant Janie Holliman had spoken to the cops.
He’d expected the bitch would talk. But he wasn’t worried. What could Janie tell them anyway? That a masked intruder with brown eyes tried to rape her? In Frank’s book that didn’t amount to very much.
But as long as things were getting a little too hot in the Seattle area to keep tempting fate, he’d decided to switch up his hunting grounds. Besides, new surroundings made for a better game.
Just because he’d driven forty minutes outside Seattle to get to the little city of Snohomish didn’t mean he’d changed his methods or his goals.
He hadn’t been to the area since last spring. Because of that he might have to refer to his extensive notes to find the house and the target he remembered. But that just meant he’d have to go on the hunt, which was almost his favorite part.
Once he reached the city limits, Frank remembered a town with a charming historic district that included a fair share of antique shops and the usual places that catered to tourists who wanted to buy souvenirs.
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sp; But what interested him most was the fact that it had several long and narrow jogging paths hidden among tall trees along the river, that led to the types of houses he preferred—and the single women who lived in them.
The detailed journals he kept would no doubt jog his memory once he applied himself to the task at hand. He checked his map, located the street he was looking for, and drove past the woman’s house several times just to be sure he had the right one. He had to recheck the address twice and then the name of the street again. Once he reread his notes yet again, he knew for certain he’d been inside this particular house.
When he spotted the pale blonde with her hair tied up in a ponytail running along the trail at a fast clip, he recognized her from what he termed his “spring break” last March. And just as he had remembered, she met the criteria perfectly.
She would probably fight back. And she would lose.
He parked the Ford pickup and got out, walked to the ridgeline above the neighborhood with a perfect view of all the winding paths. From there, Frank watched her. Familiar now, in stature and build, dressed in sweat pants and a matching top, the runner continued her brisk pace. He kept her in his sights during her entire run which lasted just over an hour.
Once he saw her check the time on her wrist and finally quit jogging, he stared at the way she walked, the sway of her hips, her long, lean legs—and decided she could definitely go at least one round with him.
He continued his vigilance while she caught her breath and drank from the bottle of water she’d pulled from the pouch she wore around her belly.
Excitement raced through him. In a matter of hours he would have what he wanted. As she moved, he began to follow her from the upper pathway, making sure not to let her out of his line of vision while she headed back to her house.
When the greenbelt met up with sidewalk, when she disappeared inside a trendy two-story at the end of the block, he snuck back into the alleyway. There, Frank perused the backyard and the best place to lie low until it was time to make his move.
Skye Cree Boxed Set Books 1 - 3 Page 46