A Killer's Prey

by M. J. Eason

  “I’m sorry, Jessica. But I’m listening now. Tell me what you need me to know.” She touched the cold earth where Jessica breathed her last breath.

  “What?” Kara barely registered Davis’s question. He grew silent when he saw her expression. He’d seen it a million times in the past.

  The cellar grew quiet. Slowly Jessica reached out to her once more with one single clear thought.

  “She’d trusted him. He would be someone whom she felt comfortable talking to about her problems. Someone she considered a friend. No, wait. There’s something else. This is someone she had a crush on. Someone she pursued. Someone she slept with.” When Kara opened her eyes she saw Davis shake his head in frustration.

  “Kara, I have no idea. I thought she told me everything about her life but now I realize there were so many things about Jessica’s life that I didn’t know even though we were friends.” He stopped the second the words were out. “Oh no. No, this isn’t happening. She trusted me, Kara. She had a crush on me. The profile you just gave with the exception of sleeping together could fit me. Jessica herself used to tease me about—”

  “About what?” Kara prompted finally when he didn’t finish.

  “About being hung up on you still. She said I couldn’t see a good thing when it stared me in the face. I ignored her usually, dismissed it as just a crush. But I knew she would have taken in further if I’d only given the word.”

  “Who else knew how she felt about you?” Kara forced herself to ask the question. It was hard hearing that another woman had loved him. But Kara could feel Jessica’s love for Davis even now.

  “You mean besides everyone at the office? I know how this must hurt to hear.” He looked at her for a moment, before answering.

  “I don’t know. She wouldn’t have told her parents—her friends, maybe. She still kept in touch with most of the kids she hung out with during high school. Everyone loved Jessica. Ryan might know. He and Jessica were close. They used to go to university football games together. Ryan went to UV as well. I think he helped convince her to go back and pursue her degree.”

  “We need to talk to her friends, Davis.” Kara wondered if Jessica ever had anything to do with the Angel case. She wasn’t around when Kara had been in DC but maybe she had something to do with the filing, or reporting of the case. Or maybe just a morbid curiosity. The case drew all kinds. Maybe she’d unknowingly been the leak.

  “Do you think Jessica knew anything about the Angel case? I’m wondering if there’s any connection between her and Frankie. Something that might tie all the loose ends together.”

  “No. At least as far as I know she never handled anything connected with the case. It would have been in storage by the time she came onboard. And Jessica wasn’t the kind of girl to think about such things. She hated hearing the details of some of the cases we worked.”

  “None of this is making any sense now. I think we need something to clear our heads. Let’s get some fresh air, maybe take a walk around the property.”

  They stepped out into the early fall morning. The beauty surrounding them was very different from the horror of the night before.

  Densely grown Norwood Maples and White Mulberry filled the woods ahead of them. The further into the woods they went, the darker the trail became.

  “The agents searched out here?” she asked knowing the answer already.

  “Yes, they’ll be back today. I don’t think they missed anything though. They’re the best.”

  Davis brought a small flashlight from his pocket and shone it on the trail in front of them. Nothing seemed out of place.

  “He didn’t come this way,” she said at last.

  “Then how did he get past us? He was there just minutes before. This is the only way out of here without running right into us.”

  Kara closed her eyes and tried to feel him here but she couldn’t.

  “I don’t know but he didn’t come this way.”

  The woods emptied out into an open field. After an extensive search produced nothing, they returned to the car.

  “It’s useless. We’ll leave it to the experts but there’s nothing here. How can he not leave even single piece of evidence behind? No footprints, no tire tracks unaccounted for. It’s impossible.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Kara’s gaze met his. She knew he was thinking the same thing.

  “Where has he been all these years? It’s almost like Frankie Stephens has been orchestrating this whole thing for years. Even when you and I were apart. It’s like he knew this day was coming.” Before he looked away, Kara saw the fear and helplessness Davis hadn’t been able to disguise.

  ****

  “Let’s go someplace where we’re not surrounded by the current killings.” Davis told her. He glanced at his watch. Almost midday. They’d been at it nonstop for more than twenty-four hours.

  “Let’s go home for a little bit. I for one could use a shower.”

  He spread the case files out on the coffee table of his living room and sat on the floor reading them while waiting for Kara. He could hear the shower running. All the old need returned to remind him it had been six years since he’d touched her. He’d buried that part of his life when she left him. Now, every nerve in his body felt coiled tightly, ready to spring to life whenever she was close. His body craved her to the point of desperation but he didn’t want to screw things up. He needed her to trust him. To give herself to him willingly.

  “Anything?” she asked as she joined him on the floor. Kara wore faded jeans, a worn, gray tee and she’d never looked more beautiful or more tempting. He wanted her more than he needed his next breath.

  “Hum? Oh, no, nothing yet.” With difficulty he forced himself to meet her gaze. For an eternity, time ceased to exist. He became aware of something changing within her. She drew in a labored breath, shutting her eyes to block out the raw desire in his. When she looked at him it was all there. All of the same emotions that he knew were mirrored in him.

  He waited for her to come to him. She couldn’t. Davis took her hands and brought them up to his chest so that she could feel his reaction to her nearness.

  “It’s your move now,” he said softly. “It has to be your decision.”

  Breathe. He forced out a shaky breath. Only a whisper separated them but it took everything for her to close the space. His arms circled around her bringing her the rest of way to him. He lifted her and sat her in his lap and then waited.

  Her fingers brushed across his jaw, her touch promising the world and yet creating unbearable tension within him. And then slowly, exquisitely, her lips found his. Her touch at first tentative, now exploring. Soft as a whisper. His arms tightened around her body in response. She tasted like no other woman he’d ever known. Like forever wrapped up in a single kiss. He wanted to believe that was possible. At last he let go of the control he still held on to and showered her with kisses, revealing all the emotion that lay hidden in his heart. His lips parted hers, gentle but demanding. A soft little cry escaped the moment his tongue dipped inside her to taste her for the first time. After only a moment’s hesitation, Kara met him kiss for kiss. Stroke for stroke. When kissing her wasn’t enough, his lips left hers, moving across her cheek and down to the pulse point at the base of her throat. Her head rolled back to allow him access to her. His lips ravaged her throat. She moved closer, her body pressing into his.

  “No!” The word intruded unwelcome between them. For a moment he thought he’d only imagined it. Then through the pounding of his heart he felt her push his chest. With willpower he didn’t know he possessed, Davis released her.

  Kara scrambled to her feet and away from him, her breathing coming in ragged gasps, matching his.

  “Sweetheart, what is it?” Davis went after her but she moved further out of his reach. “Did I hurt you?” he asked and prayed that wasn’t the case.

  “No. No, you didn’t hurt me,” she said at last. “You didn’t hurt me but…I thought—I can’t do this, Davis.”
She ran past him without another word.

  Davis closed his eyes. How many times in the past had he experienced this same rejection in his dreams?

  He felt as if he were walking in a daze. Slowly he moved back to the spot he’d left and sank down to the floor once more. He picked up the folder he hadn’t been reading before. The words blurred before his eyes. His mind refused to focus. His thoughts were all for her.

  Had he truly lost her? God help him, he’d never felt more helpless than he did at this moment.

  Davis wasn’t even aware of her joining him until she took the folder from him. He picked up another file and forced himself to concentrate on the words in front of him.

  They worked in silence for a while.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Kara said at last, her voice far from steady. “We know Frankie killed the first Angel victim at age twenty-four. But do you think Amy was his first victim?”

  Davis put down the case file and considered this for a moment.

  “It seems very unlikely but we don’t know for sure. There aren’t any other unsolved cases that can be linked to him.”

  “Isn’t that strange? Most serial killers have attempted at least one killing in the past before they take their first victim right?”

  “Yes, according to the experts it’s very unlikely that he didn’t practice his skills before Amy Sinclair.”

  “What about pets or other animals around the neighborhood? Did Frankie experiment on them first?”

  “No, there are no reports of any animals being tortured anywhere close to where Frankie lived at any time. He had a dog but he was crazy about that dog according to his mother.”

  Davis recalled everything about the family. Frankie Stephens grew up in an affluent section of Virginia. Until the age of twelve, his family had been one of the wealthiest around. And then the summer of his twelfth birthday changed everything.

  His father divorced his mother, and changed his name, and married another woman soon after. He left Frankie’s mother with a young son and little else, forcing Marilyn Stephens to go to work for the same people with whom she’d once socialized.

  According to the mother, who passed away shortly after Frankie’s presumed death, she first noticed a change in her son around this time. Frankie became very shy, made few friends. He seemed to retreat within himself.

  The mother died refusing to believe her son capable of such brutality. He’d talked to the uncle several times through the years.

  “I think it’s time to pay Frankie’s uncle a visit.”

  The neighborhood in which Frankie Stephens lived before the killings began had been old six years ago. Now it showed significant signs of neglect.

  “It wasn’t this bad a few years back. I came here to talk to the family before the mother passed away.” He saw Kara’s questioning look. “I don’t know. I just felt bad for them. In a way, they were Frankie’s victims as well. They didn’t ask for this to happen to them. It certainly wasn’t because of anything they did. Frankie destroyed their lives just as he did the lives of his victims’ families.”

  Davis parked in front of a rundown, two-story house. “This is it. At least this used to be where Herman lived before…”

  “It doesn’t look as if anyone lives here now.” Kara took a hesitant step up onto the rickety porch.

  “No, maybe he’s moved on. I can’t blame him for wanting to put this nightmare behind him.” Davis looked her way. “Well, as much as humanly possible. I guess you never fully put this in the past, do you?”

  Davis pushed the doorbell and when it didn’t appear to be working he knocked on the door. Someone had spray painted the paned window black.

  They were just about ready to give up when the faint sound of footsteps could be heard from somewhere inside.

  The man who opened the door still bore a faint resemblance to Frankie Stephens.

  Herman recognized Davis right away. “I’ve been expecting you, Agent Martin.” He stepped aside. “You might as well come in. The press has already been snooping around here. I thought maybe you were more of them.”

  In the tiny living room, Davis introduced Kara. “Kara worked on your nephew’s case with me.”

  Herman Pittman shook her hand. “I remember. You’re the medium.” Kara didn’t bother correcting him. She’d once told Davis how much she hated being referred to as a medium all her life. She said it made her sound like a freak.

  “Yes, that’s correct. I guess you know why we’re here, Mr. Pittman”

  “It’s Herman and yes, the killings have started again. I’ve read the papers. They say they’re similar to The Angel’s.” He took a seat and indicated Kara and Davis should do the same.

  “Has anyone shown any special interest in the case lately, Herman?” Davis asked refusing the man’s offer of coffee.

  “You’re kidding right? Every single anniversary someone comes around asking questions. Usually the press but not always. There are a lot of sick people out there, Agent Martin.” Davis nodded silently aware of Kara glancing around the room. He wondered what she saw here.

  “Herman, I’m not sure how to say this but we have reason to believe that Frankie might not have died after all six years ago when his car went into the—” Davis barely got the words out before Herman’s explosive reaction became apparent.

  “What kind of crap is this? Are you out of your mind, Agent Martin? Of course he died that night. You people made sure of it. You never gave him the chance to defend himself. You were judge, jury, and executioner in spite of what everyone who ever knew him better than your so-called experts was telling you―”

  “Herman, I understand you’re angry but all our evidence pointed toward Frankie being the killer and―”

  “And what? You want to pin these new killings on him as well? That’d wrap things up nicely for you, wouldn’t it? What, you think he rose from the dead or something and I’m hiding him out somewhere? Your people killed him, Agent Martin. An innocent man. He’s dead. Frankie’s dead. You’ll have to learn to live with that. Let him rest in peace, for God’s sake.”

  “Herman, has Frankie been in touch with you?” Davis ignored the old man’s anger and studied his expression carefully. It was easy to see the truth.

  “No. Even if he was still alive and even if he did call me, you think I’d tell you sons-of-bitches!”

  “When did you speak to him?” Davis pressed harder.

  “I didn’t say I had!”

  “Herman, I need the truth. When did he call you?” Davis could feel Kara’s tension growing. Even though she was the only one to doubt Frankie’s death originally, he knew she still she was hoping to be proven wrong.

  “Someone called a couple of months back,” Herman said at last.

  “But you don’t believe it was Frankie?”

  “It wasn’t him!” Herman didn’t even hesitate. “If that boy was still alive he would have reached out to me. Whoever called was just another nut in a long line of them.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Can’t say really. I don’t remember.” Herman couldn’t quite meet Davis’s gaze.

  “Herman, please. I know how hard this is.”

  “You don’t know shit! And I can’t tell you what he said because I stopped listening the second he told me he was Frankie.”

  “I see. Did anything about the call stand out in your mind as unusual?” Davis hid his disappointment with difficulty. He’d noticed Herman watching Kara closely throughout the interview as if trying to remember something.

  “Only that it wasn’t him. And it sounded like he was talking on one of those cell phones. It kept cutting out. You’re the one who was kidnapped, aren’t you? I remember now. You were there when that other girl died. They said Frankie would have killed you as well if Agent Martin hadn’t pulled you from that burning building.”

  “Yes.” Davis could see her mentally shutting down. He knew how much she hated talking about that time.

  “They said he was hidi
ng a dark side. But if he was, I never saw it and I lived here with him and his mother every single day before that time. I never saw any dark side.”

  “Mr. Pittman, these types of personalities are hard to detect. They’re capable of hiding it from even the people they love. I’m not surprised you never saw that side of Frankie.”

  “Ms. Bryant with all due respect, my nephew was not ‘one of those types’. I don’t believe he did the things they accused him of doing and I never will. You’ve wasted your time coming here expecting me to help you try to find my nephew. Agent Martin, you were always kind to my sister and me and I appreciate that but I can’t help you and I would like it if you and your agents wouldn’t come back.”

  Davis got to his feet and indicated Kara should do the same. “You’re right. I hate to have to rehash this, Herman, but I am truly sorry for your losses.”

  Herman Pittman begrudgingly accepted Davis’s apology, before showing them to the door. “Have you talked to Victoria Blake, Agent Martin?”

  “Not recently. Why?”

  “Victoria would have been the only one from Frankie’s past that he’d keep in touch with. They were good friends, as you know. She never stopped believing Frankie’s innocence either. If he was truly still alive, he’d be in touch with her as well.”

  Kara waited until they were inside the car before asking Davis what Herman meant by that.

  “Victoria and Frankie’s family were close once—before the breakup of his parents’ marriage. But Victoria and Frankie stayed friends throughout the years. As Herman said, she never believed Frankie was responsible for the killings. I interviewed her shortly after Frankie’s death. She knew the first victim as well as Frankie. She told us none of those things reported about Frankie asking Amy out were true. In fact, Victoria said Frankie hadn’t seen Amy in years. Not since his family moved away from the old neighborhood.”

  “So someone lied. What are you thinking?”

  “I’m not sure yet. But I think we definitely need to talk to Victoria.”