“Get up.”
Kaitlyn obeyed the command with reluctance. As she got to her feet, she caught the glint of a knife blade against the taillight’s crimson hue. Another grab at her arm and she was spun around to face the car. She breathed deep, fighting to not tremble. Was she going to die like Brad? A knife across the throat? Bleeding to death in the middle of nowhere? The cold blade touched her wrist. After a couple quick tugs, the zip ties fell to the ground. She rubbed her skin, feeling the abrasions left by her bonds.
She turned around and stared into a face that she’d thought she could trust. A face from her past. She remembered the young innocent child with long, flowing blonde hair. The pudgy cheeks that turned pink with every smile. The bright eyes staring up through tortoiseshell glasses. It was all gone. The eyes were now forbidding. The hair short and dark. The face thin and malevolent. She glanced around and caught sight of the dilapidated house she’d visited a few days before. “Must be tough to see the place falling apart, Julianna,” she said.
“Not as tough as it will be for you. Welcome back to the Shallows,” said Julie Lewis.
42
Rodney took the turn for the on-ramp to Route 322 at sixty-five and fought to keep the Dodge on the road. The sign above read “Commodore Barry Bridge” and pointed straight ahead. The car lurched forward when he pressed down on the accelerator. The rain reflected the swirling teardrop light on the roof, making it look like crimson drops of blood falling from the sky.
He swerved past a minivan and raced up the bridge. Could he find the Shallows again? The last time he was there, it was daylight and he had a guide. Now, he was on his own. Kaitlyn’s life depended on his sense of direction. He had no address, so GPS was useless. His only hope was to find some familiar landmark. His most vivid memory was the sound of the nearby interstate. Maybe if he drove along the highway, he might stumble upon it. But what were the chances he could find a secluded pond along miles and miles of dark freeway?
His mobile phone chirped and broke his train of thought. He checked the caller ID and answered. “What’d you find?”
“It’s not good, Rod,” Bernie said. “We’re in her house now. There’s a wall full of photos of Kaitlyn. Looks like they were taken with a telephoto lens . . . without Kaitlyn’s knowledge.”
“Damn it.”
“Some look like they’re from the winter, and even last summer. Julie’s been at this for a long time.” Bernie paused to speak to someone else, then returned to the phone. “We found a stack of magazines. They’ve been clipped to shreds. Probably where the letters came from.”
Rodney banged his hands on the steering wheel. “How did I miss this?” His foot pressed harder on the accelerator. They had been partners for two years. He should’ve known that something was amiss. She’d looked a bit tired over the past few months, but he thought nothing of it. The Dodge crested the bridge, then raced down the other side toward New Jersey.
“Don’t blame yourself.”
Rodney didn’t know who else to blame. He had practically delivered Kaitlyn into the arms of her stalker more than once. No wonder Julie only gave Brad’s murdered body a cursory review. She didn’t need to look. She’d seen it when she killed him. “Bernie, what do you know about Julie’s background?”
“She was married when she joined the force. Divorced about two years later.”
“Her maiden name?”
“Don’t know. I’ll get someone to check it out,” Bernie said.
Rodney reached the bottom of the bridge, skidding on the wet pavement as the lanes merged into one. “Bet it’s Riley.” He thought back to the newspaper clipping he’d been reading earlier in the office. The last paragraph told him everything.
The victim’s parents, as well as his younger sister, Julianna, were inconsolable.
He recalled Kaitlyn saying there was a sister. He’d looked at that newspaper clipping four or five times. Why had he missed it?
“You sure she’s headed to the Shallows?” Bernie asked
“Positive. Where else would she go?”
The rain was coming down harder. The drops pattered loudly on the windshield. It reminded him of the night of Kaitlyn’s accident in Philly. A Volkswagen had tried to run her down. Julie drove a Volkswagen. He’d missed that, too.
“Give me an address. I’ll get Woolwich police to meet you there.”
Rodney leaned forward to peer through the rain-splattered windshield. “I don’t have one.”
The phone went silent for a moment. “Then how’re you planning to find them?
Rodney scanned both sides of the road, searching for anything familiar. “Intuition.”
“What? That girl’s life is in danger!”
“No other choice. I’ve only been there once before.”
The wipers flicked across the windshield, wiping away fresh drops of rain. There were no streetlights along the road, leaving it cloaked in darkness. He flew past fields and clusters of trees, along with the occasional building. He reduced speed as he approached the overpass that ran above the interstate.
“Bernie, check in the case file,” he said. He remembered turning just after the overpass. He veered left onto Coontown Road. The car’s back wheels slid off the pavement, kicking up dirt and gravel. Rodney jerked the wheel to one side, regained control, and sped onward. “Look for a police report from Woolwich police. You might find an address in there.”
“Will do. Give me a few minutes to get back to the office,” Bernie said. “You gonna be okay on your own?”
“For now. Just get that address.”
As he hung up the phone, the road came to an end at a three-way intersection. He stopped the car and peered to the right and then left. He glanced up at the nearby street sign. Stone Meeting House Road. It sounded familiar, but he couldn’t recall which way to turn. He wished he’d made a note of the address before rushing from the office. Hindsight and all be damned. He climbed from the car and walked to the middle of the road. The rain soaked his clothes in seconds. He looked up the darkened road and saw nothing but shadows. If he made the wrong turn, Rodney could spend hours roaming the back roads of New Jersey and never find Kaitlyn. It was a fifty-fifty chance. Did he want to risk it? Maybe the interstate was the better choice. He knew the Shallows were close to the highway but how close he didn’t know. Was it obscured from view by trees or brush? Maybe he could find it from there. But which way on the interstate? North? South? And could he see anything in the dark? He stood as much chance of speeding past the Shallows as he did finding it. Perhaps more so.
Rodney glanced up toward the dark sky. He wasn’t going to find the Shallows by standing here in the rain. He moved back to the car and opened the car door. Before climbing back in, Rodney pulled the flashing teardrop light from the roof. No sense in announcing his arrival. He pulled into the intersection, turned the car around, and sped back the way he came.
43
Julie pushed hard on Kaitlyn’s shoulder with the muzzle of her pistol, edging her toward the steps that led onto the old house’s porch. Kaitlyn noticed a flickering orange glow from the open doorway. The stairs creaked beneath her as she climbed onto the porch. Peering into the door, she saw a modest square table and two chairs, one on either side. They must have been placed there just for this occasion. The table and chairs hadn’t been there on the last visit. On the table stood a single lit candle. The flickering flame cast shadows which danced around the room.
There was another nudge of cold metal between her shoulder blades. “Go in.”
Kaitlyn hesitated. The last time she’d been here, the floor looked like it might collapse at any moment. “Is it safe?”
The next shove was harder. The gun’s muzzle was sharp and painful in the small of her back. “It’s as safe as you’re going to get right now.”
She took a few tentative steps forward into the house. She remembered the family room well. There had been a plaid forest-green sofa beneath the window near the door and a reclining chair off to the left. The
television once stood across the room on a dark brown TV stand the Rileys had bought from K-mart. She helped Jesse assemble it for his parents. An old throw rug—now long gone—had covered the dull, scuffed-up hardwood floors.
Now, dust and cobwebs filled the corners and covered the floor. Some of the walls had crumbled, exposing the aged wall studs beneath. Old newspapers and decaying plaster and broken lath boards were scattered in piles around the room. It all looked on the verge of utter disintegration.
Standing in the room brought forth a flood of memories that Kaitlyn had worked for years to suppress. Jesse first told her he loved her in that room while they watched reruns of Magnum P.I. on late-night TV. Often, she’d fall asleep on the sofa, always to wake up the next morning with a blanket over her, snug and warm. She’d loved Jesse and his family. His parents always treated her like a daughter. And, Julianna had been like the little sister she never had. She heard Julie approach from behind and wondered what had happened to the little girl whose hair she used to braid.
Kaitlyn spun around. “What now? Why’d you do all this?”
Julie waved her gun toward one of the chairs. “Sit.”
The chair’s ladder back was uncomfortable, and the woven rush seat scratched at her bare thighs. It was the same one she remembered from the Riley’s dining room. The table top was covered in thick dust, so Kaitlyn clasped her hands and rested them on her lap.
Julie took a seat in the other chair and placed the flashlight and the gun on the table between them, making sure to keep her hand on the pistol grip at all times. “It’s been a long time since we sat in this room together.” Her eyes reflected the flickering candle, making them appear to burn with rage. “After you left for college, I never thought I’d see you again.”
Kaitlyn shifted in her chair. “Julie, what’s this all about?”
Julie ignored the question. “Imagine my surprise when I found out who Kaitlyn Ashe really was.” Her voice was flat, emotionless. “You know how I found out?”
Kaitlyn shook her head. She decided to remain silent. Maybe if Julie talked things out, she might see sense.
“Last year’s Best of Philly issue of Philadelphia Magazine.”
Kaitlyn recalled being named best nighttime radio personality. There was a photoshoot and a short write-up in the magazine.
“I recognized you. You can change your name, but I knew who it really was as soon as I saw the photo. It didn’t take much work to dig up the details.” Julie lifted the gun from the table and gestured at her, as if to drive home each point. “Laura Hobson. Kaitlyn Ashe. One and the same.”
The gun came back down on the table with an angry thud. Kaitlyn flinched. The candle shook and the flame quivered at the violence. Julie continued to speak. “Imagine my further surprise to find that you lived in Lower Merion Township. Right in my jurisdiction. I was worried you might recognize me. But I’m not that pudgy young girl anymore, no blonde hair. Just enough to fool you.”
Silence fell across the table as Julie glared through the flame. The shadows weaved and danced over her face, further corrupting her already malicious stare. The rain outside had fallen into a droning rhythm, sounding more like white noise. From somewhere in the house, water dripped. Plink. Plink. Plink. It filled the silent space between them.
Frightened as she was, Kaitlyn was growing tired of the games. She didn’t know what Julie had planned, but she could guess it wasn’t going to be pleasant. The suffering she’d experienced over Brad’s death was enough for a lifetime. Add to it Zeke and Sammy’s murders, and Kaitlyn felt she’d endured more than her share.
She peered back at Julie and couldn’t help but picture a younger Julianna Riley, sweet and innocent. One whose laugh had been infectious. One who trailed along behind her and Jesse, happy and full of wonder. “What happened to you?” she said.
“Me? I don’t know. Perhaps someone killed my brother.”
The spiteful words drove into Kaitlyn’s heart like a spike. Only one person had ever directly accused her of killing Jesse. But it was never taken seriously. There had been whispers in high school, but no one dared point a finger at her. How much did Julie know about what happened that night? She couldn’t possibly know the truth. No one had been at the Shallows that night except herself and Jesse. No one knew what happened. No one.
“How can you say that? I loved Jesse. I loved you . . . and your family.”
Julie slammed her hand onto the table and leaned forward, her face inches from the candle flame. “Then why didn’t you save him?”
Kaitlyn felt the first tear on her cheek. Was this where she admitted the truth? Was it the moment she’d dreaded all her life? Even if she told Julie what really happened, she doubted she’d believe her. She needed to buy herself some time. Time to find a way to escape.
“I tried. I swear.”
Julie fell back in her chair. It creaked under the strain. “You didn’t try hard enough!”
"How would you know,” Kaitlyn said. “You weren’t there!”
Julie didn’t respond. Instead, she reached into her coat pocket, pulled something out and tossed it across the table. “I think you lost something.”
The wad of leather and metal slid to a halt inches from Kaitlyn. She picked it up and held it to the candlelight. The Celtic star knot reflected the flickering flame. Jesse’s necklace.
“Found that the night after I killed Brad. I came back to your house to make sure my cameras hadn’t been disturbed when the clods I call co-workers traipsed through.”
Kaitlyn closed her hands around the necklace. The points of the star dug into her palm. If she could distract Julie, maybe catch her off guard. Kaitlyn glanced around the room, hoping to find something she could use as a weapon, but there was nothing close at hand. “Why’d you have to kill Brad?”
Julie laughed. “I wanted you to suffer like my family suffered.” Julie leaned forward again. “Did you suffer? Did it hurt to see his bloody corpse that night?” Julie leaned back and laughed again. It was a manic laugh that Kaitlyn recognized from her childhood. Jesse sometimes laughed like that when he had his “attacks.”
While Julie seemed lost for the moment in a fit of mania, Kaitlyn saw her chance and leapt from her chair, lifting the table as she did. It tumbled over into Julie’s lap, sending her falling backward onto the floor. The candle flew off the table and landed in a nearby pile of rubbish. The gun clattered on the hardwood and Kaitlyn, for a moment, considered making a dive for it. But, deciding against it, she ran for the door, down the stairs, and into rain beyond.
44
The cold rain hit her hard in the face as Kaitlyn stumbled down the porch steps. Her bare feet slipped in the mud, and only by grabbing the nearby porch railing was she able to keep from falling. The headlights from the nearby Volkswagen still blazed, piercing the downpour like two daggers of white light. Her first impulse was to run to the car, but a protracted shout of profanity from in the house convinced her otherwise. To make a run for the car would place her in the open far more than she was comfortable. She darted around the side of the house and raced toward the overgrown field behind it. If she could hide there until morning . . .
Julie shouted somewhere behind her. “Damn you, Laura! Goddamn you!”
The weeds and high grass whipped at her legs. Rocks and twigs stabbed and pierced her bare feet. Kaitlyn stumbled in the gloom, then forced herself up again and pressed onward. She glanced over her shoulder. A narrow beam of light was sweeping and searching the trail that led to the Shallows. Julie hadn’t figured out where she’d gone. Kaitlyn hoped to keep it that way for another few minutes. An old crooked tree nearby loomed from out of the darkness. She ran toward it, planning to hide, rest, and regroup.
Suddenly, Kaitlyn was caught from behind by the flashlight beam. The white circle of light cast her silhouette on the tree. She heard the crack of a shot, and some tree bark splintered off the nearby trunk. Kaitlyn dipped her shoulders and ran the final few yards to the tree. She hid behind
it with her back pressed against the wet bark. Another shot hit the trunk near where she had been only moments before.
Kaitlyn’s chest heaved with every breath. Her morning runs along the Cynwyd Heritage Trail had never prepared her for this. Her bare feet felt like they were in shreds. Pierced, cut, and torn. Her hair hung in front of her face, laden with rainwater. She closed her eyes and wished for a miracle. When she opened them again, she was disappointed to find that none had appeared.
The flashlight’s beam swept from one side of the tree to the other. The squish of footsteps in the mud approached, slow and steady. Kaitlyn knew it would only be moments before Julie reached her. About twenty yards from her, the wild grass grew tall, probably enough to conceal her . . . at least for a while. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and launched herself off the tree, sprinting toward the high grass. She covered five yards in seconds. Her feet burned and stung with every step. Ten yards. She was halfway there. Fifteen yards. The flashlight swept in her direction. A shot rang out. A searing pain ripped through her upper arm, near the right shoulder. She crashed to the ground, just shy of the high grass.
Rolling onto her back, Kaitlyn grit her teeth against the pain. She gripped her arm and writhed against the fiery burning in her flesh. Blood oozed from a gash in her arm. It mixed with the falling rain and flowed off her arm, dripping onto the ground.
A bright light shone in her eyes and Kaitlyn turned her head away. So much for her escape. “You shot me.”
Julie shifted the light to the wound, then moved it back to shine in Kaitlyn’s face again. “Flesh wound. I’m not ready to kill you . . . yet.”
“Why do you want me to die?”
Julie’s reply came like an icy dagger. “Justice.”
During the half-mile walk to the Shallows, Kaitlyn’s bare feet went numb to the rocks and branches that jabbed and perforated her skin. She didn’t want to think about how bloody they must be. The mud along the trail seeped between her toes as she marched toward the Shallows. The cold raindrops pummeled the ground around her. Her clothing—meager as it was— was soaked and mud-covered. It offered little protection from cold. She shivered and kept her wounded arm pressed against her body. The gunshot wound wasn’t severe—more of a gash through the fleshy part of her upper arm— but still hurt like hell. Her fingers alternated between tingling and losing feeling altogether. Every few moments, Julie pressed the gun into Kaitlyn’s back as a reminder that she was still there.
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