It wasn’t Charles. Couldn’t be. And if it was, Jeneice’s case was unrelated to the other girls. But it fit in so many other ways. As did Andre. It wasn’t unheard of for a loved one, especially a spouse, to lie to police and make themselves an alibi. Barrington had read over the notes from that interview and he wasn’t convinced. At all.
And then there was poor little Aria, who was minding her own damn business and was almost stolen away. Thoughts of her nagged him mercilessly.
He almost got her.
Almost. Almost. He kept replaying the word over and over in his mind until it no longer sounded like a real word. Almost.
Almost doesn’t count.
ADAM MOBLEY’S OFFICE was only two miles away from the main department, but Barrington was not a frequent visitor. In fact, he went out of his way to avoid the area because of a little indiscretion with a certain young trainee back in the day when he and Fallon were on a break. A break that was more like an argument. Regardless, he wouldn’t be in the building unless he absolutely had to and today, he had to.
Barrington walked into the conference room and Mobley looked surprised to see him. “My man Dunn! How goes it?” He was a cool guy. A little corny, but whip-smart and good at his job. He couldn’t dress for shit, though, and today he was particularly egregious in a blue and white checkered shirt with a black and grey houndstooth tie.
“It’s going, man. Listen, I need a favor,” Barrington said.
Mobley’s face fell. “So this isn’t a social call? My feelings are hurt.”
“It’s important.”
“Okay, have a seat. What can I do you for?”
Barrington passed several stacks of papers and boxes and sat in front of the one empty space on the long table. “Okay, I have this case, a serial killer, and despite the urgency this case should have inspired in my department, nobody could be bothered to send the information over here for a profile. Now I know you would need to spend some time with the case files to give me a workup but I need something today.”
Mobley frowned. “Something like what?”
“Well...”
“Spit it out, Dunn, I’m busy,” Mobley said.
“I have a suspect who tried to kidnap a girl a week ago. He stalked her at work and followed her home. She had the good sense to call dispatch and they sent her to a precinct.”
“What about it?” asked Mobley, impatient and irritable.
“I know he’s gonna hit again, but do you think he’ll hit her again? The same girl?”
Mobley rolled his eyes. “Jesus. You couldn’t have given me less information if you tried.”
“Sorry.”
“Me too. I can’t help you. You said it yourself, I would need to see the case files and I would definitely need more than five minutes.”
“What if I sent them over right now?” Barrington asked.
Mobley scoffed. “Then they’d go at the bottom of this lovely stack of papers I like to call ‘Shit I’m Already Working On’.”
“I told you it was a favor.”
“Can’t do it. Sorry.” He paused for a moment. “How many other victims?”
Barrington sensed a tiny window of opportunity. “Five, that we know of. Three found, all between 19 and 26. The most recent attempt is a 16-year-old, but she presents a little older. All black, all female, none appear to have been high-risk. Dump sites were on Arabia. All strangled, all sexually assaulted. No fingerprints, blood, or hair found. Only traces of semen in one of the victims. And he seems to hit every three to four weeks.”
“Well, he’s obviously organized if he’s not leaving evidence. He’s been doing this awhile, that’s why he’s so good at it. But frankly, I’m not seeing the connection between the murders and this most recent girl. Why are you so sure it’s the same guy?”
“He fits the description and so does his vehicle. Nothing concrete yet but—”
“But you have a hunch. And you thought you’d pick my brain, for free, and then use my info to shore up your hunch. Do I have that right?” He didn’t miss much. Barrington grinned and tried to be as charming as possible. “I told you it was a favor.”
“Fuck off.”
Barrington waited, hopeful that Mobley would throw him a bone. The tiny redheaded man took a long pull from his bottle of apple juice and sighed loudly. “Alright, off the record.”
“Please,” Barrington said, leaning toward Mobley.
“If I had the file, which I don’t, I could get a feel for his motivation. If—and this is a big if—he’s motivated by the need to dominate and control, then it’s possible that losing a victim infuriated him enough to go after her again. But you didn’t need me to tell you that. You obviously know it’s a possibility.”
“I know it’s possible, but do you think it’s probable?”
“I really can’t give you that. I wish I could but I don’t have the file.”
Barrington rolled his eyes. “How many times are you gonna say that?”
Mobley grinned. “Until it pisses you off.”
“Consider me pissed off.”
“Look, why don’t you have one of your guys send me the shit so I can get you some real data. And in the meantime, if you think the girl’s in danger, why don’t you just put a car on her house? Use her as bait, maybe he’ll poke his head out and you can catch him. ”
“It’s not that simple, man. I’m...restricted as it relates to this investigation. I’m the public face but they tied my hands backstage.”
“So they aren’t serious.”
“Not really.”
“Sorry, man.” Mobley stared out the window. “Well look, if this is your serial killer and he let one get away, it means he made a mistake. And since he’s been meticulous up to this point, you may be looking at someone who’s coming unhinged. That typically happens for a reason. What’s going on in his life? Is he losing control in his personal life? Is he on the bottle or drugs? Shit like that.”
“Good, that’s good. I can use that.”
“No, you can’t because I clearly stated this was off the record. This doesn’t go in your report, Dunn.”
“I got it, man, damn.” Barrington considered his options. He couldn’t pull a car and put it on Aria because then Price would know he was still working the case. He would go sit on her house himself if he had to, but it was still early. Whoever this guy was, he seemed to hit at night. He would go back to the office and work for a little while and then he’d swing by. She would be okay for a couple of hours.
Chapter 37
HEAVY GRAY CLOUDS PACKED the evening sky, threatening to open up and release their wet contents onto anyone or anything that sat beneath them. Anyone on the roads would be feeling the pressure to get home and take shelter immediately, so traffic would be twice as bad as usual. But despite the menacing weather, Aria was in a great mood. The dance was tonight, and she was finally ready to go.
Sonya had gotten there late, per usual, and moved slow, per usual, so Aria didn’t leave the hair salon until 11 that morning. That caused her to get to the nail salon late but they were kind enough to squeeze her in. The mall had been packed and the MAC store was a zoo, and Meka took way too long on the girl before Aria, so she had to rush through Aria’s makeup appointment. Thankfully, the end result was exactly what Aria wanted. Some people might have considered all of these mishaps a series of bad omens, but Aria was too excited to see any negativity.
Homecoming court had always been a dream of hers. A silly dream, maybe, but something Aria had wanted and prepared for since middle school. Student council, yearbook staff, and Ladies of Distinction were all strategically-chosen extracurriculars and she had kept her grades up, of course. It was also important to be likable, so Aria had made a point to be nice to everyone. Within reason. Some girls were just bitches and no amount of congeniality would ever change that. But the people who mattered noticed, and they were the ones who had voted for her as junior representative.
Her sash was white with navy blu
e lettering. She and Maya had spent hours outlining the blue lettering with silver glitter. Only the homecoming queen got a tiara, but Aria had Sonya strategically place rhinestones throughout her braids. It was a subtle hint to everyone else that she had her eye on the crown for senior year.
“It’s 6:30! You need to come on!” Maya yelled up the stairs, and Aria felt a rush of panic. She was ready but she had the sense that she was forgetting something. Purse, phone, lip gloss, flats, keys. What else?
“I still have to take pictures, Aria! And it’s ‘bout to rain!”
She rolled her eyes and grabbed her stuff, reminding herself to grab an umbrella on the way out the door. She descended the staircase and the gang was all there, snapping a thousand pictures as she relished the moment. Grandma Annie was there, proud as ever.
They saw her to her car. A small part of her wished she had an escort, but she didn’t let it bother her. Maybe next year. She pulled out of her neighborhood just as the raindrops began to fall, and a bolt of lightning crackled, illuminating the dark sky. She turned left, hoping she wouldn’t hit traffic on the way. There was something she was forgetting, she knew it, but she couldn’t figure it out and it bugged her relentlessly. Then the rain fell harder, obscuring her vision, preventing the already distracted girl from seeing the dark sedan following two cars behind her.
Chapter 38
AS HE PULLED INTO TRAFFIC, Barrington tried to formulate a strategy. He couldn’t shake his hunch that Aria’s guy was their guy. The timeline fit, as did the description of his car and his face. Yes, he was sure of it. So sure, he was going to sit on Aria’s house tonight, damn what Price thought. But there was a good chance the guy wouldn’t show, and then there would Barrington be? He couldn’t sit on her house every night, or follow her to and from work and school. It was a shitty plan, but he felt compelled to follow through.
The light turned red and he sat. And worried. And then it hit him. The answer was literally staring him in the face.
BACK IN HIS OFFICE, Barrington booted his computer back up and waited impatiently as each system loaded. He logged in and went straight to the database that holds information on red light offenders. If he could find Aria’s car on the cameras, he could find the car that was following her, run the plates in the database, and get a name. It was a long shot, but it was the only shot he had.
There were several offenders on the date in question, which meant there were hundreds of pictures to sift through. 6:58. Shit, he wasn’t going to make it to Aria’s by dark.
He called Fallon to let her know he’d be late coming home and she pulled out all the stops. She sighed, sucked her teeth, reminded him that she cooked, and told him Taylor was asking for her daddy. Those tactics had stopped working a long time ago but Fallon was consistent. And persistent. He had to give her that. But she knew he was police when she married him, no sense pouting about it now.
Barrington continued to scroll and scan, scroll and scan until he spotted a white Honda Civic. He zoomed in and was able to make out a partial plate number. He checked the incident report from Aria’s visit to the station and sure enough, the plates matched. It was her car. And right behind her was a dark sedan. He couldn’t make out any identifying information because the car was in shadow, but it was enough of a break to reenergize him. He was almost there, he could feel it.
Chapter 39
ARIA PULLED UP TO THE covered deck under the hotel and snatched her ticket from the machine. The loud roar of rain stopping abruptly as soon as she pulled in and the silence was comforting. She and drove around and around, passing rows of cars, looking for an empty space. She kicked herself for being late. She was always late.
Every level was full until she got to the fourth level, where there were only four cars. The emptiness was intimidating. If she had more time, Aria would have waited on the first level for someone to come out, as she usually did. She was rather prissy about parking spaces; something about parking far from an entrance felt beneath her. But she didn’t have the time today. She would have to suck it up.
Fluorescent bulbs illuminated parts of the garage and left the rest in shadow, and Aria felt uneasy as she surveyed her surroundings. She was still spooked by the incident, but she told herself it was all in her head. Still, her mama didn’t raise no fool. She dialed Kiana’s phone number.
“Hello!” shouted Kiana. Aria could hear the sounds of the dance in the background.
“Hey! I just parked but I don’t know where I’m going. Can one of y’all meet me in the parking deck?”
“What level are you on?”
“Level four.”
“Oh, okay just get in the elevator and come up to five. It will let you out on the right floor and you just come to the ballroom.”
So much for dignity. “Okay listen, the deck is dark and empty and I’m kind of scared. I just need somebody to meet me.” Please.
“Ooh girl, I don’t know. They’re about to announce the court. By the time somebody gets down there, you’ll be done missed it.”
Aria sighed. “What about one of the teachers?”
“I’ll see if I can find somebody. Okay?”
“Okay.” She set her phone down and waited. Several seconds passed by before she decided she was being silly. The empty deck may have been spooky but it also allowed her a clear view of the entire area. Nobody was there.
She gathered her things and put her hand on the unlock button. She wavered between waiting and making a run for it. Kiana had said they were getting ready to do the announcement and she would hate herself if she missed it. She scanned the deck again and took a deep breath.
It’s okay Aria. You can do this. Unlock the door.
She hit the button and even though she knew it was coming, she jumped at the loud click. She told herself to relax before climbing out of the car, feeling less agile than she had when she left home. She pushed the door closed as quietly as she could, not wanting to make too much noise and alert...whatever it was she was afraid of.
The elevator was only fifteen feet away. If she kept her cool, she would make it. All she had to do was not pass out.
Every footfall echoed in the empty deck. Aria contemplated taking off her heels but decided against it. She was only five feet away from the elevator when her phone rang again and it scared her so badly she nearly jumped right out of her shoes.
“Kiana?”
“Hey, I told Ms. Parks-Williams you were coming up. She said she’d wait for you.”
“Oh good. But did you send somebody down?”
“No, sorry. Nobody wanted to leave the dance.”
Aria sighed. “Okay. I’m getting on the elevator now. She relaxed as she reached the elevator bank, pressing the button and allowing herself to let her guard down. She told herself again that she was being stupid, that it was all in her mind. She imagined herself on the stage with the rest of the court and smiled, and it was at that exact moment that she heard footsteps behind her. Slow at first, but as she began to turn around, the footsteps got faster and she realized someone was running toward her. As she turned, she felt an arm lock around her neck.
Everything she had been holding fell onto the floor of the garage in a loud splatter. Her first instinct was to kick outward which only threw her off balance. She stumbled backward but the person didn’t loosen his grip. By the time she thought to scream, there wasn’t enough air in her windpipe to expel any sound. She swung her arms wildly, trying to connect with his face, arms, anything. There was only air.
Aria felt her last few breaths of air slipping away. In the fog of semi-consciousness, she realized there was something dangling from her right pinky finger. It was her keychain. Her mother had once told her she could use her keys as a weapon.
She balled up her fist and swung the keys toward her palm to get a good grip on them. Her fingers brushed against something unfamiliar and then she remembered. Maya had given her a small container of pepper spray. Aria hadn’t thought much of it other than that it was pink, a
nd she hated the color pink, but it was right there now, right within her grasp, and it just might save her life.
She stomped her heel into his foot and his grip loosened slightly, just enough for her to take some air into her burning lungs. She managed to maneuver the top of the pepper spray can off, but only halfway. It would have to be enough. Squeezing her eyes shut, she lifted her arm, coiled it around the side of her face, and pressed down on the nozzle with all of her strength. The spray hissed as it shot out of the can and Aria could tell from the man’s yelp that it had landed.
After he cried out, the man released his arm from Aria’s neck. She hadn’t sprayed herself but she was gasping so hard for air that she breathed in the spray. Her eyes ran, tears streaming violently down her cheeks, and she stumbled blindly to get back to her car. In the end, after all the stalking and creeping and attempted kidnapping, it wasn’t the man who succeeded in bringing Aria down. She made a fatal mistake attempting to run while her vision was compromised. Stumbling in her heels, she fell forward, hit her head on the guardrail, and knocked herself unconscious.
Chapter 40
THE MEETING WITH MR. Reggie had left me feeling sour. He seemed to be hiding something but I had a hard time imagining what. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to wonder if he’d had something to do with Leah’s death, but that didn’t make sense. He would have had to know where Leah lived and been there at the precise time she left the neighborhood. It was too much of a coincidence.
No, the simplest explanation is usually the best one. It had to be one of the neighborhood boys. If it wasn’t Andre, who was still the strongest suspect in my view, it might have been Diante or Jason. Maybe they were afraid she would tell Jarvis what we had done. That was definitely plausible. Regardless, my days of playing detective were over. I would leave that to Barrington and his ilk.
Of Things Unseen Page 27