Killers Among

by S. E. Green

  I’m about to ask Daisy if I can borrow it when she says, “Justin, get your gear. Football’s in thirty.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he says and heads upstairs.

  “Football?” I ask.

  “Dad agreed to it. They’re doing some sort of camp in prep for next year’s team.”

  “What? Justin doesn’t even like football. Is he giving up Aikido?”

  “I don’t know.” She checks to make sure Justin has cleared the stairs before sliding into the high-back chair beside me. She glances at Victor’s briefcase.

  “He came home and then left,” I say. “Personal day.”

  She sits up. “Is he okay?”

  I’m quick to assure her. After his heart attack, we’re both on high alert when it comes to Victor taking it easy.

  Silence falls between us as she looks at me and I look at her. I suspect she wants to know more. The last time we talked I left her hanging and she surprisingly didn’t follow up. She proved to be quite the resource in tracking down Mom’s old high school boyfriend. There’s no telling what else she’s tracked down or can track down.

  I’ve spent so much time protecting her from secrets she’s slowly unraveling. The fact is, my sister is stronger than I have ever given her credit for. And while I’m not ready to tell her all the darkest things about me, I am ready to share this with her. My sister is an ally. We’re on the same side.

  Hell, for all I know she’s already dug into Mom’s childhood and knows more than I realize.

  “What are your plans after dropping Justin?” I ask.

  “I’m all yours, sister.”

  19

  Daisy and I dropped Justin at football and here we are at my dorm.

  “Let me grab my charger,” I tell her, “and I’ll be right out.”

  She kills the engine. “I haven’t seen your room yet. Plus, I just have to meet the opera adoring snorer.”

  “Okay, but you asked for it.”

  Together we walk across the student lot, round the corner of my dorm, and trot up the few steps. Whereas yesterday these steps were normal gray concrete, now they’re painted with squiggly lines.

  Ah, the campus vandal strikes again.

  We walk inside the front door and come to an immediate halt. Residents pack the lobby, both boys and girls. Boxes, too, full of reflector vests, flashlights, and security strobes.

  Conversation buzzes as everyone busies themselves trying on vests, putting batteries in flashlights, and flicking the strobes on and off.

  A giant campus map sits taped to the wall with bold X’s in various colors. Beside the map are a list with times, campus zones, and student names.

  Great. They’ve organized a student security mob. Just what every person needs who wants to come and go at all hours undetected.

  “Lane!” Sabrina bounds up, all decked out in an orange vest with a strobe attached and a flashlight secured around her waist. She presses the ON button of the strobe, and Daisy and I both wince.

  “Jesus,” Daisy says, reaching forward and turning it right back off.

  I make the introductions and Sabrina gives Daisy a big hug. “Nice to meet you!”

  Sabrina waves her arm around the room. “We organized a campus watch.”

  Yeah, no kidding.

  Sabrina snatches the flashlight off her waist and spins it like she’s in a shootout in the old west. “You ready to catch the campus vandal?”

  Daisy and I exchange a look.

  My roommate holsters her flashlight. “You gotta be aware of everyone. Gotta know their comings and goings. Make notes. Keep track. Report if something’s off.” She pulls a whistle from a Velcro pocket on her vest and gives it a blow. The students gathered in the lobby echo with their own whistles.

  Great, whistles too.

  Sabrina nods over to the wall where the map and sign-up sheet are located. “I put your name in zone blue.”

  This is not happening.

  She leans in. “I noticed Zach signed up for that zone, too.”

  “Zach?” Daisy snaps me a surprised look.

  “Oh, yeah, forgot to tell you. He’s enrolled here, too.”

  “Well, that’ll be interesting,” Daisy mumbles.

  Sabrina bounces on the balls of her feet. “Make sure you get supplies before they run out!” With that, she twirls off.

  I look over at Daisy. Her lips twitch, and I roll my eyes. College kids patrolling. Everyone reporting. No one moving around unnoticed. Including me. Who cares about the vandal? I’m more worried about the flashlight-wearing, strobe-toting, whistle-bound students. Because as long as this vandal is on the loose, I’ll have no real privacy.

  Clearly, I need to track this shithead down and stop him so that I can move on with my life.

  20

  As we’re pulling back out of the dorm, Daisy says, “How are things with you and Tommy?”

  “Good.” I mean, I guess. I know it’s only been a day, but I thought for sure I’d hear from him by now.

  Daisy lowers the visor to cut the brightness from her eyes. “I’ve always been good with Justin, but lately I can’t figure him out. I try to take him seriously, then I try not to. Nothing works. It’s like he’s this complex person now and it’s not in my skill set to understand him.”

  From behind my sunglasses, I glance over at Daisy. “That’s insightful.”

  “I’m trying to be a good sister and daughter, but every day since Mom died things get more complicated, not less. It’s hard to juggle it all.”

  She’s putting words to my own thoughts.

  In the passenger seat, I shift to get a better look at her. I want her to know I’m really listening. “Daisy, I feel the same way. It can be overwhelming and perhaps you and I both need to realize our limitations. And we need to work at un-complicating our lives. We don’t have to take everything on.”

  “But I want to. It’s like I’m truly finding who I am now.”

  “Okay, I get that.”

  Silence falls between us then as Daisy continues driving, and shifting forward, I type an address into the GPS. My sister doesn’t ask what I’m typing in. She simply follows the automated directions.

  She says, “Mom’s whole life was about serial killers. It was all she thought about. Why do you suppose that is?”

  “I asked her that one time, and she said she lost a childhood friend to a killer who was never caught. That one single event changed the direction of her life.”

  “Hm.”

  That’s all Daisy says, and it’s a loaded Hm. It makes me think she knows something I don’t.

  We drive in silence after that, heading toward Alexandria. Eventually, the GPS tells Daisy to turn and that our destination is fifty yards ahead on the right.

  Yellow police tape sections off the small brick house and I spy an unmarked car parked several spots up and on the left side. “Pull over the first chance you get.”

  She parallel parks between a truck and a small two-door, and together we stare at the tiny home surrounded by police tape.

  “A woman was found a couple of days ago in that house. Bled out from a sliced open neck. Apparent suicide. Forty years ago the exact same thing happened in that exact house. Our mom may have witnessed it.”

  Daisy snaps me a surprised look. “What are you talking about?”

  “I overheard Victor on the phone. They found a degraded sample of her DNA that puts her in the house when she was five years old. And it could all coincide. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

  I allow a few beats of silence to go by while Daisy goes back to looking at the house and digesting what I just said.

  “Only I’m not sure it was suicide. We could be talking about murder.”

  Daisy looks over at me again.

  Something in her eyes makes a nervous swallow work its way down my throat. I’m not supposed to bring Daisy into this world, but here I am—doing just that. “I’ve decided to really dig in. I have a theory the killer either made it look like
a suicide or forced the women to do it.”

  “A suicide killer?” Daisy whispers.

  The Suicide Killer—an apt name for sure. “An entirely different monster, and with forty years between the two kills, there are likely more. There has to be a pattern, a motivation, a ritual.”

  This time, she’s the one who swallows.

  I keep going, “You’re better with computers than me. Perhaps you can help me do some digging?”

  Another few beats go by as she looks at me and I look at her. Then she takes her sunglasses from the console and slips them on. She doesn’t want me seeing her eyes. I don’t like that, but I respect it.

  “A forty-year span of killings,” Daisy says. “A person who possibly talks people into committing suicide. That’s impressive in a disturbing and evil way. I wonder if this ever hit on Mom’s radar.”

  Daisy’s words flitter through my brain, sparking a repressed image. Yes, I knew I had seen that old newspaper article before. It’s in Mom’s files.

  An excited twitch moves through me. We moved Mom’s files to the basement. Which is exactly where I’m going as soon as I get a chance. “If I’m right on this, he’s likely a loner. Obsessed with suicide. With forty years spanning, he would be older. Maybe even sixty or seventy? The only thing that really gets his heart beating is the act. Likely not to look at his object as prey. He (or she) has come back to this house for a reason. This area might be home—”

  “It’s like being in the car with Mom. Serial killers intrigue you as much as they did her. She’d get a whiff of a bad guy and we’d never see her.”

  I hate that she just compared me to Mom, but it’s the truth. I get the whiff of a bad guy and my whole world clicks into place.

  “I’d say let’s go inside and have a look around—” She nods to the unmarked car— “But with that car over there, an investigator is inside.”

  I should be surprised Daisy knows that’s an unmarked car, but at this point, nothing about my sister is shocking me.

  “Why don’t we just ask Dad about all of this?” Daisy asks.

  “I’d rather keep it between us.”

  “We’re keeping a lot of stuff from Dad and just between you and me.” Daisy puts the Lexus in gear and as she does, something about her demeanor changes. She’s gone from nervous to approachable to now being irritated. “You know what, I don’t like secrets. And I don’t want to be here. I’m not intrigued by killers like you and Mom are.”

  She pulls away from the curb, and the gap that used to be between us is there again. Sisters in name only. I made a mistake bringing her here. Why did I just say all of that? Why am I trying to pull her into my world?

  21

  Sabrina signed me up for the ten to eleven shift in zone blue which covers the library, the student center, and the tennis courts.

  Really, I could care less about this vandal situation, but the quicker I find him, the quicker this irritation is over and I can move on to more important things like digging into Mom’s files.

  The only bright spot is that Sabrina signed me up next to Zach’s name. At least I’m patrolling with someone I like.

  “Halt!” Someone yells and I close my eyes. You’ve got to be kidding me.

  Turning around, I watch Sabrina jog toward me decked out in all black with her bright orange vest.

  Giggling, she comes to a stop in front of me. “I knew that was you. I was just kidding.”

  “What are you doing?”

  She looks at my jeans and hoodie. “Where’s your gear?”

  I wave that off. “I’m fine. Why are you here? I thought you were patrolling at a different time.”

  “Zach had something come up and needed a fill in.” She snaps to attention and salutes. “I’m the fill in.” She grins. “This’ll be fun.”

  “Yeah, fun.”

  She digs a pack of gum from her pocket and pops one in. “So I was thinking about how you and Zach used to date. And then he left. And you moved on. And he probably moved on to. And now he’s back. And you didn’t know he was back. And being your high school boyfriend you probably loved him. And boy is that confusing.” Blowing a bubble, she looks at me. “Ya know?”

  This girl is going to be the death of me.

  Sister, daughter, roommate, student, girlfriend. It was a hell of a lot easier when Mom was alive. I rarely had to deal with anybody. Now, someone is always there. There’s no escape. And Sabrina’s right. Now Zach is back. Is that good or bad? I have no clue.

  Putting things in perspective, it’s pretty lame I’m complaining about people wanting to be with me.

  From her back pocket, Sabrina’s phone plays Macarena. She waves it off. “My grandmother. I’ll get it later.” She cuts off between the shadowed area between the library and the student center. She points to the side entrance of the student center. “Need to pee. Be right back.”

  She uses her student ID card and beeps into the building. While I wait for her, I take a look around the shadowed area between the two buildings. I could leave, but that wouldn’t be too roommate-friendly of me.

  In my periphery, I catch sight of someone running. Or more like darting from shadow to shadow, and my senses prick to alert. Hello, Mr. Vandal.

  I take off after him.

  Dressed in all black, he (or she) wears a full-face ski mask and holds a spray paint can in his right hand. Ah, hard at work. He’s small and slender, making me lean more toward the vandal being a girl versus a boy. Either way, my target will be easy to take down.

  I’m going to scare the piss out of this idiot.

  He ducks around the corner of a brick building, disappearing even more into the darkness and I pick up the pace. I don’t care I’m not wearing a disguise. This isn’t a disguise type of event.

  The sound of a spray can filters through the night and I follow it. The vandal stands with his back to me as he paints a poor attempt of a large white skull on the side of a classroom building.

  I stand several feet back, my head cocked, studying his technique. I’ll let him finish and then I’ll make my move.

  While he hurriedly completes his ridiculous art, he glances over his right shoulder, then his left, not even spotting me right behind him. Finally, he’s done, tosses the can down, spins around to run, and his eyes widen when he sees me.

  “Hello,” I say.

  Wildly, he looks around, backing up.

  I sigh. “I wouldn’t run if I were you. And I wouldn’t fight. Believe me, when I say, I’ll win.”

  His breathing accelerates, and now that I’m looking more at his slender and short body, this might be a kid, not a college student.

  “I don’t really care who you are,” I say. “But you need to stop breaking things, cutting tennis nets, painting random stuff, and being an all-around pain in the ass. If I see you back here again, I won’t be so reasonable.”

  “Oh, whatever!” The vandal shouts. “I’m not scared of you.”

  I move lightning quick, shoving the miscreant up against the wall that he just painted. Cramming my arm under his throat, I force his head up as I glare down into his charcoal-rimmed eyes.

  He tries to throw a side punch, but I sense the shift in weight in time to grab his wrist. He’s stronger than expected and I press his wrist into the brick wall beside his hip. I shift my weight closer, making sure he’s completely pinned and unable to try another punch or a kick.

  “You need to calm the hell down,” I say.

  He glares at me, more pissed I’ve pinned him then he is I caught him vandalizing the campus.

  I wish I had a hand free to yank his hood off.

  But I stay right where I am, waiting him out. It’s just like working with animals. Show them who is alpha and they’ll eventually submit.

  Another few beats go by while I stare at him and he stares at me, and as expected, he looks away first. But still, I don’t move. When his body releases, then I’ll know he’s fully submitted.

  He sighs then, and with it, the tensio
n in his shoulders ease. Good, that’s what I was waiting on—the realization of defeat.

  Still, though, I don’t move. Something tells me this is a good kid who’s making bad choices.

  He sighs again. “It’s me,” he whispers.

  It takes me a second to register what he just said, and when his words filter in, I shove away from him and the wall and I yank his hood off. “Justin? What the hell!”

  Tears well in his eyes, filling up and tipping over to trail through the charcoal he smeared over his face. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, and with a sniff, he wipes the back of his hand under his nose. “Please don’t tell Dad.”

  “You have got to tell me what’s going on, and how did you even get here?”

  “I snuck out. Dad thinks I’m in bed. One of my friends has an older brother who drives. They picked me up. They’re waiting on me.”

  “What do you mean they’re waiting on you? Did they tell you to do this?”

  “No,” he whispers. “It was my idea.”

  I look down at his ski mask still gripped in my hand. “Justin, you’re going to have to spell this out for me. I really don’t understand what’s going on. This isn’t you.”

  The tears come in full force, and I fight everything in me to comfort him. He needs to face what he’s done.

  “Th-there’s a group at school and they’re really popular. They started being nice to me. Th-they want me to be their friend. But they’ve been mean to some other kids. I tried to be mean, too, b-but I can’t.”

  “So you thought if you came here and vandalized this campus, it’d make you look cool so you don’t have to look cool by picking on other kids?”

  With a sniff, he nods and I don’t know what to say. I have never once wanted to belong to a group. I don’t get the whole peer-pressure thing. “Justin, you know this is wrong. I don’t have to tell you that. You can’t and shouldn’t do this. You know better. This thing you’re going through, it’s over.”

  He brings his wet eyes up to mine. “Please don’t tell Dad.”

  I look down into his charcoal smeared face that isn’t so little boy anymore. He’s going to be a teenager soon and then an adult. I take no joy in ratting him out to Victor, but in this case, I believe it’s necessary.