Closer Than She Knows

by Kelly Irvin

  “What does this have to do with today’s murders?” Max traced the condensation on his glass of ice water without looking up, but his tone suggested complete and utter concentration.

  “The murders linked to Slocum in these other jurisdictions have a number of things in common, but one of the most notable is the fancy calligraphy letters left by the killer.” Dad’s gaze came up and touched Teagan. “We’ve only had the one murder here with that MO. Until now.”

  “Copycat or accomplice?” Distaste apparent on his deeply lined face, Siebert threw out the question as if testing the waters. “But it would have to be someone who knew the inside dope that wasn’t released to the public.”

  “Technically this letter wasn’t left with the victim.” Gracie rubbed her arms. Red spots deepened on her fair cheeks. She had her mother’s dark, almost black hair and pale-gray eyes. Right now she looked tired. “He basically gave T a warning. How common is that for a serial killer?”

  “If Slocum is responsible for the murders in the Rio Grande Valley, he varied his weapons and his method of killing. That’s one of the things that has made it hard for law enforcement to pin some of the older murders on him.” Dad leaned forward in his chair and splayed his big fingers on the table. “The murderer in the earlier cases was articulate and well spoken—at least in the letters left at the scene, which are his signature. He wanted people to know he was smart. The women he killed were dissimilar. Young, old, black, white, Hispanic, blondes, brunettes, redheads. They were shot, stabbed, and/or strangled. He didn’t sign the letters with the names of fictional characters. That’s a new development.”

  All eyes in the room turned to Teagan. As if she knew why a killer would target her. She was twenty-six, college long in the rearview mirror and then only the two years at community college needed for her associate’s. Her thick, strawberry-blonde hair settled just beyond her shoulder blades. During the day she wore it in a braid wound into a knot for a more professional look. At home the bun came out but the braid stayed. Same green eyes and long nose as her mother. Two hot-blooded children of Irish immigrants made for immense, explosive arguments and passionate making up, according to her mom. Teagan had inherited their temperament.

  One item linked her to the killer more than any other—her love of murder mysteries, thrillers, and suspense novels. Especially Raymond Fuentes novels.

  “Anybody need more coffee?” She stood. Tigger whined and did the same. She nuzzled Teagan’s hand, seeking a pet. Teagan obliged. “I can make sandwiches. I made fresh sourdough bread over the weekend. I have sliced turkey from the deli—”

  “Stop.” Billy might look just like his younger sister, but his reserved personality must’ve come from his father. “Redirecting attention won’t work. A murderer has you in his crosshairs. Homemade bread isn’t going to divert us. Take it seriously.”

  “I do. Very seriously.” The thought of food made Teagan’s stomach turn inside out. “I don’t see any reason to get hysterical, that’s all. Food helps people think. That’s what Mom always said.”

  One beat, two beats, three. Dad cleared his throat. “She did, didn’t she?”

  Mom specialized in comfort foods. Vegetable-beef stew and cinnamon rolls made from scratch. Pot roast with potatoes, carrots, and brown gravy. Chocolate pudding upside-down cake. Lemon meringue pie. Fried chicken and mashed potatoes swimming in white, peppery gravy.

  Teagan eased back into her chair. She stroked Tigger’s warm, soft back. The dog hummed deep in her throat. “This perpetrator is different. He’s made this more personal. He didn’t glance at me in a bar or a restaurant and decide to get his jollies by killing me. He’s studied me.”

  “That’s what makes this so bizarre.” Dad pounded his fist lightly on the table. “And troubling. A copycat who’s not quite a copycat has set his sights on my daughter. Is it something out of Teagan’s courtroom? Is it related to Slocum or some other case I handled? We’ve got a lot of ground to cover, people. And quickly.”

  “Agreed. Slocum is in jail, awaiting trial on two more of a series of murders in the Valley that the LEOs think are related. Now we have a killer who’s connecting the dots between Officer Moreno’s death and Evelyn Conklin’s. We have a letter written by the killer, which connects the cases here to those unsolved cases in the Valley.” Siebert flipped over a page of his chicken scratches on a narrow notebook. The bags under his eyes had taken on a purplish hue of exhaustion. “On the other hand, Teagan has nothing to do with Slocum. It seems to me more likely that it’s somebody in the court system you’ve PO’d who’s familiar with the case. It could even be someone you know in this neighborhood. Lots of legal eagles living in this froufrou area.”

  Froufrou area. Teagan didn’t take offense. Plenty of people felt gentrification was an evil dressed in a pretty urban renewal frock. People liked to put down millennials, but the ones like her were putting their hard-earned money back into neighborhoods close to the heart of the city, coming home instead of moving to the coasts. They were rejuvenating a city quickly becoming a destination known for the arts, a downtown music scene, and a farm-to-fork movement.

  “I live and breathe criminal behavior five days a week. I know the masks of normalcy people wear and what they hide.” She picked her words carefully. She was not naive. Nor did she discount the millions of people who led perfectly normal lives, never even contemplating breaking a law, let alone actually doing it. “Even so, it’s hard to imagine any of my neighbors stabbing Evelyn to death. They certainly don’t strike me as criminals capable of picking off a police officer in a moving car.”

  “All the same, no stone unturned.” Billy’s tight smile offered encouragement tempered with cynicism. Eight years on the force had fine-tuned his laconic style. “Think hard. Anybody you’ve made angry? Any arguments recently? Any odd behavior?”

  The day’s surreal quality ballooned. She’d barbecued turkey burgers with these people and made gluten-free chocolate chip cookies for National Night Out. “Y’all know Dana Holl, the defense attorney. She’s been in my court. So has her fiancé. He won his last case against the DA.”

  “What about here at home? Any beefs with them?”

  “You mean does it bug me when their bulldog does his business in my yard and they forget to use a doggy bag? Yes. But mostly we just remind each other at neighborhood meetings that it’s the dog owner’s responsibility to pick up poo. Do I get irritated when Carlos takes my favorite mysteries from the Little Free Library and doesn’t donate anything in return? Yes, but I don’t stab him over it. I post cute little reminders to give as much as you get.”

  “You know what I mean.” Billy’s jaw jutted forward. He over-enunciated the words as if she needed help understanding them. “Real arguments. Between you and your neighbors or between Mrs. Conklin and your neighbors.”

  “The most heated argument I’ve ever witnessed was over leaving recycling bins on the curb too long. I’m telling you this has nothing to do with my neighbors.”

  “All the same, we’ll do background checks on everyone.” Justin’s tone was more conciliatory. “We’ll interview everyone individually and check alibis for both the afternoon and this evening.”

  “I’m available to help.” Dad set his cup on the table as if ready to begin immediately. “I have copies of the case file on Slocum. I’m the closest thing you have locally to a serial killer expert.”

  “I don’t know if the department will go for it. You’re retired.” Justin’s expression turned hangdog. He knew a good offer when he saw it. “I wish you weren’t. We could use your experience.”

  “I consult.”

  “True.” Justin fiddled with his pen. “I’ll run it by Sarge.”

  Gracie grabbed the remote from the counter and clicked on the small flat-screen TV that hung on the far wall of the breakfast nook.

  “TV right now? Really?” Teagan mostly used Netflix and Amazon Prime to watch her crime shows—a vice that perplexed Max, who tended toward fixer-upper s
hows, if deigning to watch at all.

  “I want to see what the chief said about Kris’s murder.”

  No one spoke while Gracie spun through the local channels offering ten o’clock news. The ABC affiliate led with the cold-blooded murder of a cop on a San Antonio street. Reporter Brian Lake peppered the chief with questions at his laborious presser on the grass at Collins Garden Park, held strategically at the top of the ten o’clock news block.

  “Does the department have any leads?”

  “Not yet, but be assured we will track down and arrest the perpetrator of this horrendous act of violence.” Chief Gregorio Zavala’s voice choked. He rearranged papers on the portable podium. “Officer Moreno was a young woman with only two years on the job. She had a tremendous future ahead of her, not only as a police officer, but as an individual who might one day be a wife and mother. I’m sick of cops being cut down by vicious killers with no respect for the uniform. I’m sick of having to tell loved ones that the worst day of their lives has arrived, the horrible scenario they imagined when their loved ones became officers has become reality.”

  “A follow-up, Chief. Court reporter Teagan O’Rourke was in the officer’s vehicle at the time of the shooting.” Lake shouted over other reporters vying for the next question. “Is it possible she was the target?”

  “We’re looking at every scenario, but it seems unlikely.” Zavala glanced at an officer who leaned in to whisper in his ear. “That’s it for now. Stay in touch with the Information Office. They’ll have updates when possible. Thank you.”

  “Talk about giving the killer what he wants.” Gracie hit the power button. The TV screen went black. “You can bet he’s loving this.”

  “Not yet. The media doesn’t know there’s a connection between our officer’s murder and Evelyn Conklin’s.” Anger tightened Dad’s craggy features. “He doesn’t have his name yet or his fame.”

  Justin pushed his chair back and stood. “Do you want to walk the scene with me, Dillon?”

  Her father gulped the last of his coffee and nodded. “Happy to do it. This guy claims to be a serial killer, but until we’re sure, there’s no reason to involve the FBI. Once we nail this down, we’ll want all the resources they can bring to bear. Billy, can you touch base with Corpus PD tomorrow? I’d feel better if we knew the status of Slocum’s cases there and elsewhere. He bombed out of law school, but he’s claimed the right to defend himself. The guy knows just enough law to be dangerous. He’s slick.”

  “Will do.”

  A chill skipped up Teagan’s arms and curled around her neck. “How many women are we talking about?”

  “In Corpus? Two.” Her father’s attempt at a smile didn’t mask his concern. “Altogether? As many as twenty, maybe more.”

  “This doesn’t fit his MO. It’s too personal.”

  “He wants you to know he knows about your life.” Her dad ran his hand over his crew cut. “He wants you to know he’s hunting you. Killing Kristin Moreno and Evelyn Conklin are opening salvos. He’s coming after you, but first he wants to make you squirm. He wants to terrorize you and then destroy you.”

  His gaze shifted to Max. “He also implies he’ll go after people closer to Teagan than Evelyn Conklin. The hint wasn’t exactly subtle. Justin’s suggestion you lay low for a while isn’t a bad one.”

  Max crossed his beefy arms. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Do you still carry?”

  “Rick asked me not to bring my weapon to the church.” Max’s tone was even. “I don’t agree, but I respect his decision. Some of the parents were uncomfortable with the idea of a gun-toting youth minister.”

  “Even after Sutherland Springs?” Shaking her head, Gracie grimaced. “In this day and age their kids aren’t safe at school or church.”

  Twenty-seven people, including eight children and one unborn baby, had been killed and twenty more injured as they prepared to worship in their small church. It was the worst mass murder in a church in modern history, and it had happened thirty-five miles southeast of San Antonio. “Let’s not debate guns and church violence tonight.” Teagan heaved a sigh. “It won’t change anything. It certainly won’t change any minds in this room.”

  “Agreed.” Hands jammed in his stone-washed jeans, Dad leaned against the door frame. “Max, I’d keep your weapon close for the foreseeable future. I’m sure your pastor will understand.”

  “I will.”

  A self-proclaimed serial killer was threatening Max in order to get to Teagan. “Go visit your Army buddy in Arizona.” She sought to keep her voice cool. “You’ve been talking about a bike road trip forever. You have the time coming. Pastor Rick won’t mind.”

  “You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving you when a killer has declared he’s coming after you.” Max snorted. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I don’t want any of you shooting or killing anyone on my account. Let’s just be clear about that.” Teagan let her gaze sweep the room. Two stepsiblings, her father, a family friend, and a friend, all who embraced their Second Amendment rights. She didn’t begrudge them their opinions. As a pacifist tree hugger, she clung to her minority status with all the strength of her convictions. “We’ll catch the guy, and then we’ll let the system work. We all know it does.”

  “It’s been a long, awful day.” Max stood. “Let’s get out of here so Teagan can rest.”

  He could read her face like the Express-News digital edition, but she didn’t need his help on this. “I’m fine.”

  “We’re done for tonight.” Dad made a wrap-it-up motion with his index finger. “Good night’s sleep, fresh brains in the morning.”

  “You don’t want to go to Dad’s?” Gracie stood but didn’t move toward the door. “Or I could stay with you tonight. I can call Frank—”

  “No, I’m good.” Frank and Gracie were newlyweds. Everyone had been shocked when she married the quiet, almost painfully reserved accountant she’d only known for six months. Somehow it seemed a match made in heaven. “Go home to your husband. Max is right. I need to regroup. I need some space to do that.”

  Billy collected coffee cups. It was so like him. His language of love involved doing things for people. Teagan touched his arm. “Leave them, Bro.”

  His awkward shrug said it all. She smiled. “Love you too.”

  “Call me night or day.”

  “Will do.”

  The four of them walked to the front door. Her siblings lingered. “You headed out, Max?” Gracie waded in. “I got the impression you’re released.”

  “Yeah, in a few minutes.”

  He didn’t elaborate. Billy’s disgruntled look almost made Teagan smile. Almost. Billy pulled the door open. “I’ll request patrol-bys. It’s the most we can offer with the department’s resources stretched so thin.”

  “I’ll be fine. I’ve got Tigger.”

  “And me,” Max asserted.

  “I can take care of myself.” She couldn’t let him stake more territory than she was willing to give him, even under these circumstances. “But thanks, all of you, for caring. You can all go. It’s late and I’m tired. I need to sleep.”

  Max edged closer, his back to the others. “Can we talk for a minute?”

  His soft tone for her ears only made saying no impossible. “Sure.”

  Five seconds later the others were out the door. She closed it, turned, and faced him. “You could have been killed.”

  “You could’ve been killed.” His hand came up as if to touch her, then dropped. A muscle pulsed in his clenched jaw. Emotion raged in his burnished-gold eyes. “I couldn’t have lived with that.”

  “I asked you to feed Tigger.” Ghosts from the colorless world she’d lived in after her mother’s death brushed past her. “It would’ve been my fault.”

  “That’s so like you. Taking responsibility for something you had no control over. The act of a psycho.”

  “You ended up knocked out in a dark alley.”

  “I’m fine.”
>
  “I just want to make sure—”

  “I’m not going to drink because of this, T. I promise.” Hurt seeped into his words even as his expression tried to hide it. “Have faith.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “But you did.” This time he didn’t stop. He raised both hands and caressed her cheeks with warm fingers. “Someday you’ll realize you can’t keep the world safe. You’ll realize you have to take a chance on getting hurt. I plan to be around when that happens.”

  She closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotions. They were perilously close to walking off the cliff. She couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t be fair to him. She opened her eyes. “You should go. I hate thinking about you driving your motorcycle on Highway 16 at night. It’s so dark and curvy.”

  His hands dropped, but she could still feel the warmth of his fingers. He sighed. “You could come with me. My place in the country is six acres of safe haven.”

  “I can’t, Max.”

  “What are you so afraid of?”

  “Let’s not do this now.”

  His golden-amber eyes filled with heat. “Soon, then.” He backed away and opened the door.

  Teagan dug her heels into the floor to keep from following him. “Text me when you get home.”

  He gripped the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Turn on the alarm.”

  “I always do.”

  He strode away. Teagan closed the door, locked the dead bolt, put on the chain, and turned on the alarm. To keep the bad guy out or to keep herself from racing after Max and dragging him back into her house?

  He wouldn’t want her when he realized that she couldn’t in good conscience give him the one thing he wanted. Children.

  7

  One step forward, two steps back. Her skin was so soft. The longing in her face, real. Max hadn’t imagined it, had he? So why did she always back away at the last second? Why? Because he was a drunk and an addict?

  Max donned his helmet, wheeled the Indian around in the driveway, and got on. God, I don’t know how much longer I can take this. Rick’s oft-repeated words droned in Max’s head. “Do you believe that God is good?” Max did. That didn’t mean he always agreed with the great I Am. A little less tough love would be appreciated, Abba.