The Suicide Killer Page 9

  The way he emphasized partner irritated Greg, but he was going to try to get through this as painless as possible, so he could get back to solving an actual homicide. And being antagonistic to the last three people he spoke to didn’t bode well for the rest of the day.

  “You cut through the woods every day, and you didn’t see her or smell her until today?”

  A loud crash coming from the front door interrupted their conversation. Greg whirled around, gun drawn.

  “Whoa, whoa. Don’t shoot,” Bobby yelled.

  Danielle stopped with the same suddenness that she burst into the store and put her hands up.

  “Who are you and why in the hell did you come in here like that?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. My name is Danielle. I saw all the police in the park and was worried about Bobby. I was coming to check on him.”

  “Why were you worried about him? What could have happened to him?”

  “Hey. I thought you were interrogating me here. She was just worried because of the police, and she knows I walk to work that way.”

  “Yes. That’s all it was,” she said, and stepped toward the counter.

  Greg watched Danielle for any indication that something else was going on, but he couldn’t tell. Maybe she was just worried about Bobby.

  “The answer to your question about how I did not see her or smell her until today is because I have been on vacation for a week, so I haven’t needed to cut through the woods. I just happened to be late for work this morning, and I was running, and I ran into your partner,” Bobby said.

  “Vacation, huh?”

  “Yeah, vacation.”

  “Okay, I have one last question for you, but it’s not about that girl. It’s about a customer you may have had this morning.”

  “Besides the girl that was just in here, I have only had one other customer.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to remember what he looked like or have security cameras in here, do you?”

  “No cameras, but I remember what he looked like.”

  Greg’s pulse quickened to a deafening pace in his ears. He had to calm down to make sure he got everything that Bobby was about to tell him. This may be the break in the case that he needed. He flipped his notebook to a page in the back. Bobby started sneezing rapidly. Greg tried to be nonchalant and smooth things back over with the two kids.

  “Wow. Bless you. Do you always sneeze that many times,” he said, his good will a little too forced.

  “Yeah,” Bobby said. “It’s always six times, no matter what. Anyway, he was about 6’2, probably 200 pounds or so. He had black hair, hazel eyes, and a cleft chin. He also had a long scar on his left arm. It went from the inside of his elbow, almost to his wrist.”

  Greg wrote down every word Bobby said. He sounded like he got a real good look at the man. Too bad he couldn’t send a sketch artist down here to talk to him. If he did that there would be too many questions about how he knew this kid would know what the guy looked like. He would just keep this information to himself for now.

  “That’s all I need to know for now. I’ll be in touch if anything else comes up,” Greg said, and walked out the door.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bobby held his breath until Greg got in his car. He knew he was going to have to answer questions about Emily, but he felt like the detective attacked him. He wasn’t sure what they could have found down there to make them think that somebody killed her. Maybe they found something where he was sleeping and thought the killer had left it. Bobby didn’t have time to worry about any of that. He was on his way to see her this morning before work, and the cops ruined it all. They had her blocked, and he couldn’t get one last glimpse of her. He needed to find out who called the police. They were the real criminals here. They were the one who took her away from him for good.

  “Bobby … Bobby. What’s wrong with you?” Danielle asked.

  “Oh, uh, Nothing. I was just lost in thought, I guess.”

  “I’ve been worried about you since you disappeared on me the other night.”

  Bobby didn’t have time for this conversation. The more he thought about Emily, the worse it got. He ran to the phone to call Jody. She had to relieve him today and was always looking for extra hours. She wouldn’t mind coming in early.

  “Jody? It’s Bobby. Hey, I haven’t been feeling well, and I wanted to know if you would mind coming in earlier. Anytime is fine. The earlier, the better. Okay, thanks. Bye.”

  Bobby hung up the phone and could feel Danielle looking at him. He hoped she couldn’t see through him. She would never understand. She probably already thought he was crazy and should be institutionalized. There was no use in trying to explain anything to her.

  “What is wrong with you? You’ve been acting weird ever since you found that girl in the woods.”

  Bobby looked around the coffee shop to make sure Detective Burns didn’t come back inside. Now, he was being paranoid, but Danielle couldn’t be so open about Emily. If the wrong person heard her, the police might find out he lied.

  “I’m fine, I promise. It’s been a crazy week, and I haven’t been sleeping, and I’ve been sick. I’ll get over it, and everything will be back to normal.”

  “Where did you go the other night when you left my apartment? Did you go back in the woods with that girl?”

  He ducked his head beside the register, grabbed Danielle’s arm and pulled her close.

  “Her name is Emily. And no, I didn’t. I went home. I didn’t want to be a burden for you, so I left before you woke up.”

  She calmly pulled her arm from his grip and stood up straight.

  “I woke up at midnight, and you were already gone. Why didn’t you wake me and how did you get home?”

  “I called a cab.”

  Bobby looked at the clock on the wall. The ticking did nothing to soothe him. Now, it sounded like it was mocking him. It was going to be a long hour before Jody got here if he didn’t get rid of Danielle. She was interrogating him worse than the police. He couldn’t tell her the truth about where he had gone when he left her apartment that night. She would never understand.

  A customer walked in, and Bobby snapped up straight behind the counter to take their order. He wrote the name and order on the side of the cup and could see Danielle through the plastic. She was staring at him with a look in her eye he had never seen before from anybody. She was trying to rationalize everything. He took his time while making the drink and taking the payment, hoping she would decide she needed to get back to work since it wasn’t time for her lunch break yet. She didn’t move. She continued to watch every move he made. Danielle watched so closely, the customer took notice and moved away from her to the other end of the counter. When he handed her the drink, she pointed her head toward Danielle and rolled her eyes. Bobby only shrugged his shoulders, and the customer left.

  “You’re freaking the customers and me out with all the staring. Why don’t you go back to work before you get in trouble and I’ll call you tonight? I’m good. I swear,” Bobby said.

  “You’ve had one customer, and you’re freaking me out with the way you’re acting. I’ll go back to work, but you have to promise me you will get some rest and call me later. I don’t care what time it is.”

  “Promise,” he said, and gave her the boy scouts salute.

  She didn’t smile at him, just walked out of the store. Apparently, she hadn’t seen the humor in his salute. While waiting for Jody to show up, Bobby tried to distract himself with finishing the prep work for the day. It was not helping. All he could think about was Emily. He pictured her being picked up by two men. They probably would make comments about how she used to be a pretty girl. One would make the joke that she still was a pretty girl, she just smelled a little ripe, as they dropped her into the black body bag.

  He felt each tooth of the zipper close. Her face, a washout green and gray color, was the last of her he saw before they sealed her inside. Blood rushed to his face as the anger and rage b
uilt. These people didn’t care about her. She was a joke for them to talk about so their workday would go by faster.

  He threw a stack of cups across the store at the thought of her stretcher being pushed and dragged up the hill by the two clumsy techs. If they let her go, she would go crashing back down, and nobody would care, because to them she was dead. They would just go back down the hill and start again, probably cussing her the whole way because she had to go and kill herself all the way out there. They would never understand. They would take her to the morgue and drop her on a cold steel slab and slide her in a drawer until the family claimed her. Bobby waved as the coroner’s car drove around the corner and took Emily away from her favorite place. The place where she felt the safest from the outside world.

  “Who ya waving at?”

  The voice startled him out of his dream state. It was Jody. He never heard her come in. How long had she been there watching him? She could probably be added to the growing list of people who thought he was losing it.

  “Oh, hey. I thought I saw somebody I knew out there. Guess not,” he said.

  Jody looked outside at the empty street and back to Bobby.

  “Thank you for coming in. I thought I was over what I had, but I guess not. And sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up, and then I’ll be out of your way.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up. You go ahead and go home. Get some rest. You look like you could use it. Call me later if I need to come in for you tomorrow. I don’t mind.”

  Bobby nodded his thanks and tried not to run out of the store. He turned right, but thought better of it. The cops may still be in the woods, and he didn’t want to chance running into them again. He didn’t want to have to explain himself anymore to anybody. He would have to take the long way home. It was for the best anyway. He was too mad and didn’t want to risk walking past Danielle’s office and her coming outside to check on him. If he blew up at her probing questions, it would cause more problems for himself.

  He had his own questions.

  Who was responsible for taking Emily away from him so soon? They had to pay for what they did. Now she would be alone, and he couldn’t help her. Soon they would bury her under piles of dirt and she would fade away. It was his fault for not staying with her and protecting her. He should have done something. The rage built from his stomach and forced its way up his torso and down his arms.

  He entered his neighborhood and yanked a yard sign out of the ground. Katherine Myers is graduating, he read and threw the sign like a Frisbee. It landed on the future graduate’s roof, and he kept walking. Who ever told the cops would be sorry. At the end of the street, he picked up a rock and threw it through the large front window of the corner house. He searched the windows for signs of life and ran away when he thought he saw movement from an upstairs window.

  Getting arrested for vandalism was the last thing he needed right now. He stopped to catch his breath when he got to his street and limped the rest of the way to his house with a stitch in his side. Bobby mounted the steps and turned to face the woods. He didn’t think he would be able to hear her, but listened for her anyway. He could hear slight echoes of the police still working in the woods. Bobby stomped up the stairs and surged through the door.

  Picture frames fell off the wall. While picking up the fragments of broken glass, he allowed himself to believe what he should have known all along. It was Danielle. She called the police. She was the only other person who knew Emily was there. Why would she do that to him?

  Bobby hurled the frame at the wall, and the rest of the casing shattered. He punched the wall, and his fist went through and threatened to come out in the living room wall. He wiped the drywall dust on his pants, walked into his room, and slammed the door.

  Chapter Thirteen

  He sat in the dark with only his thoughts to keep him company. The droning of the voice in his head sounded like his teachers in school and he nodded off a few times though he was restless. The detective wasn’t any closer to catching him than he was the day before. He knew he shouldn’t call him, but he had an overwhelming desire to talk to him, to make him understand that he was doing it for her. It was the only way he could help her. She was the only thing that mattered. If his conversations with the detective carried on too much longer, there was always the chance that Burns would figure it out and lead the whole police department to his doorstep.

  They would definitely push for the death penalty. He would take his time with every appeal they granted to him. Not because he thought he could win, but because it would be the only way to prolong his life. They would have control over when he slept, when he ate and when he showered, but he would have the ultimate power. They would sentence him to death, but he would only allow them to kill him when he was ready. Not when they broke him, but when he had given up. People who would be anxious to see him ride the lightning and take his last breath would die waiting for the day as he dragged it out for years. He may even die in prison. It would have to be from natural causes or another inmate, perhaps. He would never take the easy way out and kill himself. That would really get to them. They would be glad he was dead, but they didn’t get to see it happen. But none of that mattered right now. No need to make plans when he didn’t plan on ever being caught.

  The detective hadn’t told anybody they were talking. Burns must be hard up to prove himself to somebody. All the newspaper articles referencing his last few cases said they were still open. The same journalist, Morgan Cramer, wrote them all. Maybe he should pay her a visit sometime? Burns didn’t want to tell anybody about the phone calls because he wanted the arrest all to himself, to vindicate himself for his past failures. A man who needs to justify his actions or past is a dangerous man. His actions would be harder to anticipate and control. But the man with something to prove has a fatal flaw. In their quest for absolution, they are easily manipulated. Detective Burns would play his game and never tell anybody about it until it was too late. Still, he should probably get rid of Rachel’s cell phone, just in case the detective had a change of heart. He would get a new one tonight.

  This was the longest time he had been able to just to sit and think without being interrupted. His mind was much clearer because of it, but there were still many troubling issues he had to figure out. He needed to commit more time to just sitting in the dark alone.

  Headlights flooded the living room, and all thought stopped. It was time to concentrate. Looking out the window, he bounced on the couch in anticipation. Why was she taking so long to get out of the car? She swung her legs out of her car and slid to the edge. Of course she was talking to somebody on her cell phone. That’s all anybody ever did anymore. She leaned her head against the headrest and propped her foot on the doorsill. This could be a problem for him. He didn’t need any witnesses, even if they couldn’t see him stuck in the house, he would get impatient waiting and go get her.

  Finally, the girl walked around to the back of her car and pulled two grocery bags out of the trunk. As she walked toward the house, she wrestled with the bags, purse, and keys, all while trying to keep her phone between her shoulder and ear. His heart and breath quickened. She was almost to the door, and he could hear her soft voice as she spoke into the phone. She opened the glass door, and she stopped. His heart stopped with her.

  “Shit. I’m trying to get in the house, and I dropped my keys. Let me call you back in a few minutes. Okay, bye,” she said, and let the phone slide from her shoulder and into her open purse.

  The wait was agonizing. He wanted to open the door, say, ‘welcome home,’ and pull her in. She stumbled through the front door, dropped her purse on the floor, kicked off her shoes and headed toward the kitchen. He moved to the dining room to wait for the perfect time to pounce on his prey. She put away her groceries and walked back into the living room. This was the first time he stalked anybody from the shadows. It was fun. But he had important business to conduct.

  “Hello Laura,” he said, and jumped out of the sh
adows, trying to grab her.

  Laura screamed and swung her fist and barely missed his face. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. She drove her knee up, and his groin exploded in pain. His sight faded white, and he dropped to his knees, coughing. Laura moved to try to get to her purse where her phone was, but he leaned to his left, and she lost her nerve.

  She ran down the hall and into her bedroom. He stumbled to his feet. The pain was excruciating, but he had to finish what he started. He would not accept failure. Emily needed him. He couldn’t come back later because he wasn’t wearing a mask. A sketch of his face would be all over the news in an hour if he didn’t take care of her now.

  His heart raced as he psyched himself back up from the testosterone drain. He took two steps toward her bedroom and heard a loud guttural scream. Laura came charging around the corner with a shotgun in her hand like she was storming an enemy’s fortification. She pulled the trigger as she raised it to aim, and the drywall above his head exploded. The sound of the gun going off in the small room was deafening. The force of the gunshot reverberations bouncing off the walls of the small room ran through his body and threw off both of their equilibriums. They shuffled around the room, trying to stand on a sinking ship. His ears rang and he couldn’t hear anything, but neither could she.

  His hunt suddenly became a fight for survival, and he lunged at Laura. They danced for control of the gun in an unromantic salsa. He led the fight and spun her against the wall, and she lost her grip on the gun. She pushed off the wall and launched herself into him before he could raise the gun.

  They fought for the gun above their heads, and his groin exploded with pain again. Flashes of light, followed by tracers of white and green, filled his vision. She pulled the gun from his fingers and fell back into the recliner. He plunged to the floor where the butt of the gun rested.

  He lay out on the floor and tried to pull the gun from her grip. She sat in the chair kicking at his hands, trying to fight him off her. With one hand on the gun, he pulled himself to his hands and knees.