Predator (6 page)

H
e’s here somewhere. I know he is.”

Krista whispered the words aloud to her computer screen. She hadn’t slept all night. She hadn’t even tried. Instead, she’d sat at the computer, taking copious notes about Ella’s GrapeVyne page. She’d filled three legal pads with details she’d gleaned from Ella’s Friends’ comments over the last year. Whenever she thought someone had posted something questionable or suspicious, she’d gone to their sites to see who their Friends were and what they were saying.

Out of Ella’s eleven hundred Friends, she’d screened about two hundred of them. That wasn’t nearly enough. But the details she’d learned about these teenagers’ lives was enough to curdle her blood.

The girl whose face was up on the screen—a sixteen-year-old girl named Sara Miles—had given her Friends
enough information to bring a predator right to her door. He would know the hours that she was home alone each day, what street she lived on, her parents’ names, her school and classes, her younger siblings’ names and activities. He would know that she was vulnerable and gullible, how she felt about her parents’ divorce, how intimate she got with her boyfriends. She was an open target for anyone with evil intentions.

Krista tried to think like a predator. He’d be like a lion in a butcher shop with this kind of information. He could literally shop through millions of targets, stalk his next victim, and hit when she was most vulnerable.

And none of these people realized they were playing into his hands.

The thought made her sick, literally. She felt her stomach churning, roiling, rising…

She got up and ran into her bathroom, vomited into the toilet. She flushed, then sat on the floor, waiting for the next wave. Leaning her head back on the wall, she thought of that stalker reading the things her sister had posted, driving by their house, watching for the right time. He probably got her Thought Bubbles on his cell phone. When she posted that she was going to Sinbad’s, he’d headed straight there.

When her stomach stopped heaving, she went back to her room. There was so much yet to be done.

She signed out of Ella’s account, and signed back in under her alias, Maxi Greer. A notification came up. She had twenty-five Friend requests. She went down the list, studying their faces and each of their profiles. Some of them she knew—they were Ella’s friends from school. But others were strangers.

She carefully wrote down everything she could find about each person before accepting them as Friends. A chill
went through her. The killer could be here, behind one of these facades, stalking her already. She typed into her Thought Bubble,

I get really lonely being homeschooled. Nothing to do while my parents are at work. Hoping to make lots of friends here.

If that wasn’t bait, she didn’t know what was.

Her cell phone rang, startling her. She glanced at the Caller ID readout. It was her friend Laura, whom she hadn’t talked to since the funeral. She couldn’t talk to her now, either. Laura would want to know if there’d been any progress on Ella’s case. She’d want to come over, hang out, talk. But Krista couldn’t do it.

Besides, it was 7:00 a.m. No one should call her that early. Laura worked the night shift as a registered nurse, and sometimes lost track of time.

The phone stopped ringing. She went back to the computer, trying to decide whose life to pry into next.

Then her phone beeped. She’d gotten a text. She pulled it out of her purse. It was from Laura.

I need to talk to u. It’s about Ella’s case.

Krista caught her breath. Maybe she’d heard something. She opened the phone and called Laura back.

Her friend answered quickly. “I knew you were avoiding me.”

“It’s kind of early.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Laura lowered her voice to a whisper. “Listen, I’m at work at the hospital. I just wanted you to know there was another attack last night.”

The words hit like a fist. Krista clutched her phone. “Who was it?”

“A college girl named Megan Quinn. The press hasn’t gotten wind of it yet.”

Krista felt sick again and headed for the bathroom. “Where did they find her body?”

“No, she’s not dead. She escaped. She’s here at the hospital.”

Krista stopped in the bathroom, leaned against the cold tile. “Can she identify the person who attacked her?”

“I don’t know. She’s been beaten half to death. She is conscious, though. The police have been questioning her since she came in. I’d get fired if they knew I told you, but I thought you should know. It’s really sad, because she’s here all alone.”

“Laura, I need to talk to her. I’m coming to the hospital.”

“Krista, please don’t. I’m telling you, I’ll get fired.”

“I won’t tell them how I found out. But it could be the same person who killed Ella. She could help us find him.”

There was a long pause. “All right, but the staff knows I know you. I had them all praying for you. If they see you, they’ll know.”

“I’ll try to slip in without being noticed. What room is it?”

“Room 323. Krista, don’t make me regret this. Wait an hour or so. I’m getting off soon, so I’ll be gone.”

Anger flared. “If we find Ella’s killer, will you regret it?”

Another pause. “No, of course not.”

She tried to breathe, telling herself to go easier on Laura. She was doing her a favor. “Thank you for telling me, Laura. I owe you one.”

“You’re welcome, girl. Call me when you feel like it.”

Krista clicked off the phone and went to take a shower. She had promised to speak to the kids at Ella’s high school this afternoon, so she needed to look decent. That would kill an hour and give her stomach time to calm. Then she would head to the hospital.

…

The hospital corridor was long and barren. The floor shone with an over-abundance of wax and smelled of antiseptic. It was too cold, and Krista shivered as she followed the maze to the elevators, then rode up to the third floor. She got off and looked for the numbers on the doors. Room 323 was on the opposite side, at the other end of the hall.

She’d worn her sunglasses and pulled her hair up into a ponytail, hoping she wouldn’t catch anyone’s eye. Her face had been on the local news quite a bit since Ella’s disappearance. As she followed the numbers on the doors, she spotted Laura coming toward her. Her friend saw her, turned, and went the other way.

Krista pretended she hadn’t seen her.

Another nurse was coming out of 323, so Krista paused at 321 and acted like she was going in. When the nurse passed, Krista went to 323. The door was slightly ajar. She knocked lightly, then pushed it open. A girl lay on the bed, her face scraped and swollen, her lip split, and her leg in a Velcro cast.

Krista brought her hand to her mouth. This could have been Ella, if only she’d been found in time.

The girl’s swollen eyes were closed, as if she slept. A tray of untouched food sat beside her bed.

Krista stepped quietly into the room. There were no possessions out. The closet was open, and nothing hung there. She’d probably been brought here in an ambulance. How had she gotten away?

She went to the head of the bed, and the girl’s eyes fluttered open. The white part of her right eye was bloody. “Could you get me some water, please?” She spoke as if it hurt, hardly moving her mouth.

“Of course.” Krista put her purse down and found the
pitcher of water, poured her a cup. She brought it to Megan and helped her drink.

“Have my parents gotten here yet?”

Clearly, Megan assumed she was on the hospital staff. “I don’t think so. Megan, I’m Krista Carmichael. I don’t know if you’ve heard about my sister, Ella Carmichael…”

Megan stared up at her. “The girl who was killed.”

“Yes.”

Megan’s eyes filled with tears. “How did you know about me?”

Krista drew in a long breath. “A friend who works here told me. I hope you don’t mind my coming. I just wanted to talk to you. The man who did this to you could be the same one who killed Ella.”

Megan squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. “I haven’t been able to identify him, so they can’t catch him. I looked at tons of pictures, but he wasn’t there.” She tried to sit up. “Could you…please let me use your phone? I need to call my roommate again. He has our address. Karen has to get out of there. I’ve been trying to call her all night, but last time they checked my blood pressure they moved the table. I can’t reach the phone.”

“Sure, of course.” Krista handed Megan her cell phone and watched as Megan dialed. She could hear ringing, then finally voicemail picked up.

Megan hung up. “I’ve already left three messages. I’m really worried about her. I’m afraid she’s in trouble. She hasn’t picked up any of the times I’ve called. But she screens her calls and doesn’t answer unless she knows the person. She wouldn’t know the hospital number is me.”

“Did you tell the police you were worried?”

“Yes. And they said they would go by and check on her. But I haven’t heard anything. If she’d gotten my message, she would be here. What if he’s already gotten to her?”

Krista frowned. “Did he say he would?”

“No, but he has my keys and my address. I got away, and he’d probably come after me at home. He wouldn’t want me to talk. He’d kill me to keep me from identifying him. He could even come here. Anybody could walk in.”

Krista shivered, but prickles of sweat broke out on her neck. “I’m sure she’s okay. She probably got your voicemail and took off.”

“No, she’d be here, with me. She didn’t get it.” She started to cry. “Where are my parents? I’m so scared.” Megan reached for her covers, but they were tangled around one leg. Krista freed them and covered her.

“Where were they coming from?”

“New York. When I called them this morning they said they were taking the next flight here.”

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon. I’ll stay with you until they come.”

Megan met her eyes. “You will?”

“Yes. I’m supposed to speak at my sister’s high school this afternoon, but if your parents don’t get here by then, I’ll cancel. And if anybody walks in here, I’ll scream like a banshee.”

“Thank you.”

“You rest now, and I’ll just sit here. Do you need another blanket?”

Megan nodded, and Krista looked around the room. A blanket lay folded on the recliner. She stretched it out over Megan.

But the girl couldn’t rest. “I tried calling my other friends, but none of them picked up. They’re probably asleep, not checking messages. Someone needs to check on Karen.”

Krista patted her hand. “I can call my dad, get him to go check on her, if you want.”

Megan’s eyebrows lifted. “Her green Toyota would be there in the driveway in front of my door if she’s home. My car will be there too. They’re townhouses, so we park right in front of our door.”

“All right, I’ll call him.”

A nurse pushed the door open and stepped inside. “Oh, you have a visitor.”

Megan didn’t give Krista up as an impostor.

The nurse came to the bed. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

Megan looked at the food sitting on a tray beside the bed. “I don’t think I can. Mouth’s wired shut, and I can’t reach it…”

“I’ll feed her,” Krista said. “Leave it a little while longer.”

The nurse looked pleased and left them.

Krista called her father, knowing she was waking him. She dreaded weighing him down with more pain. But he would want to know, and he’d want to help.

“Dad?”

“Yeah.” He sounded groggy, and his voice held the same lifeless, dull quality that it had for the last three weeks. “What is it, Krista?”

Her eyes misted and her mouth shook. “Dad, last night another girl was attacked.”

Silence, then, “Aw, no…” His voice flattened to a whisper.

“She survived and escaped.”

She heard his intake of breath, then, “Did they catch him?”

“No, not yet. I’m at the hospital with her now. Her name is Megan. She was…” She hesitated, wondering how much to say in front of Megan. “She’s been badly beaten.”

He didn’t speak, but she knew what state he was in. Her father had wept often since Ella’s disappearance.

“Dad, I want to stay with her, but she’s scared for her roommate. Her attacker has her keys and address. She’s desperate for someone to go by there and see if Karen’s all right. If her car’s gone, maybe she got Megan’s message and left. But if it’s there…” Her voice trailed off. “It’s a green Toyota, and it would be in the parking space in front of their door, next to Megan’s car.”

There was a long pause. “All right, I’ll go. What’s the address?”

Krista got the address from Megan, and her father promised to call her when he got there. Krista clicked off the phone and turned to the food. “Now, what looks good to you?”

Megan looked down at the tray. “I don’t think I can chew.”

“All right. Then we’ll start with the Jell-O.”

A
nother girl attacked. David absorbed the news like a poison, and it sickened him. But as life seemed to drain out of him, anger pumped adrenaline through his veins.

He pulled himself together, washed his face, and headed out to his car. He punched the address into his GPS and listened to the calm, unemotional voice telling him which way to drive.

His jaw ached as he chewed on the news. Another attack. It was too much.

If the killer was out there with his latest victim’s house keys, he would be easy to trap. They should set up a stakeout of the girl’s apartment and watch for the man to come. They should have a forensic artist at the hospital now, to draw a composite.

But the police had their own methods, ineffective though they might be. He couldn’t trust them at all, not after they’d questioned him like a suspect a few days after Ella went missing. Cases like that mother who drove her sons into a lake, then claimed they were kidnapped, had made parents the first suspects in the disappearance of children.

Now he saw the police department as more of a nemesis than an ally. He couldn’t forgive them for dragging their feet in searching for Ella in those first twenty-four hours. They hadn’t even issued an Amber Alert until they finally saw the video from outside Sinbad’s Convenience Store—and that was forty-eight hours later.

But it may not have mattered anyway. Ella had probably died within hours of her kidnapping.

This killer had to be stopped.

He reached the apartment complex, counted the buildings, and found Megan Quinn’s townhouse. In the space in front, he saw the green Toyota, next to a white Hyundai. His stomach sank.

He double-parked behind those two cars and sat in his for a moment, staring at the door. His breath seemed trapped, his heart squeezed. Megan said Karen would be home if her car was there. Wanting to believe she was in there safe, oblivious to the danger, he got out of his car. David’s limbs felt wooden as he started to the door. He knocked, but there was no answer. He banged more urgently. Maybe she was sleeping.

Or maybe Ella’s murderer had come. Maybe he was in there now. David looked down at the doorknob. There was no way to tell if he’d used her key. He got a handkerchief out of his pocket, turned the knob.

It was unlocked. His heart jolted. And as he looked down at the knob, he saw a smear of blood on the casing.

Something had already happened.

The killer could still be there. He thought of bolting in, grabbing the man, and murdering him. But if he wasn’t there—if the girl was dead—he’d taint the evidence that could lead the police to the pervert. His hands trembled as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. He dialed the number of the detective he’d been working with.

“Pensky.”

“Detective, this is David Carmichael.” David’s pulse pounded in his temples.

“Hi, David. How are—?”

David cut him off. “You should have told me another girl had been attacked.”

Silence. “David, we’ve been busy. We got the call in the middle of the night. We haven’t had the chance—”

“My daughter Krista is with her.”

Another pause. “With who?”

“The girl who was attacked last night. Megan.” David scanned the windows of the apartment. The blinds were closed. “She asked me to come by Megan’s apartment to check on her roommate. The door’s unlocked, and there’s blood on it. The girl’s car is here.”

“
Here?
You’re there now?”

“Yes.” He bent over, hand on his knee, trying to steady his breath. “I’m not leaving until you send somebody here to see if she’s all right. Megan said the police told her you were doing that already. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you send someone? Why didn’t you watch for him?”

“We did. Her car wasn’t there last night when we checked, so we posted a plain-clothes cop to watch her apartment.”

“Well, where is he?” David yelled.

“He’s in a tan Pontiac.”

David scanned the cars, saw one that fit the description. He stalked toward it, and saw a man with his head back…sound asleep. With the heel of his hand, he struck the guy’s window. The cop jumped.

“You idiot, you slept while a killer went into that apartment!”

The man opened his door. David grabbed his collar, pulled him out. “Get in there! She could be bleeding to death!”

He heard Pensky’s voice in the phone. “Let me talk to him, David.”

David thrust the phone at the useless cop, then turned away, both hands clutching his head. He heard sirens.

The groggy cop handed David his phone and headed for the door. “Calm down. She’s probably just in there sleeping. You know how college kids are.”

David looked at him. “So…what? You think she cut her hand on the way in? That maniac may be in there now.”

As police cars descended on the place, David went back to his car and tried to stay out of the way.

He should call Krista back, tell her what he’d found. But why upset her and traumatize the girls further until he knew for sure?

Two cops went to the door, banged on it. Finally, pulling on gloves, they tested the knob. The door came open.

David leaned against his car, aching with hopelessness, as the cops went in, guns drawn. He waited for them to come back out, prayed that the girl wasn’t there…

But moments ticked by too slowly, and they didn’t come back. Instead, an ambulance arrived on the scene, no lights or sirens heralding its arrival.

She must be dead. David covered his mouth and wept. He watched, horrified, as they roped off the area with crime-scene tape.

Finally, Pensky pulled up. The detective got out and crossed the parking lot to David. “I guess you know by now.”

David’s face twisted, his lips compressed, and his forehead ached with the fresh wave of grief. He rubbed his mouth. “She’s dead?”

“Yes. You were right. She wasn’t home when we checked on her last night, but apparently the killer was waiting when she got home. I can tell you that the guy we stationed here will soon be looking for another job.”

David turned and gave his car a savage kick, denting the fender. “What are you people doing? Why haven’t you stopped this maniac?”

“David, we’re working on it. This case will give us some trace evidence and DNA. Megan Quinn’s case gave us even more, and she’ll be able to identify the killer. We’re making progress.”

“But your progress comes from girls who are raped or dead. How many more?” He bent over again, staring at the pavement, trying to keep from imploding.

“David, I know this is hard. But I need for you to pull yourself together and go to the police department to make a formal statement about why you were here.”

Not again. David’s mouth fell open. “I told you why I came.”

“We just need it in writing.”

David breathed a disbelieving laugh. Being on the scene made him a person of interest. He might have known.