He hung up the intercom and turned to Jenna.
Samantha watched father and daughter circle each other.
Tendons stood out on Connor’s neck, his pulse beat at the base of his throat. A vein throbbed in his forehead. If they didn’t catch this guy soon, Connor was going to rupture something. Jenna looked wary, not taking her eyes from her father.
Mr. Harrington sent notice that he was on his way.
Connor needed help to search the school. And he needed someone to find that cell phone he’d gotten the text from. But first, he needed to make sure the students were safe.
Find out if there was a killer on campus . . .
Doors slammed in the background. Students hurried into the nearest classrooms. Samantha took a seat, and Jenna dropped into the chair next to her. Poor kid. She looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.
Police vehicles were already turning into the parking lot. Samantha could see from her vantage point through the window behind the man’s desk. The blades of a police helicopter thumped closer.
Principal Harrington entered his office, scanned the group of people who’d taken refuge there, and asked, “Detective Wolfe, what’s going on? Why did you call for a lockdown?”
Connor looked at Samantha. She read the look. He didn’t want Jenna to know that she’d been singled out by this guy. She’d have to get her out of the office, but into another safe area.
Samantha stood. “Jenna, come with me.”
She pulled out her weapon and Jenna’s eyes went wide, but she kept her mouth shut, following Samantha like a whipped puppy. The School Resource Officer entered the room with Connor and the principal and shut the door behind him.
Outside the office, Samantha looked left and right. Clear. She checked to make sure Jenna was behind her and made her way to the next office. It was empty, so she pulled Jenna inside and bolted the door shut.
“What’s going on, Samantha?”
“We think the guy who’s been killing the girls came on campus today.”
“But—”
Sam held up a hand. “Your dad will have to fill you in, okay?”
The girl bit her lip and her eyes flashed, but she nodded. This office also had a window facing the parking lot, and Samantha walked to the window to watch the activity.
“What did the guidance counselor want to talk to you about?”
Jenna bit her lip. “He wasn’t really a guidance counselor, was he?”
Hesitating, Sam finally decided she couldn’t lie. “No. You heard the secretary. There aren’t any new guidance counselors on campus. But it’s okay, you’re safe. Now tell me exactly what happened.”
Rubbing her temples, Jenna drew in a deep breath then let it out slowly. “He stopped me in the hall and asked how I’d been doing since Andrew had been shot.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. When I asked him who he was, he said he was new. Because he knew about Andrew, I figured he’d been reading my file and tracked me down.” Jenna swallowed hard. “Is he the killer?”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, Samantha shook her head. “It’s possible. That’s what we’re trying to figure out. What did he look like again?” She was going for consistency and to see if Jenna added anything useful to the description.
“Um . . . tall, slender, but not like a skinny basketball player, he was better built, stockier.”
“What color was his hair?”
“Dark, curly, a little shaggy like he was trying to be in style. I didn’t think the style fit him personally.” Another shrug.
“His eyes?”
“Green! I already just told you this.” She threw her hands up. “And he needed a shave, his face was all scruffy looking.”
By the time Samantha had finished her gentle interrogation of Jenna, she was ready to climb the walls, but she knew she needed to stay put with the girl.
Then she noticed the emergency vehicles pulling out of the parking lot. He’d gotten away. Again.
A knock on the door brought her to her feet.
“Open up, Sam, it’s me.”
Samantha complied and Connor’s frustration nearly slammed her back into the office.
“He got away, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. We got a video of him talking to Jenna in the hall, but he very strategically had his back to the camera the whole time.”
“Of course he did. The man’s not stupid.”
“No, but when I get my hands on him, he’s going to wish he was dead. We also got video of him leaving the building. He crawled into a silver Camaro. We already ran the plates. It was stolen three hours ago.”
Two hours later, Jenna had worked with a sketch artist and had her own personal bodyguard with numerous warnings about being careful, not going anywhere alone, and not ditching the bodyguard. The poor girl had been a bundle of nerves by the time they left. As much as Connor wanted to keep Jenna with him, he knew there was a good possibility that being in his presence would actually place her in more danger than if he simply hired someone to protect her.
As a precaution, Connor also sent someone to cover his home. The sheriff agreed the killer had gotten personal when he learned about the text message and Connor’s family needed protection.
They were tracing the number now.
Connor bounced ideas off Samantha about what he should do with Jenna. Unfortunately, Samantha didn’t have an answer for him.
While he pondered his options, they arrived back to the place they’d been before he’d gotten that text. They were on the way back to the precinct, and Connor got on the phone during the drive to see if he could nail down some answers.
He called the parents of each victim, asking them if they had any mail the girls may have received. Two said they would check and get back to him. He asked them to wear gloves before touching it. Probably a precaution that would be too late, but might as well try. Sydney Carter’s mother asked him to hold on a moment.
Connor put the speakerphone on when she came back. “Detective, I have an envelope here with four one-hundred-dollar bills in it.”
Excitement spiraled through him. Not that he expected the killer to leave his real address, but if he even left a PO box, it would be something to track. “What’s the return address and name on it?”
“There’s no return address, I’m sorry.”
Another dead end. He thanked the woman and promised to have someone out to pick it up as soon as possible.
Back at the precinct, Samantha followed Connor to a small room with a table and eight chairs. Dakota was already waiting for them, papers spread in front of him.
He looked up when they entered. “Time to compare notes. I’ll tell you about the abortion place in a minute. Fill me in on what you’ve got and I’ll tell you what I’ve got.”
Connor snagged a seat across from Dakota, and Sam planted herself in the one at the end so that the papers could be easily seen by all three of them.
“Your boss has added three more homicide detectives to the task force. This guy shooting up the church, killing Andrew . . .” Dakota’s throat worked and he shook his head. He hadn’t known Andrew long, but anytime a fellow officer fell, it hit hard. Connor appreciated the man’s sense of comradeship. “And paying a visit to Jenna at the high school . . . not good. Our psychologist was right on the money in his assessment. This guy doesn’t like to be thought of as powerless, or not in control, that’s for sure. We’ve made him really mad, so everyone’s going to have to be extremely careful.”
“But he’s not totally in control,” Connor said quietly.
Sam looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“He shot up the church. He shot Andrew. Surely he knew that would get the entire police department, plus outside agencies, even more involved and determined to find him.”
“But he didn’t care,” Dakota stated.
“Or he was so angry about that news conference, he just didn’t think about it, acted impulsively. He lost control.”
Dakota nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “And now that he’s had time to think about it, he’s going to be angry, not just with those of us working the case, but with himself. I would think he’d be even more careful, but going to the high school was a pretty bold move. He’s made this case personal with you, Connor. In that respect, he’s going to be even more careful. Because now he has something to prove, again, not just to us, but to himself. And anyone else who’s involved with him.”
“So let’s get him before he strikes again. What do you have?” Connor gestured to the papers in front of Dakota.
“Each girl’s medical record.” He pulled the first one. “This one is Miranda Abrams. Let’s start with her. She’s the last to disappear, but the most recent to be found. I think if we can figure out who took her, we’ll find the other girls.”
Connor took the proffered file and opened it. He flipped pages and shrugged. “Looks like just a regular medical record to me.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too, until I compared all six. It took me a while. That’s what I’ve been busy with while you all have been otherwise occupied.”
Narrowing his eyes, Connor focused on what the man wasn’t saying. “And what did you come up with?”
“They were all referred to the same doctor’s office.”
Confusion flickered. “But they all didn’t have the same doctor. I specifically asked their parents who their daughter’s doctor was. Two of them had the same one. The rest went to different ones.”
“I know. After I got the records, I noticed a notation in each chart that kept jumping out at me.” He leaned over and pointed to the fine print on one of the back pages. “‘Records requested by Physicians Associates of Greenville’ and then the date it was faxed.”
“And they all have this?” He gestured to the remaining files.
“Yes and if you compare the dates of the fax to the dates of the missing girls, you’ll see it wasn’t long after each doctor visit that each girl went missing.”
Excitement stirred in Connor’s chest. Finally. “Did you trace that fax?”
“Yes, it went to an office store. Business For All on East Main. Two detectives left to check it out as soon as I put the connection together. Oh, and that clinic where Miranda got her abortion? Closed down. Nothing left of it. Just a little one-room deal. I bet whoever did the abortion wasn’t even a doctor, just some creep who takes advantage of girls in trouble. He probably saw the news about Miranda dying and got out of Dodge. I thought you might want to head over to Physicians Associates and see what the good docs have to say.”
Connor looked at Sam. She was already on her feet. “You bet.”
Dakota stood too. “They close at six.”
Connor led the way. “Let’s go.”
Forty minutes west of Spartanburg, Physicians Associates sat up on a gently sloping hill, green sod grass neatly trimmed and hedged. Samantha walked up the sidewalk toward the front door. “Doesn’t look like a crime scene, does it?”
“Nope. Unfortunately, appearances can be deceiving.”
“Yeah. Let’s hope we’re here in time. It’s getting close to six.”
Connor held the door open for her, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the air-conditioning cooled the sweat beaded on her nose. It was hot today and she was ready for fall. Real fall. Not ninety-degree fall.
Approaching the desk, she watched Connor flash his badge and ask to speak to Dr. Josiah Pressley. “It’ll just take a few minutes. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”
The curious secretary nodded. “Sure, this way, please.”
Samantha took note of the layout of the office. Each doctor had his or her own waiting area. Interesting. She passed a young mother reading to her child, a man with a bandage around his hand—and a teenage girl who looked to be about seventeen years old. She nudged Connor. “Look.”
He spotted her. “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“Big-time.”
“You look like you’re about her age. You want to see if you can get her name and figure out if she’s a model wannabe while I talk to the doc?”
“Good idea.” Samantha grinned at the thought that she could pass for seventeen or eighteen. Yeah, right.
She sat in the chair opposite the teen and picked up a magazine. She flipped through several pages, set it down, and picked up another. With a sigh, she dropped it on the stack, looked at the girl, and said, “You’d think they could at least provide some interesting reading material, like
Seventeen
magazine or
People
.”
“I know. I’ve been sitting here for about thirty minutes. I’m going to start charging them for my time.”
“Now that’s a concept. Wonder what would happen if we sent them a bill. Think they’d realize we were poking fun at them or do you think they’d pay it?”
A thoughtful look crossed her pretty face. “I don’t know. Want to try?”
“Margaret Addison?” A nurse stood in the hallway, holding a chart.
The teen rose. “That’s me.” She flashed a bright white smile. “It was nice talking to you.”
Thinking fast, Samantha said, “You should be a model. You have a gorgeous smile.”
Surprised, Margaret lifted a brow. “Well, thank you, but I’m not interested in modeling. I’m going into pediatrics.”
“Oh, well, good luck.” Sam didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frustrated at the dead end. She watched Margaret walk down the hall and enter the room, then took off after Connor, wondering where he’d ended up.
Connor found himself in the office of Dr. Pressley, the leather seat across from the desk comfortable and welcoming. Although, he had a feeling his welcome was getting ready to run out.
Dr. Pressley seated himself behind his desk, resting his elbows on top, steepling his fingers. “How can I help you, Detective?”
“I’m sure you’re aware of what’s happening with these teenage girls disappearing.”
“Of course.” His brows met at the bridge of his nose. “But what’s that got to do with me?”
“Your name came up in the investigation as a doctor who treated two of the girls.”
The puzzlement never faded. “That’s odd, because I’ve seen them on the news, and never did I think that any one of them looked familiar. Which ones did I treat?”
Connor consulted his notes. “Sydney Carter and Amanda Sheridan.”
“I’m sorry, the names don’t sound familiar.”
“How about the faces?” Connor handed over the pictures that had been provided to him by the families.