Killer Moves (22 page)

Geneva Soloman sat down on the sofa across from Kara and took a bite of her sandwich. Kara knew all the questions that were coming by heart.

“You’re that psychic, aren’t you?” she asked, swallowing. Kara’s gaze went to hers. She was surprised by the officer’s recognition.

“I remember the Death Angel murders as if it were yesterday,” Geneva told her. “I recalled seeing your picture. You’re involved in these copycat killings as well, aren’t you? I mean, why else would the head of the Bureau escort you here personally.”

“Yes, well, I’m not actually involved in the current investigation but I did participate in the last one.”

“I was just starting out at that time. I don’t mind telling you, that creep scared me to death.” She took another bite and chewed it thoughtfully. “What a mess.”

“What do you mean?” Kara asked cautiously. She knew what the officer meant.

“The Bureau screw-up. You know about the leak?”

“Oh…yes, you’re right. It cost us valuable time as well.”

“I can imagine. So, can I ask you a question?” Geneva finished the last of her sandwich and wiped her hands thoughtfully. Kara knew what was coming but she merely nodded her head.

“How did you come upon this gift? I mean, I’ve heard a person is either born with it or sometimes it manifests after a trauma. Some case studies seem to indicate we all have a certain amount of psychic ability within us. So I’m curious, when did you first realize you had it?”

For a second, Kara hesitated. She hated talking about the gift, but Officer Soloman seemed genuinely interested in her answer and not out of a morbid sense of curiosity.

“Believe it or not, it runs in my family.”

“No kidding? So you’ve had it for as long as you can remember?” She wiped a crumb from her shirt. “I’m taking some courses at the university. I want to join the Bureau someday,” she added by way of explanation.

“I see. Yes, I’ve had it for as long as I can remember and I’ve hated it just as long.”

“Really?”

Kara could see she didn’t understand this.

“I know that sounds ungrateful, but trust me, I don’t see this as a gift. It’s a terrible responsibility, seeing such unbelievable evil and watching lives torn apart by it.”

“Yeah, I can only imagine,” Geneva added quietly. “Do you see it before it happens?”

“Sometimes,” Kara answered reluctantly. “Sometimes I see the aftermath. Sometimes I feel the victim’s pain. And sometimes I’m able to see into the mind of the killer.”

“Wow. That must be creepy. I’ve read some of the serial killer case files. Those guys are some twisted people.”

“Yes, they are.”

“What was your first case, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She did. She hated talking about any of this.

“It was a child’s death,” Kara admitted reluctantly. “I’d always had the ability to see things, like where something had gone missing, or when the next test in a certain class would take place. Just little things like that. But the first real image of murder happened while I was still at the university. I can remember it as if it happened today. I’d been studying at the campus library when I saw it. He was taken from the street, molested and then murdered.”

“Oh wow. What’d you do?”

“At first nothing. I thought…well I don’t know what I thought,” Kara said, remembering those first terrible images. “I left the library and went home to my grandmother’s place. As soon as I walked in the door, the news came on about a missing boy.”

“The kid you saw,” Geneva supplied.

Kara nodded. “I told my grandmother about it. She took me to see the police right away. Of course, they laughed it off. Then another boy went missing that I’d witnessed and I knew where he kept the boy.”

“So what did you do?”

“I went back to the police, told them what I saw, told them where I thought the boy could be found, and they all but accused me of being responsible.”

“Yeah,” Geneva said with an apologetic grin. “We don’t fully understand your type.”

“I certainly know that. Anyway, I directed the police to the boy. We were lucky enough to find him alive, although he’d been horribly abused. But the killer left evidence. They caught him soon after and my career was sealed whether I wanted it to be or not.”

“I can understand your reluctance to get involved.” Geneva said. “I mean, I see some of the things people do to each other after the fact and it’s a terrible thing to witness. I can’t even imagine having access to that type of evil.”

“Before I knew it, I was getting called in to consult on various cases around the state. From there, I became well known. Then I saw the first image from the Death Angel. I told the Austin police, they contacted the FBI, and the Bureau called me in after they weren’t able to develop any solid leads. I guess they were desperate enough to try anything at that point.”

Geneva rolled her eyes. “That must have set well with the feds.”

“Not exactly. I was met with ridicule, doubt and every attempt possible to sabotage my efforts to help.” Kara smiled wryly, remembering how young and defenseless she’d felt at the time.

And then she’d met Davis.

“But eventually I was accepted. Mostly because they were desperate.”

Officer Judy Blake returned a short time later with a change of clothes from the local Wal-Mart. “Sorry, we’re on a budget,” she apologized.

Kara smiled at the simple jeans, tee-shirt and plain white bra and panties. “No problem. These are great. Thanks.”

“If you need anything else just let us know. I realize this is almost like being in jail, but at least you’re safe here,” Judy said with a warm smile.

“Thanks, I think I’m just going to lie down for a while.”

Kara left the two women watching TV and went to her room. She could feel the walls closing in around her. Time seemed to have come to a standstill, and yet it sped toward the inevitable moment of reckoning awaiting her.

In less than a day, he would come for her. As much as Kara trusted the two officers guarding her, she didn’t believe anything or anyone could stop this moment from happening.

Chapter Eleven

The windows of the car were all down. The night breeze helped to take the edge off Davis’s anger. But nothing could wipe away the urgency he felt. Time was running out for him. For Kara. If he didn’t figure something out soon, he would not be in a position to save her again. Hell, he might even be in jail.

He should go home. By now the press would have moved on to the latest victim’s family. Ryan had told him to wait by the phone for news, but Davis couldn’t stand the thought of doing nothing.

And so he drove around the city, finding himself in old, familiar places. Places the Angel haunted. He could almost feel him now. He’d become so in tune to his pattern of killing.

The city, poised on the brink of the next killing, appeared quiet tonight. But already the fear had spread. He could see it in the eyes of those who ventured out. He still remembered the paranoia of the past.

Dear God, not again.

His thoughts went back over the information he and Kara had uncovered about Frankie.

Davis pulled off the deserted farm road close to the place where they’d found Jessica, and closed his eyes. He could feel Kara. She was worried about him.

In his gut, Davis believed the key Victoria uncovered would prove to be the missing piece of evidence to reveal the killer’s whereabouts. Solving the case would come down to one thing. What had Frankie felt so important that he’d hidden it away all these years?

The car’s clock revealed a new day. Kara went missing the first time on this date. History had begun repeating itself.

The father…

The image of Barry Shepard appeared before him. Instinctively he knew Kara was trying to tell him something. He needed to talk to Frankie’s father. But the man had been silent for years. All throughout the first case, he refused to cooperate. What chance did Davis have of changing his mind now?

Simple. He had to try. He’d exhausted all other possible leads. And he was desperate enough to try anything.

Barry Shepard lived in an affluent section of Richmond. He’d moved there with his new wife shortly after divorcing Frankie’s mother.

Davis stopped the car in front of the house. At four in the morning, the place appeared dark. Of course, they would be sleeping. He couldn’t go banging on their door at that hour demanding answers. He’d have to wait at least another hour.

Davis ticked off the facts he knew about the man. Barry and his current wife had three teenage girls of their own.

He glanced up at the house. Apparently, someone wasn’t sleeping. He hadn’t noticed the tiny light made by something resembling a flashlight until now. Someone was awake. He was betting on it being one of the girls.

Davis picked up a small pebble and tossed it up to the window. Nothing. After several more attempts, a young girl opened the window and peered down at him.

“Who are you?” she called out while trying to keep her voice as quiet as possible.

“Agent Martin from the FBI. I need to speak to your parents.”

“They’re sleeping!” she whispered glancing at the window closest to hers. Probably her parents’ bedroom.

“I realize that but this is important.”

“Is this about my brother?”

It took him a few seconds to realize she meant Frankie.

“Yes, Frankie Shepard.”

“They won’t help you.”

“Will you?” He saw her hesitate.

She glanced back over her shoulder. “How do I know you’re who you say you are?”

Davis took out his badge and tossed it hard. He barely got close. Thank goodness, the girl was on her toes. She leaned out the window and somehow managed to catch the badge.

After she’d carefully inspected his ID, she whispered, “Hold on.”

A few minutes later, the girl appeared around the corner of the house.

“My parents will kill me if they know I’m talking to the police about this.”

“They don’t have to know. Is there something you can tell me about your brother?”

“No. Why would I know anything about him? He wasn’t part of our family. Dad said he was sick. He won’t let us talk about him. Ever.”

“Is that what you think? That Frankie was sick?” Davis could see it wasn’t.

“No,” she admitted reluctantly.

“You met him before his death, didn’t you?” He saw the truth before she could hide it.

“No!” Clearly, she was lying. Davis tried to think of something he could say to win her trust.

“What’s your name?”

“Sally. Sally Shepard.”

“Sally, I don’t believe your brother did those things of his own accord.”

“You don’t?” He had her full attention. She glanced back at the house once more. “Why don’t you think he did those things?”

“Because I don’t think Frankie was a monster. And I don’t think you do either.”

“I met him once,” she said slowly. “Mom and Dad don’t know. You can’t tell them!”

“I won’t,” he assured her. “When did you meet him?”

“Back then. Before the bad stuff started happening.”

She meant before the first murder. “I see. How did you find out about him?”

“I found some letters he wrote in my father’s desk drawer. Frankie left a number. I called it.”

“Your father didn’t destroy the letters?”

“I know what you’re thinking. But my dad really wanted to see him and then everything started to happen and he freaked out I guess.”

“I can understand that. Sally, did you read the letters?” he asked, and watched her glance once more back over her shoulder.

“My parents are going to kill me if they catch me talking to you. I’m in enough trouble already. I’m grounded,” she admitted reluctantly.

Davis managed to keep from smiling at her innocent confession. She was a headstrong girl. He thought about Ava.

“That’s tough. I got grounded by my father more times than I can remember growing up.”

“What’d you do?”

“You name it and I did it. But mostly I was the son of a cop. That was hard to live up to.”

“Your dad’s a cop too?”

“Yeah. I followed in his footsteps.”

“That’s pretty neat.” She stubbed her sneaker against the gravel drive and then said, “Frankie didn’t do any of those things.”

“Okay. Why do you think he’s innocent?”

“I read every single one of those letters he wrote. I took them from my father’s desk. He never missed them though. I think maybe he’d forgotten they were there. They were sweet. Frankie was sweet.”

“So you called him and asked him to meet you?” Davis tried to be as patient as possible but it was hard. He believed Sally might know something critical to the case.

“Yes. He met me at the Sonic after school one day. That’s where the kids hang out.”

“I see. And what did you talk about?”

“Lots of stuff. He asked me about my sisters. He wanted pictures of them. I gave him one of the three of us. It made him sad though. I think he missed my dad.”