Nowhere to Run (Stephanie Carovella) (30 page)

“Gena will want to go through these clippings,” Jase said, dropping his eyes back to the photo album.

Stephanie nodded in agreement. “Of course she will. She’ll scour the articles and see the similarities between all the cases,” she said, her voice clipped. Tiredly, she added, “There are newspaper articles in the scrapbook you’re going to find interesting. They’re related to other murders. After Katrina’s murder, there was a spate of co-ed murders similar to Katrina’s and then nothing. It’s almost as if he disappeared off the face of the earth until Carolyn’s attack four years ago.”

“More murders?” Jase asked, quickly flicking through the album to scan the articles.

“Yes, murders I thought were linked to Katrina’s murder. The police disagreed and put them down to copycats or just coincidence.” Contempt laced her voice as she added, “Just like, they put being stalked down to my over-active imagination.”

“You thought otherwise,” Jase concluded, looking up from the articles.

She inclined her head, studying him with a cool smile. “The rapes, the throats slit... the similarities are all there-”

He shook his head, speaking over her. “And, all of these similarities can be found within newspaper clippings. The police could have been right. They could have been dealing with a copycat. It’s all circumstantial.”

“I know it was him,” Stephanie argued, clenching her fist and beating it across her chest. “I know it inside here.”

Jase took her hand, gently unclenching her fist. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but the police would have needed concrete evidence, something solid to link all the crime together. A gut feeling just doesn’t do it.”

“I know that. I didn’t spend four years of university studying Journalism and Criminology just for the hell of it, Jase. I know the police need certifiable evidence. I’ve gone through hundreds of crime scenes in my own time, studying the victims and the killers. I know the law, and I’m telling you this, he killed all these girls.”

Jase smiled at her passionate response, fascinated by the fire flickering in her eyes. “Let’s say you’re right. Apart from your gut instinct, what makes you think all these murders are the work of the same killer?” he asked, indicating with his hand to the files. “Tell me what you can see that others can’t. Prove it to me,” he challenged, crawling onto the right side of the bed, and leaning back against the bed’s headboard.

Stephanie nodded, scooting to sit side by side with him, stretching her legs out and leaning her head against the plush pillows. “For starters, the newspaper articles written about Kat’s attack mentioned her rape and her throat being slit, but they didn’t mention his signature. It wasn’t mentioned because the police had no clue it was even a signature. Nevertheless it was there and it’s always the same,” she said, reaching over and taking the scrapbook from Jase.

Quickly flipping through it, she added excitedly, “He positions his victims as he seems them. Angel was a Dominatrix dominated, Carolyn was a fallen star. The earlier murders were more hurried, less practiced but the signature was always there.”

“How can you possibly know this?” Jase pressed.

“I studied the cases, Jase. As a crime reporter, I had access to old cases – and certain files. I had friends who were willing to provide me with the information I couldn’t dig up myself,” she said, leaning towards the box and pulling out four manila folders. “Katrina’s file – what little of it there is anyway,” she said bitterly, dropping it onto Jase’s lap.

She dropped another file on top of Katrina’s. “Casey Fielding, a 19-year-old Cheerleader, found murdered at USD. She’d been raped and her throat slit. She was dressed in her cheerleading outfit and found dumped on the University’s football field. The Toreros got quite a surprise when they showed up to their early morning practice run.”

Pausing, she added two more files to Jase’s lap. “Sue Ellen Johnson and Abigail Marques were roommates and best friends from Trinity University, San Antonio. Both were only 18-years-old and members of
Alpha Chi Lambda.
They were found butchered in their dorm room – raped, their throats slit and positioned kneeling before God. Both girls were devout Methodists. I don’t believe the university has ever fully recovered from the scandal of their murders.”

Tossing five more files on the bed, she arched an eyebrow, asking, “Would you like me to continue?” Not waiting for him to speak, she continued quietly, “Do you know, before Kat was murdered, I still wasn’t sure which direction I wanted to go with my career? It was always going to be Journalism. I’ve never wanted to do anything but write and for me, Journalism meant I was helping to change the world. I was letting people see the world for what it was – harsh, scary, and not for the innocent. After Kat was murdered, crime reporting seemed the perfect choice. I switched out of Public Relations and into Criminology. In my spare time I read everything I could get my hands on about criminal law. I didn’t just want to be a crime reporter; I wanted to be the crime reporter who helped put murderers away. I wanted to save the innocents of the world because I was never able to save Katrina. It was natural for me. I thrived on it. Gena and I used to sit for hours arguing over old crime cases and her own study cases, analyzing the killers – getting into their minds. For Gena, it was part of the job. But for me, it was fun. It was almost as if fate had decided that my destiny was to be surrounded by crime and murder.”

Jase took her hand in his own, lacing his fingers with hers. It made her stop. She looked down at their hands and smiled when he squeezed her hand encouragingly. “Do you see a pattern? Do you see why I know we’re dealing with a serial killer; with the same serial killer?”

He nodded, clearing his throat and indicating to the files. “These were the only ones you could find?”

Stephanie shrugged. “These were the only ones I could find after Kat’s death,” she said, giving him another small shrug. “Like I told you, it’s as if he just disappeared off the face of the earth after this. I never stopped looking for him, a part of me always knew he would be back When Carolyn was attacked, I knew it wasn’t over. She was being stalked again. The pattern was the same. First it was flowers, then little notes and hang ups, then items went missing. Eventually he attacked her. It’s the same old twisted courtship, just like when we were in university. He’s a traditionalist. Like his signature, this is a consistent theme in all his murders.”

She laughed harshly. “I spoke to friends of the victims. They told me each victim was terrified, positive she was being stalked. I told the police, but yet again they dismissed me. What on earth would a stupid young college girl know about police procedure? That was the standard response. I was just a frightened college girl with paranoid delusions. It didn’t matter that I could see a pattern they couldn’t. Hell, they just saw me as a pain in the ass. I actually got told by one Detective that I was damaged goods. He’d read the glorious history of my parents murder and labeled me fucked up. In the end, they closed off the case and pretty much told me not to bother them again.”

She drew her legs closer to her, wrapping her arms around them and turning to look at Jase, resting her cheek against her knees.

“They should never have called you damaged goods,” he said softly, tentatively stroking her cheek.

She smiled bitterly. “Oh, but I was. I was damaged long before I entered university. Watching your parents being tortured to death does that to a person. Maybe they shouldn’t have told me, but I already knew it anyway. God knows my aunt told me enough times growing up.”

“Jesus, she sounds like a real sweetheart,” Jase muttered.

Stephanie laughed again. “She didn’t want me living with her, anymore than I wanted to live with her. As soon as I was old enough to support myself, I left and headed back to L.A. I came home.” She trailed her finger in a circular pattern against her jeans leg. “This is home. It’s where I belong. Until recently, I thought it was a place to escape from, but I can’t. Every time I try to leave, I lose a piece of myself. My history is here. I was born here. My parents were murdered here. I moved back here and survived a massacre. I fell in love here. It’s a part of who I am. My friends are here…the few friends I have left.”

She gave him a half smile. “He brought me back here because he knew it was home for me. In his sick twisted way he felt like he was doing the right thing for me and in an even sicker twist, he sees L.A as the place where we met. To him, it’s where we begun. He knows this is our final dance. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere left to hide. Sooner or later, the game will end.”

Jase nodded, a lump in his throat. “He stalked Angel the same way,” he whispered, anguish making the words difficult to say.

Stephanie inclined her head in agreement. “Now, he’s doing the same with me. It’s already begun - the flowers, the photographs, the hang-ups, the little gifts.” She shook her head. “It always comes back to me,” she said bitterly.

Jase lifted her hand to his mouth, brushing his lips across her knuckles. “I won’t let him hurt you,” he vowed, pressing his forehead to hers.

“You can’t stop him,” she countered back, closing her eyes tiredly. “Don’t you get it? He could be anyone and nobody knows who he is but me and he knows this. I see him when I close my eyes at night – in my dreams – everywhere. He’s coming for me and there’s not a damn thing you or I can do about it.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Stephanie critically eyed the apartment building from her position across the road. Hidden within the shadows of the alley, she stood silently. Had he done the same? Had he stood here waiting? Had he watched and waited for Ben to leave? How long did he stand here waiting until she was left alone? Was it an hour? Two hours? Or maybe even three?

She scowled when the buzzing of her phone broke her concentration. Pulling it out from the front left pocket of her red leather jacket, she flipped it open to reveal the caller. Leigh. He had been calling non-stop since the incident in his hotel room. Calls that she refused to answer.

Her lips curved into a sardonic smile. The incident – could she even call it that? He had attacked her. Touching her bruised cheek in remembrance, she smiled icily. He had ripped and clawed at her clothes like an animal. He’d been in such a rage. In the end she’d managed to get away and knock him out with the hotel room’s phone. She shuddered; refusing to think what would have happened if she hadn’t.

Staring hard at her iPhone when it began vibrating again, she shook her head in amazement. Did he really think it was that easy? Did he think he could attack her and she’d simply forgive and forget? He’d only confirmed what she’d already known when she walked into the hotel room. They’d been doomed from the start and now they were done for good. The sooner the annulment papers came through, the better as far as she was concerned.

How the hell had he got her new phone number anyway? She wondered with irritation. Pressing ignore on her phone, she slipped it back into her pocket. Taking a deep breath, she strode across the road, ignoring the blaring horn from a passing 4WD. Not sparing it another glance, she stopped at the stairs of the apartment building.

Had it really been so easy? Did he just walk into the building or had he planned it? How had he known Ana would be there? Had he known she would be alone, or would Ben have been collateral damage? She fought down the nausea at the thought of what might have happened if Ben had been there that night.

Walking up the stairs, she fished the keys to Ana’s apartment out of her jeans front pocket. She smiled slowly to herself. She’d taken them while Ben was still sleeping this morning. He hadn’t even stirred when she’d slipped out of his bedroom.

She smiled gratefully when the Apartment Building’s security door opened and the man exiting held it open for her. Flashing him another quick smile, she walked into the building’s hallways and stopped. Her smile faded. Scanning the interior, she wondered if he had done the same. Did someone open the door for him? Was it really that easy for him to gain access?

She shook her head in amazement. Even with all the security Ana’s building boasted, she’d still been able to walk in just off the street without any questions asked. The thought troubled her. Slowly, she began to ascend up the stairs to Ana’s apartment, determined to face whatever she would find there.

***

The man parked the 4WD outside the apartment building, the smile on his lips not reaching his eyes. She hadn’t even noticed him. She’d been so preoccupied with getting to her destination, she hadn’t even recognized him.

Stepping out of the vehicle, he walked towards the apartment. He needed to see her, even if it meant hiding so she couldn’t see him. She was his. He’d worked too damn hard to become a part of her life. He wasn’t going to let her walk away now. What was his, stayed his.

***

Gena glanced up from the files she was reading when Jake strolled into the kitchen. Picking up her coffee cup, she was momentarily distracted by the sight of his half-naked body. She openly ogled him, dropping her eyes quickly back to the file in front of her when Jake caught her staring.

“Interesting read?” he asked, picking up the coffee pot and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“Very,” Jase replied from where he sat opposite Gena at the kitchen table, flashing both Gena and Jake a wolfish grin. Something in his voice made Gena lift up her head again, shifting uncomfortably when she realized he wasn’t talking about the files in front of them.

Jase rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. “I’ve gone over these files time and time again. How the hell could the police have missed the similarities of each of these murders?” he said, disgusted.

Gena sighed heavily, not wanting to admit how much the system had failed Stephanie. “To be fair, Jase, the murders were committed in different cities and different states. They didn’t have the sophisticated databases we have now. Not to mention the fact he didn’t stay in the same place. The police couldn’t have known every detail of the murders. The signature, also, wasn’t as distinct as it is now. It was there, but still…” She leaned her elbow on the table, resting her head on her hand. “No wonder she became obsessed.”