Killer in The Woods: A Psychological Thriller Page 3

  The meeting was interrupted when a staff member told Selene she was needed urgently.

  “I shouldn’t be too long,” she told them. “In the meantime, please continue. It’s important that you all face up to everything that’s happened to you.”

  Outside the room, a young staffer named Maria Lopez brushed thick black bangs from her forehead and frowned when she told Selene, “There’s a woman here...been beat up pretty bad—”

  All too often Selene had heard those chilling words, and it made her heart ache. She drew a breath and asked, “Where is she?”

  In a large waiting area decorated with retro art and flowering plants, Selene walked up to two women who had their hands clasped. It wasn’t difficult to identify the victim. She was in her mid thirties, petite, with short blonde hair tucked behind her ears. Her right eye was nearly swollen shut, and there was blood oozing from her right nostril and the corner of her mouth. Her clothing was in disarray and she stood on wobbly legs.

  “Get the nurse,” Selene ordered Maria, and turned her attention back to the victim. Trying hard not to gasp at the horrific sight before her, she said, “I’m Selene Herrera, the director of S.A.W. House.”

  “My name is Kay Fuentes,” said a thirty-something, heavyset woman. “This is my friend, Ashley Leighton. Her criminal attorney no good asshole of a husband did this to her—”

  Selene cocked a brow. “Is that true?”

  She nodded. “I really shouldn’t be here...”

  “Yes, you should!” Kay shot back with indignation. “Next time, he might kill you—”

  “She’s right,” Selene told Ashley. She thought about what Kay had said regarding the batterer being a criminal lawyer. So many people assumed that battering women was a product of the lower classes and undereducated. The truth was any man was a potential batterer and any woman a potential victim irrespective of where they fell in the class stratum or on the educational ladder. “We’re here to help you,” she offered. “But first we’d better address your injuries.”

  Almost on cue, the staff nurse rushed in. She smiled faintly at the women, and then asked Ashley to come with her. Ashley reluctantly agreed after her friend promised she would not leave.

  Selene waited till Ashley and the nurse had disappeared before asking Kay what she already knew. “Has this happened before?”

  “What do you think?” Kay rolled her eyes. “More times than I can count.”

  Selene knew the statistics. There were tens of thousands—possibly millions—of women and teenage girls seriously beaten by the intimate males in their lives each year, yet it went unreported. The shroud of secrecy and general perception of domestic violence as a family matter made detection and prevention that much more difficult.

  * * *

  The nurse worked her magic to stop the bleeding and make Ashley presentable, all things considered. There were no broken bones or emergency room type injuries, but Selene wanted her to go to the hospital anyway, just to be on the safe side.

  First, she needed more information from the victim. In Selene’s office, Ashley was joined by her friend Kay. The two sat in leather chairs across from Selene’s desk.

  “Tell me what happened today,” Selene said to Ashley. She would take careful notes, knowing it could be used later to bolster a criminal case against the perpetrator.

  Ebbed on by Kay, Ashley shed tears as she slowly recounted the argument that led to the beating. She made it clear that this was a common occurrence, but never this bad. “This time he j-j-just kept hitting me—” she stammered, tensing up.

  Selene knew from experience that many women suffered through years of abuse before they sought help. Sadly, for some, help came too late.

  But maybe not for this one, she thought hopefully. “Do you have any children?”

  Ashley shook her head.

  “And where is your husband now?”

  “At work,” Ashley said.

  “Where does he work?”

  Ashley hesitated. “I’d rather not say—”

  Selene sucked in a deep, patient breath. “You really should be more concerned about protecting yourself than the man who used you as a punching bag.”

  Ashley lowered her head in shame. “He isn’t always like that. Most times we have a good marriage. I just don’t want to make a big deal of this...”

  Kay nearly sprang out of her chair. “You can’t let him get away with hurting you! Tell the lady the real reason you don’t want anyone to know what’s going on.”

  Ashley scowled at her friend, before dabbing a tissue at the corner of her still bleeding mouth. “Because I’m a cop, okay,” she bit out. “And I’d rather not have this trickle down to my department—”

  A cop? That gave Selene a bit of a start. For some reason it was hard for her to imagine that this battered and bruised, rather fragile looking woman was an officer of the law. But she knew as well as anyone that batterers and victims could be found at any layer of the occupational scale—including law enforcement and attorneys.

  Ashley added unevenly, “My husband’s work puts him in frequent contact with the police department. If word got out about this, I...”

  Selene swallowed, eyeing her sympathetically. “I think I understand how you feel, but—”

  “No, you don’t!” Ashley cut in. “I like my job, Ms. Herrera. I’ve worked hard to prove I belong. The last thing I need or want is to come across as a weak female who has no business being on the force.” Ashley took a breath. “My husband and I can work this problem out between us. I just needed to get away for a little while.”

  “Mrs. Leighton, your husband is a wife beater,” Selene said bluntly. “Rarely, if ever, are spouses caught up in the cycle of abuse able to work it out between them. You cannot simply wish the battering away and expect it won’t happen again. As long as your husband feels you’ll tolerate the mistreatment to protect your career and marriage, he’ll continue to hit you whenever he damn well pleases or otherwise has a bad day. The fact that you are a police officer gives you a big advantage over most battered women. But only if you use it. I’m sure if you come forward, your colleagues will be supportive...”

  The loud banging at the front door seemed to reverberate throughout the house. Selene immediately felt a chill as she looked at Ashley. “Does your husband know you’re here?”

  “No,” she replied, and gazed uneasily at Kay.

  “Then it’s probably not him,” Selene said hopefully. “Wait here...”

  * * *

  Maria Lopez was just opening the door when Selene arrived. Both observed a tall, trim, clean-shaven man in his late thirties with slicked back dark hair. He was dressed in an expensive pinstriped suit.

  His fierce gray eyes bored into Selene’s with such sharpness that she felt as though they had struck her. “May I help you?”

  He cracked a cynical smile. “Yeah, I think you can...” Reaching into his jacket pocket, he removed a business card and practically tossed it at her.

  As Selene looked at the card, she heard him say, “My name’s Robert Leighton. I’m an attorney...”

  And I’m supposed to be impressed? Selene regarded him disdainfully, thinking about the job he had done on his wife. She checked her anger and went through the routine, starting with her name, and added, “I’m the director of this shelter. What is it you want, Mr. Leighton?”

  He pursed his lips. “I think we both know what—who—I want. Where is she...?”

  In a frightened voice, Maria whispered to Selene, “Do you want me to call the police?”

  “Not yet,” she said, hoping to resolve this here and now. “I’ll handle it.”

  Maria seemed concerned for Selene’s safety, but did not argue, leaving her alone with the man.

  Selene sighed. “Mr. Leighton, you did a real number on your wife. As a criminal attorney, you must know that assaulting someone—anyone—is a very serious offense.”

  He grunted. “Is that what she told you—that I assaulted her? No
t true. We just had a little misunderstanding. It happens sometimes in marriages. No big deal!”

  “Oh, I think it’s a very big deal,” Selene argued. “Obviously your wife agrees. She came here to get away from you, and here she will stay—”

  His thick brows knitted together. “You don’t want to mess with me,” he warned. “What goes on in the privacy of my home is my damned business, not yours! Ashley knows I’d never do anything to really hurt her. Now, again, I ask you to get my wife. Or...”

  “Or what? You’ll come in and get her like the tough man you are?” Selene challenged him. “Mr. Leighton, why don’t you go home before you do something really stupid that you’ll live to regret? Trespassing on private property, then assaulting a house full of women will only get you in much more hot water than you are now—and we aren’t afraid to press charges if we have to!”

  Robert Leighton glared at Selene while seemingly weighing his options. Before either could say another word, Selene heard footsteps behind her. She turned and saw Ashley and Kay.

  In a shaky voice, Ashley uttered, “I’m going home with my husband.”

  Selene cocked a brow, glancing at her in disbelief. “You don’t have to do this...”

  “Yes, I do.” Ashley looked at her husband. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Feeling triumphant, Robert’s scowl became a crooked smile. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We both just got a little carried away. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Kay clutched her friend’s arm worriedly. “You sure about this?”

  Ashley mulled it over for a moment or two before saying, “Yes, I’m sure.”

  She met Selene’s eyes, and then flashed her husband a believable smile.

  Selene watched helplessly as Ashley walked into his waiting arms and they went out the door.

  “She’s doing it again,” Kay muttered.

  Selene shook her head sadly. “Women usually do when they’re caught up in the battered woman’s syndrome.”

  “What if he beats her up again?” Kay asked.

  “Not what if, but when,” Selene responded bluntly. She feared it was only a matter of time before Robert Leighton used his fists on her again. Ashley could use all the help she could get, whether she knew it or not.

  As such, Selene could only wonder what was in store for the woman cop who seemed to be headed down a path with no good outcome.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ashley Leighton sat silently on the passenger side of her husband’s shiny new Mercedes. She was holding her breath, expecting him to either verbally assault her for going to the shelter or reach over and hit her in the face, as he had become so proficient at doing.

  But what other choice did she have? She cringed when she thought about what might have happened if she’d confronted him. It could have been disastrous all the way around.

  Robert Louis Leighton had once been the man of her dreams. Surely the most handsome man Ashley had ever seen when they first met. A real charmer. Swept her right off her feet. The fact that he was also brainy, in law school, and headed towards bigger and better things did not hurt one bit either.

  Robert had gone out of his way to keep his temper in check during their courtship and early in the marriage. It was two years into their marriage when Ashley first felt the sting of his fists. It coincided with the time she was realizing her dream of being in law enforcement and his growing pains as a young attorney under pressure.

  Maybe she should have left him right then and there. But his heartfelt apologies and her love for him overshadowed her basic instincts, self-preservation, and plain old common sense.

  Over the years, the abuse had gotten progressively worse just as Robert’s remorse had seemingly grown stronger. Ashley feared her husband as much as she loved him. As a police officer, she had seen more than her fair share of battered women, but refused to put herself in their category. But today, after going to the shelter at Kay’s insistence, reality hit Ashley when she saw other abuse victims.

  I’m a battered woman, too. And Robert is a batterer.

  Even with these admissions, Ashley didn’t want to see the life they had built for themselves fall by the wayside. Looking at her husband now, she hoped that all the bad things between them would just go away for good.

  Robert took his eyes off the road and looked at her. She tried to look beyond their mesmerizing intensity to what may lie beneath.

  “I’m not upset that you went to that shelter,” he said coolly. “I blame myself for making you feel you had to get away from me.”

  “Robert—”

  “Let me finish,” he said. “I know things have been rough lately, but I don’t want to lose you. I’ll go to anger management—anything you want.”

  A glimmer of hope swept through Ashley. “Would you really do that?”

  “Yeah, if that’s what it takes.” He put his hand on her thigh. “I love you, Ashley. I’m sorry that I hit you.”

  That was music to Ashley’s ears. Maybe this time he really meant to change. It was worth it to give him a chance for the sake of their marriage.

  “I love you, too, honey.” She smiled at him, though it hurt to move her lips.

  * * *

  Robert Leighton smiled back at his wife in a way that he had perfected so well over the years in getting the things he wanted. Right now, that was to be back in the good graces of his wife. What he had no intention of doing was going to anger management counseling. He didn’t need some two-bit shrink trying to psychoanalyze him. Telling him that he was full of hate for women—one in particular. Or that they needed to separate out of concern that he might go too far one of these days.

  That was never going to happen! He didn’t need professional help. He could deal with whatever issues he had in his own way and in his own time.

  What Ashley didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt her anymore.

  If she played by his rules as the master of the house. And didn’t embarrass him anymore by running off to some damned shelter asking for protection from that nice looking, but too brazen for her own good bitch, Selene Herrera.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The funeral was held at the Bluffs Bay Cemetery on a warm, sunny afternoon. Detective Dennis Cramer came with his wife, Melody, to pay his respects to the latest victim of The Woods Strangler. It was the least he could do for Sophia Pesquera, since he was unable to help her in life and there was no guarantee he could in death.

  But he had to try.

  And that meant showing up at the funeral as both a resident of The Woods and a police detective, bent on solving a case that had given him nothing but headaches.

  He put his arm around his beautiful Australian wife and felt her trembling.

  “It’s okay, honey,” he said.

  She sniffled. “How many women have to die, Dennis?”

  “Hopefully, no more.”

  “She didn’t do anything to deserve this,” Melody said.

  Melody wept openly and Dennis pulled her closer. “I know,” he said tenderly.

  Dennis imagined what it would be like if it was his wife or daughter being buried instead of Sophia Pesquera. The thought unnerved him.

  That was why he had his officers fanned out observing everyone at the cemetery. It wouldn’t be the first time a killer attended the funeral of his victim, admiring his handiwork under the guise of being a mourner.

  If this man was so bold, Dennis could only hope that he would lead them straight to his door. Then they could haul his ass right into a not-so-comfortable jail cell where he belonged before another funeral took place in The Woods.

  CHAPTER NINE

  After work, Selene stopped by the supermarket to pick up a few items Quinn had requested for the dinner he was making. One of the things she loved about him was his passion for cooking. Not that she was a slouch in that department, but Selene welcomed sharing the duty. His cooking ability was a far cry from her first husband whose only interest in food wa
s eating it.

  The sun was starting to set as Selene headed for her car, grocery bag in hand. She thought about her day at the shelter. It had always been Selene’s policy not to take work home with her, but there were times when it was all but impossible. Getting battered women like Ashley Leighton to come to the shelter only to lose them to suffer perhaps an even worse fate was disillusioning.

  She could only do so much, and often it wasn’t nearly enough.

  As Selene walked across the parking lot, her thoughts drifted to The Woods Strangler. She quickly looked around for anyone who seemed suspicious. Thankfully, she saw no one.

  Everyone had to be on guard these days more than ever. Thus far, the reward had provided no credible new leads. Had the killer taken his deadly act elsewhere? Or was he scared off by their little neighborhood watch committee? Either way, it gave Selene a momentary sense of calm.

  She reached her car and hit the remote to unlock it. But before Selene could open the door, a voice seemed to come from nowhere, nearly causing her to jump out of her skin.

  “Hey, baby. Long time, no see—”

  Whipping around, Selene looked right into the face of her ex-husband, Michel Giovanni. It took only a moment to survey the man she hadn’t seen in a year and had been in no hurry to. At thirty-eight, he had changed little. Wavy black hair bordered well-defined, Italian good looks, while dark eyes regarded her below thick brows. A shade over six feet tall, Michel was still as fit and muscular as Selene remembered.

  “What are you doing here?” Selene asked, trying to still her nerves. She suspected he had followed her from the shelter. Selene glanced around to see if there was anyone nearby, but realized that she was all alone with the last person on earth she wanted to be with, short of the strangler.