Killer in The Woods: A Psychological Thriller Page 6

  Robert tasted his drink. “Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.”

  “It’s what cops do. We know that when we get into the field.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Robert muttered resignedly. “I never wanted Ashley to be a cop. But it was her choice, her dream... So I guess I’ll just have to live with it and hope she doesn’t die from it someday.”

  “Your wife’s a strong, determined woman,” Cramer told him. “I wouldn’t be too worried about her.”

  Robert peered at him. “Hey, as long as there’s someone out there murdering women in this city, I’ll be worried.”

  “Point taken.”

  Cramer tasted his beer and thought about his wife, who was just as vulnerable as any other woman in The Woods. He wished he could be there to protect his wife and daughter at all costs, but it wasn’t possible.

  They would need plenty of good old-fashioned detective work to get the bastard at the end of the day. But sometimes that day seemed too far away for his comfort.

  Cramer ordered another round for himself and the attorney.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The serial killer had just finished off his latest victim in Quinn’s nearly completed novel. It bothered him somewhat that his book appeared to be a case of art imitating life. But he’d been working on this story line for nearly a year—or at least eight months before The Woods Strangler first struck. Not that anyone was accusing him of being the monster preying on these women. That would’ve been the biggest irony considering his current post as director of The Woods Citizens Against Crime group. He could imagine psychologists trying to grapple with that one.

  Quinn did wonder sometimes if mystery writers like him, who chose to delve into the dark side of human nature, weren’t just a bit warped themselves. Did that put them on par with real killers who had taken it to a much deeper and dangerous level? Or was it crazy to think he could relate in any way, shape, or form to a serial killing monster just because he wrote about them?

  Quinn was sitting at his desk, staring at the computer screen. I control what my fictional killers do and how they go about it, putting a stop to it when it’s time to wrap up the book with a satisfying ending.

  The same was not true for The Woods Strangler, who seemed unable to control his thirst for killing and actually thrived on strangling women. So it was not likely to end till he was in police custody or dead.

  The thought unnerved Quinn, but did not derail his fictional pursuits. He truly believed that writing fiction and cultural nonfiction was his forte. While his first wife was not entirely supportive of his chosen profession, Selene was always encouraging and supportive. She wanted him to reach his full potential as a writer as long as he never put writing before their relationship, which he didn’t intend to.

  Quinn did not want to go back to the days when he was anything but on the same page with his first wife. The results had proven to be disastrous, and he would have to live with it for the rest of his life.

  Quinn stopped typing when Selene entered his office. He smiled, leaning back in his leather chair. “Must be mental telepathy. I was just thinking about you.”

  “Oh, really?” Selene said as she moved closer to him. “And just what were you thinking about me?”

  He gave her a lascivious look, getting turned on by the question as much as the woman. “Sure you want to know?”

  She laughed. “I think I’ve already figured it out.”

  “You think so?” he teased.

  “Of course. And I’m probably thinking the same thing.” Selene ran her hand across his cheek and down his chest, making Quinn want her even more.

  He pulled Selene down onto his lap and nibbled at her neck. “So what do you want to do about it?”

  She licked her lips. “Well, I’m certainly open to suggestions.”

  Quinn fought the urge to take her right there. “Have I told you lately that I’m the luckiest man on the planet?”

  “You’re not the only lucky one. After all, I have you, too.”

  “That you do,” he uttered before kissing her.

  The kiss lingered as he caressed her body and received the same in return before the phone rang, breaking the spell.

  “Damn, not now...” Quinn muttered under his breath.

  Selene wanted to ignore it, too, but figured they could pick up where they left off after getting rid of the caller. “Just try to keep it short.”

  “Consider it done.” Quinn grabbed the phone.

  Selene watched and waited as Quinn answered the phone. He cocked a brow as he listened to the caller.

  “Sure, we’ll be there...” he said, and hung up.

  “Be where? Who was that?”

  Quinn sighed. “It was Dennis—Detective Cramer.”

  “Dennis Cramer?”

  “Yeah. He wants to see me.”

  “What about...?”

  Quinn met her eyes. “The woman who was strangled in the park two days ago—”

  * * *

  The Bluffs Bay Police Department headquarters was located downtown, not too far from S.A.W. House. But as far as Selene was concerned, they might as well have been on the other side of the city, for too many battered women ended up at the shelter and too few police seemed able to protect them. They couldn’t even seem to protect their own, Selene mused, thinking of Officer Leighton and the abuse she’d suffered in silence.

  Selene wasn’t quite sure what the police wanted of Quinn. They sat in matching uncomfortable black vinyl chairs on the opposite side of the metal desk where Detective Dennis Cramer was seated. Hadn’t Quinn told them everything he knew when he and Todd Foxworth were interviewed at the park?

  In spite of Quinn’s assertions that he could handle it, Selene had insisted on accompanying him. Whatever this was about, she didn’t want to be left out.

  “Thanks for coming,” Cramer said in a strained voice. “Both of you. I appreciate it.”

  Quinn peered at him. “What’s this all about, Dennis? Or should I call you Detective Cramer?”

  “Either one is fine.” Cramer cleared his throat, glancing at Selene and back. “It’s about a serial killer running amok in our town,” he said bleakly. “What happened in the park yesterday is just another indication of this. So far, there aren’t any reliable witnesses to the latest murder or any rock solid leads on the killer. We don’t know when he might strangle someone else, or where. But you can bet the house that it’s only a matter of time. Unless we stop him...”

  Selene shuddered. How much more did they have to put up with before this killer was caught?

  “So what can I do?” Quinn asked tentatively.

  Cramer leaned forward and Selene tensed, as though Quinn were about to be accused of these terrible murders.

  The detective gazed at her husband. “I need a favor. Since you’re the director of The Woods Citizens Against Crime group, I’d like you to increase the hours the volunteers patrol the park and surrounding area. This killer has managed to stay a step ahead of everyone else, as if he’s got built-in radar or something. Maybe if we don’t leave the bastard much of a window to do his dirty work unseen, we can at the very least cut off his escape routes if not stop him altogether.”

  Quinn nodded. “I think we can bring that up at an emergency meeting. I’m sure everyone would gladly give a little more of their time if it can prevent another murder.”

  Cramer smiled. “Good. That’s exactly the spirit of cooperation we need, and probably why they appointed you director.”

  “Do you think the killer could have been at our meeting?” Selene asked. “Maybe that’s how he’s staying ahead of you.”

  Cramer frowned. “I don’t know, but I certainly can’t rule it out either. What I do know is someone out there knows who he is—and the killer seems smart enough to keep us guessing. Until he makes a mistake, or someone comes forward with the information we need to nab him, we can use all the help we can get from our friends and neighbors to try to maintain a nearly round the clock vi
sible presence on the streets. I’m hoping it will dissuade him from going after anyone else.”

  “We’ll try to set up patrols for all hours during the day and as many hours at night as we can,” Quinn said. “Whatever it takes.”

  Cramer nodded. “I appreciate it. With any luck, he’ll make a mistake or give up. The reward money could also prove to be an important factor—”

  A shiver whizzed through Selene in hearing the words reward money. She immediately thought of Michel and their recent encounter. She had been particularly focused on his suggestion that he was in town to collect the money. She wondered if it was merely talk from a desperate man tempted by the money or did he actually know something about the crimes or the killer?

  Selene had fallen so deep into her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed both men were staring at her.

  Cramer spoke first. “Something on your mind, Selene?”

  Quinn touched her arm. “What is it, honey?”

  Selene wasn’t sure if she should tell them. Should I make what could be false accusations about Michel with nothing to go on other than a brief unsettling exchange?

  Not to mention I never bothered to tell Quinn about our little encounter, she thought guiltily.

  “Selene...” She heard the pressing concern in Quinn’s voice.

  Selene knew she had an obligation to tell them, even if it amounted to nothing more than making herself seem overly paranoid and maybe hurting some feelings.

  She glanced at Quinn and settled on Cramer’s face, somehow feeling more comfortable looking at him. “There is something...”

  “I’m listening—” Cramer said.

  “Well, a couple of days ago after work I stopped by the store. When I got to my car, my ex-husband, Michel Giovanni, approached me. We hadn’t even seen each other since he moved to California a year ago. But that’s another story... Anyway, he showed me a newspaper clipping about the reward money...” Selene paused, swallowing. “Michel told me that he intended to find the killer and collect the reward. I guess I just found the whole thing rather strange.”

  Selene looked at Quinn, whose mouth was a straight line. Oh, boy, I’ve got some explaining to do now.

  Cramer leaned forward. “Why did you find it strange?”

  Selene shrugged. “I don’t know.” Maybe it was his cavalier attitude about the whole thing and his cockamamie notion that the money was the key to us getting back together. “I guess I just don’t trust him or his motives, that’s all,” she said. “If Julian McKenzie hadn’t come along when he did...well, I’m not sure what would’ve happened—”

  “You think your ex is capable of murder?” Cramer asked.

  Before Selene could answer, Quinn said, “Any man who beats the hell out of his wife is capable of anything as far as I’m concerned.”

  Cramer looked at Selene.

  “That was a long time ago,” she said quickly.

  “Hey, baby, a zebra never changes his stripes,” Quinn countered. “If he’s back to harass you, maybe he’s taken his act to a whole new and deadly level.”

  Could Michel—a man she once thought she knew so well—be The Woods Strangler? She was shaken at the mere possibility. Or was he just an opportunist, looking to profit from the suffering of others?

  “Sounds like he’s a real bastard,” Cramer said with a sigh. “But if he’s been in California till recently, he’s probably not our man.”

  “Who says he hasn’t been here, laying low with something to hide?” Quinn’s said.

  Selene had thought about that. She assumed that if Michel had been in town since the killings started, he would have tried to contact her before now. That was his nature. But did she really know him and what he was capable of?

  “Do you know where your ex is staying?” Cramer asked.

  “I’m sorry, but I never thought to ask him,” Selene said. “I was just trying to get away from him as quickly as possible. And he didn’t volunteer the information.” Selene knew Michel had no relatives there and few, if any, friends, though he had suggested he would use some local contacts in his pursuit of the reward money.

  “No problem,” Cramer said. “We’ll check around, see if there’s anything worth pursuing.”

  Selene wondered if she should have mentioned her encounter with Michel at all, especially with the potential fallout with Quinn. She knew he hated what Michel had put her through, blaming it on what he called “the devil in Michel.” The last thing Selene wanted was for Quinn to think she would ever intentionally keep something from him that she felt was important in their relationship, which was supposed to be built on trust.

  Selene was jarred from her reverie when she heard a familiar voice behind her say, “Detective Cramer, I have the information you wanted—”

  Officer Ashley Leighton literally stopped in her tracks. “Oops, sorry. I didn’t know you were busy.”

  Ashley’s right eye had nearly returned to normal, masking what Selene believed was still a serious problem.

  “It’s fine, Ashley. Come on in,” Cramer said, standing. “These are the Herreras—Quinn and Selene. They’re neighbors of mine. Quinn is heading up the newly formed citizens against crime and patrol group in The Woods.”

  Ashley glanced warily at Selene, who nodded but gave no indication that they’d met at S.A.W. House, at least not to Dennis Cramer.

  “Nice to meet you,” Ashley said.

  “I think we’re finished here now,” Cramer said to Selene and Quinn. “Keep me posted.”

  “We will,” Quinn promised.

  When they got to the door, Cramer called out, “By the way, my wife Melody thinks it would be nice if the four of us got together for dinner sometime. Maybe we could talk about making the neighborhood safer or whatever. Doesn’t have to be anything special.”

  “We’d love to have dinner with you—anytime,” Selene said.

  Cramer smiled. “Great! I’ll have her get in touch with you to set it up.”

  Selene nodded and eyed Officer Leighton, who seemed to be avoiding her. She hoped Ashley would be safe, knowing that denial was an abuse victim’s worst enemy, next to the batterer.

  When they got outside, Quinn said, “What the hell was that all about?”

  Selene assumed he was referring to her unexpected encounter with Michel, so she feigned ignorance. “What?”

  She actually felt relieved when he said, “The female cop with a nervous twitch whenever she looked at you.”

  She tucked her arm under his and said, “I’ll tell you about it on the way home...”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  On Saturday morning, Selene and Elisa decided to go to The Woods Spa and Salon for facials and to get their hair done, in spite of the fact that their husbands weren’t crazy about the idea. Quinn had told Selene that they shouldn’t be wandering the streets of Bluffs Bay as though they didn’t have a care in the world. Elisa complained that Marvin was so concerned about her safety he’d been following her around like a puppy.

  But Selene refused to let fear of her ex and a serial killer prevent her from carrying on with her life with as much normalcy as possible and that included an occasional spa treatment.

  Todd Foxworth’s face lit up with an effervescent smile as he greeted them. “Good morning, ladies! You’re just what this place needed to get out of the doldrums: two gorgeous women that we have the opportunity to make even more beautiful!”

  Elisa fluttered her lashes. “Aren’t you the charming one, Todd! Although you are laying it on a bit thick.”

  Selene smiled. “Speak for yourself. I think he recognizes real beauty when he sees it.”

  “There you go, Selene,” he said with a sly grin. “And obviously Quinn and Marvin feel the same way.”

  Selene could only speak for Quinn, who she knew found her attractive not only on the outside, but also intellectually, sexually, and spiritually. And she appreciated the same qualities in him.

  “My staff is here to serve you,” Todd told them, playing the p
erfect host. “If you need anything at all, let me know.”

  “We will,” Elisa promised. Todd proceeded to give them the grand tour of the place, as if it was their first visit.

  After he left them alone, Elisa whispered to Selene, “Thought he said at the meeting that business was really bad with the murders and all. Did you see that parking lot? It was packed! Now I see where everyone’s spending their time and money these days.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Selene said. “Guess Todd was just exaggerating to increase his bottom line.”

  “So should we get the facial treatment or our hair done first?” Elisa asked.

  “Whatever you want,” Selene said.

  * * *

  “I knew her,” Elisa said half an hour later as she was getting her hair done.

  “Knew who...?” Selene asked.

  “The last victim of the strangler,” Elisa said in an almost conspiratorial whisper.

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, sort of...” Elisa explained that the victim had worked at the local bookstore she frequented. “She really seemed to love her job and knew all the good stuff about today’s hottest authors—including Quinn. I just can’t believe she’s dead and that Quinn and Todd found her...” Elisa choked back the words.

  “I know,” Selene said, hating that Quinn had happened upon the scene. She wondered if the tragedy of his first wife’s death had somehow numbed Quinn to the experience, but quickly rejected the notion. She was certain that no one could ever get used to death by violence.

  “I just hope she went quickly,” Elisa said. “The thought of prolonged suffering at the hands of a killer really freaks me out.”

  “You and me both.” A chill ran through Selene at the thought.

  “Better that we not know, right?” Elisa’s grandmotherly hairdresser said with a thick Ethiopian accent. “That way, we don’t have to hurt with her.”

  “Thank God for that,” uttered the younger woman doing Selene’s hair. “It could have been any one of us. But it wasn’t our time to go.”

  Selene was thankful for that. At the same time, she wasn’t so sure it was Karlene’s time to go any more than the other victims of The Woods Strangler. They had too much life left to have it short-circuited in such a terrible way. She hoped that no more women would lose their lives before the killer was apprehended.