Robert Walker - Grave Instinct

Susan came back to herself, thinking about her aunt Naomi's insomnia, wondering if her smoking interfered with her raphe system. “Maybe she needs to cannibalize somebody else's brain to recover,” she muttered to herself, thinking of the foolish information floating around on that first Web page she had cursorily visited.

Since the news of the Brain Thief had been aired on TV, everyone was hoaxing in one manner or another, and the Web was filled with lunatics who professed responsibility for the killings. Word had it that the FBI was inundated with such fools. “Got brains?” asked one Internet site.

Savannah Police Department Same morning

“ You don't understand. I had too much to drink. I get mean when I drink, but I'd never hurt anyone, 'specially my sweet Winona,” Nathan Campbell told them, his brown eyes wide and bloodshot. “I picked a fight with her. Wanted to test her, you know. See if she really meant all those things she said. I wouldn't do that kind of thing if I was sober.”

Campbell was several years older than Winona, and their relationship had been stormy. Jessica saw instantly that Nathan Campbell was in a state of exhaustion and mental anguish. He blamed himself for his girlfriend's death. Agitated, no words of solace could calm him or dissuade him from his belief. The end result: It proved difficult to get relevant information out of him.

“ Can you tell us the make and model of the van?”

“ I think it was a Dodge, maybe a Plymouth, maybe late '90s, but I couldn't swear to that.” This corroborated info from the near-abducted woman in Fayetteville, North Carolina.

“ Did you see anything at all of the driver?”

“ Older guy I think. White, I think. Didn't recognize him, but didn't really get a good look at him, either. Pretty sure he wasn't one of our crowd or a regular at the club… at least, I don't think so.”

“ Did Winona act as if she knew him?”

“ I can't say but maybe… maybe she did act that way, I mean. I first saw her alone where I left her. I'd gotten so mad I fuckin' drove off… but I was just going round the block-throw a scare into her, you know.”

“ So, you drove around the block and then what?” pressed Jessica.

“ By the time I came back around, she was being chummy with this guy, flirting through the passenger window like a cheap hooker.”

“ What did you see of the driver?”

“ I didn't get a decent look. Like I said, his van didn't look familiar, but she acted friendly like maybe she knew him. But I thought that was for my benefit, you know- that she knew I'd come around the corner and was playing me, you know. That's when I kept going the second time. Time I drove back again, the van was gone and so was she.”

“ You think she could have known him?” Combs asked again.

“ I thought she was doing it all for my benefit, to teach me a lesson, you know. I thought for sure she'd get back out of the van as soon as I disappeared, and that I'd just come back for her again. I'd been drinking, not thinking so clear, you know? I got pissed off again. I went home thinking it was over for sure between us, and I slept it off. Next thing I know, the cops're knocking at my house and my parents are waking me up.”

“ Did you happen to notice the van's plates? In state, out of state?”

“ I didn't see 'em. Damn me…”

“ Did Winona ever talk about meeting anyone on the computer?” asked Combs, who had a team working that avenue of inquiry.

“ No… no, she said people that did that were sick fucks.”

“ Did she spend a lot of time on the Internet?” persisted Lorena.

“ Nah, she wasn't like addicted to it or anything. Why?”

“ Just part of routine questioning these days, Mr. Campbell.”

“ Is that how the son of a bitch works?” he asked.

“ We're exploring that notion.”

Sheriff Combs had already pressed the local deputy related to the victim, Jeff, to confiscate Winona's computer. Amanda Manning's parents had turned over her computer to Combs as well, and leads had been made and investigated regarding men who had propositioned Amanda over the Internet. So far, none had panned out.

When they had discussed this line of inquiry, Jessica was guardedly enthusiastic, but she had suggested, “Watch for any crossing of the same guy in contact with both victims. If we have probable cause, then we can get the Net server to open its files.”

“ It'd help if Richmond and Winston-Salem would share what they have along these lines. You think some high-ranking SOB with the FBI could get on them to confiscate and examine the computer tracks of the other two victims?”

“ I've already asked Santiva to push for it, Lorena.”

“ Who knows… maybe we'll get lucky.”

Combs volunteered to go through all of Winona's E-mail to see if anyone had contacted her for a meeting on or around the time of her murder. She would also attempt to find any matchups with correspondence between the two young women-Winona and Amanda-as well as anyone writing to them both.

Here in Savannah's largest police station, Jessica felt the weight of the case on her shoulders. She stepped away from Campbell and his weak-to-useless testimony. “We still have little to go on.”

Combs countered, “We've got more than we had. The tire prints, two and a half shoe prints. We know for a fact now that the killer leaves a mark on his victims.”

“ Yeah… his final statement of power and ownership. The marking likely makes the bastard feel good, that he holds sway over his victim even after death. I can't tell you how many times I've heard such killers profess a belief in an afterlife that'll reunite them with their victims-that they will be connected throughout eternity.”

“ Madness begets fantasy.”

“ Mad Matthew Matisak himself had such plans for me,” Jessica confessed.

“ You'll have to tell me about it sometime.”

“ On the way back to your town.”

“ Well, while we have little to go on, it is a good deal more than the Skull-digger's left anyone before now.”

Campbell asked, “Can I go now? I gotta go see Winona's folks. Try to explain.”

“ I'd caution you away from them for a while, Nathan,” Jessica suggested. She and Sheriff Combs had gone to the Miller home earlier in the day to question the barely functioning, distraught parents to no avail and to confiscate the computer and all of Winona's disks. They found a typical young girl's bedroom, filled with stuffed animals, rock CDs, posters, makeup and mirrors. Jessica's gaze had fallen on a sculpture of an angel on the girl's nightstand. Winona was not quite out of her teens yet. “If the victims have any one thing in common, I'd call it innocence,” Jessica had confided as Lorena lifted the angel statue and stared at it.

Nathan Campbell now nodded at Jessica's advice to keep his distance from the parents for the time being, but she sensed he would not heed her words. “Maybe you're right,” he said without conviction.

“ You might want to get some professional help too, Nathan. You're free to go. Your parents are waiting outside.”

Campbell stood, thanked them and left in a dejected state, his shoes having been confiscated and replaced by prison booties.

“ What now?” asked Combs of Jessica in the empty interrogation room.

“ Boyd's having Campbell's shoes and his tire treads checked against the casts. But Nathan doesn't strike me as a vicious killer.”

Just then Jessica's cell phone rang and she dug it out of her pocket. “Coran,” she said into the phone, “how can I help you?”

A strange, strident male voice replied, “Don't believe a word of the lies my woman has told you.”

“ Who is this, please?”

“ I'm not the Skull-digger. I'm cured of all that a long time ago. Just don't waste your time coming after me.”