Joanna Wayne - As Darkness Fell

Across the street from the park were small houses, mostly brick fronts with touches of stucco. A few had porches. A middle-aged man sat in a porch swing in the house directly across from them, watching them as he swayed back and forth. It was a natural thing for him to do, but still, his gaze made her uneasy.

“Do you think the killer was watching me even before I entered the park?”

“Possibly.”

“From one of the houses?”

“He could have been watching from any number of spots. A house. Sitting in a parked car. Crouched behind someone’s bushes. From the edge of the wooded area. But more likely he was just mingling in the crowd of bystanders.”

And if the guy had been there last night, he could be out there somewhere now. She could all but see his eyes. They’d be dark, piercing, threatening. “Do we have to go inside the park?” she asked, anxious to get back in the car and drive away.

“It would help. Just retrace your steps, and I’ll follow you.”

They walked back to the gate as another bolt of lightning hit, this one way too close for comfort. Once inside the gate, she headed straight for the area where she’d first seen the body. “I started to follow the lights from the TV crew,” she said. “That’s when you spotted me and told some cop to order the broad on stilts out of here.”

“Apparently it didn’t do a lot of good.”

“The cop told me to leave, but when he got sidetracked, I went back to my job. The public has a right to know.”

“So you ignored police orders. Then what?”

“I looked at the body, and…” Damn, she hated to admit her weakness in front of this detective.

“You threw up in the bushes.”

“How did you know that?”

“You were quite a hit last night. Wasn’t a cop on duty who didn’t notice the reporter in the red dress.”

Cops. Killers. She’d impressed them all, except for Detective Sam Turner. He kicked a small pebble. It flew through the air, coming to a stop just inside the yellow police tape that circled the area where the body had been found.

Bloodstains were still visible, though they’d probably fade after the rain. But the images in Caroline’s mind were still as clear as if Sally had still been lying in the grass. She shuddered and stepped away.

Sam took her arm. “Steady now. We’ll be through here in a minute.”

“Do you ever get desensitized to murder?” she asked.

“No. If I did, I’d get out of the business.”

The admission made him seem more human somehow. It meant he wasn’t all roar and rumble. Might even have a heart beneath that brawny chest. “Have you ever been on a case where the killer contacted someone he’d seen at the crime scene?”

“No, but it’s not unheard of. I remember reading about one case on the West Coast a couple of years ago. Serial killer called a female news anchor before every crime.”

“What happened?”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

She didn’t buy that for a second. “He killed the woman he’d called, didn’t he?”

For the first time since they’d been in the park, he turned his attention totally to her. “Nothing will happen to you, Caroline. Not unless you let this man draw you into his sick games.”

The first drop of rain fell, quickly followed by others. They splattered on her nose and ran down her cheeks. Sam grabbed her hand and started running toward the car. But the storm’s fury didn’t wait. The rain blowing into her face stung like needles, making her contact lenses blur until she could barely see. By the time they reached the car, her clothes were soaked and water from her hair was dripping down the back of her neck.

Sam started the ignition and turned on the heater, but he sat for a minute before putting the car in gear. She had the feeling there was something else he wanted to say, but if there was, he changed his mind. He kept his gaze straight ahead as he pulled away from the curb.

Don’t get drawn into this.

Good advice, only the killer had drawn her in the second he’d singled her out and delivered his note. With that one act he’d robbed her of any chance of the objectiveness reporters were supposed to maintain. Nonetheless, she’d keep things under control, report the news and do a good job of keeping the citizens of Prentice informed.

And pray he didn’t contact her again.

“I TALKED TO every neighbor on the block,” Matt said, scooting his notes in front of Sam. “Everyone claims not to have seen anything until the television news van arrived.”

Sam picked up the notes the young detective had made, reared back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. “Did you check to see if anyone in the immediate area has a record?”

“All the adults are clean as a whistle. One of the teenagers on the block has a battery charge against him.”

“Details?”

“Gregg Sanders. Age seventeen—sixteen when the charges were filed. Attacked his stepfather with a baseball bat when he caught him fondling his little sister. Stepfather denied it. Kid got off with a warning, so I’m guessing the judge believed him, instead of the old man.”

“Where’s the stepfather now?”

“Out of the picture. Mother divorced him and has no idea where he’s living, but is fairly sure he’s not in Prentice.”

“Any known sex offenders in the neighborhood?”

“None that showed up in the records.”

“What about the search around the crime area?”

“We bagged some items. A couple of cigarette butts, an old sock, some chewed gum, a beer bottle, that kind of stuff.”

“Send them to the crime lab in Atlanta. See if we can get a DNA reading from any of them.”

“You got it. Anything else you need before I head out?”

Sam glanced at the clock. Five after five. Knockoff hour for the day shift. Time was when a cop on a murder case wouldn’t have bothered to look at a clock. But those were guys from the old school. Today’s cops had lives. They worked their shifts and that was it. They were probably better off for it. But then, so were the criminals.

“Guess that’s it,” Sam said. “Got a big night planned?”

“A hot date with a cute little redhead who works for Dr. Wolford. What about you?”

“I might cut out early and get some sleep.”

They both knew he wouldn’t. Sam would stop in at the Grille for the daily special, if he bothered to eat at all. After that he’d be back here at the precinct, going over the sketchy evidence.

Sam dropped the notes on the table as Matt left, then walked to the window and stared at the rain. It wasn’t falling as hard as it had been when he and Caroline had been caught in it, but it was steady.

Caroline Kimberly. She should have no meaning to him at all except as she related to the murder case. Only now, standing here staring at the rain and thinking about how she looked soaked to the skin, he knew she affected him in ways he couldn’t begin to define.

Not simple, like plain old-fashioned lust, though there was no denying he’d felt a tightening in his groin when she’d opened the door this afternoon.

But it had been even worse driving her home from the park, and she’d looked a little like a drenched, stringy-haired waif at that point.

Frustrated by the needs pushing at him from all directions, he crossed the room, opened his desk and pulled out the framed picture of Peg. He used to keep it on top of his desk, but he got tired of answering questions about who she was. So he kept it here for special times, when he needed to remember what life was supposed to be like. What it would have been like now if he hadn’t made that one fatal mistake and let a killer sneak into their lives.

The kind of mistake Sally Martin must have made. Had she trusted a stranger? Prentice was the kind of town where that could easily happen. An hour southwest of Atlanta, but a world away from big-city problems. More churches than bars. Clean streets. Landscaped lawns. Citizens who still held to the old Southern ways and treasured their past as if it were a gem to be polished and put on display.