One Last Breath Page 9

  “And you cook meth out of it in your off time?” Tara questioned.

  He winced. He wasn’t going to reply, but they already knew the answer.

  Tara slid the images found in his desk across the wooden table. “Can you tell me why you had these?”

  He looked down at them, terror flashing in his eyes. “They’re my employees,” he replied. “I take pictures of everyone that works at the shop.”

  “And these are the only three employees you ever had?”

  He opened his mouth to reply but then closed it again. He didn’t know how to answer. He knew how bad this looked.

  “Well?” Tara questioned impatiently.

  He was staring at his hands, clasped in his lap, as he anxiously rubbed them together. He looked up. “I know this looks bad,” he pleaded. “But what you’re accusing me of…” He paused, looking between Tara and Warren “That’s just crazy.”

  “We didn’t accuse you of anything.”

  He shook his head strongly. “I’m not stupid. I know you’re trying to pin those murders on me!” he yelled as he sat up straighter. “I just kept those photos, okay? That’s no crime. But I’m not a murderer!” He settled back into his chair.

  “Tell me again where you were Wednesday night?”

  He sighed, closing his eyes a moment and then looking at Tara. “I was at the shop,” he started, and then his eyes drifted off. “Doing what I was doing today.”

  Tara knew what that meant; he was cooking meth. But he had already stated that no one saw him there. No one knew where he was. She asked him again.

  He looked tortured by the truth as he said it. “I was alone.”

  Warren butted in. “Do you have any cameras outside to show you were there?”

  He perked up at the thought, realizing it might save him, but then he sat back farther in his chair in disappointment. “I have one looking out onto the boat dock, but I don’t think you’d see my car from it. The other broke a couple weeks ago. I haven’t had the funds to get it fixed yet.”

  Tara sensed he was telling the truth. It was the slight hope at the realization of the cameras, and then the way hope flew away from his eyes when he knew they wouldn’t see him in them. If he was lying, then his reaction would be the total opposite of what he just showed. Anyone who was guilty would not hope that cameras caught him in the act.

  “Do you remember where you were the day Alyssa went missing?” She reiterated the date.

  He stared hard in the distance, his lip curling in deep thought. It was over a year ago, but Tara knew he had to have remembered. It was all over on every news station. Even Tara knew about it, and she was certain that anyone who knew the victim would remember exactly where they were when they heard the news. A sudden thought seemed to strike him. “I was away,” he replied excitedly, knowing it could be his saving grace. “In Florida, visiting my mom.”

  They would have to check his alibi, but if it was true, it could be solid. However, he still didn’t have an alibi for Reese.

  Tara slid the image of the third unknown girl across the table. “Who is she?”

  He stared down at the picture. “That’s Lucy. She worked for me a while ago. Around the same time of Alyssa.”

  “Did they work together?”

  He thought a second, looking off into the distance. “Yeah, they did, actually. Not long, I think, only a few weeks. Alyssa stopped working there soon after Lucy started.”

  His words only confirmed further in Tara’s mind that he was just a creep who took photos of young girls that worked in his shop. She now didn’t think that Lucy was going to be the third victim. It didn’t work in the timeline. Why would he target her now, all of a sudden, two years later? It was unlikely.

  However, Tara hoped that maybe Lucy held some information. She knew Alyssa, and she worked with her, even if it was a short time.

  “How can we find her?” Tara asked.

  “I think I still have her number,” he replied.

  Tara gave him his cell phone, and he scrolled through it before bringing up Lucy’s number. Tara wrote it down. She hoped that Lucy might be able to tell them something, and once it was in her phone, she turned to the door, ready to make the call.

  ***

  Tara and Warren stood outside the interrogation room. A police officer had just removed Timothy Morris from the room they were just in and was now escorting him down the hall to a holding cell. Tara and Warren moved into an office nearby.

  “What do you think?” Warren asked.

  She could already hear the skepticism in Warren’s voice. She knew him well enough now to understand that when Warren asked that question, he had his own doubts too. Tara was doubtful Timothy was who they were looking for. He was certainly a creep, but the way he reacted at the mention of cameras did not coincide with someone who was guilty. There was also one thing in Tara’s mind that she continued to question: his motive. There was no sign of sexual assault on Reese’s body, and she couldn’t see any reason why Timothy would kill if it weren’t sexual.

  “I have my doubts,” she finally admitted.

  Warren nodded as he pulled a chair from a round table in the corner of the office and took a seat. Tara sat down as well.

  “Me too,” he said. “The cameras, right? He seemed hopeful when he thought they might’ve caught him.”

  “Exactly, and I’m not sure what his motive would’ve been.”

  Warren nodded again. “Let’s call that girl, see if she knows anything.”

  Tara placed her phone on the table. Her name and phone number were still showing across the screen. She pressed the call button and put the phone on speaker, centering it in the middle of the table.

  The girl picked up almost immediately. It sounded as if she was just laughing at something. Her laugh trailed off as she said hello. There was a lot of background noise, as if she were at a party.

  “Is this Lucy?” Tara asked.

  The girl was quiet a moment as the background noise became less apparent. It was clear she was stepping out of the room. Eventually, nothing could be heard at all except her voice.

  “Who’s asking?”

  Tara realized it was probably a rare occurrence for a teenage girl to have an unknown adult call her cell phone. She introduced herself and Warren.

  “Is this about those bodies on the beach?” she responded quickly. “You found Alyssa, right?”

  “We did. Did you know her well?” Tara already partially knew the answer, but she wanted to see if their familiarity extended beyond the kayak shop.

  “I worked with her one summer, at Ocean Paddle. Only a couple of weeks, though. She was cool. We got along pretty well, but I didn’t know her too well—only those few weeks.”

  “Did she tell you why she stopped working?”

  The girl was quiet a moment, thinking, and then chuckled slightly. “Yeah, I remember. I think the owner made her feel a bit uncomfortable. He was a little creepy. He’d always tell her how pretty she looked, things like that. He did the same shit to me.” She grew quiet again, realizing she just let a curse slip out. “Sorry,” she added awkwardly.

  Tara brushed it off. Only a teenager would apologize for saying that. “Did he ever do anything to either of you? Did he ever act on his impulses?”

  “No, absolutely not,” she interjected. “He was a bit creepy, but he definitely never touched either of us or anything like that. Plus, I was always there when Alyssa was there. I’m pretty certain she was never alone with him.”

  They still couldn’t completely rule him out, but Tara was becoming even more certain that he wasn’t who they were looking for.

  “Do you know Reese Tanner?” Tara asked.

  “I’ve heard of her because of the news and everything. I never met her, though. I live a couple towns over from Dewey Beach, so we didn’t go to the same school or anything.”

  “Did you know she worked at Ocean Paddle for a bit too?”

  The girl grew silent again. “No, I didn’t,�
� she responded. “I stopped working there about a month after Alyssa.”

  It was certain Lucy would never have met Reese. Reese started working there about two years after Lucy stopped. And Lucy also wouldn’t have been working there while Alyssa went missing. Tara was hoping she could at least have been an alibi for the owner’s whereabouts the day Alyssa went missing.

  “Were you aware of the owner doing anything illegal?” Tara finally asked.

  “Uh, no, why?”

  Tara didn’t go into details. She asked if she was ever aware of anything going on in the room Tara and Warren had discovered earlier, but the girl only confirmed that the door was usually locked.

  Tara thanked her, and the phone call soon ended. She looked toward Warren.

  “Let’s get one of the cops to check his alibi for the night Alyssa White went missing.” He looked at his watch, and Tara looked down at her phone as well. It was now around seven o’clock, and they now didn’t have a lead. Warren sighed. “I say we head back to the headquarters and brainstorm a bit.” Tara agreed; they would have more access to information in the databases of the J. Edgar Hoover Building.

  But Warren’s suggestion only made it clearer that he had his doubts as well. And if both their intuitions were right, then whoever killed Alyssa and Reese was still out there.

  Chapter Twelve

  He sat in his car, parked on a dead end, staring out onto the road he faced. He would see her soon, walking past. She had a flat tire on her bicycle; he had made sure of it when he walked past it unattended and slashed the tire when no one was around. He had seen her earlier as he drove past, as she fumbled with the tire before realizing she would have to walk the rest of her way home. He hoped she would take this short cut. He knew where she lived, after all. He had been watching her for a few days now, and tonight was the perfect opportunity. There were no houses on the street. Barely anyone drove by at this time of night. Only the crash of the waves could be heard and the rustle of leaves at each passing gust of wind.

  No one had seen him. No one would see her.

  He waited, his heart pounding, pulsing adrenaline through his veins. Any moment, she would stroll by. Any moment, he would pull out onto the road she walked. He would get to speak with her for the first time. He would lure her. And then he’d have her, and then news would soon break, the exact story he wanted to create.

  He stared at the clock, trying to contain himself, trying to make his heart steady. He had to focus on something, and then his eyes moved to the passenger seat. He had forgotten he had the local newspaper, with Reese on the front page. He quickly stuffed it into his glove box.

  As he lifted his head again just over the dashboard, he heard movement, and his eyes darted in front of him. She was there, strolling by, with a look of defeat plastered on her face. Her flip-flops slapped the ground at each step. She pushed her bike ahead as the unruly back wheel flopped, trying to veer off-course.

  He waited a few moments, letting her pass, just so she wouldn’t see him pull out. He would pretend he was just driving by and saw her, and then he would offer her a ride.

  Once he knew she was a good distance ahead, he turned the key in the ignition. He turned his headlights on and then slowly pulled out.

  As he approached, she noticed the headlights first. Without looking behind her, she stepped farther to the side of the road, pulling her bike closer to her. But then he slowed down, and her head turned toward the car. It was dusk, and her freckled face was spotlighted by the headlights. She squinted. Pieces of her short black hair hung around her face, too short to be held in her high ponytail.

  He rolled down the window. “You all right?”

  The girl stopped walking as she peered into the car. He could see a familiarity play on her face, but she wasn’t sure—it was too dark to see. “Yeah, just a flat.”

  “You need a ride? It’s probably not the smartest to be out here alone right now.”

  He could see her contemplating his gesture. What he mentioned had clearly crossed her mind as well. After all, a young girl had just been murdered. She peered into the car again, and then her face lit up. “Aren’t you—”

  He nodded with a warm smile. He knew it was all he needed for her to trust him, and he was right.

  “You think you can fit this?” she asked, looking down at her bike.

  He reassured her he had room in his trunk, and after he pulled over, helped her take the wheels off, and placed the bike in his trunk, she soon sat beside him. She explained where she lived, and he began to head there, making her feel comfortable at first.

  But then he made another turn.

  “You’re going the wrong way,” she said.

  But he only stared at the road in silence as he locked the doors.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tara stared down at the case files splayed across the table. She felt like she had been staring at them for hours. It was now ten thirty in the evening. They had arrived at the headquarters an hour ago and had been trying to come up with theories since their arrival, but so far they had made little progress.

  “It has to be someone with knowledge of forensics,” Tara said as she stared down at Reese’s forensics report. It was something they had already mentioned, but Tara had a strong feeling that the theory was true, and she couldn’t ignore it. But who? She couldn’t get the thought out of her head, nor did she want to until an answer was found.

  The killer was careful enough not to leave DNA behind. He had cleaned the victim’s fingernails. He had strangled her, strategically, with something he knew wouldn’t trace easily back to him. He was aware of cameras and made sure he wasn’t seen by the gas station. And Tara was sure he used gloves.

  “Maybe law enforcement?” she questioned.

  Warren sat beside her, his arm resting on the table with his hand on his forehead as he stared over Alyssa’s report. “It’s crossed my mind too,” he replied, his eyes not moving from the folder in front of him. “That could also explain why no one heard them get abducted.” He then looked up, his eyes moving to Tara. “Like we said before, it seems the victims may have gone willingly. If the killer’s a respected cop, that could be why.”

  Tara nodded. A cop as the killer could explain a lot. It could even be someone who worked close on the case. She got up out of her chair, moving to a computer on the other side of the room. She wanted to run background checks on the sheriff and detective they had interacted with earlier. If she was right, the killer might have had an incident in the past that may not have seemed too alarming. Maybe an angry outburst or even a suspension.

  She told Warren what she was doing, and he pulled a chair closer. They looked up Sheriff Patel first. He had been in law enforcement for twenty years. He had no record, only gleaming reviews. They then looked up Detective Wade. He had been with the department for a much shorter time, only ten years, but so far there was nothing on his background check that seemed alarming.

  Tara sighed. “I think we should get a list of all cops in the area and get a background check.”

  Warren agreed. “We can’t ask the cops to do it. Maybe Grace?”

  Grace was the secretary in their division. She was usually in the office late, and Tara was certain she was probably still in the building. They had passed her on the way in. Tara agreed, and Warren was soon out of his chair, in the doorway, calling to her. Her desk was not far from the office they stood in. She hurried over. She wore a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, her hair in a short bob framing her face. Her eyes looked red and tired, and Tara suddenly felt bad about adding something more to her plate, but they needed it. Warren explained the task.

  “Yeah, I can do that,” she agreed without hesitation. She had her bags already strapped over her shoulder. She was clearly heading out. “It just might take me until midmorning to get back to you.”

  “That’s fine,” Warren replied. They both thanked her, and she hurried back to her desk.

  Tara’s phone beeped in front of her. She looked down.
It was a text from John.

  Late night?

  Tara looked at the time; it was now almost eleven.

  Warren looked up at the clock as well. “I say we call it a night. There’s not much more we can do tonight.”

  Tara agreed, but there was one thought that kept returning to her mind—the motive. Why would a cop want to kill innocent girls? She had her own conclusions, but she wanted to see what Warren thought. She turned and asked him.

  Warren leaned back in his chair. “I think they’d want to see how much they can get away with. Young girls getting murdered stirs quite the circus. It could all be a game.”

  Tara agreed; it was her exact conclusion.

  ***

  Tara entered her apartment and was immediately met by John. She had called him on the way home to let him know she was on her way, and now he was in the kitchen pouring a kettle that had just boiled.

  “How was your day?” he asked. He placed a plate of food in the microwave

  Tara tossed her bag on a table next to the door and then sank onto a barstool, letting out an exhausted sigh. “Tiring,” she admitted. She didn’t want to go into detail. It pained her that the killer could still be at large, and speaking about it to John would only dig at the wound more.

  “How was yours?” she asked, trying to remove the attention from herself.

  He shrugged. “Not too bad,” he replied as he pulled the plate out the microwave and walked over to give Tara a kiss. He placed a plate of leftover lasagna in front of her. “I figured you’d be hungry.”

  He took a seat next to her as Tara began to eat. “Since you were getting home late, I decided to go practice with the band after work,” he continued. “We got our first gig in two days.” He smiled proudly. “Playing some Rush covers.”

  “That’s awesome!” Tara replied excitedly. She was happy for him. Not only was he a huge Rush fan and idolized Neil Peart, but for the first time John seemed to be enjoying his life fully, and she completely supported it. She asked where they were playing.