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A branch snapped behind her. Her face blanched, and she whirled around. She saw no one. She stood, frozen in place for several seconds before warily turning and continuing her walk. Just to be safe, she decided to be quiet for the remainder of the journey. She didn’t need her private thoughts aired out on the Internet tomorrow.
Another branch snapped behind her. She turned around, but once again saw nothing. A squirrel, maybe?
No, a squirrel wouldn’t snap a branch like that. A bear? Did bears come into the city? She’d never heard of it happening, but maybe one of them had wandered this way.
Through one of the largest metropolitan areas in America? Across multiple highways? Fat chance.
Then, it occurred to her that a person could have stepped on a branch and snapped it.
The pathway didn’t seem so safe anymore. For the first time, she wished that she’d driven to work like every other person in America.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
No answer.
“If someone’s there, I’d really appreciate if you showed yourself, because I’m getting really creeped out right now.”
No answer.
Maybe an acorn fell.
She clung to that thought and the relief it brought. That made sense, right? An acorn could have made that sound, falling from a branch and hitting the ground. If there was a person, they'd probably make more noise, especially if they were walking off the path.
She turned around and continued walking. A few yards later, the path transitioned from concrete to packed dirt. That made her feel even more isolated, more vulnerable. Her heart pounded, and her hands trembled.
I just need to get home,she thought.I’ll get home, pour myself a drink, laugh at how stupid I’m being, then take my car to work. Who cares about emissions? I’m not helping the environment by saving the quart of gas per day it takes me to get to and from the library.
She quickened her pace, moving at an awkward gait that was somewhere between a fast walk and a jog. Part of her brain screamed at her to run, to stop messing around and get to safetynow.
But if she did that, she would be admitting that there was a threat. There wasn’t a threat. Everything was fine. She needed to calm down. She was alone at night, and she was imagining the worst, but everything was okay. There was no need to panic like this.
Another branch snapped behind her, and she whirled around. “Who the hell…”
Her voice trailed off when she saw the figure rushing toward her. For a split second, she didn’t acknowledge what she saw. That couldn’t be real. She was imagining things.
Then panic overwhelmed denial. She turned and ran. She opened her voice to scream, but before she could, one hand grabbed the crown of her head, and another grabbed her jaw. The hands twisted viciously. Lorraine heard a snap, much like the sound of the branches that had snapped earlier.
Then the lights went out.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Faith forced herself to eat the last of the rubbery orange chicken. The food wasn’t great, but to be honest, it wasn’t any worse than any other Chinese takeout place. She just wasn’t hungry. But she needed fuel, and allowing her irritation to starve her wasn’t smart. So, she swallowed the chicken and forced the last of the rice to follow it.
Michael had finished his food already. She was pretty sure nothing could stifle his appetite. Likewise, Turk had downed the last of his food and now slept contentedly in between the two mattresses of their room.
Today had been a disappointment. They had no leads, no suspects, and no idea who their killer was or when he would strike next.
What made today especially frustrating was that it wasn’t entirely unproductive. In fact, they’d learned more on their first full day working this case then they had learned about entire cases in the past.
They knew their killer’s motive. They knew his M.O. inside and out. They had an almost completely thorough understanding of the crime scenes. They knew what he was going to do next.
But they didn’t know who the killer was. She could tell herself all day that it wasn’t fair for her to expect herself to know that after only a day and a quarter of work, but fair didn’t do anything to protect the next victim who even now could be dead and naked with yellow powder sprinkled over her body.
“We need to know what that powder is,” Michael said. “If there’s anything unique about it, it could lead us to our killer.”
“We need to know who knew both victims besides Oliver Pennington,” Faith replied. “That powder could be colored sandfor all we know. I feel like if there was something unique about it, we would have heard already.”
“I feel the opposite. If it was ordinary, we would have had answers within hours. Instead, we’re coming up on a week since it was lifted from Cassidy Holt’s body, and we have nothing. It’s got to be something rare.”
