Page 68 of M for Murder

It was over an hour later before the police were called.

Back in the house, Jennifer hadn’t wasted time looking for a phone, knowing that by the time she found one, the whole house would be engulfed in flames, and it wasn’t until she finally stepped outside that she had realised just how isolated the property was.

There was one car parked out front, a silver Plymouth. After trying the doors, only to find them all locked, she had hiked along the quiet backwoods road at the end of the driveway for more than a mile, her pace slowed by her injuries, before she eventually stumbled upon a farmhouse.

The front door was opened by a thin-faced, elderly woman dressed completely in black, and her jaw had dropped open as she took in the sight of the girl standing on her doorstep dressed only in a sheet.

Jennifer bit her bottom lip nervously.

‘Can you help me, please?’ she asked in a shaky voice. ‘It’s my English professor. He just tried to kill me.’

25

JUNIPER, OREGON. SATURDAY 3RD MAY 1997

H e had shown up just when things seemed as though they’d hit an all-time low. Her grades were gradually slipping, Lawrie Parker barely knew that she existed and now, to top it all off, a serial killer with a penchant for college students was on the loose and hungry for his next victim. A victim whose profile she apparently matched.

When he had approached her, the conversation that had taken place hadn’t been at all what she’d expected, but after just five minutes of chatting with the guy she soon discovered that nothing about him was predictable and nothing was quite as it seemed. She wasn’t attracted to him, didn’t know him and, under current circumstances, knew that she shouldn’t really trust him. After all, she knew nothing about him and there was every possibility that he might be the man responsible for the five murdered students. She had been curious, though, curious to find out what he had to say and also interested in finding out just how come he knew her so well.

The first time she had seen him had been late Friday afternoon. She had been depositing the books from her last class into her locker and curiously studying the plain white envelope that had been wedged in the door, bearing her name in bold black print. She had noticed him watching her from across the hallway, leaning against the wall next to a fire hydrant, and wondered for a brief second who he was. As far as she was aware, he wasn’t a student and she was pretty certain that she’d never seen him before. Not appreciating his scrutiny, she had turned her back to him while she opened the envelope, eager to know what it contained.

There was no letter inside, instead just a playing card of a joker.

Justine stared at it curiously, wondering who had sent it to her and what it was supposed to mean. She glanced around the busy hallway. Most of the other students were either engaged in conversation or hurrying back to their dorms. Nobody was paying any attention to her. Nobody, except for the guy standing next to the fire hydrant.

She glanced up at him with a surge of anger as she realised that she was still being watched. Before she had the chance to tell him to quit staring at her, he had pushed himself away from the wall and disappeared into the crowd.

The second time she had seen him had been in town late on Saturday afternoon and this time he had actually come across and spoken to her. Luke had gone home for the weekend and, at a loss for what to do, she had gone shopping. After three hours spent trailing around various clothes stores, she had decided to treat herself to a cup of coffee and a chocolate fudge sundae in one of the many diners in town.

To be truthful, she was putting off returning to the college campus. Although she had known about the murdered students before the FBI visit, it had scared the hell out of her to find out that she fitted the profile of the killer’s next victim. She had spent most of Friday afternoon toying with the idea of going home. Her parents, though, were out of town until Sunday night and she didn’t have enough money in her account to pay for the bus fare home. In the end she had decided to wait until they returned, then give them a call to discuss it.

As she sipped her coffee, she tried to distract herself with thoughts of Lawrie. She found it difficult to believe that it had been a whole week ago that she’d paid him a visit. Her heartbeat quickened slightly as she remembered how she’d been inside his house, inside his bedroom and how she had worn his shirt and his tie. She wondered if either he or Kylan had noticed the tie missing, and then realised she didn’t really care. Although she had taken it by accident, she would hold on to it as a little keepsake to remind herself of that night. A souvenir. Her own little part of Lawrie.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t at first notice the man sitting at the counter watching her and, when she did finally notice him, it appeared that he was trying to catch her attention and get himself an invitation to join her. Although he didn’t receive one, he climbed down from his stool and made his way across to her table anyway.

Justine had planned on ignoring him or, if he was persistent, telling him to get lost. But he took her by surprise.

‘Hello, Justine.’

She gawped at him, wondering how come he knew her name when she’d never laid eyes on him before.

‘Who are you?’ she blurted, forgetting that she had planned on ignoring him.

Instead of sitting in one of the empty chairs opposite her, he took a seat at the table beside her. Evidently, he didn’t want to crash on her space. Smart move, she thought, and repeated her question.

‘Who are you?’

He offered his hand. ‘Let’s just say I’m a friend.’

His grip was strong, almost crushing, and she pulled her hand away.

‘Okay, friend. So how the hell do you know who I am?’

‘I’ve been watching you, Justine.’ He smiled and the lines around his eyes crinkled. ‘I think we should talk. Can I perhaps meet you somewhere later?’

Justine rolled her eyes. Here it was: the pick-up line. He must have seen her around campus and asked one of her friends what her name was.

‘We don’t need to talk and no, I’m not meeting you anywhere.’