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She looks at me for a second like she is just now noticing I’m standing there, and her eyes drop down to my hip. Her father follows the look and his face hardens when he sees mygun.
“Do you have to have that thing?” heasks.
“Yes,” I tell him. “Ido.”
“Can’t you take it off and put it somewhere she can’t see it? Don’t you understand what she’s beenthrough?”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. And, yes, I do understand what she’s been through. That’s why I’m here,” Isay.
“If you can’t atleast…”
“Dad, it’s fine,” Lisa says.
“Honey,” hestarts.
“I’m fine,” she says again. “She’s here tohelp.”
She sounds stronger than I expected her to, which gives me somehope.
“I am,” I tell her. “I appreciate you being willing to talk to me thismorning.”
“Is the FBI investigating this?” Vanessaasks.
“No. Not officially. Because of the location of the camp, the Cherry Hill police department is heading up the investigation but called in help from the Sherwood department as well. My husband is thesheriff.”
“I’ve heard of you,” Lisa says. “You catchkillers.”
I nod as I take a chair from the side of the room and pull it into place so I can sit down.
“Yes, I do. That’s why I came here to talk to you. I want to find this guy and make sure he can’t ever hurt anyone again. And you’re going to help me dothat.”
“I think it was Mike,” she blurtsout.
I shake my head slightly, startled by the sudden assertion.
“Mike?” I ask. “Who isMike?”
“Mike Kirkland,” Donny says. “He’s the director of the camp. It was his idea to open it up again for this summersession.”
I remember hearing the name while Detective Garrison was showing us around the camp.
“Right. The director.” I turn a questioning look toward Lisa. “Why do you think Mike did it? Did you see him attack someone?”
“He attacked Hillary and Penny in the craft cabin,” shesays.
My spine tightens. I didn’t expect this from her. I’d hoped for information, but wasn’t anticipating her identifying the killer as soon as we startedtalking.
“And you know for sure it was him? You saw his face?” I ask.
The conviction in her eyes falters slightly. “Well, no. Notexactly.”
The tension drains from me and I try not to show it in my expression. I don’t want to discourageher.
“What do you mean, honey?” Donny asks.
“I didn’t see his face,” she admits. “He was wearing a mask. But it was him. I really think it washim.”
“Why do you think it was him?” Iask.
