had been placed by her head. Small drops of blood dotted her stomach where a note had been tacked to her skin with a large safety pin.
“We’d like to believe it’s the same guy, but the note’s new,” Hutchensen announced.
“Holy shit,” Travis muttered. “Shauna, get over here.” He motioned to her without looking up.
Swallowing hard, legs numb, she stumbled and stood behind Travis, bracing herself with a hand on his strong shoulder. She leaned over him and read the note out loud. “I’m right in front of you, behind you, next to you. I know who you are. Catch me if you can.”
“What the hell does that mean?” someone said, from behind her.
“It means we have a comedian on our hands,” another officer barked. “Let’s get this bagged and tagged and get on with the business of finding this psycho.”
Hours later, the horror of the day lingered. She and Travis had spent the remainder of daylight going over information with the Albany, State, and Troy Police Departments. They had more paperwork than they knew what to do with, but there was good news. They now had three cases that were believed to be the same guy. Enough to give this guy a name. He would be known as the Princess Killer.
Shauna didn’t like the name much, but she knew it was the same guy who’d raped her. And now she had the opportunity to nail him. Hopefully, she looked different enough that he wouldn’t be able to tell who she was. Eventually, she would have to tell Travis, but not yet. She needed more time to remember.
Digging into her purse for her key, she became keenly aware that something wasn’t right. She glanced over her shoulder and then down the hall. With her eyes locked on her opened door, she took out her weapon and held it to her side as she crept down the hallway.
She grabbed her phone and hit speed dial.
“Brown here.”
“Someone broke into my room,” she whispered. “I’m in the hallway; the door’s open.”
“Go back down to the lobby and wait for me. I’m on my way.” The phone went dead.
Quietly, she moved down the hallway, again with her back to the wall. While she felt confident in her abilities as an agent, going it alone would be a classic rookie mistake. One she wasn’t willing to take when her life was on the line. She tucked her gun in her purse and waited by the door for Travis.
Jumping from his truck, he jogged into the
lobby and took her by the arm. “You see anything else?”
She shook her head. “Just that my door was open. No maids or construction workers in sight.” She pulled out her weapon and followed him down the hall.
He turned and motioned to her, then pushed the door open.
She backed him up as he moved about the room, opening closets and heading into the bedroom and bathroom.
“Is anything missing?” he asked as he holstered his gun.
“Looks like whoever it was looking for something…specific.” She took a good look around at her clothes that lay strewed about the floor. “My journal?” Pieces of ripped paper were scattered at her feet. She opened the nightstand.
Oh, my, God.
The journal felt heavy in her trembling hands. Fear paralyzing her ability to think. She sat back into the bed. The mattress squeaked and jerked as he sat down next to her and put a comforting arm around her. She took deep breaths as she flipped through the pages. How could the killer know?
“What’s missing?”
“Random pages.” She jumped from the bed. “Oh crap.”
“What?”
“I have more journals.” She dropped to her knees in front of the closet and pulled out the box she kept them in. She sucked in nothing, she couldn’t breathe.
The box was empty.
“He knows,” she whispered. “He knows,” she repeated, trying to hide the sense of defeat she felt deep in her heart.
****
Travis knelt down beside her. This was beyond his comprehension. He didn’t know how to deal with it, and he sure as hell couldn’t explain it. Somehow the killer just upped the
“We’d like to believe it’s the same guy, but the note’s new,” Hutchensen announced.
“Holy shit,” Travis muttered. “Shauna, get over here.” He motioned to her without looking up.
Swallowing hard, legs numb, she stumbled and stood behind Travis, bracing herself with a hand on his strong shoulder. She leaned over him and read the note out loud. “I’m right in front of you, behind you, next to you. I know who you are. Catch me if you can.”
“What the hell does that mean?” someone said, from behind her.
“It means we have a comedian on our hands,” another officer barked. “Let’s get this bagged and tagged and get on with the business of finding this psycho.”
Hours later, the horror of the day lingered. She and Travis had spent the remainder of daylight going over information with the Albany, State, and Troy Police Departments. They had more paperwork than they knew what to do with, but there was good news. They now had three cases that were believed to be the same guy. Enough to give this guy a name. He would be known as the Princess Killer.
Shauna didn’t like the name much, but she knew it was the same guy who’d raped her. And now she had the opportunity to nail him. Hopefully, she looked different enough that he wouldn’t be able to tell who she was. Eventually, she would have to tell Travis, but not yet. She needed more time to remember.
Digging into her purse for her key, she became keenly aware that something wasn’t right. She glanced over her shoulder and then down the hall. With her eyes locked on her opened door, she took out her weapon and held it to her side as she crept down the hallway.
She grabbed her phone and hit speed dial.
“Brown here.”
“Someone broke into my room,” she whispered. “I’m in the hallway; the door’s open.”
“Go back down to the lobby and wait for me. I’m on my way.” The phone went dead.
Quietly, she moved down the hallway, again with her back to the wall. While she felt confident in her abilities as an agent, going it alone would be a classic rookie mistake. One she wasn’t willing to take when her life was on the line. She tucked her gun in her purse and waited by the door for Travis.
Jumping from his truck, he jogged into the
lobby and took her by the arm. “You see anything else?”
She shook her head. “Just that my door was open. No maids or construction workers in sight.” She pulled out her weapon and followed him down the hall.
He turned and motioned to her, then pushed the door open.
She backed him up as he moved about the room, opening closets and heading into the bedroom and bathroom.
“Is anything missing?” he asked as he holstered his gun.
“Looks like whoever it was looking for something…specific.” She took a good look around at her clothes that lay strewed about the floor. “My journal?” Pieces of ripped paper were scattered at her feet. She opened the nightstand.
Oh, my, God.
The journal felt heavy in her trembling hands. Fear paralyzing her ability to think. She sat back into the bed. The mattress squeaked and jerked as he sat down next to her and put a comforting arm around her. She took deep breaths as she flipped through the pages. How could the killer know?
“What’s missing?”
“Random pages.” She jumped from the bed. “Oh crap.”
“What?”
“I have more journals.” She dropped to her knees in front of the closet and pulled out the box she kept them in. She sucked in nothing, she couldn’t breathe.
The box was empty.
“He knows,” she whispered. “He knows,” she repeated, trying to hide the sense of defeat she felt deep in her heart.
****
Travis knelt down beside her. This was beyond his comprehension. He didn’t know how to deal with it, and he sure as hell couldn’t explain it. Somehow the killer just upped the
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