wits, probably a loner. Someone who spends a lot of time hunting.” I shuddered as an image of a terrified woman running through the woods flashed in my mind. Billy continued, “The description we got from Julia yesterday—”
“You saw Julia?”
Sandy said, “We interviewed her in Victoria. Based on her original description the suspect was probably in his late teens or early twenties at the time of her attack. He’d be in his early to mid-fifties now. Methods have changed in the last few years, so we had her sit down again with a police artist from the Behavioral Science Unit.”
Billy handed me a sheet of paper. “This is a composite sketch of how the suspect might look today.”
I sucked in my breath. No wonder Julia freaked out at the sight of me. Even in this rough drawing I could see the resemblance—same cat eyes, left eyebrow that arched higher than the right, Nordic bone structure.
I stared down at the drawing. “His hair…”
Sandy said, “Julia described it as a deep reddish brown color … and wavy.” I looked up just as her gaze flicked to my hair. My stomach rolled. Billy took the sketch from me as Sandy said, “Julia was attacked in the middle of July, but another woman was killed in Prince Rupert later that August. This is the only time he hit twice in the same summer, so it was probably because he failed with Julia. He’s very careful and leaves virtually no evidence. That’s why we need you to play along with this caller, so we can find out if he’s really the Campsite Killer. It’s all we have to go on right now.”
I looked back and forth between Billy and Sandy. Their gazes were steady on mine. I took a deep breath, and then nodded reluctantly.
“Okay, I’ll try.”
* * *
As soon as I left the station I phoned Evan. He didn’t answer his cell, so I left him a miss-you-and-need-you message. I wasn’t ready to go home and face the possibility of another phone call from my supposed father, so I picked up a vanilla latte and walked along the seawall—obsessing about everything Sandy and Billy had said. We wouldn’t see the results on the DNA test for another three to six weeks, but I got the feeling the police were sure I was the Campsite Killer’s daughter.
Before I left them I’d asked about the other cases, what kind of evidence they had, but they wouldn’t give me details—not even on Julia’s. They said it was better I didn’t know too much so I wouldn’t accidentally reveal anything. They also told me to call them right away if I saw anyone who looked suspicious. Problem was, now everyone did.
When I’m out for a walk I generally stop and talk to anyone and everyone, but now I avoided eye contact and watched middle-aged men warily. Was it him? What about that tall man under the tree? Was that man on the bench staring at me?
It was sunny for a change, but still cool for the middle of April, and the wind off the ocean was biting. After I walked the seawall twice, my cheeks stung and my hands felt like ice cubes. Evan hadn’t called back yet and I couldn’t avoid home any longer—Moose needed out and I had a ton of things to do before I picked Ally up from school. I took a deep breath and headed to the Cherokee. If he called I was just going to have to deal with it.
But nothing happened for the rest of the week. By Friday evening I was starting to wonder if the call was a hoax after all. Sandy or Billy checked in every day, their voices more falsely casual with each call, and I wondered if they thought I’d made it up. The initial flurry of calls from reporters died down, and when I checked online there were no new comments on any of the blogs. A few people asked Evan and Lauren about it, but they told them it was just a rumor. No one dared ask me. But I caught a few odd looks from parents at school when I dropped Ally off. I’m sure people are still gossiping, which drives me nuts, but as long as it doesn’t get back to Ally, I can deal with
“You saw Julia?”
Sandy said, “We interviewed her in Victoria. Based on her original description the suspect was probably in his late teens or early twenties at the time of her attack. He’d be in his early to mid-fifties now. Methods have changed in the last few years, so we had her sit down again with a police artist from the Behavioral Science Unit.”
Billy handed me a sheet of paper. “This is a composite sketch of how the suspect might look today.”
I sucked in my breath. No wonder Julia freaked out at the sight of me. Even in this rough drawing I could see the resemblance—same cat eyes, left eyebrow that arched higher than the right, Nordic bone structure.
I stared down at the drawing. “His hair…”
Sandy said, “Julia described it as a deep reddish brown color … and wavy.” I looked up just as her gaze flicked to my hair. My stomach rolled. Billy took the sketch from me as Sandy said, “Julia was attacked in the middle of July, but another woman was killed in Prince Rupert later that August. This is the only time he hit twice in the same summer, so it was probably because he failed with Julia. He’s very careful and leaves virtually no evidence. That’s why we need you to play along with this caller, so we can find out if he’s really the Campsite Killer. It’s all we have to go on right now.”
I looked back and forth between Billy and Sandy. Their gazes were steady on mine. I took a deep breath, and then nodded reluctantly.
“Okay, I’ll try.”
* * *
As soon as I left the station I phoned Evan. He didn’t answer his cell, so I left him a miss-you-and-need-you message. I wasn’t ready to go home and face the possibility of another phone call from my supposed father, so I picked up a vanilla latte and walked along the seawall—obsessing about everything Sandy and Billy had said. We wouldn’t see the results on the DNA test for another three to six weeks, but I got the feeling the police were sure I was the Campsite Killer’s daughter.
Before I left them I’d asked about the other cases, what kind of evidence they had, but they wouldn’t give me details—not even on Julia’s. They said it was better I didn’t know too much so I wouldn’t accidentally reveal anything. They also told me to call them right away if I saw anyone who looked suspicious. Problem was, now everyone did.
When I’m out for a walk I generally stop and talk to anyone and everyone, but now I avoided eye contact and watched middle-aged men warily. Was it him? What about that tall man under the tree? Was that man on the bench staring at me?
It was sunny for a change, but still cool for the middle of April, and the wind off the ocean was biting. After I walked the seawall twice, my cheeks stung and my hands felt like ice cubes. Evan hadn’t called back yet and I couldn’t avoid home any longer—Moose needed out and I had a ton of things to do before I picked Ally up from school. I took a deep breath and headed to the Cherokee. If he called I was just going to have to deal with it.
But nothing happened for the rest of the week. By Friday evening I was starting to wonder if the call was a hoax after all. Sandy or Billy checked in every day, their voices more falsely casual with each call, and I wondered if they thought I’d made it up. The initial flurry of calls from reporters died down, and when I checked online there were no new comments on any of the blogs. A few people asked Evan and Lauren about it, but they told them it was just a rumor. No one dared ask me. But I caught a few odd looks from parents at school when I dropped Ally off. I’m sure people are still gossiping, which drives me nuts, but as long as it doesn’t get back to Ally, I can deal with
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