murders start escalating. The third murder could be in three weeks. And then two, and then one. A serial killer’s like a train, picking up speed. He goes faster and faster until he’s out of control, and then he jumps the rails.”
“What happens then?” Ingrid looked frightened, but she was also fascinated.
“When a serial killer loses control, there’s generally a mass murder. But I told you before, I don’t think this is the work of an ordinary serial killer.”
“Why not?” Michael spoke up.
“Mary Beth was personally targeted. The killer may have wanted to kill her earlier, but he didn’t. He waited until she was alone.”
Detective Davis frowned. “You don’t think that the victims of a serial killer are personally targeted?”
“Not usually. They may look like they are, at first. The victims may have common physical characteristics, like blonde hair, or glasses, or anything like that. Or they may all share a certain profession. Jack the Ripper was a serial killer who murdered only prostitutes. But the traditional se rial killer isn’t after anyone specific person. If his internal clock says it’s time to kill, and the victim he’s chosen isn’t available, he finds another vic tim that fits his profile.”
Detective Davis was clearly impressed. He stared at Andy and blinked. “How do you know all this?”
“I read a lot, sir. And I’d like to go into police work someday.”
Judy glanced at Andy in surprise. Why didn’t he tell De tective Davis that his uncle was on the police force? But Andy just smiled and didn’t say anything at all about his uncle.
“All right.” Detective Davis nodded, then closed his note book and stood up. “Call me if you think of anything im portant. And let’s all hope we don’t have to meet like this again.”
Judy waited until Mr. Calloway had left to walk Detec tive Davis to his car. Then she turned to Andy. “Why didn’t you tell him about your uncle?”
“My uncle said not to mention him. He’s going to keep an eye on things unofficially. And he said that so far, De tective Davis is doing a good job.”
“Oh, sure.” Linda gave a worried sigh. “He hasn’t caught the killer yet, has he?”
Andy shrugged. “These things take time. Don’t worry, Linda. They’ll catch him eventually.”
“It better be sooner than that!” Linda looked very fright ened. “I’m the only one left!”
It was clear that Andy wanted to say something. He looked around at the group, and then he seemed to make up his mind. “Can I trust you all to keep your mouths shut? My uncle could get in big trouble if you tell anyone else, okay?”
“Sure.” Michael nodded. “You can trust us, Andy.”
“You’re perfectly safe, Linda. They’ve got an undercover tail on you.”
“They do?” Linda looked slightly relieved. “Can I tell my parents?”
“No. The killer might be someone you know. And if somebody slips up and mentions it to the wrong person, the killer might hear about it. They want to catch him if he follows you.”
Linda nodded. “Thanks for telling me, Andy. I won’t worry quite so much now. But I still won’t go anywhere alone.”
“That’s fine. It might tip off the killer if you weren’t scared, so keep right on acting nervous, okay?”
“That’s easy.”
Linda gave a little laugh, and everyone else joined in. Then Mr. Calloway walked back in, and they all fell silent. He looked very serious.
“Okay, guys. I’ve thought it over, and I think it would be safer if I closed down Covers until this whole thing is over.”
“But . . . why?” Judy was puzzled.
“Three of my performers have been murdered, that’s why!” Mr. Calloway looked very upset. “We can’t keep giv ing performances every night. It’s dangerous.”
Carla sighed. “I think you’re making a mistake, Mr. Cal loway. It’s like locking the barn door after the horse has been stolen. The killer already knows where we live. And he killed Mary Beth at home,
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham