would be the crime scene, where two bodies could possibly still be found. A fresh, intact crime scene.
Plus, in Jenna, they had a living witness. A living witness with the crime still vivid in her mind.
Maybe, this time, this particular monster had cut it too close. Maybe this was the mistake that would cause him to be caught. Maybe she could help put one more dangerous predator away where he could never hurt anyone again.
The thought strengthened her. It cleared her head, fired her determination.
I can do this.
The local PD and sheriff’s department were great. She was sure the FBI agents who were coming, the ones who had been spearheading the search for Jenna, were competent. But they didn’t have the expertise or experience necessary to even begin to handle a monster like this one.
Fortunately, she knew people who did. In fact, earlier that very night she had regretfully kissed one goodbye. If she was lucky, he might still be within reach.
“Head’s up, folks. We’re going to be turning out the lights for a minute to see if our spray illuminates any footprints on the floor,” a technician called.
So apparently the chemical they’d been using wasn’t Luminol, after all.
As the lights went out, as darkness descended, Charlie felt a shiver run down her spine. Ignoring it, resolutely ignoring it, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, called up her contact list, and hit the number she was looking for.
“You phoning somebody?” Having moved closer to her in the darkness, Sager eyed her glowing cell phone askance. Unable to help herself—being too close to a stranger in the darkness didn’t feel comfortable now—Charlie took a step away from him even as she replied.
“This is something that local law enforcement, no matter how good they are, isn’t equipped for,” Charlie told him as the phone rang in her ear. “If you’ve got men outside searching for evidence or for those other two girls or the crime scene or whatever, they need to stop where they are. I—”
“Charlie?” The warmly masculine voice answering the phone was music to her ears. “What’s up?”
“Tony,” she greeted him with relief, then felt even more relief as the lights came back on.
“Fuck,” Michael said. “That guy?”
“Dr. Stone, I don’t think—” Sager sounded unhappy.
“Stop everything,” Charlie interrupted Sager, pinning him with what she hoped was a commanding look. “Stop. Now.”
“I would.” On the other end of the phone, Tony was sounding amused. “But I’m really not doing much. Napping in a chair. Looks like I’m going to be spending the next few hours right here in Lonesome Pine Airport. Plane can’t take off because of the storm.”
“With all due respect, Dr. Stone,” Sager said, “we have an investigation to conduct. Stopping it isn’t an option.”
“When’s the last time your department handled any kind of murder investigation at all? How many years ago? This is a serial killer. The case needs to be overseen by experts in catching them,” Charlie answered Sager fiercely, while at the same time, except for shooting him a dirty look, doing her best to ignore Michael, who had just finished telling her, “You know you’ve got a major screw loose, right?” To Tony, whom she considered the only one really worth talking to at the moment, Charlie responded, “Thank God for the storm. Have you ever heard of the Gingerbread Man?”
“Yeah, sure. He’s on the Active List”—meaning the FBI’s list of serial killers who were known to be active in the country at any given time—“but—”
“He’s here.” Simply saying it made her palms go damp. “He’s been in my house. Tonight.”
“What?” From the sound of his voice, Tony had sat bolt upright in his chair. He responded to a sudden burst of chatter on his end of the call with an impatient, “Quiet, you two. I need to hear this.”
As he was obviously not talking to her, Charlie had to ask. “Who’s there
Plus, in Jenna, they had a living witness. A living witness with the crime still vivid in her mind.
Maybe, this time, this particular monster had cut it too close. Maybe this was the mistake that would cause him to be caught. Maybe she could help put one more dangerous predator away where he could never hurt anyone again.
The thought strengthened her. It cleared her head, fired her determination.
I can do this.
The local PD and sheriff’s department were great. She was sure the FBI agents who were coming, the ones who had been spearheading the search for Jenna, were competent. But they didn’t have the expertise or experience necessary to even begin to handle a monster like this one.
Fortunately, she knew people who did. In fact, earlier that very night she had regretfully kissed one goodbye. If she was lucky, he might still be within reach.
“Head’s up, folks. We’re going to be turning out the lights for a minute to see if our spray illuminates any footprints on the floor,” a technician called.
So apparently the chemical they’d been using wasn’t Luminol, after all.
As the lights went out, as darkness descended, Charlie felt a shiver run down her spine. Ignoring it, resolutely ignoring it, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, called up her contact list, and hit the number she was looking for.
“You phoning somebody?” Having moved closer to her in the darkness, Sager eyed her glowing cell phone askance. Unable to help herself—being too close to a stranger in the darkness didn’t feel comfortable now—Charlie took a step away from him even as she replied.
“This is something that local law enforcement, no matter how good they are, isn’t equipped for,” Charlie told him as the phone rang in her ear. “If you’ve got men outside searching for evidence or for those other two girls or the crime scene or whatever, they need to stop where they are. I—”
“Charlie?” The warmly masculine voice answering the phone was music to her ears. “What’s up?”
“Tony,” she greeted him with relief, then felt even more relief as the lights came back on.
“Fuck,” Michael said. “That guy?”
“Dr. Stone, I don’t think—” Sager sounded unhappy.
“Stop everything,” Charlie interrupted Sager, pinning him with what she hoped was a commanding look. “Stop. Now.”
“I would.” On the other end of the phone, Tony was sounding amused. “But I’m really not doing much. Napping in a chair. Looks like I’m going to be spending the next few hours right here in Lonesome Pine Airport. Plane can’t take off because of the storm.”
“With all due respect, Dr. Stone,” Sager said, “we have an investigation to conduct. Stopping it isn’t an option.”
“When’s the last time your department handled any kind of murder investigation at all? How many years ago? This is a serial killer. The case needs to be overseen by experts in catching them,” Charlie answered Sager fiercely, while at the same time, except for shooting him a dirty look, doing her best to ignore Michael, who had just finished telling her, “You know you’ve got a major screw loose, right?” To Tony, whom she considered the only one really worth talking to at the moment, Charlie responded, “Thank God for the storm. Have you ever heard of the Gingerbread Man?”
“Yeah, sure. He’s on the Active List”—meaning the FBI’s list of serial killers who were known to be active in the country at any given time—“but—”
“He’s here.” Simply saying it made her palms go damp. “He’s been in my house. Tonight.”
“What?” From the sound of his voice, Tony had sat bolt upright in his chair. He responded to a sudden burst of chatter on his end of the call with an impatient, “Quiet, you two. I need to hear this.”
As he was obviously not talking to her, Charlie had to ask. “Who’s there
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