make out her words, they were so faint.
Still flat on her back, Dorinda saw that her head was near the heavy framing table. She twisted and wriggled, with Dana still on her chest, so she could grab a leg of the table, surprised that she had the strength to pull both herself and her attacker. When she got close enough, she grabbed the table leg for leverage and was able to roll Dana off her chest. Dana stumbled, but regained her stance and stepped on Dorindaâs head, increasing the pressure on the rope.
âPlease donât kill me,â she pleaded in a whisper.
âIâm not here for money,â Dana said calmly.
Dorinda flitted in and out of consciousness. When she awoke again, Dorinda croaked out, âCash register key on wrist,â motioning toward the red plastic coil around her forearm.
âIâm not after the money,â Dana said again.
Dorinda was still clutching the table leg, her shoulders hunched like a turtle, and begged for her life, tears rolling down her face. She wanted to tell her attacker that she had eight children, but she could only gasp. She knew she was dying. She knew she would never see her children again. She thought of her daughter who had been raped and had survived because she went limp. Dorinda thought maybe she should go limp, too.
She felt herself start to lose consciousness again and she heard Dana say, âRelax. Just relax,â in a calm whisper, as if she were comforting a child. She could feel her attacker slipping the keys off her hand. Dorinda felt like she was dying. Her brain wasnât getting any oxygen and it felt as if her head were going to burst from the pressure.
Dorinda lost consciousness.
Sheâll be fine. She just fainted.
Dana took $5 out of Dorindaâs purse, leaving a $20 bill, used the cash register key to take $25 from the cash drawer and walked out.
FRIDAY, MARCH 11, 1994, 8:30 A.M.
James McElvain stuck the newspaper in front of Grecoâs nose. He had come to work early and was already buried in reports.
âHey, Joe,â he said. âDid you see this?â
âWoman Choked by Assailant,â Greco read the headline aloud. The short story ran on one of the inside pages.
âMaybe itâs the same person,â James said.
Greco gave it a quick read. âA Lake Elsinore woman was choked unconscious by an attacker who pulled a rope around her neck during a suspected robbery at a store, police reportedâ¦â The attacker was described as a woman with shoulder-length blonde hair, about five-foot, two inches. The victim, Dorinda Hawkins, had been treated and released at a local hospital.
It fit. Greco knew they were getting close. For the past three days, theyâd been getting the same description from store clerks about a blonde woman in her mid-thirties using Juneâs credit cards, sometimes accompanied by a dark-haired male. It had to be related. It was a good, solid lead, but he still didnât have a name. He glanced up at James.
âSomeone should go check this out,â Greco said. âYou want to go talk to her?â
He nodded and turned away. He didnât have the heart to tell Greco that he and Wyatt had already interviewed her the night before in the emergency room.
Greco sat back, took a gulp of coffee and took another look at the article. Heâd tried hard to keep an open mind about the kind of suspect they were looking for, but he had to admit, he found it a little weird that a female had strangled the antique store clerk. How often do you hear about a female attacking someone with a rope? The assailant fit the description given by the store clerks, but Greco thought the man with the female shopper could have been the killer, or that they had committed the murders together. Now they needed to expand their focus to include the possibility of a female acting alone. Still, they were making progress. They had a paper trail of credit cards. They had information about
Still flat on her back, Dorinda saw that her head was near the heavy framing table. She twisted and wriggled, with Dana still on her chest, so she could grab a leg of the table, surprised that she had the strength to pull both herself and her attacker. When she got close enough, she grabbed the table leg for leverage and was able to roll Dana off her chest. Dana stumbled, but regained her stance and stepped on Dorindaâs head, increasing the pressure on the rope.
âPlease donât kill me,â she pleaded in a whisper.
âIâm not here for money,â Dana said calmly.
Dorinda flitted in and out of consciousness. When she awoke again, Dorinda croaked out, âCash register key on wrist,â motioning toward the red plastic coil around her forearm.
âIâm not after the money,â Dana said again.
Dorinda was still clutching the table leg, her shoulders hunched like a turtle, and begged for her life, tears rolling down her face. She wanted to tell her attacker that she had eight children, but she could only gasp. She knew she was dying. She knew she would never see her children again. She thought of her daughter who had been raped and had survived because she went limp. Dorinda thought maybe she should go limp, too.
She felt herself start to lose consciousness again and she heard Dana say, âRelax. Just relax,â in a calm whisper, as if she were comforting a child. She could feel her attacker slipping the keys off her hand. Dorinda felt like she was dying. Her brain wasnât getting any oxygen and it felt as if her head were going to burst from the pressure.
Dorinda lost consciousness.
Sheâll be fine. She just fainted.
Dana took $5 out of Dorindaâs purse, leaving a $20 bill, used the cash register key to take $25 from the cash drawer and walked out.
FRIDAY, MARCH 11, 1994, 8:30 A.M.
James McElvain stuck the newspaper in front of Grecoâs nose. He had come to work early and was already buried in reports.
âHey, Joe,â he said. âDid you see this?â
âWoman Choked by Assailant,â Greco read the headline aloud. The short story ran on one of the inside pages.
âMaybe itâs the same person,â James said.
Greco gave it a quick read. âA Lake Elsinore woman was choked unconscious by an attacker who pulled a rope around her neck during a suspected robbery at a store, police reportedâ¦â The attacker was described as a woman with shoulder-length blonde hair, about five-foot, two inches. The victim, Dorinda Hawkins, had been treated and released at a local hospital.
It fit. Greco knew they were getting close. For the past three days, theyâd been getting the same description from store clerks about a blonde woman in her mid-thirties using Juneâs credit cards, sometimes accompanied by a dark-haired male. It had to be related. It was a good, solid lead, but he still didnât have a name. He glanced up at James.
âSomeone should go check this out,â Greco said. âYou want to go talk to her?â
He nodded and turned away. He didnât have the heart to tell Greco that he and Wyatt had already interviewed her the night before in the emergency room.
Greco sat back, took a gulp of coffee and took another look at the article. Heâd tried hard to keep an open mind about the kind of suspect they were looking for, but he had to admit, he found it a little weird that a female had strangled the antique store clerk. How often do you hear about a female attacking someone with a rope? The assailant fit the description given by the store clerks, but Greco thought the man with the female shopper could have been the killer, or that they had committed the murders together. Now they needed to expand their focus to include the possibility of a female acting alone. Still, they were making progress. They had a paper trail of credit cards. They had information about
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