A Killer's Watch Read online

  “Are you sure? We should really walk out together, don’t you think?” Sandy grabbed her purse, searching for her cell phone.

  “We’ll be fine, the lot’s very well lit. But we can talk on the phone, until you’re safe in your car, if you’re worried.”

  “Who will you talk to, when you leave?” Sandy’s brow wrinkled with concern.

  “I’ll ask Trey to walk me to my car, so no worries. Go on, you don’t want to be late,” Allison gave Sandy a quick hug, before picking up her phone. “Call me.”

  “Okay, don’t stay too late. Your mom will flip, just as much as mine will.”

  “My mom won’t know, Ashley’s got me covered. Seriously, go.”

  “Okay, stay on the phone.” Sandy dialed Allison as she made her way to the door.

  An hour later, Allison felt deflated as she finally headed out of the club. Trey had not shown up, after all, and no one else even bothered to ask her to dance.

  Bracing for the cold, she glanced at her phone as the door closed behind her. Nearly eleven-thirty, she knew that she would make it home by midnight. Even if her mom was home, she wouldn’t be too mad, especially since Allison had remembered to bring a change of clothes. There was no reason for her mother to know that she hadn’t been studying with Sandy.

  A few smokers milled around the entrance, but no one hung out in the parking lot. It was too cold to be outside. Noise from the club receded as Allison walked the distance to her car.

  Soon, the distinct click of heels on pavement was the only sound Allison heard. Parking so far away from the building didn’t seem like a problem, when she’d arrived. But now, walking it all alone, in the middle of the night, the distance felt almost ominous.

  “Stop that,” Allison chided herself, aloud. “You’re perfectly safe, just keep walking.”

  Hearing her own voice made Allison feel better, but only for a moment. As she turned down the aisle where her car waited, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and a prickling sensation shoot along her spine.

  Darting her eyes all around, she saw nothing to account for her body’s warning. Still, the sensation persisted, growing stronger as she neared her vehicle.

  “Get your keys,” she told herself, not stopping to dig through her purse. Reaching her hand inside, she felt lipstick, tissues, her wallet, everything but her keys.

  Almost frantic now, for reasons she did not understand, Allison stopped to look inside the bag, searching for the one thing that would get her to safety.

  “Thank God,” she breathed a sigh of relief as her hand closed over the silver keychain. Looking up, she registered the man coming toward her, as if out of nowhere, one hand raised, holding something white.

  She couldn’t scream, couldn’t run. Terror choked her into immobile silence for the few seconds it took him to reach her.

  The last thing she knew was the pungent, sweet odor of chloroform, covering her open mouth.

  Chapter Four

  “Have you spoken with Jackson?” Monique asked Jeri over breakfast. “Do you know how Jen is doing?”

  “Yes, I called him this morning,” Jeri told her, drowning waffles in syrup. “Jen is about the same, still in the hospital, of course. He said that she had a good night.”

  “That’s good to hear,” Chloe chimed in, bringing her cereal bowl to the table. “Did you guys find anything last night?”

  “No, nothing. But we didn’t expect to. Both sites looked the same. Two-lane roads, leading from town to even more rural areas. No homes, businesses, or lights around.”

  “So, chances are good that he wasn’t seen dropping the bodies,” Monique sipped coffee and toyed with a bagel.

  “No one’s come forward yet,” Jeri told her, diving into the sweet, buttery mess.

  “Do you think he lives in Clevestone?” Chloe kept her voice low, so nearby diners would not overhear.

  “Hard to say at this point. His reasons for choosing Clevestone as his dumping ground are up in the air, at the moment. The only thing I’m sure about is that he has some kind of connection to the town.”

  “What’s on the agenda for today?” Monique asked, eyeing Jeri’s waffles.

  “We pay a visit to the escort services where the two victims were employed. Any information they can offer on the client, the transaction, anything, will help.” Jeri looked up just as Ethan entered the hotel’s breakfast room. “Beyond that, I can’t say, unless Dylan’s turned up something else.”

  “Morning, ladies,” Ethan greeted them, coffee in hand. “I trust that you rested well.”

  “Great, thanks,” Chloe and Monique answered in unison.

  Dropping into the chair beside Jeri, Ethan reached for a piece of toast Jeri had yet to eat.

  “I just spoke with Dylan, there’s been a possible new development. A teenager in Iowa went missing yesterday. It may have nothing to do with our killer, but we should check into it, just the same.”

  Confused, Chloe asked the question before anyone else could.

  “What makes you think the two events are connected? Teenagers go missing all the time, right? Is she a prostitute? What made you connect the dots?”

  “On the surface, nothing connects the two. But the town where she lives, Appleton, is just over the border, less than an hour from here, well within our killer’s comfort zone.”

  “We believe that the prostitute murders were basically this killer’s training ground. He’ll move on to his real targets soon, so we have to be vigilant about any missing person in his target area,” Jeri explained.

  “Jeri and I will take a ride to Iowa, you two find out what you can from the escort services.” Ethan opened a small packet of jam, began spreading it on the toast. “We’ll meet back here this afternoon, see what’s what.”

  ~~~

  Allison came to in a small, dank room. The smell of mildew hit her nostrils before she came fully awake. Head pounding, she instinctively tried to reach up with one hand, only to find that she couldn’t move.

  Awareness dawned more clearly as her eyes flew open, only to see the labyrinth of metal pipes, high above her head. The sound of water dripping, somewhere behind her, echoed in the small, concrete space.

  Panic set in as she tried to jerk her hands free, then her feet, to no avail. She could feel the duct tape pull against her skin, each time she tugged at the bonds.

  The draft hit her then, cool air caressing her body, head to toe.

  I’m not wearing clothes, she realized, feeling the panic turn to stark fear. But something covered her skin, something silky. Raising her head a little, she spotted some of the sheer fabric draped over her.

  Turning her head to one side, she searched the room for anything familiar, for anything that would help her understand what was happening.

  She saw the camera then, its red light blinking in the opposite corner, its lens trained on her.

  Someone was watching, someone knew that she was awake.

  Struggling frantically once again, she felt the metal bed rails rub against the bones in her wrists and ankles. But the duct tape didn’t move.

  Forcing herself to be calm, she tried to remember what had happened, how she’d gotten here.

  She remembered walking to her car, at the club, remembered searching for her car keys. Suddenly, she recalled the man coming toward her, smelled the thick, sweet scent that invaded her very breath.

  Then nothing.

  Now, she was here, lying on what felt like a too-thin mattress, in a room that reeked of mildew, stale water and something else, something she couldn’t identify, but the smell stood out from the rest.

  Perfume. Cheap perfume that got into your nose and wouldn’t go away.

  The more she turned her head to the side, the stronger the smell became. It was on the mattress, cloyingly pungent, yet somehow comforting. It meant that she wasn’t alone in this. Another woman, girl, had been here before her. Maybe, was still here now.

  The muffled scream that suddenly bled throug
h the walls confirmed her guess. Someone else was here, a female, from the sound of the high-pitched cry.

  Another scream, not as loud this time, filtered into the confines of Allison’s chamber. This one ended with a strange gurgling noise, distinctive enough to send chills along Allison’s spine.

  Someone close by is dying, she thought with certainty.

  Terror, cold and fierce, gripped her stomach like an iron fist. With no thought for the consequences, Allison found her voice, sending the shrill, piercing scream into the rancid air.

  ~~~

  The man’s head jerked up in surprise at the sound of Allison’s scream.

  “How fortuitous,” he told the warm corpse of the girl on the table. “You, my dear Shelby, were very disappointing, over all. Perhaps the lovely Allison will have more stamina.”

  Looking into the camera, filming his every move, he directed his thoughts to his audience, both present and future.

  “There you have it, gentlemen. A perfect example of why it’s good to have one waiting in the wings, so to speak. Our Shelby did not perform as hoped, but at least we learned something from her. And we did enjoy our time together, short though it was.” Glancing down at the ravaged, bloody body of the young woman who had dreamed of a life in film, Graham sighed, theatrically. Leaning down to kiss her lips, one last time, before stepping back, he picked up the remote, covered in plastic.

  “Refer to the previous episode on clean-up, and removal. For those of you watching live, we’ll reconvene tomorrow morning at ten, for our date with the ever-enticing, Allison.” With a nod, he clicked off the camera.

  Removing the hooded mask was a relief, so much so that he took a moment to breathe deeply, before attending to his least favorite task.

  Cleaning up the blood, washing down the body, making sure to remove any trace of his skin from hers was both tedious and boring. He so wished he could delegate this aspect of his new hobby to an associate, but he’d yet to find someone he felt was trustworthy.

  Someone he could control, completely.

  Anson’s teachings had been crystal clear on this point. Never entrust your secrets to an unworthy partner.

  As he sprinkled bleach over Shelby’s body, he let his mind drift to the beauty awaiting him in the next chamber. He hadn’t planned to take Allison so soon, but her decision to sneak out to the club alone was an opportunity too good to miss. Given the fact his time with Shelby was cut short, taking Allison had been a fortunate turn of events.

  Whistling softly, he pulled down the overhead nozzle, turned on the water, and squirted evidence of Shelby’s last moments into the drain in the floor. Blood and bits of bone slid off the stainless steel table, disappearing into the cavern beneath the tile floor. From there, the water took the debris through a series of underground pipes, eventually flowing into the river behind his estate.

  When the room was saturated clean, Graham left the body on the table, allowing it time to dry before he rolled it in plastic. It was much easier to handle, if it wasn’t bogged down with water.

  Slipping off thick, rubber gloves, and the apron that kept his clothes pristine, he flipped off the lights and closed the door, locking it behind him. None of the servants were allowed in the cellar, but he took precautions, just in case.

  Deciding to peek in on Allison, before joining his mother for lunch, he opened the next door in the old hallway just a crack, enough so he could look inside.

  Silent hinges made it possible for him to watch her, unobserved. That, and the fact that the bed faced away from the door. Still, he had a good view of her terror, saw that she still struggled against the tape.

  That will stop soon enough, he thought, pulling the door shut. In his experience, they all gave up trying to get loose within the first few hours. The screaming stopped, too, but only until he moved them into the event room. Once there, they all took up screaming again. It was pitiful, really, that they thought it would do them any good.

  Shaking his head, Graham picked up the pace as he moved toward his other life. Born into wealth and privilege, Graham Grant had never truly worked a day in his life. It was one of the reasons that the job of clean-up was such an abhorrent waste of his time.

  “Perhaps one day I can divest myself of such menial duties,” he said aloud as he opened the thick, cellar door, made from trees mined from the estate.

  Past owners had used the cellar to house summer vegetables, canned by slaves and housekeepers for centuries. The underground space had also been used to store liquor, during prohibition, and weapons during the civil war. For the past fifty years, during the time his father ran the estate, the cellar had remained empty. There was no longer a reason to hide things away, or to store foodstuffs for the coming winter. The Grants had no need for such banal oddities as canned food, or homemade alcohol.

  Among other things, Graham inherited a wine cellar, when his father passed away last spring, filled with an exceptional selection from the world’s best vineyards. Their cook, Marie, was always willing to prepare whatever dish Graham, or his mother, desired.

  Closing the cellar door firmly, Graham replaced the lock, supposedly to keep anyone from wandering down inside the tomb and getting hurt. Rusty and old, with a skeleton key that outdated any other on the estate, the lock spoke of abandonment, of a structure that long outlived its purpose.

  Pocketing the key, Graham emerged from behind the hill, obstructing the cellar door from view of the house.

  It was a lovely day, really, he thought, strolling casually along the grounds to the terrace. Anyone peering through the windows of the vast mansion would think him out for a breath of air. Nothing sinister, or out of the ordinary, just a walk along the river, killing time as he appreciated the beauty of his birthright.

  Chapter Five

  “I’m assuming that Dylan thinks this is more than just a runaway, or a teen hiding from her parents for a night,” Jeri questioned Ethan in depth as they drove to Iowa.

  “Of course. Apparently, the girl, Shelby Torrent, fifteen, has the acting bug in a big way. She has an audition today, for some big role in a local playhouse, one her mother said she would never miss.”

  “The report says that she disappeared, walking from the bus stop to her house, yesterday,” Jeri read, scanning the notes Dylan sent over. “And no one saw anything.”

  “That’s it. They’ve issued an Amber Alert, but so far there are no clues to go on,” Ethan told her as he entered the highway.

  “Fifteen, jeez. I really hope that this isn’t our guy. I hate it when they target kids.” Disgust rang clear in Jeri’s voice.

  “It may not be our guy, but someone took that girl, if you believe her mother’s story.”

  “Dylan spoke with the mother?”

  “Yes, but she was a mess, understandably so. At least she agreed to meet with us.”

  “What happens if we find out that this isn’t our killer? I still think we should help find Shelby, if we can.” Jeri turned to look at Ethan, knowing that he would agree.

  “Of course,” his sideways glance held a grin. “I’ve already got Anna compiling a list of pedophiles in the area, those who prefer teenage girls. If this becomes a second investigation, we can use Chloe and Monique, even Jackson, if he shows up. We’ve enough manpower in the area to work both cases, I think.”

  “Good, I think so, too. But don’t count on Jackson. I doubt they’ll even let Jen out of the hospital for a week. Then he’ll want to stay and help her recuperate. I know we need him, but I don’t want to push.”

  “Nor do I,” Ethan agreed. “We can always ask Anthony to leave Europe early, join us sooner than planned.”

  “Did you ever speak to Monique about hiring him?”

  “Not yet, it hasn’t come up. She’ll be fine with it, they worked together years ago, so at least they have a history.”

  “That can be good, or bad,” Jeri grinned. “Monique doesn’t strike me as a woman to mince words. If she has something to say about Anthony, I’m sure
we’ll hear about it.”

  “No doubt. But seriously, I don’t expect there to be a problem. Everyone seemed amiable enough five years ago.” Ethan reached over and patted Jeri’s leg. “Besides, she and Jackson got along okay, we can always partner Chloe with Anthony, if needed. Or we can leave Monique and Chloe paired up. Whatever works best for the team.”

  “Agreed, but I’ve found that male-female teams work best, in the field. Typically, one’s strengths complement the other’s weaknesses, and vice versa.”

  “I bow to your lead, as far as that goes. You’ve had more experience managing teams than I have.”

  “True, you are a bit of a lone wolf,” Jeri squeezed his hand. “But I have to say, you do play very well with others.”

  “Thanks,” Ethan laughed, catching the note of seduction in her voice. “I aim to please.”

  “There’s no question about that, Mr. Barnes.” Jeri glanced down as the sun sparkled off of the canary diamond, hugging the ring finger of her left hand.

  Ethan saw the direction of her gaze.

  “When are you going to let me add a band to that beauty?”

  “I don’t know, I really haven’t thought about it,” Jeri lied. She’d thought of little else, since he proposed. Part of her wanted to go ahead and just do it, and another part of her wanted to wait. Only she didn’t have a clue what she was waiting for.

  “It’s okay, Love. I’m a patient man. As long as I know you’re mine, I can wait on a wedding.”

  “Do you really want a wedding, I mean the whole hoopla? I was thinking of something quiet, private, just us and maybe your parents, a few friends.”

  “I don’t care if we get married on the side of the road, by someone ordained on the internet. Whatever makes you happy, hoopla or none.”

  “Really? I don’t think your mother will agree. She’s hoping that we’ll do it in Australia.”

  “My mother will be happy, wherever we do it. She only wants what we want. I know so,” Ethan nodded, forestalling Jeri’s objections. “Seriously, Love, we’ll do it however you like, whenever you like. No pressure.”