Don't Look Back (18 page)

Jamie nearly gagged. “It doesn’t even make any sense.”

Dakota’s jaw clenched and he knew his breathing had kicked up a notch. “Making sense isn’t top priority for most psychos. I want this guy.”

“We all do,” Connor grunted.

“So, what do we have to do to get him?” Jamie murmured.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, Dakota said, “You just have to stay out of his reach. Which means, no more walking to work by yourself, no staying at home alone. Someone is with you at all times, okay?”

Indecision creased the skin of her forehead and she chewed her bottom lip. A ringing phone cut into whatever she had been thinking, and she pulled the device from the pocket of her lab coat. “Hello?”

Connor left the lab, saying he wanted to update George on this latest incident. For a minute, Dakota watched Jamie pace as she talked, then he returned his attention to the note one more time, forcing his gloved fingers not to crunch the paper into a tiny ball and toss it into the trash. Who was this guy? Why did he leave practically no physical evidence behind? How did he know they’d be out at Jamie’s parents today, and how did he approach the car with no one noticing him?

Two hours of questioning neighbors had yielded nothing much. Most people had been at work. A stay-at-home mom with three small children had noticed a man walking his dog but said she didn’t recognize him. However, she was relatively new in the neighborhood and didn’t know everyone yet.

Still . . . a man walking his dog and they’d found dog hairs by the car. Coincidence? Possibly. They had her working with a sketch artist anyway.

Jamie finished her conversation and turned to him. “I’ve got to leave for a little while. I have an errand I need to run.”

“Then I’m going with you.”

For a moment he thought she might protest, but then her eyes fell to the letter he still held in his hand, and she snapped her mouth shut. “All right.”

“Good. Where are we going?”

“That was Maya on the phone. She has a client she wants me to talk to.”

“About what?”

“About what it takes to survive an attack.”

He gulped. “Oh.”

As Dakota started the car, Jamie patted his arm. “Sorry, I wasn’t going for shock value. I’m not a counselor, but sometimes a victim needs to hear from another victim that she’ll survive and get past all of the emotional issues that come with being . . . violated.”

Her phone rang and she snatched it up, glad for the interruption. Caller ID said it was the lab calling. “Hello?”

“We’ve got the results on your tox screen for Lisa Dupre.”

“And?”

“Tylox and Demerol. And even some morphine.”

A cold fist knotted inside her stomach. She’d figured that would be the case. The morphine was a bit of a surprise, but the Tylox and Demerol fit the bill perfectly. “Ok, thanks.”

She hung up and told Dakota. He kept his eyes straight ahead as he drove. “All right, so that’s just one more piece of evidence against this guy.”

“Yes.”

“Any luck on figuring out who the other skeleton is?”

“No. I may have to resort to doing a facial reconstruction on her. She’s African American, and all of the missing persons reports that showed up were four Caucasian, one African American that I don’t think fits, since his girl measures too short and is too young, and two Hispanics.”

“Maybe we need to widen our search area.”

“I thought about that but don’t even know if that will help. What if she was a runaway or on vacation from somewhere?”

“Even so, it does seem like she would have turned up in the search. Surely someone reported her missing. Let me call Jazz and have her pull records from an extra fifty-mile radius.”

Jamie nodded and Dakota got on the phone. She appreciated his help – and his presence – more than she could express. As much as she hated to give up the independence she’d fought so hard for, she couldn’t deny she felt much more secure when he was around. On impulse she reached out and squeezed the hand that clutched the steering wheel.

Surprised, he stopped midsentence, then a warm light flared in his eyes as he returned to his conversation. Jamie felt an odd flutter in the pit of her stomach. That strange sensation she often felt in Dakota’s presence and never could figure out what to do with it. Curious, she examined it as Dakota turned a corner. Then Maya’s building came into view and that feeling turned to dread. Not that she didn’t want to help the person who so desperately needed it. She just felt dread at having to dredge up the emotions associated with being raped and lay them out on the table.

But if it would help someone else . . .

Dakota parked and opened his door. She laid a restraining hand on his arm and said, “I need to pray first.”

An uncomfortable look crossed his face, but he settled back into his seat and shut his door. “Okay.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“I . . . all right.”

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. Silently, she prayed.
Lord, you’ve brought me here to help this young woman who’s experienced
a terrible trauma. I need you to give me the words, the right
thing to say. I need your peace. I need to feel your presence and your
unconditional love. And she needs to know that you’re the only one
who can fully heal her.

As she prayed, she felt her breathing slow, her thumping heart calm, and her desire to fidget lessen. For several more moments, she just sat as she let God flood her with his presence. Finally she was ready.

She opened her eyes. “Okay. I can do this now.”

Dakota stared at her, his blue eyes narrowed, a look she couldn’t define shining from their depths.

“What?” she asked.

“What just happened?”

“I prayed.”

“I know that. But something happened while you were praying. I watched it.”

She frowned at him, not really understanding what he was asking. “I just asked God to cover me with his presence and love. Plus I asked for peace, to be calm, and have the right words to say.”

“But you changed physically.”

She raised a brow, intrigued. “I did?”

“Yes, it was like . . . something just . . . came over you. All the tension and anxiety that were coming off of you on the ride over here just . . . dissolved.”

Jamie shrugged and grinned. “Cool.”

He blinked. “Yeah. It was.”

Hesitantly, she asked, “You want to talk about it later?”

A slow nod. “Yes, I think I do.”

“Great.” She squeezed his hand. “Now, I’ve got to get in there.”

“Sure. Let’s go.”

Three hours later, Jamie felt like her neck might snap from the tension in her shoulders. Yet, she felt good. Relieved. She’d managed to pass on hope to a victim who’d been considering suicide. Jamie’s card clutched in trembling fingers, the twenty-year-old college student promised to call if she needed to. Jamie felt sure she’d hear from the girl again. But eventually, she would heal. She’d pressed this point throughout the entire three hours. And she thought it hit home. Finally. And they’d prayed together for a long time, calling on God’s healing and peace. The girl had God; she had hope.

Pulling out her cell phone, she punched in Samantha’s number. Her sister answered, her voice sounding hoarse. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, I just upchucked everything I’ve eaten for the last two years.”

“Ugh. I’m sorry. You think it’s the flu?”

“I guess. I felt a little sick this morning, then after we left Mom and Dad’s house, it got worse.”

Sympathy for Sam flooded her. “Try to get some rest. Maybe you’ll feel better if you can get some sleep.”

“I don’t have time for this,” she grumbled. “I want to stay with you tonight.”

“No way. You need to get better. Plus, if you’re contagious, I don’t want it.”

“Thanks for your concern.”

Sam’s sarcasm made Jamie chuckle. “Is Jenna there to take care of you?”

“She will be in about an hour. Connor’s mom is here and is clucking like the mother hen she is. I didn’t want to call Mom.”

She didn’t have to say anything else. “I understand. Call me later and let me know how you’re feeling.”

“I will. Who’s with you right now?”

“No one. I had an errand to run and Dakota dropped me off. He said to call him when I was ready to leave.” Jamie pushed through the double glass doors and stepped out into the sweltering heat – and smiled. “But I don’t have to. He’s sitting across the street waiting on me.”

“Good. I still say he likes you.”

There was that dip and flutter in her stomach once more. “I know. I like him too. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

Jamie crossed the street. Dakota got out of his car and hurried around to open the door for her. Smiling her thanks, she slid into the seat.

Once he was settled back into the driver’s seat, he asked, “How’d it go?”

“It went well. As well as can be expected anyway. I think she’s going to be all right.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

She felt the flush creep up into her cheeks. “Me? I don’t think so, but thanks.”

“Not everyone would be willing to do what you just did.”

“What’s that?”

“Remember.”

Swallowing hard, she nodded. “Yeah.”

17

Thursday

Two days had passed without incident and nothing else had turned up in the search for the identity of the young girl she’d boxed up and labeled with a case number, keeping the skull out to work on. Why wasn’t she in the system? Hadn’t she been reported missing? When a person disappeared under suspicious circumstances and the family or friend reported it, the person’s information went into an FBI database called NCIC, the National Crime Information Center.

Only Jamie hadn’t gotten a hit on Karen. Odd.

And nothing had come back on the car. The dog hairs belonged to a short-haired brown dog. There were several in the neighborhood that fit the description.

The sketch artist had finished the portrait according to the neighbor’s input, but no one in the neighborhood who had been questioned seemed to know who he was.

That’s because he didn’t belong there. The sketch seemed very generic to Jamie. Like it could fit anyone with that general description. She didn’t hold out much hope of identifying the man who’d left the rose in her car if she had to rely on that sketch.

With a sigh, she placed the finishing touches on the skull that now had a face, her mind on the fact that she seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop. Reconstructing the skull kept her busy physically but left plenty of time for thinking – and imagining.

And praying.

Still, her nerves often bunched and danced under her skin. Looking over her shoulder had become second nature once more, and the slightest odd noise made her jump like a startled doe.

She didn’t like living this way.

Fortunately, no new cases had come her way over the past few days and she’d been able to fully concentrate on the task in front of her. The girl had a face and a first name. Now she needed a family to claim her.

Taking the digital camera, Jamie snapped several photos from different angles. Then she changed out the wig, replacing the short afro-styled hair with a longer, smoother piece.

More pictures.

“Wow, that’s incredible.”

Jamie shrieked and dropped the camera. She whirled, heart pounding faster than a Thoroughbred in a full run. “George!”

“Oh, sorry.” He held up his hands. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Annoyed, she tamped down her irritation, reminding herself she was much jumpier than usual. She couldn’t blame him for her issues. “I’ll survive.” Bending down, she scooped up the camera. “Don’t know if this will, though.”

“Want me to take a look?”

“No, I have another one if I need it.” She powered it back up and it seemed to be all right. “Can I help you?”

“I wanted to see if Dakota or Connor were here.”

“No, they’re out questioning Lisa Dupre’s family about her last known location, who she was seeing at the time, et cetera.”

“Would you be interested in going to dinner then? I have some more ideas about the sicko that’s doing this to these girls.”

Uneasiness reared. It was nothing personal against George, but she had no interest in being alone with him, not even in a crowded restaurant. She tried to picture doing it. Leaving the lab, walking down the hallway, getting on the elevator . . . nausea waved hello. She swallowed.

“I’m sorry, George, I appreciate the invitation, but I’m swamped right now.”

His eyes flickered with something she couldn’t define, then he shrugged. “Okay.” He started to turn away, then swung back around. “She looks better, more natural with the longer hair.”

“Huh?”

“The face. I watched you switch out the shorter hair for the longer. She looks like a long-haired girl.”

“Really?” Jamie stepped back to study the girl. She was very pretty.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Jamie left the longer hair on her.

George shifted, turned to go once again, and turned back to Jamie once again. “I don’t mean to be nosey, but just for my own clarification, are you and Dakota an item?”