Find Me If You Dare (The Chronicles of Elizabeth Marshall Book 2) (5 page)

                     
Chapter Eleven

There wasn’t much more we could do at the crime scene so Logan and I left and headed back towards Riverview. We hadn’t gone far when Detective Scott called us with an update.

The victim, Tracey Warner, was awake now and in stable condition. There was some damage to her vocal chords from the attack, so she couldn’t speak yet, but she was
trying to communicate by writing on a notepad. Just as Detective Scott thought, Tracey had answered a knock at the door, thinking it was a neighbor. The attack happened so fast she didn’t really have time to respond.

She could only describe her assailant as a small, strong figure wearing an over-large hooded jacket that covered almost their entire face. She couldn’t say for sure if it was a man or a woman, only that they had dark, piercing eyes and seemed to want nothing more from her than to hurt her.

Logan told Margie he would have pictures from the news coverage taken at the trailer park this morning sent to the victim at the hospital to see if she thought it was the same person. He called ahead to the department and spoke with his partner Detective Hammond, explaining what he needed. I thought it was a great idea to send the footage, but for me, it wasn’t necessary. I knew it would be a match.

“The reporter,”
Logan groaned after hanging up with Hammond, “I forgot, I offered her an exclusive.”

The thought of being around a member of the news media after the exhausting day we had had was extremely unappealing. Logan must have seen the look on my face and read how tired I was.

“Caitlyn, let me take you home first,” he offered, “I’ll have the local police department send out a unit to be there at your apartment for the next few days.”

It was an appealing idea. Home, comfort, s
ecurity. But was it really safe? Was Lisbeth really heading across the state line and halfway across the country, or was she circling back around and heading back towards where I lived?

I had received letters from her while she had been in the state mental hospital. She knew where I lived.
I didn’t remember ever giving her my cell phone number, but apparently, she had found that too.

“I think I’ll stay with you a while longer if that’s okay,” I leaned my head back against the headrest of the seat and looked at him. Through all that had happened that day, he was the one thing that made me feel safe. As tired as I was, I wasn’t ready to be parted from him yet. “I’ll try to stay out of the way. Maybe later I’ll go over to my parents and stay the night there.”

“Are you sure?” He questioned doubtfully.

I nodded to reassure him. We passed the exit that we would have had to take to get to my apartment and continued on towards the exit that would take us to his police department. It was early evening by now and I still couldn’t believe all that had happened that day.

As we pulled into the parking lot of his department, I almost changed my mind and told him to take me back home. Several new cars and vans were in the parking lot, most of them had federal license plates. The news crew was still there too, patiently waiting to see if they could get the story they were promised. Thankfully, none of the other local news stations seems to have caught on to the story yet. They were probably up in Park City covering the story there.

No sooner had we pulled in
to a parking space than Lacy Lopez was right at Logan’s car door.

“Logan,” she called, “Detective Sawyer, you promised us an exclusive.” Her tone was accusatory.

“You’ll get one,” he grudgingly told her, “but I have to prepare a statement first.”

“Are you just putting me off?” A day spent sitting idly in the news van seemed to be taking its toll on her. “Is there really even a story here? My producer wants me back at the station.”

“You can go back to the station if you want to,” Logan replied as he came around and opened my door for me. As I got out he looked around at the federal cars filling the department’s parking lot. “But the FBI may be making a statement too. If you want to miss that, and be the first to report it, it’s up to you.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth snapped shut. She took off for the news van to share the news with her cameraman Doug, allowing Logan and I to get into the police station without any further interruptions.

                         C
hapter Twelve

I sat quietly at the back of the briefing room and watched as it was turned into the taskforce headquarters. The federal agents had brought in laptops, printers, fax machines, scanners and other equipment. They were working together with Logan and Chief Brickman trying to put everything together.

Several of their agents were working in coordination with the local officers to gather as much information as possible about the previous crimes Lisbeth had been suspected of committing.
They had dispatched agents out to Saint George, Utah, Evanston, Wyoming and Boise, Idaho to view the files and the crime scenes first hand to try to see how they may be linked to one another.

Not far from where I sat, there was an
agent on the phone with Dr. Martin Ross, Lisbeth’s psychiatrist while she was at the state mental hospital. From what I could hear so far, I suspected Dr. Ross was being less than cooperative with sharing his files and the video of his sessions of Lisbeth and me. I’m certain he feared that the exclusiveness of his documentation of Lisbeth would be ruined once the FBI got a hold of it. To me, it had always seemed as though he was less interested in her as a patient as he was in her as a subject to be studied. There always seemed to be a deeper agenda where he was concerned.

The Special Agent
was sternly threatening him with a federal warrant if he didn’t comply immediately. The doctor’s resistance was apparent. I couldn’t imagine anyone questioning his authority on Elizabeth Marshall let alone asking him to release his research on her. I almost wished I could be there in person to see the look on the doctor’s smug face as he was being threatened with the FBI invading his domain.

Detective Hammond, Logan’s partner, was back from the search of the trailer park and was kind enough to return my cell phone to me. They had gathered as much information as they could from it.

He explained that the voicemail that I had received earlier had come from an unregistered phone. Probably one of those pre-paid phones that can be purchased at a local store.  They suspected it most likely had been long discarded by now.

He advised me that I shouldn’t answer my phone unless I recognized the number on the caller ID. They wanted everything else to go to voicemail, so that in the event Lisbeth tried to contact me again, they would have a record of the call.

Field Director Phillips was the lead federal agent. He was working with Police Chief Brickman and Logan to decide what kind of press release they should announce. They were preparing a joint statement from both the local and federal authorities.

It was a delicate balance. On one hand, they needed to give as much information as they could to the general public in order to help find Lisbeth. On the other hand, they didn’t want to give out too much information either. If they presented it in a way that suggested that a possible serial killer was on the loose, it could create public panic and possibly vigilantism.
Giving out too much information could also be harmful to a possible trial in the future.

It was
also very important that the prepared press release was worded just right to gain the maximum exposure by the public.

The statement was ready in time for the local ten o’clock news and they decided to announce it to all of the local networks.
True to this word, Logan gave an exclusive interview to Lacy Lopez and her network. Being in front of the camera obviously wasn’t one of his favorite parts of his job, but it was important to Logan to keep his promise.

Director Phillips decided on making the press release outside in front of the police department. He wasn’t ready yet for the public to see the behind-the-scenes look at the taskforce.

I made sure I kept well away from any camera lights and reporters. Once, during Logan’s interview with Lacy Lopez, she asked about the female she had seen him with earlier that morning.  He carefully but firmly steered her back towards the main focus of the interview, finding Elizabeth Marshall, and made it clear that she was the only subject he was going to discuss.

I was grateful to Logan for respecting my privacy. He knew this was a deeply emotional situation for me and the last thing I needed was for it to be aired in front of the world and mass media.

By the time the press left and we were all back inside the briefing room, the day’s events were starting to catch up with me. I had been on such an emotional rollercoaster most of the day, and the adrenaline that had kept me going throughout it all was slowly draining out of me.

In a way
, it almost felt like an out of body experience to sit here and watch all these trained professionals discuss tracking down and possibly capturing a dangerous killer. Was it really my childhood friend Lisbeth they were discussing? I was still having a hard time connecting the two. I had been through so much with her.

Even though I was familiar with almost all of the family members and knew how dangerous and frightening some of them could be, it was difficult believing that b
right, creative young girl I knew from childhood was capable of these crimes. All the information, pictures, newspaper articles being put together on the dry-erase boards at the front of the room, was that all really about Lisbeth?

“Come on, we need to get you home,” Logan was at my side before I even realized
it. “Let me take you to your parents’ house for the night.”

“That’s ok,” he looked as tired as I felt. He had been so busy today, right in the thick
of everything. “I can get to their house, it’s not far.”

“Your car is still parked at the trailer park,” he reminded me with an exhausted smile. “
We’ll pick it up tomorrow. Besides, getting you out of here gives me an excuse to head home too.”

With that kind of logic, I stood right up and headed for the door. Before we walked out of the room, I turned back and looked at all the local officers and federal agents busy gathering information and coordinating the operation.

“Has there been any sign of her yet?” I was almost afraid to ask, but I had to.

“There have been extra patrols on all roads leading east and south out of Park City,” he answered, his hands in his jacket pockets, “we’ve had an APB out on her since this morning, but nothing yet.” He read the worry and concern on my face
. It probably mirrored some of the emotion on his. “Maybe we’ll get new information tomorrow.”

                       Chapter Thirteen

The cell phone next to the bed in my parents’ guest bedroom woke me up the next morning. I was startled to see that it was already past ten o’clock in the morning. With a groan, I realized that I had already missed my first class of the day and there was no way I was going to make it to the second one in time.

I recognized Logan’s number right away and answered it before it went to voicemail.

“Caitlyn?” Logan’s familiar voice was exactly what I needed to hear this morning. “How are you holding up?”

I couldn’t help but smile at the concern in his voice. After a marr
iage to someone that always kept the relationship focused entirely on him, it was still an adjustment to have someone in my life that seemed to care about me so much.

“I’m still here,” I tried
to sound upbeat but I was so tired from the day before, “I missed my classes though.”

“I know, we’ll have to see what we can do about that,” his comment seemed a bit odd. What did he m
ean by that? “I know it’s early, but Director Phillips wants to meet with you. Can I come by and pick you up in about an hour?”

The director of the taskforce wanted to meet with me? That shot me st
raight out of bed in an instant. Why would he want to speak with me?

“I’m a mess,” I started to protest, looking at myself in a dresser mirror. It was true. I’d borrowed a
robe from my mother to sleep in, my hair was a tangled knot thrown up in a clip the night before. “Why does he want to speak with me?” I was trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

“Don’t worry,” his voice was reassuring,” he just has few questions. Listen, why don’t I push the meeting back another hour. I’ll come and get you and take you back to your place to freshen up and check on Jynx. Then we’ll swing by and pick up your car and head over to the department.”

That sounded like a lot of chasing on his part.

“I can have my mother take me to my place,” I offered, realizing he was probably busy himself this morning.

“I’m not letting you back into that apartment alone until we’ve located Elizabeth Marshall,” Logan’s voice was adamant. I was suddenly seeing that he took protecting me very seriously. It also felt like a cold bucket of water in the face to remember that I wasn’t exactly safe at the moment.

Reluctantly, I agreed to let him come and pick me up. I freshened myself up as quickly as I could
before he got there.

My poor, concerned parents didn’t quite know what to make of the situation. They had seen the breaking story on the news the night before. They knew that Lisbeth was free and wanted by the police and FBI. Logan had felt that it was best not to tell them too much about why she was wanted, he didn’t want to alarm them and I agreed with his decision. All that we really did tell them was that I was assisting his department with information about her. They seemed content with that.

At my apartment, Logan insisted on searching every room to make sure it was safe before I was able to take a shower and get cleaned up. For a fraction of a moment, I thought he might be going overboard but then realized I was glad he cared so much for my safety.

After a quick check of my kitten Jynx, we headed to the trailer park,
picked up my car which was still dusted in fingerprint dust from the investigation the day before, and I followed him to the police department.

The briefing room was still the same busy hub from the day before. More information was being added to the large dry-erase boards at the front of the room.
Now there were pictures of the crime scene in Park City as well as maps of Utah and the surrounding states. There was a red dot on each map here a crime had taken place, places like Boise, Evanston and St. George.

There was a timeline of the crimes with notes next to it, pointing out various details that may link the cases together. There were also several versions of the symbol believed to be her calling card. It felt strange to see that same symbol repeated at the different crime scenes.

When I walked in though, there seemed to be a different atmosphere. The night before, I had tried to stay quietly out of the way of all the traffic coming in and out of the room. I was good at blending in, preferred it actually. No one had really given me a second glance then.

Now, was it just my imagination, or were the agents and officers in the room looking more closely at me as I entered? I didn’t want to start feeling paranoid, but I wasn’t sure I
liked the new attention.

“Director Phillips is in the chief’s office,” Logan walked beside me the short distance to Chief Brickman’s office.
 

Once we arrived, I noticed a few things had changed from the day before. Director Phillips was now sitting behind the chief’s desk. Several more chairs had been brought into the office.  The chief was sitting in one and a few of the other federal agents were sitting in the others. Two chairs had been left empty. A large, portable television
with a DVD player had been brought in and placed against the far wall. A remote control sat next to the Director’s hands on the desk.

Director Phillips was an older man in his mid-
fifties. His hair was a stately solid gray, close cut in a military style. He had a thick mustache and heavy eyebrows arched over dark brown eyes. His look was piercing and direct. I knew immediately that I would never want to be on the other side of a table from him in an interrogation room.

“Ms. Stewart,” he rose to shake my hand in a firm grip them gestured for Logan and I to sit in the two empty chairs, “may I call you Caitlyn?”

“Of course,” I agreed. I couldn’t even imagine arguing with the Director.

“Caitlyn then,” he smiled what might have been a reassuring smile under that thick mustache, “Dr. Martin Ross, who I can imagine you are quite familiar with, has
agreed to share with us some of the footage he documented while he was Elizabeth Marshall’s attending physician. I realized that the most important footage that gives us the greatest insight to her includes you. I have a number of questions for you.”