Killing Spree (30 page)

Gillian had such mixed feelings as she watched Ethan embracing this man—this
father fill-in
who was being way too nice to them both.

When Ethan came back inside alone, he had a sad, goofy smile on his face. “Jason says he’ll probably stay at the Best Western Loyal Inn, because it’s close.” Ethan peeled off his jacket. “Mom, if Vickie isn’t back by Tuesday, and we’re doing something for my birthday—like going out to dinner or something—could Jason come?”

Gillian worked up a smile. “We’ll see, honey.”

She asked him if Chinese or Thai would be all right for tonight’s dinner. Ethan was leaning toward Chinese. As Gillian wandered toward her bedroom to change into sweatpants and a pullover, she liked the idea of this night with Ethan. He spent way too much time alone. She’d let him choose something on Pay-per-View, and they’d watch TV together—unless of course, Saturday night at home with Mom was just about the worst thing she could inflict on him. She imagined how much better it would have been for Ethan if Jason Hurrell were part of this equation. Saturday night at home with Mom and
this real cool guy
didn’t seem so pathetic. There would have been more dignity in that.

With a sigh, Gillian kicked off her shoes and opened the closet door. Then she froze. She saw something on the floor of her closet, something that didn’t belong there.

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Tears welled in her eyes, and she shook her head over and over again. “No,” she whispered. “God, no…no…”

He’d been inside her home—in her bedroom. And he wanted her to know.

Lined up with her shoes on the floor was a pair of saddle shoes, the kind Catholic schoolgirls wore.

They looked like a perfect fit.

Gillian watched from the front window. Outside, Ruth was talking to two policemen. Her arms folded, she leaned against their patrol car. One of the cops was smoking a cigarette, and the other was on his cell phone.

They’d already combed through the duplex—including Vicki’s unit upstairs. Gillian had let them in with her key. Nothing had been stolen or disturbed in either apartment. They’d inspected the basement laundry room too. Gillian was grateful for that. It was creepy enough going down to that dank little cellar during the day—no less at night, right after a break-in. With their flashlights, they also checked around the yard—and even walked a few feet down into the ravine. They hadn’t stumbled across anything except a family of raccoons.

Ethan had used his key to get in when he’d come home around four o’clock, but he couldn’t say for certain whether or not the front door had been locked. And no, he hadn’t invited Jason Hurrell inside. Jason had never set foot in the apartment.

Gillian told the policemen that if they wanted to speak with Jason, he could be reached at the Loyal Inn downtown.

They bagged the saddle shoes—and double-checked her bedroom for any other surprises. Gillian stripped her bed while they were there. The cops probably thought she was crazy. But she didn’t want to uncover another gift from her copycat sometime later. She’d been wondering what he’d done with the heart of that “drifter” in Montana. She didn’t want to discover it tonight, tucked under her pillow.

Gillian decided she couldn’t sleep in her bedroom tonight. She felt so violated. He’d probably been through all her things. She imagined him peeking into closets and drawers and touching her clothes.

The police had promised to have the saddle shoes analyzed and compared to the shoes found on the Schoolgirl Murder victims.

Gillian watched them talking with Ruth by their patrol car. Ruth patted one of them on the arm, and then sauntered toward the front porch. “Okay, thanks, guys!” she called over her shoulder.

Gillian shot a look back toward Ethan’s room, where he was watching TV. Then she let Ruth in. “So—are they taking me seriously or do they think I planted those saddle shoes in my closet for publicity or something?”

“The question did come up,” Ruth admitted. “There aren’t many folks besides you eager to see the Schoolgirl Murders case reopened after two years. But these are good guys. They’ll make sure those shoes get to the lab. Don’t sweat it, hon. By the way, they struck out with your pal at the Loyal Inn. There’s no Jason Hurrell registered there.”

Gillian wasn’t very surprised. “Of course not,” she muttered, almost to herself.

Ruth started to take off her coat, then put it back on again. “Listen, I’ve handled enough break-ins to know how you feel right now. You probably want the place fumigated, and your wardrobe cleaned and burned.”

Gillian nodded. “For starters, yes.”

“Do you want me to spend the night? I can go home and come back in fifteen with Eustace, my .45, a nightgown, and enough Jack Daniel’s to make us both feel okay.”

Gillian smiled. “Thanks, that sounds great. We’re ordering Chinese. Do you want anything?”

“Sweet-and-sour pork. And you can tell me how it went today with Chase Scott.” She started toward the door again.

“He wasn’t home,” Gillian said.

Ruth hesitated and turned to her. “Really?”

“I talked to him about forty-five minutes before showing up there. He said he’d be waiting. But no one came to the door. I knocked. I called him on my cell. Nothing.”

Ruth reached for the doorknob. “We’ll talk about it when I get back,” she said. “See you in fifteen minutes. Double-lock this. Okay?”

After Ruth left, Gillian closed the door and double-locked it. She tried to ignore the voice inside her head, telling her:
That won’t do any good at all. If he wants to get in, he will….

The last ferry out of Bremerton was almost empty. Danielle had a large window table all to herself. She could see the lights from the Seattle skyline in the far distance. She was on her way back from a birthday party for her dad. There were only a few other passengers on this deck, and maybe a dozen more on the upper tier. Some others were probably napping in their vehicles.

Danielle was twenty-four years old, and pretty, with wavy black hair. She’d taken this ferry ride often enough, and enjoyed the quiet, lonely night trips like this. But tonight, Danielle was reading an Ann Rule book about the Green River Killer, and she was a little spooked out.

Not helping matters was a man who had passed by her table twice—and by her window three more times as he paced around the deck outside. He kept looking at her whenever he walked by. At first, Danielle thought he was kind of cute with his athletic-husky build, receding sandy-colored hair, and that impish baby face. But as they drew closer to Seattle, he seemed more and more agitated each time he passed.

Danielle saw him outside the window again, and he locked eyes with her. She quickly looked away and picked up her book. After a few moments, she felt a blast of cold air sweep down the aisle. Glancing up, she saw him approaching. The doors to the outside deck were swinging back and forth behind him.

Danielle hoped he would just pass by again. She kept her nose in her book.

“Excuse me,” she heard him say, out of breath. “Sorry to bother you…”

Reluctantly, she looked up. This close she could see he was sweating—and trembling. “Do you have a cell phone?” he asked.

Danielle hesitated. “Um—”

“I don’t need to borrow one,” he explained, still catching his breath. “I just—I need someone to call the cops for me if it becomes necessary. Do you mind if I sit down?”

Danielle balked again. “I—I’m sorry…”

He let out a skittish laugh. “Of course you mind. I’m a total stranger. Listen, my name’s Chase—Chase Scott. I live in Bremerton. This sounds crazy, but for the last few days, someone’s been following me around. And this afternoon, it got worse. I swear, every time I turned around…”

He took a couple of deep breaths. “I know he followed me onto this ferry. I tried to tell the old security guy here, but he thinks I’m nuts. Have you seen a fairly tall man in a gray raincoat that goes down to about here?” He tapped his upper thigh. “I know he’s on this boat.”

Danielle started to shake her head, but then she remembered seeing someone on the deck outside, and he’d had on a gray raincoat. He’d passed her window.

Chase let out a sigh, and ran a hand through his receding hair. “Damn, I wish I could give you a better description, but this guy is like a phantom. He’s always in the shadows. I don’t know why this is happening….”

“I saw someone like that,” Danielle said. “Someone tall in a gray raincoat.”

Chase’s face lit up. “You did? Oh, thank God! At least I know I’m not crazy. Did you see his face? What did he look like?”

Danielle shook her head. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell you. He passed by the window pretty fast. It was dark, and he had the collar up on his raincoat.”

“Shit,” Chase muttered. He suddenly plopped down across from her, and the table shook. Danielle recoiled a bit. He looked over his shoulder and outside the window. Danielle followed his gaze. The cityscape loomed closer, the lights reflected on the dark water. “We’re almost in Seattle,” he said, turning toward her again. “Listen, if you could just do me a favor, and go to the upper bow before we get to the dock. I’d feel a lot better if I knew someone was watching out for me.”

Danielle shrugged helplessly. “I don’t understand what you want me to do—”

“I’m driving a red Ford Probe with a broken back antenna,” he went on. “I’m at the front of the line. Mine should be one of the first cars to drive off the boat when we dock. You won’t even have to wait very long. If you could just make sure I get off the boat okay—”

“How?” she asked, shaking her head. “Listen, I’m sorry—”

“Please! All you have to do is look for my car. I’ll flash my headlights or wave to show you I’m okay. But if you don’t see my car—or—or if I don’t signal to you, you’ll know something’s wrong. Then I’ll need you to call the police. That’s all I’m asking, just delay leaving the ferry for a few minutes so you can make sure I get out of here all right.”

Danielle squirmed in the seat. He seemed to read her reluctance.

“Listen, I’ll pay you if you’d like—”

“No, I don’t want your money,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you,” he gasped. “It’s a red Ford Probe, and the license plate number is AOB829. In case you need to call the police, you should give that to them.”

Danielle took a pen out of her coat pocket and scribbled the number on the inside cover of her paperback.

“I’ll blink my headlights to let you know everything’s okay.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

He let out a nervous, little laugh. He had a cute smile. “You must think I’m nuts.”

“No, I just think you’re very scared,” Danielle replied. “I’ll keep watch for you.”

“Thanks,” he said, grinning at her. He glanced over his shoulder again, then quickly got to his feet. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“Danielle.”

“I’m Chase,” he said, shaking her hand. “Danielle, you’re literally a lifesaver.” He turned and headed for the stairwell that led to the parking level.

For a few minutes, Danielle sat there in a stupor. What if this man following Chase Scott saw them sitting together and talking? Would he come after her now? She took her cell phone from her purse and checked the battery. It was charged up. She could call the police if she had to.

She noticed a few other passengers getting to their feet and putting on their coats. They headed into the same stairwell Chase had used. They were going to their cars. Danielle peeked out the window. The Seattle skyline was just ahead. They’d be docked in five minutes.

Danielle felt scared. She knew it was silly. All she had to do was watch for his car—and the blinking headlights. She really wasn’t in any kind of danger. She’d laugh about this when she got home in a half hour.

Standing, Danielle threw on her coat and grabbed her purse. She stuffed her cell phone and the book into her coat pockets, then headed for the stairway. Danielle took a deep breath, and opened the door to the stairs. She didn’t know why she was so nervous. She’d been up and down these dim, narrow stairwells on the ferry countless times. It had never made her claustrophobic before. But now she felt as if the walls were closing in. She hurried up the steps toward the top level. Suddenly, the door opened.

Danielle froze, and a shadow swept over her. It was another passenger, an older woman. The lady came down the stairs. Danielle pressed her back against the wall to let the lady pass. Then she continued up the steps to the upper deck. Everyone else had left. She was alone as she hurried up the aisle to the double doors that led to the bow outside.

A gust of cold air hit her as she pushed through the doors. No one else was out there. The brilliant skyline was so close, it seemed ready to swallow her up. She could see the dock ahead. Danielle clutched the guardrail and peered over the edge at the car deck. A security chain ran across the open end. A couple of ferry workers prepped the boat for docking.

Past the howling wind, Danielle thought she heard something behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. The doors to the passenger area were swinging back and forth. Danielle panicked for a moment. Had someone else stepped out there? She didn’t see anybody in the smoking area, a sheltered section with rows of benches. No one seemed to be hiding behind the lifeboats. She told herself that she was alone out there, but her heart was still beating furiously.