Predator (18 page)

W
hen the police finished questioning Krista, she went home with her father. Tension rippled as she got into his car. Was it rage? Fear? Despair?

She hooked her belt. As he started the car, she looked out the windows, wondering if any black trucks lurked nearby. No one seemed to be watching them, and no one was in any of the cars parked along the streets.

“I’m still shaking,” she whispered. “I was so scared.”

David’s jaw muscle popped. “I don’t want you around that man.”

“Ryan? Dad, he didn’t cause this.”

“No TV, no speaking engagements. Just keep a low profile for a while.”

“But Dad, there are other girls out there who might fall into predators’ traps. I have to tell them—”

“No, you don’t have to tell anybody anything!” he shouted. “Let someone else tell them.”

“But God gave this to
me!
It gives purpose to Ella’s death.”

He slammed his hand on the steering wheel, making her jump. “There
is
no purpose! This wasn’t part of some grand plan by God, for anyone’s good. This was pure evil, and that evil is still breathing on us. You think you’re immune, just because you’re trying to do the right thing? You’re not immune.”

“Dad, this just makes me more determined to fight.”

“They have guns, Krista! Grenades, bombs. They’re out of your league!”

She watched him for a moment. The pain on his face was etched deep, and there was more gray in his hair than he’d had a month ago. He was a man in physical anguish, and his emotional scars were raw. “Dad, I’m sorry I caused you more pain.”

Tears sprang to his eyes. She wondered if it was wise for him to drive. “Then don’t do it again,” he said. “I don’t want you going on television. Do you hear me?”

She knew she could do whatever she pleased. She was an adult, after all. But she didn’t want to hurt him more or cause him anxiety or stress. And she believed in the commandment to honor her parents. He was the only one she had. And she was all he had.

She was quiet for a moment.

“Krista, please. What would I do if something happened to you too?”

She couldn’t deny him. “Okay, I won’t.”

He blew out a breath of pained relief. “And whatever you do, don’t fall in love with that guy.”

“I have no intentions of falling in love.”

R
yan waited outside the interview room as the police interviewed Ian. It was going on too long. Were they trying to pin this stuff on him? How could they even think his friend would do something so deadly?

Two hours passed as Ryan paced the stained concrete floor. He hoped Krista was safe. The police had someone watching the Carmichael house, so maybe the guys who’d done all this would leave her alone.

He sat back down, elbows on his knees, and dropped his face into his hands. His house, his car, everything he owned…

How could this happen?

He thought of the board members who’d been so delighted with him until recently. They’d respected him, appreciated him. He’d played golf with Henry, stayed in
Marvin’s Colorado condo, had dinner in all their homes. He knew their wives, their children. Would one of them really hire a killer to eliminate him?

The interview room door opened, and Ryan looked up. Ian came out, looking like he always did—unwashed and unkempt, and utterly sleep-deprived.

“You okay?” Ryan asked.

“Yeah,” Ian said. “That was big fun. It’s just hard to beat a murder attempt, a robbery, and an interrogation, all in one day.”

“Got that right,” Ryan said.

“They questioned me like I was the one who broke into my own house. And why would I firebomb your house, Ryan? Why would I try to kill you?”

“I know. It’s nuts.”

“Whatever. Let’s just get out of here.”

“In what?” Ryan asked. “I don’t have a car anymore.”

“Well, I do. My car’s out front if you’re not afraid to be seen in it.”

Ryan thought about that for a moment. “I think we both need to get new cars. You’re in as much danger as I’m in. Maybe we need to head over to a car dealership right now.”

Ian couldn’t argue. Ryan followed him out. As they both got into Ian’s red Mercedes Cabriolet convertible, Ryan looked at his friend. “We’re homeless millionaires, man. Who woulda thought?”

“You’re homeless. I’m not.”

“True.” Ryan settled in his seat. “So what did they take?”

“Anything that even looked like I might have stored files there. They cleaned out my file cabinet, took my backup backup external hard drive. If this doesn’t have Willow written all over it, I don’t know what does.”

“So after we buy cars, we’ll check into a hotel and get on the Internet. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

They were quiet as they drove to the car lot. When they pulled in, Ryan glanced at Ian. “Not telling you what to buy, but I’m getting a car as nondescript as I can. No more Jaguars. They’re too easy to identify.”

“But I really, really like my Cabriolet.”

“If you want your car to blend into a hotel parking lot, I wouldn’t get one.”

“Even if it’s a different color?”

“I’m just saying…”

Ian sighed. “I hate these people. They’re ruining my life.” He pulled into the space at the front of the lot. “I’m going to ruin theirs as soon as I can.”

It took two hours to buy the cars, which Ryan thought was ridiculous, since they were both paying cash. But the paperwork went on forever, and then the dealer insisted on detailing the cars before they drove off the lot.

Ryan had chosen a black Pathfinder, opting for an SUV for added protection from the next person who tried to run him off the road. Ian couldn’t downgrade quite that much. He chose a white Lexus SUV, something he could get excited about. When they finally owned their new cars, Ian cleaned all of his belongings out of his beloved Cabriolet, and loaded them into his new vehicle. “So where are we going to bunk tonight?”

“How about the Hampton Inn near Rice?”

“No way, man. Hampton Inns don’t even have room service.”

“Room service could get us killed.”

He sighed. “All right, whatever. I’ll follow you there.”

When they reached the hotel, Ryan sent Ian in to get the room, since no one was likely to recognize him. Ryan had been the front man for GrapeVyne, the one who’d done countless interviews over the years. He didn’t want some hotel clerk spreading gossip that Ryan Adkins was staying in his hotel. That could get them killed too.

While he waited for Ian to get the key, Ryan called NBC. They were enthusiastic in their agreement to put him on for the next day. He didn’t know if Krista would join him. Her father would probably handcuff her to keep her from going anywhere with him again. But he thought he’d give her the chance if she wanted. He called her as he waited for Ian.

She sounded glad to hear from him. “Ryan, is everything all right with Ian?”

“I guess so. They let him go. We just bought some new wheels. Checking into a hotel now.”

She was silent for a moment. “Are you sure you can trust him?”

He bristled. “Yes, Krista, absolutely. I trust him like he was my own brother.”

“But there are a lot of coincidences. The police seemed suspicious.”

“It’s their job to be suspicious. But I know him. He’s my best friend. I have nothing to fear from him, and neither do you.”

She didn’t answer.

“But listen, NBC wants us on tomorrow.”

Again, quiet built a wall between them. “I can’t do it, Ryan.”

“Come on, Krista. It’ll be so much more powerful with you.”

“My dad is freaking out. I could buck his authority, but he’s so fragile. I don’t want to give him any more reason to be upset.”

“What if we can get a police escort or something? If I do that, would you be willing to come?”

“No. He doesn’t want me on TV. He thinks it’ll bring more trouble on us. We’ve had enough, Ryan. I know it seems cowardly…”

“Hey, wait a minute,” he cut in. “Nothing about you is cowardly. This isn’t about your lacking courage.”

She sighed. “Maybe it is. I’m not feeling very strong or courageous right now.”

“Well, neither am I.”

Ian came back out, brandished the key cards, and slipped into his own car. “I’ll call you later. Ian’s got our hotel keys.”

“Be careful, Ryan.”

“I will. I have some shopping to do this afternoon. I have to buy my second computer in two days. And clothes, shoes, underwear…” As Ryan spoke the words, the reality of it all came crashing down on him. “I don’t have anything left, except money.”

“Get a gun, Ryan,” she muttered.

“Yeah, good idea.”

She paused, and he could hear her breathing. “I’m so sorry.”

He knew she really was. “It’s okay. I’ll call you later.”

Ian pulled around to the back door, the one Ryan assumed was closest to their room. His friend got his laptop and the bag he’d packed when he discovered his ransacked house. At least he had clothes. They followed him into the elevator, and found the small suite Ian had booked.

The moment they got into their suite, Ian plopped down on the couch and flipped his computer open.

M
egan sat at the back of the lecture hall, her leg propped on a folding chair. She tried to concentrate on what the lecturer was saying. Dr. Landrum was one of the best English professors in the university, and she’d waited years to be in her class. Now the professor made about as much sense to Megan as Charlie Brown’s teacher.

Never before had she sat in class zoning out like this. She’d always loved learning. While her friends in high school passed notes, texted, and flirted with each other, she’d been distracted by the algebra problems on the board or the literature her teachers analyzed. Homework hadn’t been a chore; she’d found it a pleasure.

Though she’d always maintained a very active social life, Megan had goals and aspirations, and her hard work was paying off with the job she had waiting for her.

But now, she found herself distracted by the backs of the students’ heads. There were probably a hundred people in this class, some of them older. Some of the men had brown hair like the killer…the same shoulder breadth. Though she felt certain she would recognize her assailant again, was it possible that he’d disguised himself and slipped in among these students?

She tried to shake those thoughts free and focus on her teacher.

Her phone, lying on her desk, lit up, signaling that she’d gotten a text. She glanced at it.

Miss you, Megan. Enjoyed our time in the woods.

She gasped and went rigid. The next text flashed up.

Karen was almost as good as you, though she wasn’t fond of me.

She felt her throat closing, her heart racing, her hands sweating. She grabbed her crutches, intent on getting out of there and finding someplace safe. How did he know her number? She’d changed it. Only her closest friends had it. How would he have gotten it?

She got to her feet, dropped a crutch. Bent to pick it up.

“Miss Quinn? Are you all right?”

She shoved the crutch under her arm, then stuffed her books into her backpack.

“Miss Quinn?”

The class turned to stare as another text bubbled up.

I’ll see you again soon, Megan. Sooner than you think.

She pulled her backpack over one shoulder and tried to crutch toward the door. But the pack kept sliding off, throwing her balance off.

“Someone help her,” Dr. Landrum said.

A couple of guys got up and came toward her, but she hobbled faster. “No, I’m fine. I just…need some air.”

They retreated and she got into the hall, stopped and adjusted her backpack. She tried to breathe as she groped for her phone. Trembling, she called Detective Pensky.

T
he police’s suspicions of Ian had niggled on Krista’s mind since she’d left the police station. Could it be possible that he’d had something to do with the shooting or the fire? Her phone rang, making her jump. Megan Quinn’s name flashed on her screen. She’d probably heard what happened.

Krista clicked on the phone. “Megan.”

“He texted me again,” Megan blurted. “I’m at the police station. This is a new phone number, Krista. How did he get it?”

Krista felt sick. “What did he say?”

As Megan told her, Krista closed her eyes. “Who did you give the number to?”

“Just my very closest friends.”

“How did you give it to them? Face-to-face, or did you text it to them?”

“I sent it through my GrapeVyne email—privately, to just five or six people. It was the last thing I did before I deactivated my account. They promised not to give it out to anybody, and I trust them.”

Krista closed her eyes and tried to think. Even Friends on GrapeVyne didn’t have access to each others’ private email accounts. How could the killer have gotten her phone number?

“I’m coming to the police station, Megan. How much longer are you going to be there?”

“I don’t know, it could be an hour or two. They have me looking at more pictures while they try to figure out where the text came from this time.”

“All right, I’m on my way.” Krista clicked off the phone and shivered as she thought of Ian again. Too many things were stacking up against him. He had access. Even though he’d been fired, he could have hacked into GrapeVyne and viewed Megan’s emails. He would have been able to see the cell number she was having her GrapeVyne emails forwarded to. He had known when Ryan was leaving to go to the television interview. He’d been there when the house was bombed.

Despite Ryan’s defense of Ian, she couldn’t escape the feeling that he could be the killer. There was one way to find out. She got her laptop, did a search for Ian Lombardi, and found a recent picture of him. She copied it and put it on her computer’s desktop, where she could find it again easily. Then she headed to the police station to show it to Megan.

Megan’s eyes were swollen from crying. Though her
bruises were healing and weren’t as dark, her face was still discolored and disfigured by stitches that hadn’t quite dissolved.

They let Krista into the interview room, where the two of them sat while the detectives worked on finding out where the text had originated. Again they said it was a disposable phone, difficult to trace to an owner.

When the detectives had left the room, Krista opened her laptop, pulled up the picture of Ian. “Megan, I have someone that I suspect could have done these crimes. Could this be the one who attacked you?”

She turned her laptop around, and Megan looked. There was no change in her eyes, no recognition on her face.

“Megan, is that him?”

Megan burst into tears. “No.”

Krista frowned. “Are you sure? Absolutely positive?”

“Yes, I’d remember that face anywhere. It wasn’t him.”

Krista breathed out a sigh of relief, glad that Ryan’s best friend wasn’t to blame for Megan’s attack. But this stalker clearly had access to GrapeVyne. He’d read Megan’s emails to her friends, gotten her phone number off of those private postings.

He could still be someone who worked in the company. Maybe they were getting closer.

When the police let Megan go, Krista gave her a ride back to her dorm. When they got there, Megan sat still for a moment. “I think I’m going to have to withdraw from school.” Her voice shook as she stared at the wall between the parking lot and the door to the building. “My parents were right. I just can’t do this.”

“I know, Megan. It’s hard. And I don’t want to counsel you to be brave and courageous. Lord knows, I’ve done that enough, without a clue what I was talking about.” Her
voice broke off. “Pretty lame thing for someone whose life is as easy as mine was, to tell someone who lives in mortal fear every day of their lives. This morning when I almost got killed, I didn’t feel strong or courageous. I just wanted to run away. So I don’t blame you if you go home. At least then you’d be miles away, and it wouldn’t be so easy for the killer to track you.”

Megan wiped the tears under her eyes. “I don’t even want to spend the night here tonight. I’m so scared.”

“You can stay with me.”

Megan shook her head. “No offense, Krista, but I don’t think you’re any safer than I am. Not after what happened today. I’ll be all right tonight. I’ll pack up, and I won’t leave the dorm. Then hopefully tomorrow I’ll be able to fly home.”

“Let me take you to the airport,” Krista said.

“Sure. My friends will all be in class, anyway. It would be really sad to have to say good-bye to them. In fact, I may not tell them I’m leaving. I might just leave a note.”

“That’s probably the best thing,” Krista said. “Then word won’t get back to the killer until you’re gone.”

“I deleted my GrapeVyne account. I’ll have to find another way to keep in touch with my friends.”

“There’s this new invention called the telephone.”

Megan didn’t manage a smile. She opened the door, got her crutches out of the backseat, and started toward the building. Krista got out and walked her to the door. When Megan was inside, Krista went back to her car and sat in it, staring through the windshield. Her father had asked her not to go back on television. She wouldn’t violate her promise to him. But she could save lives another way. She could meet the guy who was stalking her online. Stand face-to-face with him. Get a picture.

She opened her glove box, checked to make sure her gun was where she’d put it.

If this was taken care of tonight, then Megan wouldn’t have to go home. Her goals wouldn’t be put on hold. The impact the killer had had on her life would remain, but at least she could try to move forward.

Krista went and parked at a coffee shop that had wireless Internet, opened her laptop, and pulled up Maxi’s GrapeVyne account. Typing rapidly, she sent Steven an email.

Great news! I can get to the Highland Village Mall this afternoon at 4:00. How about we meet in front of the Jambo Juice at the food court?

She waited, breath held. In minutes, his reply came through, even though he was supposed to be in school.

Sounds great. Can’t wait to meet you and see if you’re as gorgeous as you sound.

Her heart raced as she typed back:

I’m assuming you look like your picture. So I’ll recognize you, right?

He wrote back,

Sure. I’ll have a red bandanna sticking out of my back pocket just in case. And I’m wearing a light blue Polo shirt today.

A red bandanna. That would be the sign.

Steven asked:

How will I know you? I can’t tell that much from your picture.

She wrote:

I’ll be wearing a pink top.

She closed her laptop, checked her watch. It was only an hour and a half away. This thing could be over tonight.

Or she could be in more trouble than she ever dreamed.

She thought of calling Megan back and asking her to go with her so she could identify the killer if he was anywhere on the premises. But seeing her would make him flee. Besides, it was too much to ask of the girl. No, she would do it herself.

Be strong and courageous.

In her heart, she felt she would know when she laid eyes on the man who’d murdered her sister.