Spider's Web (17 page)

Kendele’s friend Debbie pointed out one of the other sketches, saying she was sure that guy had been in the restaurant several times.

It was good enough. They had sightings of the suspected killer, and a plethora of sketches that might match him.

Chapter Fifteen

Candace Wood had been a police dispatcher for over six years. She loved her job, and was pretty good at it, too. She liked the action and the satisfaction of helping people. She adored most of the people who worked with her, the other dispatchers and the cops.

Two weeks ago, the public had learned there was a serial killer in Glenmore Park, whom the press had dubbed The Deadly Messenger. Now Candace was seriously considering a change of work. She had never thought human beings could be so hysterical.

Maybe she could become a kindergarten teacher, like her cousin. Sure, Candace had always felt she would rather shove chili peppers up her own nose on a daily basis than become a kindergarten teacher, but could it really be that bad? Thirty screaming five-year-olds—running everywhere, pulling each other’s hair, and crying—sounded just fine right about now.

The public had learned that the killer was sending messages with images of the murder weapon to his victims. And now, the public had a new hobby: driving Candace insane.

The phones never stopped ringing. People got messages all the times. And e-mails as well. Because sure, up until now, the killer had communicated by messages, but who said he couldn’t communicate by e-mail?

This day was already one of the worst. She’d had to calm down a man who said he received an image of a very sharp-looking knife. That did sound worrisome, until it turned out he had received the message from his wife, who was thinking of buying the knife for his father’s birthday. “Is it likely that your wife is the serial killer?” Candace had asked him.

“You never know,” he’d replied.

Then over the next couple of hours she’d talked with dozens of people who’d received images from spammers, associates, and friends. With each call she had to go through the same interview process. It always turned out to be nothing. Her head began to pound.

But the best call had been yet to come. Because the best call came from a completely hysterical woman who said the killer had sent her a picture of his penis.

Candace was sure she had heard wrong. She asked the woman to say that again.

She had heard right.

The woman explained that it was definitely from the killer, because she didn’t recognize the number.

Did the woman perhaps give her phone number to someone she didn’t know lately, Candace wanted to know. Perhaps someone she was dating?

Yes, she had. The night before. After she had sex with him.

How, Candace questioned patiently, did the woman think the killer was planning on killing her with his penis?

Well, that was the police’s job to find out, wasn’t it?

Candace had discussed this afterwards with the other dispatcher, Kelsey. Kelsey speculated that maybe the dong in question was long enough to wrap around someone’s neck. Candace suggested that maybe it was irregularly heavy, or incredibly sharp. A really sharp dong could do severe damage.

They nicknamed him the “serial dong killer.” They drew sketches on the whiteboard. Then Chief Dougherty came in.

They erased the sketches.

It was just a few minutes past midnight when the phone rang again. It was the end of her shift. The dispatcher who would replace her was just sitting down, and Candace nearly let her answer the call. But, on a whim, she decided to take it. Who knew, maybe the serial dong killer had struck again.

“Nine one one, how may I help you?”

“H… Hello?” the frightened voice of a young woman said. “I… I just received a message on my phone. And they said on the news that the killer is sending messages and… and…”

“Yes ma’am,” Candace said, trying to remain patient. “What is your name?”

“Ivy. Ivy O’Brien.”

“Okay, Ms. O’Brien, what does the message say?”

“It doesn’t say anything. There’s just an image of a rope on a table.”

“I see. And is the message from someone in your contact list?”

“No. I don’t know this number.”

“What’s the number?” Candace asked. The woman dictated the number. Candace looked it up. It was unlisted.

“Ms. O’Brien, when did you get the message?”

“Uh… Fifteen minutes ago, but I didn’t notice it at first. I was watching TV.”

Candace realized she was tensing up. This was not like the other calls. Still, she kept her voice calm and professional. “Okay, Ms. O’Brien, I’ll send a patrol vehicle to your home just to be safe. Are the doors to your house locked?”

“Yes.” The woman whimpered. “Do you think it’s him?”

“I doubt it, but it’s always best to make sure,” Candace said. “Is there a room with a lock in your house?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Candace checked the phone number the woman was calling from. It was a mobile phone. “Go to the bedroom and lock the door. I want you to take the phone with you and keep talking to me, okay, Ivy? My name is Candace.”

“Okay, Candace.”

“What’s your address Ivy?”

“It’s 27 Sharon Drive”

Candace muted the call and switched to the radio. “Attention, all units, I have a possible ten-five hundred at 27 Sharon Drive.” Ten-five hundred was the agreed-upon code for a message from the serial killer. They didn’t want to alert the killer in case he listened to police frequencies.

Tanessa Lonnie’s voice replied. “Four fifty one, responding.”

“Four fifty one, what’s your ETA?”

“Dispatch, ten minutes.”

Candace bit her lip. If this was the real deal, they were cutting it close. “Four fifty one, we are seventeen minutes after initial contact.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Tanessa answered. “Dispatch, I copy. We’ll get there as fast as possible.” She sounded worried.

Candace hoped they could make it much faster than ten minutes.

She switched back to the phone call. “Ivy, are you in the room?”

“Yes.”

“Good. The patrol car is on its way. Don’t leave the room until I tell you to, okay?”

“Yes.” The girl was crying, her voice terrified.

“Ivy, everything will be okay. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Okay.”

She did not sound reassured.

He was already in the house. He’d wanted to be sure he could get inside before he sent the message. Sure enough, the girl had left the window in the kitchen unlocked, as always. He’d slid inside, making no sound at all, leaped down from the kitchen counter to the floor, and hid. Only after he was in position had he sent the message.

He glanced at the time; twenty minutes had gone by. He quivered with anticipation. Did his victim feel it too? He twisted the nylon rope in his hand. The woman in the store had assured him it could hold very heavy weights, and was easy to knot. He examined the noose for the hundredth time. It seemed tight. He smiled. Anticip…

…ation.

The fun was about to start.

Ivy O’Brien sat on the bed, shivering. Should she check the door again? No. She’d checked it twice. Would it even stop him? It was just a wooden door. She looked around for a weapon. Any weapon. There was nothing. Why had she thrown away that vase her mother had bought her? At the time, its flower pattern had turned her off, but it was long and narrow, and would have made a good weapon. She could have used it to keep him at bay.

What was that? Had she heard a creak? It was an old house; sometimes the floor creaked. She was used to ignoring those sounds. But now the small sounds became ominous. Was he slowly walking closer to the bedroom door? She curled into a ball, shuddering, and held the phone to her ear.

“Candace?”

“Yes, Ivy?” Candace’s reassuring, firm voice answered her. Candace would not have been so helpless. Candace probably had a gun in her bedroom. Ivy did not believe in possessing guns. She had always been adamant in her belief that gun laws should be much stricter. How stupid her beliefs felt now.

“Are the police here yet?”

“Any minute now. Don’t worry.”

“I’m scared.”

“Everything will be all right, Ivy. No need to be scared. He won’t be able to get into your locked bedroom.”

“Okay, I…” The words died in her throat.

The bathroom door.

It was closed. Had she closed it at some point? She almost never closed it.

The realization sunk in. He was here. He was in the bathroom. There was no lock on her side of the door.

“Ivy?”

Candace’s voice sounded far away. Ivy’s heart fluttered, her mind clouded. He was here with her.

“He’s here!” she said, choking. “I need to go!”

“Ivy? Ivy, wait!”

The phone tumbled to the floor as Ivy leaped from her bed toward the locked bedroom door. Her hands clutched at the key, shaking. Another creak, much louder than before. She knew what it was: the bathroom door opening.

He was coming. Oh God… Oh God…. ohgodohgodohgod…

The key clicked. She flung the door open and stumbled outside, whimpering.

Tanessa glanced at Sergio. He moved slowly toward the front door, his gun in his hand. Tanessa drew her own gun, the cold metal reassuring in her palm. She walked toward the back door, as they’d agreed beforehand. Her senses were alert for any noise. Had the killer already entered the house? Candace had reassured them that Ivy was still alive, locked in her bedroom, when they’d parked the car.

She heard a thump from inside the house. A small scream. Both she and Sergio bolted forward, each to his assigned position. She reached the back door in six steps. Shook the handle; it was locked. She took a step back, preparing to kick the lock open, hoping to hell she’d manage to do it before it was too late. She took a deep breath…

The door burst open. A dark figure ran at her. She raised her gun, and nearly pulling the trigger, when the light hit the figure’s face. It was a young woman, a terrified look on her face. She almost ran into Tanessa, and screamed in horror. Realization dawned in her eyes.

“He’s inside!” she screamed. “He’s still inside!”

Tanessa heard something crash. Sergio, kicking in the front door? She hesitated for a moment. Should she stay with the girl and protect her? Or should she back up her partner?

She pointed at the patrol car. “Inside!” she barked at the terrified girl “Lock the doors!”

The girl nodded and ran to the car. Tanessa held her place, listening carefully for any sound, until she saw the girl get into the car. Then she moved into the house, pulling out her flashlight.

The house was dark. Had the killer killed the electricity? No. She could see a light from a room down the corridor. She saw another flashlight beam—Sergio. She aimed the light at his feet to avoid blinding him, and saw him nod at her then point to the corridor. She nodded back.

With Sergio in front, they crept toward the light coming through the half-open door. When they reached it, Sergio kicked the door open and pointed his gun inside.

“Clear,” he whispered.

She walked in after him. It was the girl’s bedroom. The bathroom door was shut. They both approached it. Tanessa put her back against the wall beside the door. Sergio gently twisted the doorknob, then kicked the door open and pointed the gun and flashlight inside.

“Clear,” he said, louder this time.

They searched the rest of the house. It was empty. The killer wasn’t there.

He approached the girl, his heart beating wildly. She was fast asleep, her rich brown hair spread out on the pillow like a halo. She was facing away from him, but when he towered over her he could see her profile, her small nose, her angelic closed eyes. She really was beautiful. So innocent. So clueless.

He quivered with excitement. So close!

He hefted the rope, carefully bringing it closer.

When he abruptly tightened it, her eyes flew open. But no sound emerged from her mouth.

Chapter Sixteen

Tanessa and Sergio leaned against the patrol car, watching as a medic inspected Ivy. She’d been hyperventilating so badly that Sergio had called an ambulance.

“What do you think,” Sergio asked Tanessa. “Was the message from the killer? Did we stop it?”

Tanessa shrugged. “I have no idea,” she said. “It doesn’t look like the rest of the messages. It has no text at all. Also, well…”

“What?” Sergio asked.

“She doesn’t exactly match the type. Of the victims.” Tanessa squirmed uncomfortably. She knew, as a woman who was widely considered outrageously beautiful, that it was not her place to call another girl homely. After all, beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and what mattered was what was on the inside and so on and so forth. Fine, yeah.

But beauty had some standards, even if those standards were crappy and unfair. Ivy was not beautiful. She was far from it. She had a long, sharp nose, and thick, neglected eyebrows. Her teeth were uneven and slightly yellow. She was clearly overweight. Tanessa wasn’t judging, and God knew she was lucky to have her mother’s genes, but, well…

Up until now, the killer had only killed beautiful women. Not beautiful on the inside. Beautiful on the shallow, discriminating outside. Then again, maybe the killer had a different taste. Or maybe he thought women should be treated equally, no matter how they looked.

“Yeah, but it’s a weird message,” Sergio said.

Tanessa nodded. Had she saved a life tonight? She wanted to believe that. But it was strange that such a careful killer would simply decide not to show up because he saw a patrol car. It was strange that he would choose to break a very clear pattern. Was he simply messing with them? She wondered if she should call Mitchell. Maybe he’d want to question Ivy.