Luke finally asked, breaking the heavy silence. She didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge in any way that she’d heard him, so he repeated the question. “Megan? You didn’t hear anything last night?”
She shook her head slowly, turning to face him. “Not really. I had a nightmare, about Katie’s murder, and in my dream, Katie cried out in pain, fought her attacker—” Her voice broke, and she drew a deep, steadying breath. “Maybe it was Liza I heard and not Katie. I wish I knew for sure.”
“Do you have a time estimate?” He hated asking, hated the need to push her to relive the horror, but he suspected she had heard Liza, and it was her subconscious that put Katie in the role of the victim.
Her sister’s death obviously still haunted her.
He understood, considering he had a few problems of his own. Although he was much better now that he’d found his way back to God. He found himself wondering if Megan had the same spiritual support.
She rubbed a hand over her eyes. “Twelve-thirty, when I woke up and looked at the clock. But it seemed as if I heard Katie much earlier than that. Her struggle with the attacker lasted forever.”
He wasn’t so sure. Dreams had a way of seeming like hours, when in reality they were only a few minutes. Twelve-thirty was probably right on. If Sam was telling the truth, he’d left Liza about midnight. Liza must have been accosted as she headed for home.
But that didn’t explain how the killer had gotten Liza so quickly from the south shore, where the kids were partying, to the north shore, where the crime actually occurred. Or why. Why had he chosen this place, so close to Megan’s house, to kill Liza? Why hadn’t he picked something more remote? There was plenty of deserted lakeshore around.
Unless the killer hadn’t seen the house in the dark? Was he a stranger to the area? Would be a bit of a coincidence if the killer tossed the body in the water where it just happened to drift from the north shore to the south shore, right where the kids had partied around the bonfire.
Luke frowned. In his line of work, he didn’t believe in coincidences.
Had the killer watched them during the bonfire? Struck out at Liza at just the right time? He could imagine how that might have played out.
The guy hadn’t picked Liza by accident. No, he believed she’d been chosen on purpose. Either because this was personal, against her in particular, or because her long blond hair fit his profile. Especially if he was indeed a copycat killer.
He stood by Megan, silently supporting her, as his deputies finished with the crime scene.
The hour was close to dinnertime and he wanted to talk to Sam, yet hesitated to leave Megan alone. “Are you going to be all right here?”
“Sure.” The response came automatically.
“Megan.” He couldn’t leave her, not like this. He lightly touched her arm, feeling strangely concerned about her. “Is there somewhere else you can go? I don’t like you being here alone in this remote cabin fifty feet from where a murderer killed a young girl.”
She shivered beneath his touch, and he knew she was struggling to remain calm. “I’ll be fine. I don’t know anyone in the area to stay with.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to offer his place, but he knew that would be inappropriate. Besides, he still needed to talk to Sam, and he wouldn’t welcome an audience during his lousy attempt at being a father. Bad enough she’d heard him lose his temper this morning.
“How about the motel?” he suggested instead. “It’s located in the middle of town. Plenty of people will be nearby if anything happens. I can have the deputies cruise by on a regular basis.” The more he thought about the idea, the more he liked it. “Please? I’d feel better if you were someplace safe.”
“All right,” she finally agreed. And the flash of relief in her gaze proved she was as loath to stay in this remote cabin as he was to leave her there. “I’ll go to the motel, at least for tonight.”
“Good.” He couldn’t hide his satisfaction. “Thank you.”
“I—uh—need to pack an overnight bag.” She headed toward her front door. On the steps she paused, and then turned back to him. “Sheriff?”
“Luke,” he interjected quickly. “Call me Luke.”
She gave an almost imperceptible nod, her gaze serious. “Luke. The way Liza was killed right next to my cabin—do you think it’s possible the killer has specifically targeted me?”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
