him as if he expected the killer to be sitting there, waiting. “Was there anyone standing nearby when you got out of the car?” he asked when she finally caught up to him.
“There were clusters of onlookers everywhere, but I didn’t notice anyone in particular.”
“Did anyone speak to you?”
“Not then.”
“You’re sure?”
She tried to think back. Her mind had been on so many things when she arrived last night. Her photographer. The lights of the police cars and the TV cameras. Her inexperience in such a situation. Still, her memory was usually good for details. “I don’t remember speaking to anyone until I reached the gate. I showed my ID to the cop who was standing guard, and he took one look at my dress and said I should go back to the party unless I had a strong stomach.”
“So you marched right in?”
“It’s my job.” It still was, so she looked around, trying to take in as many details as she could. The park took up a full city block. There were baseball fields to the back, a jogging track, trees and walkways and a play area with picnic tables off to the right, near a wooded area. That was where the body had been.
Across the street from the park were small houses, mostly brick fronts with touches of stucco. A few had porches. A middle-aged man sat in a porch swing in the house directly across from them, watching them as he swayed back and forth. It was a natural thing for him to do, but still, his gaze made her uneasy.
“Do you think the killer was watching me even before I entered the park?”
“Possibly.”
“From one of the houses?”
“He could have been watching from any number of spots. A house. Sitting in a parked car. Crouched behind someone’s bushes. From the edge of the wooded area. But more likely he was just mingling in the crowd of bystanders.”
And if the guy had been there last night, he could be out there somewhere now. She could all but see his eyes. They’d be dark, piercing, threatening. “Do we have to go inside the park?” she asked, anxious to get back in the car and drive away.
“It would help. Just retrace your steps, and I’ll follow you.”
They walked back to the gate as another bolt of lightning hit, this one way too close for comfort. Once inside the gate, she headed straight for the area where she’d first seen the body. “I started to follow the lights from the TV crew,” she said. “That’s when you spotted me and told some cop to order the broad on stilts out of here.”
“Apparently it didn’t do a lot of good.”
“The cop told me to leave, but when he got sidetracked, I went back to my job. The public has a right to know.”
“So you ignored police orders. Then what?”
“I looked at the body, and…” Damn, she hated to admit her weakness in front of this detective.
“You threw up in the bushes.”
“How did you know that?”
“You were quite a hit last night. Wasn’t a cop on duty who didn’t notice the reporter in the red dress.”
Cops. Killers. She’d impressed them all, except for Detective Sam Turner. He kicked a small pebble. It flew through the air, coming to a stop just inside the yellow police tape that circled the area where the body had been found.
Bloodstains were still visible, though they’d probably fade after the rain. But the images in Caroline’s mind were still as clear as if Sally had still been lying in the grass. She shuddered and stepped away.
Sam took her arm. “Steady now. We’ll be through here in a minute.”
“Do you ever get desensitized to murder?” she asked.
“No. If I did, I’d get out of the business.”
The admission made him seem more human somehow. It meant he wasn’t all roar and rumble. Might even have a heart beneath that brawny chest. “Have you ever been on a case where the killer contacted someone he’d seen at the crime scene?”
“No, but it’s not unheard of. I remember reading about one case on the West Coast a couple of years ago. Serial killer called a female news anchor before every crime.”
“What happened?”
He shook his head. “I don’t remember.”
She didn’t buy that for a second. “He killed the woman he’d called, didn’t he?”
For the first time since they’d been in the park, he turned his attention totally to her. “Nothing will happen to you, Caroline. Not unless you let this man draw you into his sick games.”
The first drop of rain fell, quickly followed by others. They splattered on her nose and ran down her cheeks. Sam grabbed her hand and started running toward the car. But the storm’s fury didn’t wait. The rain blowing into her face stung like needles, making her contact lenses blur until she could barely see. By the time they reached the car, her clothes were soaked and water from her hair was dripping down the back of her neck.
Sam started the ignition and turned on the heater, but he sat for a minute before putting the car in gear. She had the feeling there was something else he wanted to say, but if there was, he changed his mind. He kept his gaze straight ahead as he pulled away from the curb.
Don’t get drawn into this.
Good advice, only the killer had drawn her in the second he’d singled her out and delivered his note. With that one act he’d robbed her of any chance of the objectiveness reporters were supposed to maintain. Nonetheless, she’d keep things under control, report the news and do a good job of keeping the citizens of Prentice informed.
And pray he didn’t contact her again.
“I TALKED TO every neighbor on the block,” Matt said, scooting his notes in front of Sam. “Everyone claims not to have seen anything until the television news van arrived.”
Sam picked up the notes the young detective had made, reared back in his chair and propped his feet on the desk. “Did you check to see if anyone in the immediate area has a record?”
“All the adults are clean as a whistle. One of the teenagers on the block has a battery charge against him.”
“Details?”
“Gregg Sanders. Age seventeen—sixteen when the charges were filed. Attacked his stepfather with a baseball bat when he caught him fondling his little sister. Stepfather denied it. Kid got off with a warning, so I’m guessing the judge believed him, instead of the old man.”
“Where’s the stepfather now?”
“Out of the picture. Mother divorced him and has no idea where he’s living, but is fairly sure he’s not in Prentice.”
“Any known sex offenders in the neighborhood?”
