Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Adrian and Tim got to Erin’s cabin as soon as they could.
They found Dale and Lonzine, standing next to their car, awaiting Adrian’s arrival.
Almost every day he thanked God for the both of them.
Dale was as steady as they came, always trying to do his best for the department and for his boss.
Lonzine Lee was the officer every department should have.
Tough, committed, yet compassionate when consoling victims. Adrian suspected that if he ever left Sanctuary’s police force, Lonzine would be the next chief.
She deserved it. The truth was, she could easily work in a larger town where her gifts could be used more often.
But her grandmother lived here, and Lonzine took care of her.
She would never leave the woman who raised her when her own mother died at a young age.
He and Tim got out of the Jeep and walked up to the officers. “So, the door was open when you got here?” he asked them.
Dale nodded. “We assume someone’s been inside. We don’t know if they’re still there. After we called you, we waited out here. We knew you didn’t want us to contaminate the scene.”
“You’re attacked, and now this?” Lonzine said to Adrian. She frowned. “Someone’s after something, boss. I think we need to try to figure out what it is and if he finally got it.”
“I agree,” Adrian said. He walked up to the entrance of the cabin, and his officers followed him.
“Tim, I need you to look for evidence that will lead us to a suspect. Fortunately for us, not that many people have been inside. You’ll probably find prints from Erin, her friend Kaely, me .
. . and maybe even from Steve Tremont since he owned the cabin before Erin.
Anything else we find could belong to whoever broke in here.
” He frowned. “I’d love to know how our intruder knew the code for Erin’s alarm system.
” He pointed at Tim’s bag. “Booties and gloves for all of us.”
Tim set the bag down, opened it, and took out the items Adrian had asked for.
They all put booties over their shoes and pulled on latex gloves.
Adrian wanted to do everything they could to make certain Erin would be safe when she came home.
He’d been following the Novel Killer’s crimes on the news, although reports were sketchy.
The investigation was new, and he was certain the police were guarding their information as much as possible.
He knew Erin was being protected by Kaely and her husband, and that the state police and the FBI were probably keeping an eye on her as well.
She should be safe, but something in his gut kept nudging him.
Why? Could the person behind the killings be connected to what was happening here?
So many questions filled his mind. Now, he needed answers.
And he had to keep Erin up-to-date about what was happening in Sanctuary, just in case it had something to do with the murders.
He’d call her right after they searched her cabin.
“Boss, how many places do you want me to dust?” Tim said.
Adrian sighed. “I’m not sure. Use your own discretion. I’d certainly dust the front door, back entrance, and the alarm keypad. You’ll need to retrieve Erin’s fingerprints from the system so we can exclude them. And Kaely’s would be helpful too.”
“I agree,” Tim said.
“We need to search upstairs,” Dale said. “I’ll look around. See if anything looks out of place.”
Adrian nodded. “Sounds good. We’ll focus our search down here.”
As Dale headed up the stairs, Lonzine said, “Look, I know you don’t want to put more pressure on Erin, but you’ve got to tell her everything that’s happened, boss.
Everything. Maybe she can tell us what someone might be looking for.
We’ve got to find this perp and arrest him before someone gets seriously hurt. ”
Adrian was just about to respond when three shots rang out.
“You’d think I could approach this with a little more composure. I mean, I researched crimes, criminals, and death for years.” Pat held out her hand. It shook.
“I understand,” Erin said softly. “I was a cop in St. Louis for three years. The violence, the hatred, the gangs. I thought I was immune to it. I mean, you have to develop a thick skin when confronting the things I saw. Add to that, hatred for the police. The name-calling was bad enough, but I’ve had at least a dozen people spit in my face.
Still, there were the people we helped. There are good, innocent people who live in fear because of the criminals that take up residence in certain neighborhoods.
Most of them can’t afford to move. There were elderly people who had no one to watch over them, protect them.
I felt it was my job to help them. To be there when they needed me. ”
“And were you able to do that?” Pat asked.
“Sometimes,” Erin said. “But not as well as I would have liked to.”
“So, you left the force and decided to become a writer?”
Erin took a sip of the coffee she’d poured for them.
Thankfully, someone had just made a fresh pot.
She put her cup down and took a deep breath.
“No, I left because one night, while we were trying to shut down two gangs fighting in the streets, my partner died, and a bullet from my gun went through the wall of an apartment building and killed a little girl.”
Erin’s chest felt tight, and she gulped for air. The sign of an anxiety attack. Not now. Please, not now.
“Look at me, Erin,” Pat said. She put her hands on either side of Erin’s face.
Erin met her gaze. “Now, breathe with me. Slowly.” Erin forced herself to breathe along with Pat.
“Slower,” she said. “No one except me knows what’s going on.
It’s just us. Breathe, breathe, breathe,” she said as she took in air and slowly let it out.
Erin felt her body relax. The fear of not being able to catch her breath was the worst part of a panic attack.
The second was making a scene in front of other people.
“I’m okay,” Erin said softly as the symptoms faded. “I’m okay,” she repeated. “Thank you.”
Pat took her hands off Erin’s face and smiled. “I’ve had my share of panic attacks. Are you stressed about the method of murder the killer used from your book? Or is it something more?”
Erin looked around the room, wondering if anyone had noticed her little meltdown. Either they were all busy with something else, or they were trying to act as if they hadn’t seen anything. She was relieved.
“After I left the department, I shut myself up in my apartment,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “I only felt safe there. Nowhere else felt secure. I know it doesn’t make sense . . .”
“Yes, it does,” Pat said. “It’s called agoraphobia, and I wrestle with it too.
This place? I mean, it’s huge inside. But if I’m not careful, I could begin to feel trapped.
Like I can’t get out. Of course, I can—the fear isn’t real.
But that isn’t how it feels. It’s like the world is outside of these walls, and I can’t get to it.
” This time when she smiled, it was real, not forced.
She seemed more comfortable. Maybe misery really does love company.
The two women now had a bond. Not one they really wanted, but one that they both understood.
“Yes, it’s a feeling of being out of control,” Erin said.
“Like you said, trapped, or unsafe. I’m actually better than I used to be.
Kaely has been a great help. I rarely have attacks now.
” She shook her head. “I . . . I’m sorry for putting you through this.
Kaely is the only other person I ever shared that with.
My reason for leaving the department, I mean. ”
Pat looked down at the table for a moment. Then she lifted her head and met Erin’s gaze. There were tears in her eyes.
“You mentioned that I haven’t written a book in a while.
I . . . I had a stalker. A man who became obsessed with me.
With my books. First, there were the emails.
When it started, they were just comments praising my books.
Then he wanted to meet me. They became a little inappropriate.
I stopped responding to him. Blocked him where I could.
” She wiped away a tear that ran down her cheek.
“He found my address. Do you know you can find almost anyone’s address online? ”
“Yes, unfortunately, we don’t have much privacy anymore.”
“He started sending letters,” she said, her voice cracking.
“Angry letters. I called the police. They said they couldn’t do much because he hadn’t done anything wrong.
” She grunted. “I guess someone has to hurt us before they can be stopped. Found out he lived about twenty miles away from me, so I got a restraining order. And then, one night, I woke up to find someone in my house.”
“You didn’t have an alarm?”
Pat nodded. “He’d actually gotten a job at the alarm company. He was able to get inside, reset the alarm, and come upstairs to my bedroom.”
Erin wanted to say something. Wanted to tell Pat how sorry she was, but at that moment, she felt she should stay quiet.
“I heard him on the stairs. I lived alone so there shouldn’t have been anyone in the house.
I . . . I knew it was him. I’d bought a gun for protection.
” The expression on her face broke Erin’s heart.
“When he came into the room . . . I shot him.” She smiled sadly.
“Some people ask the police why they don’t shoot an armed person in the shoulder or the leg?
At that moment, it doesn’t occur to you.
You’re just trying to neutralize the threat against you.
I fired several times. He died. Turned out he was a disturbed man who’d needed help but never got it. ”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know that,” she said. “But killing someone? It changes you. No matter what anyone says, I took a life. That’s why I quit writing.
And now someone is using my last book as a map to murder?
” She shook her head. “I wish I’d never written a book in my life.
And I don’t plan to ever write another one. ”
Hearing Pat voice Erin’s own thoughts shook her. At that moment, she wondered once again if she should ever write another book.