Chapter Six
For a Friday, Lake and her assistant, Greta, stayed busy. While Greta took care of the service desk, Lake kept her head down, reviewing numbers for the next quarter’s budget. She had been interrupted a couple of times to answer questions. After all, she never closed her office door and always made herself available to patrons eager to find a certain book. During those times away from her desk, she had noticed something odd. Every time she walked past the computer area women occupied all three workstations, several whispering to one another, their eyes fearful, filled with worry.
It wasn’t until Jolene Sanders knocked on her office door that she learned why. “The entire town is on edge. When I went to gas up my car this morning, Lilly told me we have a serial killer targeting young women. Gabby Moreland was one of his victims. Everyone’s talking about it. Aren’t you afraid, Lake?”
Lake wasn’t sure how to calm Jolene’s fears. Yet. But now, with the news leaking out about a serial killer, she knew she had to think of something meaningful. She couldn’t just sit back and let fear grip the community. Taking a deep breath, she stared at Jolene, determined to get through.
“Now, listen to me,” Lake replied. “Being afraid is a natural reaction, but it isn’t the answer. We shouldn’t let fear consume us. I understand why everyone is scared, but we need to stay focused and united.”
“And how do we do that?” Jolene asked.
“First, we need to give Chief Cody time to catch this guy,” Lake stated. “In the meantime, we come together as a community and support each other, maybe organize a neighborhood watch, increase our security measures at home, and keep an eye out for anything that doesn’t look right. After all, most of the women who’ve disappeared, did so near that bridge, either coming from or going to Santa Cruz.”
Jolene nodded. “I suppose. But you do realize whoever this guy is he probably lives among us.”
Lake cleared her throat and stood up. “It’s a possibility. But we need to keep our heads. Why don’t we plan a neighborhood meeting where everyone has a chance to speak to law enforcement, ask their questions, and get their concerns out in the open?”
Standing at the doorway, Jordan Harris spoke up. “That’s a great idea. I’ll ask Seth Larrabee if we can hold the meeting at the church tomorrow night. We could make it a Saturday night potluck dinner so more people could show up. That is, if the weather cooperates.”
“Are you offering to organize it?” Lake asked. “The food, that is. Because I could send out emails right now to everyone who’s signed up to get updates through the library. Almost everyone in town has, over the last seven years, joined our mailing list.”
“You take care of getting the word out and I’ll make sure we have food, even if it’s just simple appetizers.”
“It’s such short notice, though,” Jolene mentioned. “I have to work tomorrow night. As hostess at The Pointe, it’s our busiest night of the week.”
“She’s right about the short notice,” Lake agreed. “What if we moved the meeting to Sunday afternoon after services? That way we’d give people at least two days heads-up to bring a dish.”
“That would work better for me,” Jolene reasoned. “And I can help get the word out while I’m working Saturday night.”
“Okay. Then we’ll plan for a Sunday afternoon luncheon after church service,” Jordan said. “Someone needs to get a member of law enforcement to show up. It should be Brent, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I agree,” Lake said with a nod. “The man in charge. But who’s going to approach him?”
“Nick will do it,” Jordan volunteered. “I already talked to him this morning after dropping the kids off at school. He knows I’m concerned about opening the BB to strangers with a serial killer out there.”
Lake’s eyes widened. “That is risky. Maybe you should think about canceling reservations until Brent catches this guy.”
Jordan chewed her lip. “I might do that. Although we’re heading into our busiest season. And I’ve never done anything so drastic before now but maybe the circumstances warrant it. What would you do?”
The idea of letting strangers wander around her house had Lake’s heart rate spiking. “I realize after running a BB for over a decade, you know your clientele better than anyone by now. But I wouldn’t want to let someone stay that I didn’t know. Maybe keep the reservations to repeat customers, those with a clear track record who’ve had a history of trouble-free visits.”
“That’s not a bad approach. I’ll bring that up to Nick.”
“By the way, all the books about serial killers are gone from the true crime section,” Jolene pointed out. “Were you aware of that? Did you do that on purpose?”
Chills shot up Lake’s arms. “No, no I didn’t realize it. Maybe that’s a trend from this morning after the news got out. I’ll go through the checkout history of every book on the subject just to see who’s interested in true crime.”
After the two women agreed to keep the planning simple via text messages, they left Lake’s office excited about the prospects for Sunday.
Lake spent the next twenty minutes composing the email about the meeting before sending it out to the library’s mailing list. She also reviewed the list of people who had checked out books about serial killers recently and was stunned by the results.
When her cell phone rang, she glanced up at the clock on the wall and realized it was almost lunchtime. She looked down at her phone to see Linus’s number come up on the display. She swiped left to answer. “Hey, do I have news for you?”
“That was my line,” Linus said. “I need to show you something before I turn it over to the cops.”
“Really? You’ve piqued my interest. But we have a problem. Word’s out. Every female in town is in panic mode thinking a serial killer could be responsible for murdering Gabby Moreland. I know I said one o’clock, but do you think we could push that up to twelve forty-five?”
“Now you’re talking. I’ll meet you out front then. I hope you brought a raincoat because it’s pouring out here.”
“I have my trusty umbrella. See you in fifteen minutes.” After ending the call, she picked up her tote bag and headed toward the service desk where Greta stood with Jill Campbell, stamping her books. Jill and her husband Ross owned Coastal Pharmacy. She already knew that Jill had a fondness for reading romance novels and could devour seven or eight in one week.
“Did you find everything you were looking for today?” Lake asked Jill.
Jill smiled. “Of course, I did. You and your staff are amazingly organized and helpful. Today of all days, I need something to take my mind off the news. It’s such a shame about Gabby. Her mother said from day one, that she wouldn’t just run off. Now, we know she likely met with foul play. We should do something for Betty Moreland.”
“We will,” Lake promised. “You should be getting an email from me about a town meeting we’ve planned for Sunday to discuss safety issues and what we can do to prevent this from happening to anyone else. Details are in the email.”
Jill nodded. “Ross and I will be there, Geniece, too. I’ll also pass along the information to everyone who comes into the drugstore.”
“We should have a good turnout then, which means we might have to hold the meeting at the annex building next door. I hope you’re planning to be there, Greta.”
Greta, who considered herself an activist of sorts, smiled. “Count on it. We all need to take extra precautions until this guy is in custody. I could wait around in the evening and walk you out.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be okay. It’s you I’m worried about. You’re the one making that trip back and forth to Santa Cruz. Just so you know, once you get around that bridge, don’t stop for anyone. I don’t care who it is. Okay? You make sure you get home safe.”
“Daylight trips,” Greta muttered. “I’m only going back and forth to school during daylight hours.”
“Don’t even make the trip to the university library, not at night. I probably have all the books you need at the house anyway. You could always study there if you want.”
Surprised by the offer, Greta nodded. “I might do that.”
“See you, Jill. Greta, I’m headed to lunch. If you need me, just text.”
“Will do.”
After Lake had strolled toward the front door out of earshot, Greta turned to Jill. “That’s the first time she’s ever invited me over to her place to study. Or for any reason.”
“These are unusual times,” Jill replied, gathering up her haul of romance novels. “It sounds to me like we should all take this serial killer business seriously. She’s worried about you. Probably because you fit the age group.”
Greta’s eyes grew wide. “What? Really? That’s not helping, Mrs. Campbell.”
“I’m sorry, Greta. But you need to be scared. We all do. From what I heard, this man’s been targeting women on or near that bridge for years. Lake is right about going over there at night. Stay home if you can.”
The storm had dropped the temperature a good fifteen degrees as the wind gusts shot out of the northwest. The gale force smacked Lake in the face as she stood under the canopy listening to the wind flap the canvas awning in all directions. Her teeth began to chatter as she watched for any sign of Linus’s white truck. But she smiled in spite of the wait. Her excitement at having a lunch date seemed to outweigh the chilly wind biting at her cheeks.
After a few minutes went by, he rolled up at the entrance to the building and leaned over to open the passenger door for her. “Sorry, I’m a little late. But work called. I’ll need to check in at three, so I went ahead and dropped Farley off at daycare. Sorry about dinner tonight. They want a full crew on hand in case the storm gets worse and we’re looking at more emergency calls than usual.”
“No problem. I understand. You didn’t have to drop Farley at daycare, I would’ve taken care of him. I could still go by after work and pick him up. And maybe you could take your supper break at some point, and we could still eat together. If you want to, that is.”
“Sure. I’d like that. I’ll give Ellie a call and tell her you’ll be by to get Farley after six.”
As she settled into the front seat, clutching her tote bag, he told her about how he’d spent his morning.
“You did what? In this weather?”
“I took Farley and went out to the bridge. Before you say anything about how crazy that was, I want to show you what I found before I hand it over to Brent. I thought we could go up to the lighthouse and eat our lunch overlooking the cliffs.”
“That’s fine. I hope you like egg salad and sweet tea—and pickles.”
“Pickles? Sure. You grew these?”
“Cucumbers are easy to grow as long as you keep the slugs away from them. I pickle almost every batch— which is different than canning—by storing them in the fridge in this briny mixture of kosher salt, white vinegar, along with a little sugar and water. But I throw in some coriander and mustard seeds for contrasting spice, toss in some peppercorn and a bay leaf.” She put a hand to her mouth. “Sorry. I rattle on sometimes. It’s another bad habit of mine.”
“I like hearing you talk.” He made a left turn onto Ocean Street and headed northward. He could tell the storm had already downed a few trees in the area, leaving a path of branches and debris strewn across the roadway. Linus navigated around the mess and drove up the hill, pulling into the parking lot about the time the National Weather Service broke into regular programming to announce that the storm had started to intensify along the coast. The broadcast came with a flood advisory. “Does your house have a history of losing power during storms?”
She began to unpack her tote bag with the sandwiches and Thermos, handing off two stainless steel cups and filling each one with tea. “Sometimes. Why?”
“We should go back to your house and throw together an emergency kit for you in case it happens tonight,” he said, turning the pickup around.
She laid a hand on his arm. “No need. I’m already prepared in the event I lose power—a first aid kit, flashlights, candles, extra water, and even a backup generator.”
“Does it run on natural gas or propane? Does it kick on automatically during an outage? Does it deliver enough wattage for your essential appliances, like the refrigerator or heater?”
She grinned at him. “Listen to you. Dad installed a solar-powered one in the basement that runs off two solar panels on the side of the house. It stores up energy for emergencies. But it doesn’t kick in automatically. It needs to be switched on manually. I’m telling you, I’m as earthquake-prepared as any home around here. That includes being prepared for severe weather. I’ve seen my share of nasty Pacific storms that pack a punch. Central California has been overdue for an atmospheric river for several years now. Even what’s known as a ‘Pineapple Express’ could trigger flooding along the coast in low-lying areas. Because of that, I’ve seen to it that the library has a fully stocked basement filled with all kinds of emergency supplies for the kids if they should get stranded at school.”
He grinned and took his first bite of egg salad. “This is good. I guess I should’ve known you’d be prepared for anything.”
Lake looked out the truck’s window. As far as the eye could see was nothing but black clouds approaching inland, drifting toward them. “Full disclosure. Not everything. Not this time. I didn’t realize until that weather alert just now that the forecast called for an intensifying storm and flash flooding. I spent last night thinking about missing women and serial killers, not weather-related problems.”
She twisted in her seat. “Now what is it you found at the bridge? Show me.”
He placed his sandwich on the console so he could dig in his pocket and pulled out the gold chain, still in the bank envelope but now visible through a plastic baggie. “I found this about seventy-five yards from where I discovered the skull. It was underneath the bridge almost to that thick wall of tangled vines. You know the one I mean?”
“No, not really. I’ve never ventured underneath the bridge, never wanted to go check out the wetlands or its tangled vines. But lots of people visit that preserve, birdwatchers go down there all the time. Kelly Ecklund tried to reforest that area with kelp. It didn’t work like it did here in town. She found that the ecosystem was too fragile due to pollution and a heavy accumulation of sediment. How far back did you say you went?”
“About seventy-five yards from the sandbanks. I had to stop because I didn’t have anything to use to chop my way through the rest of the undergrowth. And get this, Brent asked Birk and Beckett to bring their search dogs and sweep that area later this afternoon.”
“In this storm? I bet not. Brent will probably hold off on that until the storm goes by us. I can’t believe you decided to get a jump on all of them and go out there by yourself.” She stared at the medallion before reaching to take the baggie so she could inspect the necklace closer. “That’s a zodiac sign—Virgo—symbolized by the long-haired virgin or the maiden. The flower is a cute addition to the design but isn’t an integral part of the Virgo symbol. It’s solid gold, though, not an inexpensive trinket.”
“I think it might’ve belonged to Gabby Moreland.”
“Interesting. But I think I read somewhere that Gabby’s birthday was in June, the 18th, which would make her a Gemini, not a Virgo. Virgo runs from August 23rd to September 22nd.”
Linus puffed out a frustrated breath and ran a hand through his hair. “In that case, it might belong to one of the other missing women.”
“We need to check the names and birthdates of our missing women. I’ll see if I can run down that information tonight. I won’t do personal stuff at work, though, no matter what.” She shrugged. “It’s simply a rule I have. The laptops we have in the computer area are for public use. I don’t look over anyone’s shoulder while they’re researching something. But I use my desktop computer only for work-related business.”
“And you discovered something weird you said?”
“Oh, yeah. I did. Jolene told me that our true crime section is completely void of books on serial killers. So I looked up all the books listed in that category. Our records show all those books about serial killers have gone missing. Every. Single. One. The last book that was actually checked out by anyone was last summer—July 1st—when Sheena Howser checked out the Zodiac Killer.”
“The nurse Sheena Howser from the hospital?”
“One and the same. The book is still outstanding.”
“What do you mean outstanding? Do you mean overdue? So Sheena’s accruing fines at ten cents a day since last July?”
Lake frowned. “If we charged for overdue books, yes. First of all, ever since taking this job, we’ve been a fine-free library. Studies show that charging overdue fees goes against our mission to provide free and equal access to information. Poorer communities suffer. My own research shows that in Pelican Pointe, ninety-nine-point-nine percent of our borrowers return their books on time. And our library is connected to our schools. Punishing children from checking out books because they failed to pay a fine would be unfair and archaic.”
“But someone just ripped off your entire true crime section,” Linus pointed out. “How much will that cost in the long run?”
“I’ll need to run the numbers and replace those books eventually.”
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe the person responsible for our missing women is the one who stole the books?”
“It’s certainly not Sheena.”
“When I see her again, I’ll ask her about the book she checked out in July and find out why she hasn’t brought it back,” Linus said, polishing off his sandwich. “Let’s try that pickle.”
Lake fished out the plastic container, popped the lid, and offered the largest one to him. “One less book I’ll need to replace if she could bring it back.”
The rain came down harder, the windows fogging up as Linus chomped on the pickle, contemplating the missing books. It seemed too coincidental that they disappeared while all these women were vanishing without a trace.
“What are you thinking?” Lake asked, beginning to pack up the tote bag and close the Thermos.
“I hope this heavy rain doesn’t wash away evidence at the bridge. I shouldn’t have quit when I did. I should’ve gone on further into that underbrush.”
A gust of wind rattled the windows, causing Lake to shiver. “I should’ve brought my coat.”
“You’re cold,” Linus realized, turning the key in the ignition and dialing up the heat.
“We probably should head back anyway. I’m not sure what time you’ll get off tonight but—”
“I’ll stop by and check on you no matter what time it is. We’ll text.”
“Sure. That’d be nice. But if you stop by, maybe you should just plan to stay.”
He took her hand and brought her closer. “I can do that. I want you to promise me you’ll call or text if anything comes up you can’t handle.”
“Absolutely. I’ll put your number on speed dial, just in case.” She leaned toward him.
Linus met her halfway, their lips brushing against each other. A surge of heat spread through her body, chasing away the chill in the air. The embrace deepened as their tongues danced and their hearts raced.
The warmth of the heater melted away the chill, layer by layer. At that moment, everything else seemed to fade away—the darkening sky, the distant hum of traffic, the threat of Mother Nature’s wrath—leaving only the two of them.
As they pulled apart, Linus rested his forehead against Lake’s, his warm breath joining with hers. “I’m serious, Lake. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything tonight. You don’t even own a four-wheel drive vehicle.”
She sputtered with laughter before cupping his face. “Linus Canfield, you’re such a romantic. If my lights go out, I’ll call you first thing. Now shut up about four-wheel drive and kiss me like you mean it.”