Chapter Nine #2
Quaid came around the car and frowned at her. She braced for a lecture about getting out on her own, but he didn’t say anything. He caught the direction of her gaze. “Frank Walker, Sergeant SDPD.”
“So this is the man who lives next door to Hunt and Cait?”
“Yes.”
“And we didn’t trust him because…?”
“At that point, I wasn’t willing to trust anybody with our safety.”
Except his core group – Mackey, Hunt, Cait, Harrison, Elizabeth.
The thought soured her stomach. Was it a natural human reaction to need to be part of groups? Because she’d never considered it so. She had studied those concepts as part of her degrees, but never applied it to her behavior. Some psychologist she was.
Mackey joined them. “Walk and talk, Williams.” His eyes trailed to the earphones.
She raised a brow. “I got lectured.”
“My fault. I shouldn’t have pushed.”
She stepped to him. “Yes, you should have. It was smart and necessary. Don’t downsize your standards, Mac. This man is expert trained and ten steps ahead of us from years of murdering people. Let’s elevate the threat and not be stupid. As you said.”
“Agreed.”
She took a step back and settled. “Sorry. It’s the smells and the vibe here. God, it brings back unpleasant shit.” She started walking again.
“You aren’t alone this time, though.” Quaid stayed in step with her. “It’s not only Whit.”
She glanced around and noted the many QM teams arriving and the police cars that were already here. She wasn’t a girl anymore either. She didn’t expend all her energy to get her degrees and her job by being a timid Tilly. “Let’s find him.”
They approached Frank, and Alanna studied the man. Tall, graying with a wise and wrinkled face, this handsome man was a cop with years of experience. Trust oozed out of him. He didn’t smile. He put out a hand. “Agent Williams.” That he knew who she was said he’d done his homework.
“Sergeant Walker. I’d say pleasure to meet you, but none of this is pleasure.”
She took a few more steps and studied the area. She remembered this parking lot, but it wasn’t part of her usual circle of streets. “How was he sighted, Sergeant?”
“Frank, is fine. Patrol stopped to help a couple of young girls. They were hysterical. They’d been approached by a man who attacked them. They are both pretty banged up, but they escaped and ran.”
“Did they live on these streets?” She mentally pushed to keep her past behind the steel door in her head.
“No, by the beach. They were exploring.”
“Are they here alone?”
“No. They both had a parent at the campground near here. They were bored and wandered off.”
“Ages?”
“Thirteen, both of them.”
She nodded, assimilating the facts. “Where?”
Frank cleared his throat. “Are you familiar with this area?”
“Yes.”
“Alley. Market Street between 11th and 13th. There’s nothing there but vacant lots, fenced off property, older warehouses.”
Alanna froze. “Nothing but a bad fucking memory.”
Quaid leaned closer and put a hand on her elbow. “What?” That he was reading her disturbed. She pushed the unsettling feeling away. This was her partner.
“That is the alley where his first fight was with Whit.” She kept the rest of the info to herself.
Frank’s concern showed in his eyes. “You sure you want to go there?”
“Yes. Let’s move. We aren’t going to find him by searching alone. We have to figure out why he’s here. Is he still searching for Whit? Makes no sense. So what is he doing?”
“Hunting.” Mackey’s growl raised the hair on the back of her neck.
“Of course. They’re thirteen,” she whispered. “He may be focused on killing us, but the compulsion is still there and biting at him.”
Quaid signaled Remy and Frank. “Follow us.” He took Alanna’s arm and leaned closer to speak only to her. “Seems like you’ve drawn a few conclusions since we talked last.”
“Yeah. I’d forgotten. Mercer had a reputation on these streets. It wasn’t only Esme.”
Still, the question of why that alley stuck.
It was such an obvious place because of their history.
He had to know she would remember. But that was the point, wasn’t it?
Add another victim in the same place and the same way – it was a poke at her, a trap for her.
But which enemy was coming for her – the hands-on killer or the sniper?
&&&&&&&&&&
Quaid stayed close, uncertain what to do for her.
Alanna tried to keep her face a neutral mask, but blank and pale didn’t say neutral.
The area was more than vacant lots. The drab colors, garbage, rusted dumpsters, and graffitied aluminum siding from the wasting-away warehouse left a sour taste in his mouth.
She had lived here, walked these streets, and the whole idea left him gnashing his teeth.
While he was growing up, he’d lived in luxurious surroundings with staff that saw to his every need.
Lani sometimes, by her own admission, hadn’t had a decent pair of shoes.
A part of him wanted to lavish her with everything she hadn’t had, but she’d built herself past this image with a tough level of smart.
She wouldn’t appreciate those gifts because she would see them as pity.
And that would leave them sparring again.
To be avoided at all costs.
He came to her side. “Anything triggering?”
“Nope. Pretty much what I expected. See those little flowers painted on the siding over there?”
He searched where she pointed and found them. Simple yellow daisies erupting from the side of the building, faded, yet still visible. “Yeah, I see them.”
“Esme painted those.”
That there was a ghost of the dead girl still in the alley stung, yet her art stirred hope. But Alanna’s eyes chilled his soul. Her blue irises flashed with jagged intensity, like the memory bled out into the quiet night.