ed reluctantly to the hall, but it seemed she’d grown a second sense for danger since moving to Black Rock Falls. She thought she’d gotten used to living in a crazy world, but obviously she hadn’t. It seemed that day-to-day life changed so swiftly she never really knew for sure what would happen next. Would life ever return to normal? Could she reach her goal of becoming a pediatrician? It seemed such a long way off and with so many obstacles in the way. As she’d grown older, the harder life became and being an adult wasn’t what she’d thought it would be at all. If it wasn’t for her dad, going the extra mile and keeping her interested in her studies, she might have fallen by the wayside. Pushing her worries aside, she glanced around the hall. It was nice being with her friends at the conference, but the hairs on the back of her neck rose again, followed by the need to turn around. When she did, she saw people, smiling faces most times—so what was spooking her?
She tried to immerse herself in the lecture but the awful feeling someone was watching her just wouldn’t go away. Apologizing to her friends, she stood and made her way to the door. Waiting inside the entrance, she scrolled through the selfies she’d taken with her friends and various authors. Her stomach dropped as she scanned six or seven images and then noticed the same person photobombing each shot. She went back to the previous day and there in the background was the figure again. It was as if the person had pulled up their hoodie and turned their back when she’d taken the image. It seemed too much of a coincidence the person was in every shot. She lifted her gaze from the screen and scanned the room. There must have been twenty or so people wearing sweaters with hoods. It was warm in the conference rooms but not warm enough to go without a sweater. She shivered. Was the person who’d broken into her room stalking her? Did he want her to know he was close by, close enough to touch her?
Fingers trembling, she slid the phone into her pocket and pushed her iPad into her backpack. She’d been buying a new book almost every day, having it autographed and collecting all the handouts from the authors and booksellers. Her backpack was filled to the brim. Her heart lifted at the sight of Emily and Zac at the door. She hurried to them and after bending to greet Duke, thrust her phone at Emily. “Look, the same person in each shot. Do you think that’s a stalker?”
“Maybe, or someone having a joke.” Emily frowned. “This is why you can’t risk being alone. Dave doesn’t think that person in your room is the killer or you’d be dead. There’s no motive to kill you. All the murders are aimed toward people in the publishing business and you’re a student.”
“I hope the creepy guy or whoever in your room was just a peeping Tom.” Rio walked beside her. “If he is this person in your pictures, yeah, you should be worried, but I very much doubt either of them would risk attacking you when you’re surrounded by people. You also have your stun gun, but if you see anyone following you, run into a crowd. If you get left behind in the bathroom, wait and call Emily rather than risk walking through the passages alone during the sessions.”
“You’re coming upstairs with us as soon as we’ve walked Duke.” Emily’s mouth had turned down. “I figure you need to show these images to Jenna. She’ll know what to do.”
Forty-Four
After updating her files, Jenna called the office. As she was expecting Maggie to pick up, Rowley’s voice surprised her. “Hi, Jake. It’s Jenna. Is anything wrong? I thought you’d be taking a few personal days to get the twins settled.”
“No need. Sandy’s parents have moved into the ranch to help out. I came in to relieve Walters.” Rowley sighed. “Everything is under control here, just the usual fender benders in the snow. Most folks are staying home, apart from dashing into town for supplies when the snowplows go through.”
Jenna stood and paced the room, stopping to peer out the window at the relentless snowfall. “How is Sandy? Are the twins doing, okay?”
“She’s exhausted.” Rowley cleared his throat. “She insists on feeding them herself and it’s a ton of work. They’re hungry all the time, and Doc Brown suggested we supplement them with a bottle, but they won’t take it and get so upset.” He sighed. “This is why I’m at work. I can manage the diaper thing just fine, but I can’t help feeding them. Her mom has this knack of getting them back to sleep, and once the chores are done, I’m just getting in the way.”
Having no experience with babies, Jenna sucked in a breath. “I’m sure Sandy appreciates you being there, Jake. I know it’s stressful, but they’ll settle soon.” She thought for a beat. Maggie the receptionist was very capable and lived within walking distance to the office. “As it’s quiet in town, why don’t you leave the office to Maggie? She has Walters, Webber, and even Wolfe close by to call in an emergency.”
“I guess.” Rowley sounded reluctant. “The snowplow has been keeping the road out my way clear. So, I could get here if needs be.”
Jenna nodded to herself. “That’s good. Did they clear the road to the hospital?”
“Yeah, the main problem was a snowplow was blocking the road. It had gotten stuck in a drift. It was so high the snowplow was completely hidden. It took some time but they cleared the road. The snowplows are running twenty-four hours a day. Plus, we have locals using their own to help clear some of the side roads.” Rowley cleared his throat. “It’s a friendly town, apart from the serial killers. Do you have any suspects yet?”
“Four, but whoever is doing this changes their MO for each kill.” Jenna went back to her desk and sat down. “They are trapped here right under our noses and it’s like trying to catch smoke.” She turned as Kane’s phone buzzed and he moved away to take the call. “I have another interview to do. You get on home and I’ll call again when we get things sorted here.”
“You’ll catch the killer.” Rowley chuckled. “You can catch smoke but you just need to think about it some more.”
Jenna smiled. “Okay, I will. Chat soon.” She disconnected and looked at Kane.
“Thanks, Bobby.” Kane closed his phone and turned to Jenna. “It may be nothing but August Bradford and Bexley Grayson were adopted. The records for their real parents are sealed and even Kalo can’t hack the files. This would tell me they came from a family involved in a crime. Either of them could be the son of a psychopath or witnessed horrendous crimes as a child. They’re using the names their adoptive parents gave them on their driver’s licenses and taxes. One of them could be Paul Tate, but being ten-years-old at the time, they’d still remember their real name and that they’d been adopted. These things don’t happen overnight. They could’ve spent some years in foster care before their adoption. This being the case, we should’ve got a reaction from them when the name was mentioned. It would have triggered an instant recollection and they didn’t as much as blink.”
Jenna considered his words for a few moments. “What if they’re suffering from traumatic amnesia? Chances are they don’t remember their old life at all and it would account for why Paul Tate never contacted his best friend.”
“Normally I’d say this was a possibility but it doesn’t add up on three counts.” Kane rested one hip on the edge of the desk. “The killer might have been traumatized after the first kill, but he killed twice more. He took trophies and he remembers his mother—because why else would he stalk Julie?” He rolled his shoulders and cricked his neck. “Why would he risk speaking to his friend? That’s the one person he wouldn’t want remembering details. Tate would know his old friend had seen things that could bring him down. He’d be hoping everything from that time would’ve been long forgotten.”
Jenna rubbed her temples. “So, if Murphy Finnian isn’t Paul Tate, we’re back to square one.”
“Only if we’re making the assumption that Paul Tate is the killer.” Kane scratched his chin. “He stabbed and mutilated his victims and not one of our current murders fits his MO. I think as Tate’s is a historical case, we should keep him as an alternative killer until we have more evidence. Yeah, we have earrings belonging to his mom, but that’s all. Like Jo said, our killer might
have known Paul Tate at one time.”
Thinking of every possible angle, Jenna moved her attention slowly back to Kane. “Unless the killer planted the evidence? Think about it. What if the killer did know that Paul Tate murdered his mother and used the earrings to confuse us? If they did, they sure put up a massive smokescreen.”
A loud knock came on the door.
“Maybe.” Kane glanced toward the noise. “And if it isn’t Paul Tate, then taking your theory into account, it could just as easily be Parker Rain.” He walked over to see who was there. “Ah, Mr. Finnian, thanks for dropping by. Take a seat.”
“I thought we’d been through all this before.” Finnian sat down with an exasperated expression on his face and placed his briefcase at his feet. “What on earth do you want with me now?”
Jenna smoothed the pages of her notebook and met Finnian’s gaze. “Three people have died, Mr. Finnian, and you are one of four people who can’t verify their whereabouts at the time of the deaths. Four people out of everyone here, so you see we need to eliminate possible suspects.”
“Do I need my lawyer?” Finnian leaned back in the chair, elbows resting on the arms and hands clenched as if he were praying.