“Maybe. Did you ever watch the 911 World Trade Center tapes?” she asked, pushing off her knee to standing.
“Yes,” he admitted, remembering the horror of witnessing the desperation in the women and men who’d been trapped inside the building.
“Those folks who jumped from a high floor to escape a burning building didn’t see an immediate way out of the fire. They jumped without thinking,” she surmised with a frown. “It was a tragedy unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Maybe this guy thought the water was safer than what chased him on land.”
“The best place to dive into this lake is from the west bank,” he reasoned.
“This person must have staked out the whole area if they were intent on watching me,” she added. “Which wouldn’t necessarily mean he would have known the terrain other than what he saw on a map.”
“There must be a vehicle around here somewhere,” Duke said, wanting to figure out if there was a way to identify the perp while they waited for the sheriff.
He wanted to go into the water to identify the perp.
Was this the person they were looking for?
AUDREY EXAMINED THE shoe print. Boots were larger, heavier and therefore made deeper tracks. Why would Tennis Shoes come back to cover Boot Print’s tracks if they weren’t one and the same person? It was the only logical deduction. The other looming question was whether or not their perp was here to kill Audrey.
Did he return to erase anything that could link him to Audrey? All of this was conjecture on her part, but it was logical. Logic was usually right in investigations.
Then again, the Ponytail Snatcher was almost caught. He could be in Timbuktu for all anyone knew.
Would a determined killer risk getting caught?
She glanced up as Duke stood at the water’s edge. His hands were clasped on top of his head, a runner’s move that brought more oxygen into the lungs. However, his breathing had already returned to normal. Instead, this was a move she’d seen him do dozens of times over the summer in their youth. It was always a sign he was frustrated and unsure of what to do next. Something was percolating in that intelligent brain of his.
Seeing Duke again was harder than she imagined it would be.
The sounds of footsteps echoed from the thicket, growing louder. The cavalry was arriving. She realized that, after giving a statement, Duke would be able to leave. Would he go back home like he’d planned to do?
Audrey walked over to him. “I know you have to provide a statement but feel free to take off anytime. I can speak for both of us for now. You can always give your version to the sheriff at home. He won’t mind the detour on his way back to his office.”
Duke shook his head vigorously, like he used to do when he thought something was a terrible idea.
“Are you sure?” she asked, glancing over at the clearing behind them as voices became audible. “Ackerman won’t mind, and you said you needed sleep.”
“You couldn’t stop me from doing what I want to do,” he said with an edge to his voice that cut like a knife.
Rather than butt heads right here like she wanted to do, she reminded herself to calm down. Duke was right. He’d always been stubborn. If he didn’t want to be somewhere, he wouldn’t be. Audrey backed up a step and put her hands in the air in surrender. Before Duke could add insult to injury, she turned and walked toward her boss.
Along with the sheriff came another deputy and a pair of EMTs. The twins, as she called them, were the same age and had the exact same short curly brown hair. Each had a dotting of freckles across their noses. They had similar builds because they worked out at the same gym, together, on the same training regimen. Born six months apart, Clifford and Clinton had been best friends since the cradle. They grew up as neighbors, becoming and, even more unique, staying friends over the years. And they got a kick out of being referred to as twins. Clifford was an inch taller while Clinton had the biggest arms, according to him.
The twins threw on fly-fishing waders and goggles before heading into the water to investigate. Clifford came out first, his face pale. Clinton joined his buddy as they helped each other out of the rocky landscape.
Clinton ran to the tree line and grabbed hold of a tree before emptying the contents of his stomach.
“What is it?” Audrey asked as Duke joined her and the sheriff. “What did you see?”
Clifford shook his head. His skin tone had color but he appeared unwell. “It’s the Napier boy.”
“What?” Duke asked in disbelief. “No.”
Audrey had lived in the town coming up on three years and knew just about everyone. The Napiers mostly kept to themselves, but they were nice enough folks. They had two high-school-aged kids, a boy and a girl.
“Jenson Napier?” Audrey asked for clarity.
“Yes, ma’am,” Clifford supplied, looking green around the gills.
Questions flooded Audrey’s mind, but the only person with answers was dead. That word sat heavy on her chest. Someone would have to inform this young man’s parents he wasn’t coming home today. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Audrey turned to her boss. “I’m going with you to speak to the family.”
Ackerman was already shaking his head no.
“Yes,” she argued. “I have questions.”
“You’re too close to the situation,” the sheriff said. He wasn’t wrong. And yet she wouldn’t let that deter her.
“That very well may be,” she said. “Jensen was a voyeur at the very least.” She immediately ruled him out as a ruthless deputy murderer because his parents would have noticed him missing. “I’m wondering what his parents knew and whether or not they’ll let us take a look at his room.”
“What are you hoping to find?” Sheriff Ackerman asked.
“J.D.,” she said, lowering her voice. The change in direction from being a potential target of a twisted murderer to being watched by a teenage boy was enough to give her whiplash. “I need to know if I’m his first mark or if there have been others.”
“It’s clear he’s not going to pursue any of those activities again,” Ackerman pointed out. “But it’s probably worth speaking to his parents at least.”
She couldn’t argue that. Still, she had to know if this kid had been watching her for long or if this was his first time. Did he get spooked and come back to cover his tracks? This was personal. Ackerman, of all people, should realize the position she was in and why she would have questions.
“You’re too close to this thing to be the one to investigate, Deputy,” he said again. Calling her deputy instead of by her first name was the equivalent of her mother calling Audrey by her full name. It was formal and meant there would be no budging. Hearing Audrey Lynn Smith would make her cower to this day on instinct before she regained her senses, reminding herself that she was no longer a helpless little girl who feared her mother’s wrath.
Audrey was no longer a child, and she had no plans to back down from the sheriff. Even if he was her boss and had the ability to fire her.
