Never Run, page 5
"Okay," she told Owen. "He was seriously pissed at her because she broke up with him two days ago before she was reported missing"
Owen gasped. "You think he took revenge?"
"He said she was going to regret messing with him." May felt sick inside at the thought. "I'm scrolling back further. She saved the whole conversation. I want to see if he mentioned his home address to her."
Her hand was shaking as she scrolled back through the conversation, speed-reading as she went.
"Yes. He did tell her where he lived."
“Want to come to my place? My mom's out. It's 16 Willow Avenue."
Savannah had replied. "I don't have a car, sorry. And that's miles away. Can you come here instead?"
Craning over her shoulder, Owen was already busy on his maps app.
"Willow Avenue, miles away from Snyder. I think I've found it, May. There's only one street it could be, and it's in the neighboring town, Maple Vale."
They stared at each other excitedly.
Finally, they had a lead to a person with a real, angrily stated motive for wanting to do Savannah harm.
"Let's go talk to this guy, right now," May said.
They stood up and raced for the car.
CHAPTER SEVEN
May felt nervous, but determined, as she and Owen headed on the fifteen-minute drive to Maple Vale. The route took them along the lakeside. On this cloudy morning, the waters looked dark and foreboding.
May knew they were going to visit a potential criminal and felt on edge as she wondered how the confrontation would pan out.
"We don't know he did it," Owen said, glancing across at her. "But it seems likely. How are we going to handle this?"
"He's a potential suspect, and we have to treat him as one, and be extremely careful. We need to really listen to what he says and watch his body language. He's going to be nervous, probably defensive. He might get angry or try to lie. There’s a possibility he might get violent. We also need to look for any signs of the murder weapon. Any sign of a long, serrated knife will be an important clue."
May felt sure that Kyle's reaction would tell them a lot, particularly since they would be surprising him, with no warning. This would give them the best chance to see his unfiltered reaction.
She could feel her heart hammering in her chest as they pulled up outside the address she had found.
"This is it," she said.
The house didn't look particularly special. It was a neat, medium sized, white clapboard home, on a quiet, tree-lined street. It seemed like a home that a deputy sheriff might visit to return a lost item of luggage or investigate an argument with a neighbor.
Instead, she was here to question a murder suspect. May knew that her entire career was riding on this interview.
She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and made her way up the path, noticing the word ‘Peterson’ was engraved on a signboard below the mailbox; so now they knew Kyle’s last name.
"I'll do the talking to start," she murmured to Owen, who was by her side. Raising her hand, she rapped on the door.
Her stomach was churning with nerves.
"Let's make sure we get what we need from him," she instructed Owen breathlessly. "We have to get the truth out of him."
She heard footsteps approach and swallowed hard.
A moment later, a blonde woman who looked to be in her forties opened the door.
This must be Kyle's mother, May realized.
"Mrs. Peterson?"
"Yes," the woman replied warily.
"Deputy Sheriff May Moore and Owen Lovell. We're here to ask your son, Kyle, a few questions."
Mrs. Peterson looked even more confused.
"What's he done?"
"We need to speak to him urgently," May said firmly. "Could we come in?"
"Sure - of course." As if remembering her manners, she stepped back.
As May and Owen stepped into the small entrance hall, she asked again.
"I'm sorry. I know I'm being rude, but I'm confused. Why are you here? Has Kyle done something?" Now May could clearly hear anxiety in her voice.
"We just want to talk to him briefly," May reassured her, not wanting to panic her or her son until she had a better handle on the situation.
"Okay," Mrs. Peterson nodded. Then, in the direction of the kitchen, she called, "Kyle, the police are here to see you."
This was it. The moment she'd been preparing for ever since she'd heard about this older boyfriend. May's mouth felt dry as she waited for Kyle to appear.
But he didn't.
Instead, she heard the sound of a door being wrenched open and the fast thud of retreating footsteps.
"Kyle?" Mrs. Peterson called in alarm.
"He's a runner!" Owen cried.
There was no time to lose. With the police on his doorstep, Kyle Peterson had chosen to flee, clearly indicating his guilt.
May headed through the hall and rushed into the kitchen. The back door was open, swinging wide. Running out, with Owen hot on her heels, she set off in pursuit.
The back door led out to a grassy pathway. She could see Kyle, a tall, lean young man, pounding along the path.
"Wait! Stop!"
Owen raced ahead of her, his long legs outpacing hers. But even so, May saw with a clench of her heart that Kyle was faster.
"Stop!" May shouted, but then realized she needed to save all her breath for actually running. She gave chase, pumping her legs and lungs hard, determined to catch him.
"Stop! Fleeing law enforcement is a crime!" Owen called out to him, his voice breathless with exertion.
They were nearing the end of the path. The trees were beginning to thin out, but Kyle was running with even more purpose in his stride.
"Come back!" she called after him.
She burst through the trees and found herself on the shore of the lake. She put on a final spurt of speed, running as hard as she could. Her lungs burned as she gasped for air.
The young man, however, looked as if he was still running flat out. He didn't look back, just kept up his fast pace.
As they ran, May's heart pounded in her chest. They had to catch him, she told herself fiercely. It would be a disaster if they lost him now.
But they might, because he was heading for a pier and, to her horror, May saw a motorboat moored at the end of it. Clearly, Kyle was going to use this as a getaway vehicle, and if he got into it in time, he might disappear - for long enough to stall their investigation, at any rate.
"No!" she yelled.
He reached the end of the pier and leaped into the small motorboat.
"Do not start that motor!" Owen was shouting, but it was too late. Kyle had the engine going. The sound cut the air, loud and harsh. She was within a few feet of the boat now as Kyle struggled with the mooring rope. Fumbling in haste, he undid it.
Owen hesitated at the end of the pier.
And then, as May pounded up, Owen leaped into the water with an almighty splash, grabbing onto the side of the boat. He flung the mooring rope to May. Leaning over, she managed to catch it.
May's hands were shaking with haste as she tried to wrap the rope around the wooden pole before Kyle could actually get the boat in gear. He was distracted from this task, because Owen was trying to scramble inside the boat, tugging at the other man's arm. Kyle was frantically trying to push Owen away.
The two men were wrestling, rocking the boat, as May struggled with the rope. Cold water splashed over her. Her hands were burning as she grabbed the rough coils, but she was determined to hang on.
She couldn't let Kyle escape.
Getting purchase at last, May pulled mightily on the rope. There was a sudden jerk, and the boat swung around, surprising Kyle, who lost his balance and fell backward.
May gasped as, with a gigantic splash, he landed headfirst in the lake.
Her hands were shaking as she secured the tightest knot she could. Meanwhile, Owen had scrambled safely inside the boat. He killed the engine, before giving the spluttering Kyle a hand up.
Then, they both climbed back onto the pier.
Kyle looked wet and cold and terrified. May was also concerned about her partner. Owen had been in that icy water for far too long and was shivering alongside his suspect.
"Why did you run from us?" she said sternly.
Kyle coughed, squeezing water out of his shirt. "I was just going for a boat ride," he said in a strangled voice.
"You tried to run from law enforcement, using a motorboat," May pointed out.
Kyle spluttered some more.
"I was going to check the boat, to see if the motor would start," he muttered.
May resolved to question him there and then about the murder, before he could invent any alternative stories. If he seemed a likely suspect, she decided she’d take him into the police department.
"Tell me about your relationship with Savannah," May said, and Kyle flinched.
"We'd broken up by the time - by the time..." His voice trailed off.
"By the time she was murdered?"
"I heard about that," he muttered. "I seriously can't believe it. I mean, she was my girlfriend. Until recently. And then, someone did that." Now his voice had changed. To her surprise, hurt and misery resounded in his tone.
"Why did you run from us then? Give me the truth!" May said sternly. Then, she remembered that Kyle must be freezing, and that even if he was guilty, she couldn't let him or Owen catch their death of cold out here. Firmly, she grasped his clammy wrist.
"Let's walk back to the house. You need to get into some dry clothes," she said. His teeth were chattering.
She took off her own jacket and gave it to Owen. It was far too small for him but at least he could drape it over his shoulders, for basic warmth.
Owen grasped Kyle’s other wrist and they marched him back in the direction of the house.
"I ran because I felt guilty. Because if I was a cop, I'd suspect me of planning something," Kyle stammered out. "I panicked. I've never been in trouble with the police before. I was only trying to make things right. But I thought - I thought - "
May stared at him intensely. She had the strong feeling that this wasn't just about the messages she’d read. It didn't seem to her like Kyle was thinking about them.
"What exactly did you do?" she asked.
He sighed.
"I thought - I thought you might have gotten hold of my messages."
"The ones you sent to Savannah?" May clarified.
"No. Not those."
"What else did you do, Kyle?"
He stared at her miserably.
"When I heard yesterday what had happened, I was so torn up about it. I started chatting with a friend online, and we said that if we ever found out who'd done this, we would kill them. We kind of took it further and discussed how we would track the guy down and how it could be done. We were like, discussing ways to murder him. But we were only theorizing to make ourselves feel better.”
“I see,” May said.
“I know I lost my temper and shouldn't have said what I did when she broke up with me. That was wrong of me. I was hurting bad, man. But I really liked her. Loved her, even."
"So you thought we were going to arrest you for wanting to kill her murderer?"
He nodded, looking ashamed.
"I thought you might have found out, and you'd think I was, like, a psycho."
"Why would we think that?" Owen asked in surprise.
Kyle gritted his teeth, swiping his dripping hair out of his eyes.
"I didn’t know what you might think. I’ve never been in trouble with the cops before at all. I have no idea how things work. But I wouldn't kill anyone."
"Why didn't you tell us this right away?"
"I was afraid to. I thought you'd arrest me for wanting to kill her murderer. I mean, on TV and in the movies, if someone says something like that, they get arrested. So I panicked. I thought I'd better get out while I could."
May glanced at Owen. It was time to confirm the most important fact of all now.
"I need to know what your movements have been over the past few days. Where you have been, who you have been with? Especially on Friday morning?”
They didn’t yet have a definite time of death for Savannah’s murder, but May wanted to know if Kyle would have had the opportunity to grab Savannah on the way to school.
Kyle stared at her in surprise.
"On Friday I had early classes, because we were starting an exam period," he said. "I got up at six, had breakfast, and went to college. I had classes all morning. Then I had lunch, and then it was afternoon classes. All my lecturers and friends can confirm I was there.”
"Which college?" Owen asked.
"Grays Art and Drama College. It's about an hour's drive from here."
May nodded. Although she still wanted to check with the college, she felt this timeframe cleared him. His guilt had been for a different reason. He was not the person they were looking for.
"You'd better go in and get dry," she said, seeing the back door of his house up ahead.
He nodded. "I will. And - I'm sorry."
They let go of his wrists and he turned and jogged inside.
Owen sighed. "I was hoping we would have caught the killer. But it doesn't seem that he was guilty at all."
"We're going to have to keep looking," May said. “You’d better get back to the car now and get the heater on.”
Owen nodded. “I have a change of clothes in the back. I always keep one, just in case.”
Again, May stared at him, surprised by her partner’s resourcefulness.
At that moment, her phone rang. It was Sheriff Jack.
"May, there's been a new development in the case."
His voice sounded taut and urgent. Worry surged inside her all over again.
"What's happened?" she asked.
"There's been another body found. Another young woman. She’s washed up on the northwestern shores of Eagle Lake, killed the same way." He let out a heavy sigh. "I can't believe this, but it seems we're dealing with a serial here."
CHAPTER EIGHT
May couldn’t believe the shocking sight, as she and Owen rushed over to the shoreline. This situation felt like a horrendous repeat of what they'd just been through yesterday.
The scene was fifteen miles away from Fairshore, in a small town on the northwestern shore of the lake called Misty Vale.
But otherwise, everything was disturbingly similar. The same ambulance. The same police cars. The same crime scene tape, flapping in the breeze. The same hard look on Jack's face as he turned when she and Owen approached.
This time, in the gloomy daylight, the scene was even more difficult for May to take in.
Jack led them over to the crime scene tape that demarcated the body’s location. The lake felt hushed and silent, the somberness broken only by the crackle of radios and the muted murmurs of the police.
May stared down at the body of a young woman. She was on her back at the muddy edge of the lake. Her face was turned away.
She caught her breath as she saw the selfsame wound, a deep stab to the woman's heart.
Undoubtedly, this was the work of the same killer.
"Do we know her identity?" May asked in a soft voice.
They turned and paced back toward the road, leaving the rest of the team to do their work in examining and moving the body.
Jack nodded.
"We do. Her name is Shelby Ryan. She was a first-year student at Lakeside Technical College. But here's where it gets complicated. Shelby was reported missing two weeks ago."
"How long was she in the water?" May asked, feeling thoroughly confused. She didn't have a lot of experience in murder cases, but to her, the body hadn't looked the way it should have after an extended time in the lake.
"Not long. The pathologist has estimated a day at most," Jack confirmed. "Which adds a very troubling dimension, because it means that this killer might be holding his victims somewhere, for differing periods of time, before killing them."
May knew there was a possibility that Shelby could have run away, or been holed up with a boyfriend, and the killer targeted her more recently, but that was by far the less likely scenario.
Owen whistled. "That's - that's some sickness."
"It is," Jack said grimly.
"What did her parents say when they reported her missing? Could she have been away from home, or with a friend?" May asked, wondering if this would shed light on the strange time gap.
"I've just had a copy of the report sent to me, as I was wondering the same. Here it is. Have a look." Jack handed May his tablet. She read through the report.
It didn't take her long to reach the point of it. Two weeks ago, Shelby had been last seen by her parents when she left the house at seven p.m. after coming by to pick up some belongings.
"She wasn't staying at home. She had fought with her parents the week before she disappeared and was staying with a friend. The friend said she used to go running in the evenings," May said, reading. "She'd been fighting with the friend too and threatening to move out of state. So they didn't actually report her missing until the following day, when they realized she hadn't come back from the run, and wasn’t picking up any calls."
May could see that all these complications would have diluted the police search, making it appear more likely that she was a runaway. This was a troubled girl, an unstable person who had problems.
Hence, she guessed, why this missing girl hadn't been flagged on their local database two weeks down the line.
"If she was held somewhere for two weeks, where would that be?" May asked. "In a town near the lake, if that's where he's disposing of the bodies?"
"It seems that way," Owen agreed.
May shivered, feeling a sense of threat as she considered this possibility.
Jack shook his head. "This is clearly a serial. And, as such, we need help solving it. We need more resources, more manpower than we can summon up."
With a chill, May saw where this was going.
Sure enough, Jack voiced her worst-case scenario.
"We need to get the FBI involved," he said.
May's heart accelerated. She didn't want Kerry back here! And she was sure that Kerry was the person they would send, since she was originally from the area.
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