Face of Death

“… So, we are asking you all to be vigilant,” Shelley was saying. “Basic safety principles apply here, but it is more important now than ever to stick to them. Do not go into dark, isolated areas alone at night. Make sure that someone knows where you are at all times, and avoid going into a private area with strangers. Business owners, we ask you to repair and replace any CCTV systems which are not working. Be aware, be vigilant, and stay safe. We are working hard to catch the suspect behind these murders, but until he is found, we implore you to take all possible precautions.”

Shelley paused, surveying the crowd of reporters, before continuing. “I will now take questions from members of the press.”

A bespectacled man in an old-fashioned suit spoke up. “Kansas City Star,” he announced. “Do you have a suspect in mind? Or have you been unable to identify the perpetrator?”

Shelley’s confident demeanor faltered just a little. “We have not as yet identified a suspect. We are on his trail, however.”

“Missouri State News,” another reporter spoke up. “Where will he strike next?”

Shelley swallowed. “We can’t at this moment be precisely sure of his location. This is why we are issuing the warning across several states. The suspect has been traveling long distances between crime scenes.”

“You don’t even know which state he’s in?” the first reporter spoke again.

Shelley glanced uncertainly behind her, catching Zoe’s eye. “At this time, we are steering clear of any assumptions,” she said. “We believe we have some idea of his path, but it would be unwise to rule out a diversion or even a return to his previous sites.”

There was a lot of muttering in the crowd, people swaying their heads closer to one another to confer, frowns plastered across almost all of the faces that Zoe could see. Leave them much longer, and they would be ready to eat Shelley alive. Zoe stepped forward quickly, approaching the microphone.

“No more questions at this time, thank you. We will announce another press conference in due course when we have more information,” she said, taking Shelley by the elbow to gently steer her away.

Behind their retreating backs, the reporters exploded into a clamor, each of them shouting the questions they had not been given a chance to ask.

Zoe did not stop rushing forward, pulling Shelley with her, until they were back inside the doors of the station. They continued a short way along the corridor and ducked into their investigation room, where at last the hubbub was far enough away and behind enough doors that they could no longer hear it.

“Whew,” Shelley exhaled, sitting down heavily. “That was tough.”

“I wish I could tell you that it gets easier,” Zoe said. “It does not. The press can be relentless. I imagine that we will find it difficult to move around without running into reporters from this point on.”

Three killings was already a big news story. With this warning issued by the FBI, there was no doubt that more news crews would be flocking from miles around. They would trail Zoe and Shelley, trying to get to the next scene before anyone else, trying to find an exclusive angle.

It was perhaps the most exhausting, and Zoe’s least favorite, aspect of the job.

But even with the threat of journalists hanging over their head, they had no time to pause or allow the investigation to rest.

“It’s getting late. We should find a motel,” Zoe said. “He will kill again tonight. Tomorrow, we should be rested and ready to move.”

She could only hope that he would make a mistake tonight—the first one—that would allow them to draw nearer to catching him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Rubie watched the small shrubs by the side of the highway flashing by the window. It was getting dark, the colors bleeding out of the world and reducing down to shades of gray. Fairly soon, she wouldn’t be able to see much at all beyond the headlights of the car.

“What are you doing out here at this time of night anyway?” the driver asked. “You know it’s not safe after dark.”

“I know,” Rubie sighed. “I didn’t have much choice. I couldn’t get away until Brent left to go meet his friends.”

The driver glanced her way. His eyes flicked over the purple and green bruises on the left side of her face, then down to the yellowing marks still visible on her arm, before going back to the road. “Brent’s the one who used you as a punching bag, I’m guessing.”

Rubie flinched. To hear it said like that was so—so harsh. Like freezing cold water flung in her face. But it was true, after all.

“Sorry,” the driver said, his voice softening. “I didn’t mean that to be hurtful. The guy must be a complete douchebag if he’s treating you like that.”

Rubie looked out the window again, catching her own reflection. The swelling around her eye had gone down, but it still wasn’t pretty. “No, you’re right. He is. That’s why I had to get away.”

“What was his excuse?”

Rubie snorted, a laugh that couldn’t quite make it past the pain. “Brent didn’t need an excuse. He just got mad. I guess something happened at work. He always takes it out on me.”

The driver shook his head, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “Asshole. He’s lucky you were alone when I picked you up. If he was trying to get somewhere, I would have left him in the dirt for doing that.”

Rubie couldn’t say that she was dismayed by the mental image. Brent deserved it. He deserved more than that. It made her feel just a touch safer. This driver seemed like the decent type—the type who didn’t think that men should hit women.

“Sorry,” he muttered after a moment. “I know I come on a bit strong. My mom was beaten by my stepdad. I grew up watching it. Best thing she ever did was grab me and get us away from him.”

“I’m sorry,” Rubie replied softly in return. No wonder he had been so eager to help her. He knew exactly what she was going through. “No kid should have to go through that.”

“No woman either,” he pointed out, glancing over at her.

Rubie found she was able to smile at him. It was such a little thing, but even to hear that from someone else meant the world. It meant she wasn’t alone.

“So, you know where you’re heading?” he asked.

“Yeah. I’m going to stay with family.” Rubie clutched a little tighter at the duffel bag on her lap. It contained everything she had been able to carry: a few changes of clothes, some jewelry, and some mementos that she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving behind. She guessed that these were her only possessions now. There was no chance that Brent would allow her to collect the rest of her things, not without trapping her and making her stay.

“They couldn’t come and get you?”

“They don’t know. I didn’t have a way to get in touch with anyone. Brent wouldn’t let me use my phone unsupervised.”

Rubie put a finger to her face and probed her bruised skin gently, assessing the damage. She winced and drew in a sharp breath as she prodded a particularly painful spot. The pain was good. It reminded her why she had to get away. Why she couldn’t give in and go back, for Brent to tell her how sorry he was and how it would never happen again.

It always happened again.

“Still, would have been safer to get a bus,” the driver said. “I don’t mean to go on about it, but hitchhiking isn’t usually safe. Sure, it was me that picked you up this time. But it could have been anybody.”

“I don’t have enough money for a bus,” Rubie said, resting her head against the cool glass. “Brent took it all. I just have a bit of change. Enough to get a couple of meals. That’s all.”

The driver hummed under his breath, a concerned noise. Rubie glanced at him sideways, wondering for a moment if he had been expecting payment for the ride. But that wasn’t what was on his face. He looked genuinely upset for her. She was surprised, and her heart clenched in her chest for a moment at the thought that someone out there might actually care that she had been treated so badly.

“I’m sorry all this happened to you,” he said. “You must have been terrified.”

“I was,” Rubie replied. “Thank you. For picking me up and being so kind.”

He flashed her a quick smile. “Don’t worry about it. Next time we see a diner, I’ll stop off and get us some food. It’ll be over an hour before we get to the next town. Might as well fuel up.”

Rubie smiled back, resting against the window again and closing her eyes for a brief moment. Maybe this was it—the moment when her luck changed. Brent was miles behind her now, and he was never going to catch up. Not if she got to her sister. Lucy would keep her safe, and that would be the end of it. And here she was, with a guardian angel who would get her there, no matter what.

“Oh, damn,” the driver said suddenly, hunching over the steering wheel with a frown. He turned on his indicators and drifted to the side of the road, where an exit led off the highway.

“What is it?” Rubie sat up straight, his voice putting her on alert.