Spider's Web (20 page)

A woman sat beside her, crying, constantly wiping her nose with a limp paper handkerchief.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Ricky told her quietly.

“Thanks,” the woman said, blubbering.

“Are you related to the deceased?” Ricky asked.

“No, I’m just her friend,” the woman said. “We were very good friends.”

“I’m sure you were,” Ricky said distractedly, trying to think of a poetic way to describe all the flowers around the coffin.

“He was going to kill me as well,” the woman said.

“I’m sorry, what?” Ricky asked, turning toward her in shock.

“The killer. He sent me a message.”

Ricky was prepared to dismiss the woman as a lunatic, or attention-starved—she knew what that was like— when the woman pulled out her phone, fiddled with it, and showed the screen to Ricky. Ricky blinked at the image of the rope. It definitely looked foreboding.

“He sent it to me only a few minutes before he killed poor Skyler,” the woman said, sniffling. “I think he was coming for me next. But the police showed up.”

“Really?” Ricky said, her heart racing. “Do you want to talk about it?”

They all knew there was no time to waste. The time between each murder was getting shorter. Two weeks between the last murders. They probably had no more than ten days until the killer would strike again.

Captain Bailey called Tanessa, waking her up. Waking up a few hours after a graveyard shift was a nightmare in itself. When she found out Chief Dougherty wanted to see her, it became even worse. Except it turned out the chief didn’t want to chew her ear about anything she did in particular. This was not, contrary to what Tanessa had thought, about the doughnut box incident. No, the chief just wanted to ask if Tanessa would be willing to be bait for a deadly serial killer.

That was all.

Sure, Tanessa said, the image of Tamay’s face burning in her mind. She’d be happy to help.

Zoe Bentley, Tanessa, and Mitchell were tasked with creating an Instagram profile to bait the killer. They decided to use Tanessa’s own profile, which had images of her from the past year, though she’d neglected it lately. They removed any image which had any connection to the police. Then Zoe began to figure out how Tanessa should pose for the new pictures. What she should wear. Where she should take them. They scanned the profiles of the previous victims. All his victims were between eighteen and twenty-two. Tanessa was twenty-five, but Zoe said it was fine. They’d just lie about her age.

Mitchell was getting on Tanessa’s nerves. He kept asking her if she was sure she wanted to do this. He mentioned their parents a couple of times. He talked about how dangerous it was.

Did they really need Mitchell for this?
she asked Zoe.

It turned out they didn’t. Mitchell was politely told to fuck off.

Meanwhile, Captain Bailey and the rest of his detectives planned Tanessa’s cover. Agent Mancuso from the FBI drove over to consult and help. She stressed that there were two important things to pay attention to. One, the killer should be oblivious to the fact that this was a trap. He should see no police presence anywhere. Two, they had to make sure the killer would attack Tanessa from close range. If he chose to shoot her with a sniper rifle, for example, the trap would be left empty, and the bait might end up dead. No. They needed him close enough that the police escort and Tanessa could catch him, while preferably Tanessa should stay alive.

Mitchell, who had walked in on the discussion, was getting very loud. He suggested things like bulletproof vests, a detail of over a dozen people watching Tanessa’s every move, and an apartment that had its windows boarded up. Agent Mancuso asked who this guy was. Jacob explained that this was Detective Mitchell Lonnie, who by happy coincidence was the bait’s brother.

He was politely told to fuck off a second time.

It took most of the day, but they finally located a small apartment within two hundred feet of a flower shop. She would live in the apartment, and work in the flower shop. This way, they kept her time in the open to bare minimum. The flower shop was on Clayton Road, which was one of the busiest streets in Glenmore Park. There was always another person on shift, sometimes two. It was highly unlikely the killer would strike there. He’d have to strike her at home, or on the route between the flower shop and the apartment.

The killer was clearly stalking his targets, learning their routine. They came up with a simple routine for him to follow: Tanessa would leave “home” at eight and go to the flower shop. She would return home at five thirty, and open the bedroom window in the apartment to “let some air in.” Then she’d close the window around eleven, and go to sleep.

There was a drainpipe near the bedroom window. They hoped the killer would try to get into her apartment that way. There was one cop in the apartment, and one cop across the road watching the drainpipe and the window. While she walked to the flower shop, they had someone watching her every step, armed with a sniper rifle. There was a camera aimed at the front door, another one on her window, and two cameras inside the apartment, all their feeds sent directly to dispatch.

Tanessa felt it was too much. The killer would send her a message, after all. They would know beforehand that he was coming for her. Zoe didn’t agree. She pointed out that the time between the message and the murders might get shorter, just like the time between murders was becoming shorter. The killer seemed to be getting impatient. It was best to be prepared.

Tanessa’s phone was tapped; every message she received appeared directly on a monitor in the dispatch center. Dispatchers were instructed to pay attention to that monitor. Nobody wanted the message to go unnoticed when the time came.

Bernard and Hannah were tasked with talking to all the women on Atticus’s list of models and wannabe models, yet again, to make sure none of them had registered on the killer’s site. As it turned out, three of them had.

Twelve hours later the three women all posted on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter that they were going away for a short while. One of them was taking a surprise vacation. One was visiting a sick relative. The third was going on a business trip.

The three women were relocated to a safe, unknown location, escorted by heavily-armed bodyguards.

The police could only hope there weren’t any women who had registered on the site and weren’t on Atticus’s list.

Tanessa moved into her new apartment that evening, then her details were added to the killer’s website.

The trap was set. It was time to see if the predator took the bait.

Chapter Eighteen

He kept glancing at his laptop, trying to postpone the moment. Anticipation. Was there anything better? And now the entire city brimmed with it. They all wondered when and where he would strike. Who would he choose this time? Young women all over Glenmore Park slept uneasily, wondering if they were next. Others thought of their sisters, daughters, girlfriends, wives, neighbors. Who would it be? It was not exactly anticipation they were experiencing, of course. It was dread.

But every coin had two sides. His anticipation was so much stronger because of their dread. And finally, finally! It was almost like the first time: him postponing the moment, half because he wasn’t sure he could go through with it, half because the anticipation drove him into a frenzy of excitement he’d never felt before. Her dread as she realized what was about to happen, the fear in her eyes, exciting him even further. He’d been chasing that moment ever since.

The first time was special. And when you were young, everything was more exciting. Now, he had to make an entire city dread him to feel the same.

But it was wonderful.

Was it time to select his next victim? Surely he could postpone it only a bit longer?

Anticip…

He stood up, prepared a cup of coffee. Not too much sugar; he was slowly cutting back. When he’d been young, he would drink coffee with two spoons of sugar. Two! Now he was down to half. He sipped slowly, imagining the caffeine mixing in his blood, increasing his excitement even further. Finally, he finished the cup, washed it in the sink, dried it carefully with a towel.

…ation.

He gave in, sat at the laptop, and turned it on.

He had fourteen to choose from. Someone new—good. He’d check her out later. After all, he pretty much knew who it was going to be. He had followed her for a while already. She went to the gym every Thursday, taking a shortcut through that alley. Who wouldn’t? If she went all the way around, it would take her ten minutes more. So what if the alley was dark, and narrow, and long, with many places for someone to hide. Ten whole minutes! Wasn’t it worth it? He smiled as he opened her details. She was gorgeous. He browsed to her Instagram profile, to look at her pictures yet again.

The smile died away.

She was going to visit a sick relative. She didn’t know when she would be back. His fist crashed inches from the laptop. Damn it! What about routine? Didn’t she care about her routine?

How could he plan anything if people broke their routine? Half the anticipation revolved around the planning. He gritted his teeth. Fine. He would choose someone else.

He skimmed through the profiles. Some didn’t live in the city, although his ad was targeted at residents of Glenmore Park. Some didn’t feel right, either too old or not pretty enough. They had to be pretty, like
she
was. One was too young. He opened the details of the new girl.

Well, now.

This one. She was something else. Looked a bit too old. He glanced at her age. Twenty-one. Huh. Well, young women kept trying to look older and more sophisticated than they were. He looked at her for a while. Those lips… that smile… perfect color, tender but somehow sexy as well. Just like
her
smile. He looked for her Instagram profile, opened it. Scrolled through it a bit.

In the small apartment, the killer smiled. He’d found his new target.

“Can you believe that woman?” Mitchell was clearly enraged, his voice too loud in Tanessa’s ear. She turned the phone’s volume down a bit and took a sip from her coffee mug. She’d drunk a lot of coffee in the past forty-eight hours. After more than two months on the force, her body was completely accustomed to night shift. Suddenly flipping to day shift was a lot harder than she’d thought it would be.

“Mitchell, what are you so mad about? She’s a journalist. That’s what they do. They report the news.”

“She says we were at the wrong house! She makes us sound like incompetents!”

“Well… we
were
at the wrong house,” Tanessa pointed out, turning the volume down a bit more. Her brother was giving her a headache.

“Yes! Because the killer made a mistake! The killer is incompetent, not us!”

“Well, that doesn’t sound like a very good news story.
Incompetent killer still on the loose
sounds a lot less newsworthy than
Incompetent police save the wrong girl
,” Tanessa said. “Besides, she probably didn’t find out about the website, so she thinks that the killer misled us.”

“She’s going to get us taken off this case,” Mitchell muttered.

“I doubt it. She’s just one reporter.”

“Well, I’m going to question her again. I want to know where she got the info.”

“Fine, you do that. Meanwhile, I need to go and sell some flowers,” Tanessa said.

“Yeah, okay. Take care.”

She hung up, grabbed her purse, and took off. Despite herself, she felt her body tense as she left the apartment. She glanced over her shoulder constantly while she locked the door.

As she walked to the flower shop, she had to force herself to avoid looking around, searching for
him
. Either he was watching her or he wasn’t. If she kept looking for him, he might realize this was a trap. She had to walk as if she had no cares in the world.
Tralala
, young Tanessa going for her shift at the flower shop, blatantly ignorant of the psycho killer who might be stalking her. It drove her insane.

Her phone beeped, making her heart leap. She checked the display. It was just Richard, her other annoying brother, messaging to check up on her. She got her breathing under control and replied that she was fine but, if he didn’t mind, she’d rather he simply called instead of sending her a message.

Messages were suddenly a foreboding thing. A message could potentially contain an image of the murder weapon which would be used to kill her.

She reached the flower shop,
Hummingbird Blossoms
, and walked inside. George, the owner, welcomed her with a smile. She smiled back and glanced around the shop. She couldn’t help it. They were working under the assumption that the killer wouldn’t strike in the flower shop.

What if the killer wasn’t informed?

It was a small shop. The front room had a tall wooden counter with a cash register, and other than that there were only flowers. Thousands of flowers. The bursts of bright colors and the strong, sweet smells that intermingled in the air played havoc with Tanessa’s senses, which were used to darkness, dim colors, and the scent of the patrol car’s interior. She was constantly in a state of sensory overload, breathing short breaths to avoid inhaling too much, or staring at the bare floor to rest her eyes. This was a problem in her cover that they hadn’t anticipated, and it was now too late to change it. Once again, she could only hope the killer wouldn’t strike while she was in the shop. Hopefully in a few days she would get used to it.

“Help me get the front up?” George asked.

“Sure,” Tanessa said.

Each morning, when George opened the shop, he’d organize a colorful display of flowers on the sidewalk. He’d place them in large black buckets on a small table, and around the table on the ground. The result was a small mound of colors, easily the most eye-catching thing on the entire street. As Tanessa and George carried the buckets of flowers outside, she noticed him glancing at her several times, frowning.