Tony drove to the back of the subdivision, where a series of houses, construction abandoned months ago, sat to rot for the winter. Skeletons made of lumber were covered in thick sheets of plastic.
“Do you ever get a bad feeling, Kris?” Tony asked.
“Yeah. A lot, lately.”
He looked over at his sister’s bandaged face. After all of the police interviews with their questions and photographs, Tony could not help but feel that the police did not know what direction to go, with no witnesses and only the testimony of two teenaged girls, whose only instinct was to blame themselves, especially Kristen.
The miscarriage was enough to make Kristen tight-lipped and hostile. Tony had gone to visit Darius, who insisted that he did not know and Kristen had broken up with him over the phone the night before, while she was still at the hospital. Her father, who never felt close to either of his children, could only point his finger at his wife and Tony, as if they failed somehow. The night of Kristen’s attack, he returned to work after an hour at the hospital, leaving Kristen’s mother and Tony to deal with the police. Their mother bought a case of beer she later shared with her husband when he came home, Kristen still at the hospital, asleep on pain killers.
“Jess Holden lives just over there,” Kristen said. “Is that why we’re here?”
Tony shook his head. “When I worked for Lister Construction, Old Man Lister hired guys from all different backgrounds. A lot of them didn’t speak English, some had been to prison. Lister could pay them the lowest wages possible, and they were grateful for a job. But, a few years later, that started to change. A lot of good workers, with references and experience, were losing their jobs in Marine, so they were also willing to take whatever came along. Lister started to hire more college guys and older men. We were a real mixed bag out here, building these houses fast. I used to wonder, if I kept working hard, I could live in a new house...”
Kristen shook her head. “Not likely.”
The house Tony and Kristen lived in with their parents was small and old, their father making few improvements over the years. Tony never had a room of his own, sleeping on the couch with his dresser in the hallway. Kristen’s room had once been a closet, with just enough space for a bed, her clothes kept in their parents’ room.
“Lister,” Tony said, “if he was going to fire anyone, would target the tweakers and the ex-cons. The rest of us just shut up and did what we were told. The rumor had already started that Whispering Pines was a flop, even though some of the houses were selling, people were moving in.” Tony started to chew on his thumbnail, a sign that he was putting his thoughts together. “They weren’t all families, but divorced ladies. There was this guy on the crew, he would peep through their windows...”
Kristen shrugged. “Guys peep all the time.”
“Not on the job. This guy was different, because he didn’t get fired, he quit. Later on, I saw him at the mall. I can’t remember his name, though.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down.”
“There’s nothing to narrow it down, Kris. The police know it, too.”
“Garcia is waiting for that e-mail,” she said.
“The psycho will screw up, and that’s what the cops are really waiting for.”
“That Sonya girl is right, I won’t be the last. What will he do next time? Rape? He could’ve cut my throat—”
“Kris, he knows better. He wouldn’t kill—”
“Why? A shorter prison term if he’s caught?”
“No. Death isn’t good enough for this guy. He can only humiliate the girls if they live. They have to go to school with bandages on their faces. They’ll stick out, get pointed at. End up on the Blue and White. It’s all going his way now. If that were to stop, then he would get worse, believe me.”
Kristen could feel the itching underneath her bandages. “Do you think that peeper could be the Ravisher?”
“He wasn’t around here for long, but he was weird. That’s all I’ve got.”
“Chip called and asked me if I still wanted my job. Kinsey and Lucy already quit, their parents told them to.”
“Well, that puts Chip out, doesn’t it?”
“I told him I didn’t want to quit.”
“What? Are you kidding?”
“Maybe he’ll come back. I’m going to ask Garcia about it, see what he thinks. Besides, I don’t think I’ll be able to find another job, and I need the money.”
“Is Chip okay with you being at the counter with your bandages?” Tony asked.
“He said he didn’t care.”
“I think you’re crazy, and Chip must be desperate.”
“Thanks a lot.”
Tony smacked his hand against the steering wheel. “You know what I mean. But if you’re going through with this, make sure Garcia knows first. And he might try to talk you out of it, too.”
“I don’t think he will. They need help, and it’s something I can do besides sitting around feeling sad and angry.”
“What if some kid from school comes into the Chester Chicken and makes some remark?”
“I don’t care what they think.”
Kristen had always been headstrong, something that did not always work in her favor. “Then care about what I think and be careful. If he comes back, what will you do? You don’t even know what he looks like. He could come into the place, eat his chicken, and watch you work, admiring what he did to you the whole time. And don’t think for a minute that you’re driving home alone at night—”
“Garcia might get a cop to take me home. I haven’t even discussed it with him yet, it’s just an idea. He might not want to go along.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“I’m not quitting my job. Dad and I are the only two working right now, and he had to borrow gas money from me last week, and I think it almost killed him. He’d rather see me dead than have to ask me for help.”
“I gave him lunch money, but I think he spent it on a forty ounce.”
“Mom stole my pain killers after she had the prescription filled.”
“How does she feel about you going back to work?”
“She won’t even notice.”
Chapter Thirteen
Emily Watts balanced herself on her bike while tossing a rolled-up Marine Press towards her neighbors’ doorstep. She had the task mastered, the paper not unfolding until hitting the steps.
Emily, her black hair in a single braid down her back, kept her long denim skirt in place as she pedaled to the next house, the heavy bag filled with newspapers swinging at the handlebars. The neighborhood was located just a few blocks from Sue on Tulip Avenue.
Farley Street was a quiet dirt road and few people were out early that Saturday morning. Emily continued to deliver several more papers before she came to the end of the block.
She was turning her bike around when she was tackled to the side and knocked over. Her leg was trapped under the bike and heavy bag.
She took in the black clothing and ski mask. In spite of her shock, she knew who he was, and she began to thrash, only a weak squeal coming out between her lips. He grabbed her by the hair, shoving a cloth in her mouth.
Emily did not see the dull blade, which made the work slower, the cuts not going as deep. However, the point was sharp, and he dug into the meat of her cheek, pulling the metal out, then moving on to the next. Emily did not make it easy for him, because her hands were free. He put her neck between his knees, keeping her head in place. She pulled at his thighs with her hands, trying to get him off-balance, but he was too strong.
He pawed at the left side of her head and pulled it down, grasping her ear, the lobe between his fingers. Emily never stopped squirming, but he would not let go, the sharp point diving into the soft flesh.
He took the piece of her ear, letting go of her head, but not before pulling the cloth out of her mouth. After he ran off, Emily rose slowly and took the cell phone from her poc
ket, but she did not call the police. Instead, she called her mother, who she had left sleeping at home. Emily was still in shock, so she did not feel the warm blood from her face and ear as she calmly explained to her mother what happened. When she ended the call, she closed her phone, and pulled herself out from under the bike and newspapers. She crawled away on her knees, but laid down on her side, bringing her hands together by her lips. She could smell the fresh blood on her face, but her mind went somewhere else as she recited the Lord’s prayer.
*****
From the Blue and White- Sept. 10, 20--
The Next Contestant –
Emily Watts, freshman and lone Pentacostal of East Marine High School, was attacked by the Ravisher on Saturday morning, her ear lobe cut off. She was found praying by police, probably asking God why the crazy bastard didn’t go after one of the many hopeless sinners at our school. My sources told me that only a few suspects have been questioned. The MPD has never had to deal with attacks like this before; the guy leaves nothing behind, except for the damage on the girls’ faces. Before you know it, girls will be told not to go anywhere alone. But why should it be their fault? The Ravisher should have been caught before Kristen or Emily. Except for the victims, not one witness. This guy is smart, he won’t start getting sloppy for awhile.
On a side note, Emily finally got her wish and is being pulled permanently from school by her parents. She had no friends, but she never got her ass kicked; harmless enough to be a nobody until now...”
*****
The following Saturday, Sonya pulled together her list and other notes, stuffing these papers in a folder. She then sat at her bed, pulling her phone out of her backpack.
She had not called Cal since the woman answered his phone, but Sonya was willing to try again, if only to get Cal to tell her what he knew about the Ravisher.
Cal broke the news in his latest article that Kristen had received an e-mail from the Ravisher just hours before the attack on Emily. The details were not printed, but Sonya was sure Cal had a copy of the e-mail.
Sonya had read the blog entry about Emily in the Blue and White, and once again found ghost94, who left another blistering reply:
“Does she believe in God now? Let the bitch bleed, she’ll have some idea of how Jesus felt.”
Sonya had discussed ghost94 with Bobby and Piper and added the mysterious poster to her list, along with digging out the lists of friends from FriendsRing. She was planning to show all of her notes to Cal.
She took a deep breath and dialed his number.
“Hello?”
Cal’s voice. She sighed in relief. “Hi, Cal. Sonya here. Are you busy today?”
“I’m at the paper.”
“I need to see you. About the attacks.”
“I’ll be working all day.”
“Can I see you there?”
“If you can get a ride over here.”
“Dad will take me.”
*****
Aron, after some discussion, drove Sonya over to the Marine Press building downtown, with the deal that Cal would bring her home.
Cal met Sonya at the front doors of the old Press building, and they hugged. “Good to see you, dear.”
She nodded, her heart warming in his presence, because he reminded her of her mother. She noticed he was still thinner, wearing his green Michigan State sweatshirt. “I’m glad to see you, too.”
“I’m surprised Aron brought you.”
Sonya, with her folder under her arm, followed Cal down the old hallway, walls covered in gray marbled tile, something from sixty years ago. The elevator, which resembled a metal cage, rattled to the second floor. Cal pushed the door open with some effort, Sonya following.
“What’s going to happen to this place?” she asked.
“If the owners are smart, they’ll tear it down and start over.”
“Come on, you don’t mean that.”
“No, I don’t. But did you see what the old mall building looks like?”
“The roof is in the parking lot.”
“More condos are coming,” Cal said.
“Please, no. Not more one hundred thousand dollar turds nobody wants.”
“Like Whispering Pines.”
Sonya walked behind Cal to his small office. He unlocked the door while she stared at the water-stained ceiling, which sported several loose wires.
She found the same battered leather chair she used to sit in. She laid the folder on his cluttered desk as Cal sat at his chair. “These are things I’ve been writing down. Has the MPD seen the Blue and White?”
“Yes. The school blog, right?”
“Every time there’s a post about the attacks, someone named ghost94 leaves a nasty reply. Sometimes more than one—”
“Garcia has been trying to trace some of the members for questioning, but you’re talking about hundreds of people, some of whom are adults or don’t even live in Marine.”
“FriendsRing?”
“Same thing. Garcia would need a warrant to get past the security the owners of FriendsRing use to protect their members.”
“Wow. I didn’t know that.”
“Garcia feels like he’s being stone-walled, so he’s looking at other leads for now.”
“What about the e-mail to Kristen?”
“What about it?”
“Can I see it?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Sonya stood behind Cal as he clicked his mouse on the e-mail, which filled the screen of his Dell. Cal moved his seat over, so she could read:
“Kristen–
I am going out again on my quest to recapture those moments of surrender you brought me that night. You did not fight, accepting my blade into your flesh. You let me bless you, bleeding for me. I have kept your watch at that perfect time, that moment when I had to leave you. But I have to forget, because my quest demands a new face.
Sincerely
Your Ravisher.”
“Garcia managed to trace the e-mail to the Starbucks at the Four Winds Mall,” Cal said. “The Ravisher used a Yahoo address, and his information could be fake, but Garcia said he would check it out.”
“No one asks for a Social Security number just to get an e-mail address,” Sonya said.
“Right. Anyone can disappear.”
“What about the cuts? The knives used?”
“There may be two or three different blades involved. The knife that was used on Jessica Holden was definitely not used on Emily Watts. He had to stab into Emily’s face, and Jessica’s cuts were deep but smooth. Kristen’s were also a clean cut.”
“He took jewelry from Jess and Kristen, but not Emily. Why did he take her earlobe instead?”
“I don’t know. Pentacostal women don’t wear a lot of jewelry, but he could have been looking for an earring. Or he could be getting worse.”
“Does Garcia know what kind of knives the Ravisher could be using?”
“Hunting knives, most likely.”
Sonya flipped open her folder. “There’s hunting stores all over Marine.”
“And how many guys own knives like that?”
“Hunters like Uncle Bill.” Sonya pulled out her hand-written list, which she handed to Cal.
“Who’s Rick Chambers?” he asked.
“My friend Bobby’s brother. He can be violent, he has friends in the Blue Diamonds, and they keep coming up...”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a connection, but where’s your proof?”
“Only from Justine Kent, Piper’s friend.”
“Why does that name sound familiar?”
“She’s at Haven Rest. She stabbed a boy at the Crandall Academy.”
“Was that recent?’
“Last year.”
“I’m thinking of something from farther back, maybe ten years ago. A woman was raped. She insisted her rapist was a Blue Diamond, but there was no proof.” Cal raised his finger, then nodded. “Now
I remember. Angela Kent. She was beat up bad, her nose and jaw broken. She and her little girl were found in a cabin—”
Cal’s cell phone started to ring at his desk. He picked it up. Sonya watched his gaze switch back to her. “Yes, Ben. Sure, send it to me. I’ll be here all day.” He closed the phone. “The Ravisher just e-mailed Emily. Garcia’s going to forward a copy.”
“They’ve been sharing a lot with you lately,” Sonya said.
“I think Captain Schultz wants a little help from the Press. Can you believe it?”
“I thought he hated you.”
Cal grinned. “So did I, especially after I wouldn’t reveal my source on that drug bust in the Heights. But Garcia was trying to use the meth lab explosion in Fruit Ridge as a carrot to get me to go along.”
“Will you?”
“Of course.”
“Have you ever spoken to a Blue Diamond named Shawn?”
“Shawn who?”
“I don’t know his last name, but he hangs out at the club-house with Barb Stone, my neighbor.”
“The lady with the quadruplets?”
“Yeah. Her husband was a Blue Diamond.” Sonya passed Cal her FriendsRing lists. “One of these lists belongs to Jess Holden, the others are Bobby’s and Piper’s.”
“Are you on FriendsRing?” Cal asked.
“No. Not even Facebook or Twitter.”
“These lists are long. Have you made any matches?”
“Not yet. I’ve been busy.”
“Going to school everyday?”
“Yes, I am.”
“How are you and Aron getting along?”
“All right. I just wish he would leave me alone sometimes.”
Cal suppressed his smile. “It’s called parental supervision, Sonya.”
“You and Mom gave me plenty of supervision.”
“No, we didn’t. Especially when Carolyn was dying. You were left to your own devices too much.”
“I never did anything stupid, Cal.”
“There’s always a first time. The Ravisher seems to like your area, so I can’t blame Aron for nagging you about taking off alone on your bike.” Cal turned around, checking his e-mail. “Here it is. Let’s take a look.”
Sonya peered over Cal’s shoulder as he opened the Ravisher’s new message.
Cal’s gaze dashed over the two sentences. He shook his head. “This isn’t the same guy.”