With a wave toward a group of three women, Candice began walking down the long dock, her flip flops making a distinct whack-whack sound against the wood. Alexandra followed, even though she knew her feet weren’t moving. On and on the young woman walked, as if the pier kept on for miles instead of the thousand or so feet it probably was, the music growing more and more distant.
Candice reached the end of the pier, which felt deserted and bereft. Her flip flops quieted when she stepped on sand. She turned suddenly at the sound of an animal’s whining. She bent and moved closer to the underbelly of the pier. The daylight had faded so much by now that only shadows could be seen.
Candice clicked her tongue several times. “Puppy?”
The whining continued, luring Candice deeper into the darkness as she cooed and pleaded for the unseen animal not to be afraid. The hair on the back of Alexandra’s neck suddenly lifted as goosebumps chased each other down her arms. She wanted to yell at Candice not to move any closer, but it was too late.
Candice disappeared into the shadows, and Alexandra followed. A pair of gloved hands snaked out of the shadows and snatched the young woman by her shoulders, dragging her further under the dock. Candice’s screams mingled with the howling horn and throbbing percussions in the distance as she fought against her attacker. She tore away from him and ran, sloshing through the surf beneath the pier, but the killer was fast and tackled her at the water’s edge. Alexandra watched in horror as the dark-clad shape of a man plunged a hypodermic needle into her arm from behind and injected something into her system. Candice continued to claw her way toward the water, her movements slowing until eventually her head lowered into the ebb and flow of the ocean’s edge. A bubble broke the surface, and then she went completely still.
“Alexandra!”
Alexandra felt a cough tear through her chest, and she realized she was clutching her throat with one hand and her chest with the other. Why couldn’t she breathe? Dylan had both hands on her shoulder and was shaking her, hard.
“Alexandra! Are you okay?”
She struggled to pull air into of her lungs and whispered “Yes,” feeling more than a little disoriented to see the plain beige walls of the conference room instead of the ocean and sand.
“What the hell was that about?” Dylan’s fingers gripped into her upper arms. He tried to push her into a chair, but she resisted.
“I know how she was killed, and where.”
He narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Leaving no detail unmentioned, she explained everything she’d just witnessed. Dylan finally let his hands fall away from her.
He swore and turned on his heels.
“What?” she demanded. “You don’t believe me?”
He placed his hands on his hips and spun back toward her. “That matches information I haven’t had time to put in her file yet. She was last seen at Folly Beach Pier, but her car was found a block away from the cemetery, about half an hour away from the pier. A witness told us they saw her driving away, but maybe…” His voice trailed off.
“Maybe they saw her car, but not her.” Alexandra stepped closer. “She was killed at that pier, Dylan. I know it.”
He nodded. “It would explain the ocean water in her lungs.”
“So you believe me?”
He stared at her for several seconds. “I’m keeping an open mind.”
Happiness rushed through Alexandra at his hard-earned admission, although she didn’t know why. It was always a high when someone came to appreciate her abilities, but she’d never felt so excited about it. Why did she care so much what this man thought of her? She barely knew him. Except in the Biblical sense.
There was a knock on the door, distracting Alexandra from her inappropriate thoughts. A uniformed officer opened the door and gestured at Dylan. “There’s a call for you, Collins. Person insists you’ll want to talk to him about the Christopher case. He refuses to leave a message. You want to take it, or—?”
“I’ll take it. Transfer it to my desk.” He told Alexandra, “Excuse me for a minute.” And then he left her alone.
***
Dylan made it to his desk before the first ring. Snatching up the receiver, he barked, “Detective Collins. I understand you have some information about a case I’m working on?”
Heavy breathing was the only response.
“Hello?” Sinking into his chair, Dylan lifted his hand and rubbed at his forehead. He was tired. Damn tired. He was grateful it was almost six o’clock, and that Alexandra would be leaving soon for the day. He hoped. The woman was a major distraction on multiple levels, and he could use some distance right about now. Distance to regroup and think. And sleep. Man, he hoped he could sneak in a nap after a quick bite to eat. “Hello? Anyone there?”
“I’m here,” a raspy voice responded softly. A man’s voice. Distorted.
Dylan waited for more, but the heavy breathing was all he got. “Look, I’m pretty busy at the moment. Do you have information to share, or can I transfer you back to our front desk so you can be redirected to the right person?”
“I’m calling you about the Grim Reaper.”
Every cell in Dylan’s body snapped to alert. The Grim Reaper info hadn’t been released to the public. “I’m listening.”
“Are you, Detective Collins? Or are you too busy playing with your new girlfriend to appreciate my offerings?”
“Who is this?”
A sinister laugh trickled down the line. “None other than the Reaper himself, of course. I wanted to let you know how pleased I am that you brought in Alexandra King so soon. It pleases me very much.”
Dylan looked around and spotted Reedus. He lifted his arm and snapped his fingers, then gestured to the phone. When Reedus got close enough, Dylan wrote on a piece of paper, This might be our killer. Get me a trace. He leaned closer to the phone and said, “Who?”
“I recognized her last night, when you met in the bar. Tell me, detective, is that how you pay your consultants? By sleeping with them?”
Dylan stifled a curse. Whoever this guy was, he knew a lot of information.
“Who says she’s a consultant?”
“I don’t have time for games. I have one demand to make, and then I have to hang up.”
“Okay. I’ll bite. What?”
“Release my name to the media. I want to see my name on the news by tomorrow. If I don’t, you won’t be pleased with the results.”
A click preceded a dial tone, and Dylan swore. “Did we get a trace?” He directed the comment at no one in particular, but Reedus lowered the phone receiver in his hand and shook his head from across the room. He slammed his phone down.
“He was using an unregistered mobile, one of those prepaid ones.” Reedus coughed as he hurried over. “We didn’t have him on long enough to triangulate the call.”
This guy was smart. Too smart.
How the devil had the caller known so much about Alexandra? Was she an accomplice to this whole thing? How else had the caller known who she was?
He swore again.
His gut told him she wasn’t involved, but he’d have to run a more thorough background check after this. Where had she been at the time of the first murder? And if she wasn’t an accomplice, then she was a potential target.
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