Page 43 of Scorched

“Nobody, no patient lying in a hospital. Nothing,” Paul voiced his thoughts aloud.

“You got it.”

“This guy has to be a copycat.”

“Agreed. Brenna checked out the local library of all the books written that mention the Dakota Strangler. Each of them details how the victim was strangled and tied up with an Ethernet cable.”

“Yeah, but the Dakota Strangler strangled his victimswiththe cable, then tied them with the murder weapon.”

“This guy didn’t?”

“The first victim was strangled, the coroner thinks with an arm around her throat. No signs of the cable around her throat. Then she was bound at the hands and feet and tossed into the Guadalupe River.”

Nick heaved a sigh. “Not quite the same.”

“Which could mean something or nothing. It’s been two years. If Stan Klaus is still alive, he might have changed his method. Then again, if it’s a copycat, how did he find out Elise Johnson is really Alice Klaus?” Paul paused to breathe. “Hell, I didn’t even know who she was and where she’d relocated until you and Brenna called.”

“Any chance the kids inadvertently let it slip?”

Paul hesitated. Brandon knew his father had killed. “Maybe. But to whom? They go to elementary school. So far, the victims have all had some connection to the high school in some way.”

“How big is Breuer?”

“Just under ten thousand people.”

“A small town where everyone knows everyone else’s business?”

“Not quite. Most of the people who live here in the hill country commute to San Antonio. It’s like a really large suburb of the city.”

“Still, word could have gotten around.”

Paul didn’t like the idea of questioning Brandon, but he had to follow all the leads. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

He ended the call and had just set his cell phone down when it rang again. The name on the caller ID made him pick up. “What’s wrong, Elise?”

“I got a call from him.”

The tone of Elise’s voice told Paul all he needed to know about who “him” was.

Paul gripped the phone hard. “Tell me.”

Elise busiedherself with getting the boys through homework and their nightly routine. She didn’t want to slow down long enough to think about what the killerhad said, nor did she want to relive the scream she’d heard in the background. She’d probably hear that scream echoing in her nightmares for the rest of her life.

Promptly at eight-thirty, she had Luke and Brandon bathed and tucked into their beds, forcing herself to take the time to read a story to them, when all she wanted was to run screaming through the house. Normalcy was what they needed in their lives. Normalcy was what she prayed for every day, though her prayers had gone unanswered.

Agent Melissa Bradley had called thirty minutes earlier to say she’d be there around eight forty-five with the sheriff.

The entire time Elise read to her boys, her thoughts strayed to that phone call and anger surged through her veins. Surged and ebbed away and surged again.

She knew she had to tell the police about the notes and the phone call, but still Elise couldn’t help dreading the exposure of her and her children to the scrutiny of the police and, ultimately the press.

Elise leaned over Brandon and kissed his forehead. Nowadays, he only let her kiss him when he was sleeping. Kissing was for babies, and Brandon was the man of the house. She’d told him so and he’d taken his responsibilities seriously.

Elise stared down at him as he lay snuggled in his twin-sized bed, the exact match of his brother’s beside him. Her heart swelled with the pain and love she felt for her sons.

Brandon knew. All this time, she’d avoided talking with Brandon about what had happened back in North Dakota. She’d hoped he’d forgotten, that his young mind would let it go. Maybe he wouldn’t remember the news reporters pushing microphones into his mother’s face, asking her if she’d known that her husband had been killing women.

He’d probably seen the reports on television displaying the picture of his father, calling him the Dakota Strangler. What must that have done to him? And for Brandon to hold that inside all this time must have been hard.

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