Page 4 of Her Last Whisper
He traveled through the crowd with confidence, causing people to make way for him as he walked. It always gave him a thrill; the brush of a shoulder, the light graze of a fingertip, the distinct odors that proved everyone was truly unique.
Sweet perfume.
Day-old Scotch.
Fresh laundry.
Sweat.
All were part of the fantasy he held close; his personal collection of what made each individual who they were. Their truth. He felt the tension of the lunchtime crowd—hunger; desire; loneliness; hatred; longing; wanting—and craved the unadulterated reality they hid from everyone else. Their most personal secret.
He smiled at a pair of women as they casually passed by him. One smiled back and the other, more interesting to him, looked away. Curiosity burned inside.What was she hiding? What did she dislike about him so much? What did she dislike about herself?The questions piled up, but he knew how to keep his insatiable curiosity in check.
Standing in line for a coffee, he noticed ahead of him a brunette with honey-colored highlights clipped into place with an elegant gold barrette. He watched her lips, doused with a carnation pink lipstick, move gently as she ordered her drink. Leaning closer, he took in her dark gray suit and pale pink blouse, unbuttoned to give a little hint of what was underneath. He inhaled. Lilac. Clean oatmeal soap.
He heard the coffee kiosk employee call her Tess.
Tess, beautiful Tess. I wonder what deep dark secrets would come tumbling out of you at the right time?
He shadowed her as she walked away, careful not to draw attention to himself. Following. Learning. Finally on the hunt again…
Tess…
Three
Monday 1300 hours
Looking around at her new office space, it dawned on Katie that with no windows, there was no sound or natural light. The room was in desperate need of something living—perhaps a couple of plants would help. She wondered if the forensic division—John and his two technicians—minded her taking up space in their area at the police department. It was somewhat unorthodox, but she felt that it was going to work out well for her. She was a bit of a loner, so the quiet suited her just fine. In fact, she felt rather at home.
Sitting at her desk, perching on the edge of her too-big leather chair, Katie felt she needed to do something physical to calm the flurries in her stomach and slightly shaky hands. She rolled her chair back and swiveled toward the two towering stacks of boxes. A mismatch of sizes and styles, the boxes looked ready to fall at any moment. Splitting them into four smaller stacks, she noticed that a couple of the boxes had the distinct musty smell of old paper. It saddened her that these were some of the oldest cold cases, those that had little hope of ever being solved.
The quietness of the basement wrapped itself around her. No voices. No whoosh of air conditioning above her head. No sound of cars rattling outside. The only noise she could hear was her own breath as she adjusted the furniture in the room to better suit her needs.
She turned the two five-foot desks to face one another—that way she could use the extra space when she opened evidence boxes. She pushed the ink board over to the other corner where it would be easy for her to begin making her notes and wouldn’t take up any more precious space than necessary.
Along the back wall were long Formica counters and a sink. Originally designed for a forensic technician, they were now cluttered with yet more cold-case boxes. She opened the cupboard beneath the sink and found some paper towels to wipe away the heavy dust around the room. The old cupboards had a sharp sour smell as if they hadn’t been opened in a decade.
When everything was set up, Katie decided to start by getting all her new employment paperwork out of the way so she could get to work on the case files without interruption. She quickly initialed each page to indicate that she understood the regulations of her duty as a police detective. It included the insurance coverage, back pay, vacation time, overtime, and union information. She recorded her previous work experience as a patrol officer at Sacramento Police Department as well as her time in the military. Most sheriff departments required a minimum of four years’ law enforcement experience to apply for a detective position, but her previous experience, college degree, and military time were more than sufficient. It also helped that the department had received glowing letters from her previous supervisor at Sacramento PD, her co-workers, and even the mayor for her dedication and hard work on the missing girl case.
Just as Katie’s vision was beginning to blur from tedious box checking, there was a knock at her door.
Chad Ferguson appeared in the doorway and walked directly into Katie’s office. His infectious smile, light sandy hair, and his immediate warmth made him the center of attention in any room.
“Hey there,” said Katie as she rose from her chair to greet him. She had known Chad since they were eight years old and he was her closest childhood friend. There were very few childhood memories that he wasn’t in. They had dated in high school, but then life had taken them in different directions. Both had left Pine Valley for a while and had returned recently at around the same time. She wasn’t exactly sure how to define their relationship now.
“I wanted to see you,” he said.
“I’m glad you did.” She couldn’t keep his constant gaze. Since seeing him again, after the last terrifying outcome with a serial killer, she still felt a surge of attraction.
“Interesting office…” He gazed around.
Katie laughed. “It’s different. I was just trying to rearrange it so that it didn’t feel like I was in someone’s basement.”
“Well, I won’t keep you from your work.” He glanced at the well-worn boxes. “I wanted to say congratulations in person and invite you out to dinner tonight.”
Katie leaned against her desk, taken aback. She had wanted to keep things between them unromantic until she’d settled in to her new job and civilian life a bit more. And even then, she wasn’t so sure if she should jump into a serious relationship.
“I can see you’re hesitating. Maybe we can go out to dinner another time?”
