Page 113 of Pretty Broken Dolls
Looking out at the densely forested property, she thought about how the killer liked to display and hang jewelry. And…
“That has to be it,” she said and ran toward the back of the property.
Trying not to cry out in pain from the rocks and sharp brush underfoot, she made it to the back fence. Looking along the line until she got to the area where Jeanine’s body was found, Katie shone the light up and down. Nothing. But then something flashed in the light; the key was dangling by a yellow ribbon on the lower part of the fence. She almost missed it.
Katie grabbed the key.
She limped back through the forest until she reached the house.
The text arrived like clockwork.
Find the circus place that we like to play up high. If you don’t, Lizzy will die. Tick Tock.
“Crap! I hate rhymes and riddles. Play up high? Circus?” She thought about it. “Of course, the fairgrounds.”
She ran as fast as she could back to the Jeep, jumping inside and revving the engine, and sped off back down the street.
The finale.
Katie prayed that Lizzy was still alive—she would never forgive herself if something happened to her.
Her heart sped up to a scary level. Her hands and feet felt sweaty. The road ahead looked peculiar to her—her vision became fuzzy and the lane seemed to be rolling like incoming waves. She boosted her high beams, to help her see the road. Her chest was heavy, as if a huge weight was pressing against it, making it difficult to breathe.
No, please no.
Swerving on the road as oncoming lights blasted what was left of her vision, she began hyperventilating. Katie couldn’t drive anymore and pulled over to the side of the rural road. With the engine still running, she lowered the windows to feel the cool air whipping across the front seat.
It seemed that she was losing everything and everyone in her life that she cared about. She couldn’t make her breathing normal. It was out of control—the pressure against her chest felt like a heart attack. Was she dying?
Her memory was bombarded with every gunfire shot and firefight she had endured. The smell of expelled gunfire wafted into her Jeep. She knew it was only in her imagination, but that wasn’t comforting at the moment.
Dr. Carver’s voice came to her mind, reminding her that when she was having trouble she should go to a time in her memory that was happy and uplifting.
She would say,“Cling to someone that you love, whose love makes you happy.”
Chad’s smiling face came to mind and all the places they had been together, whether it was hiking on the many wonderful trails in Sequoia County or staying at the beach in a motel. So many memories engulfed her mind once she calmed a little and let them flood in. Sitting on her porch watching the sunset. Playing ball with Cisco. The memories flooded on.
Katie’s breathing began to slow and normalize. All she could smell now was the fragrance of the pine trees just outside her window. Her sweaty hands and bare feet were cold and she shivered in her sleeveless dress.
As she looked down the deserted road, she could see the lane clearly and everything had returned to normal. Her hands shook as she wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel, clutching it tight. She closed her eyes and counted down in slow breaths from ten to one.
Suddenly her phone buzzed with a new text.
“No,” she said, terrified about what it would say. Instead, she saw it was an email from Sergeant Serrano from the army K9 training facility.
Katie snapped back into investigative mode with her typical curiosity. She clicked on the email to find a list of eight names from the videos:
R. Rodriguez, S. Davis, D. Haley, R. Ramos, G. Simpson, J. Trenton, A. Crowley, and P. Frear. Note: Yes, D. Winchell was trained here during the same time as J. Trenton.
Katie studied the names. She couldn’t concentrate and the only name that meant anything to her at that moment was Jeanine Trenton’s name. She put away her phone, took another breath, and mustered all her focus to concentrate on the safety of her friend Lizzy.
Her mind was almost clear and her vitals were returning to normal, so she eased the Jeep onto the road again and raced toward the fairgrounds. She hoped that when she got there it would be clear which lock the key would open.
The journey would take her almost a half hour. She braced for another text message. Feeling like a pawn being moved around on a game board, Katie focused on who could be behind this escapade.
The more she relaxed, the more her mind cleared and she picked up back where she had left off, thinking about the identity of the killer. The killer had given her another clue; it was obvious they knew who Katie was and, more than likely, her background as a military K9 handler. Now they were toying with her.
Her thoughts sharpened and Agent Campbell came to mind again. He had been shadowing her and McGaven. He had asked for her on purpose. He had the means and the opportunity to have cloned her phone; he had even told her in a roundabout way she wasbait. What the hell? And what about his theory that Gwen Sanderson had killed Nancy Day and that a copycat was now killing the other women? Was he manipulating the investigation? Could he be pulling the strings? And, crucially, he had been taken off these cases. So he didn’t have the authority to request Katie and McGaven’s assistance.
