Too Close to Home Read online

  Walking past the efficiency kitchen on her right, she headed straight down the short hallway to her bedroom located at the end.

  Sam kicked off her sandals and fell across the queen-sized mattress. Her body appreciated the soft comfort; unfortunately, her brain refused to power down. Images from the past fourteen hours clicked and whirred through her mind.

  Knowing better than to fight it, Sam let herself process it. At two o’clock yesterday afternoon, she had received a call about a parent who discovered several days ago that his twelve-year-old son had been chatting online with a possible predator. The father asked his son about it, and the boy admitted that he was friends with the person who went by SK8BRDR as his screen name.

  Then his son had failed to show up for supper.

  The father, desperate to figure out where his child was, had gone online and found one email detailing a meeting between SK8BRDR and the boy. The father had immediately called the police who in turn had called in Samantha to find more evidence on the home computer as to who this SK8BRDR person was.

  Sam’s job as an FBI computer forensics expert had been to find every possible IM and email on the computer. She’d found them and been disgusted by the blatant sexual messages. While she gathered the evidence from the computer, the police had arrived at the scene in time to rescue the boy from the thirty-six-year-old man who had duct tape and a knife in the trunk of his car.

  Now, SK8BRDR was in custody, the boy was safe, and Sam was home. Watching the clock, longing for sleep, but still processing.

  Fortunately, this potential victim had an astute dad who knew what to do. Unfortunately, a lot of Sam’s cases didn’t end so happily.

  Drowsiness set in. Samantha felt herself relaxing. Finally. She looked at the clock. Five-thirty already. Ugh. She considered taking a hot bath, but couldn’t muster the energy necessary for the task. Instead, she shut her eyes praying to dream of a world where innocence was cherished, not stalked.

  Just as her eyes closed, her phone rang.

  “It’s got to be the computers.”

  Connor slapped the IM fax down on the desk beside Andrew. “What?”

  Connor could barely contain his excitement. “The link. Somehow, the deaths of these three girls and the girls who are still missing are related to their computers.”

  “How do you figure?” Andrew frowned.

  Connor pushed aside a mound of papers and edged his rear onto a corner of the desk while Andrew leaned back in his squeaky chair. “I had an idea, so I pulled all six files and compared the description of each girl’s room and the layout of the house. Four out of the six had computers in their bedrooms. The three dead girls are three of the four who had the computer in the bedroom. The other two girls had access to a computer that was either in a family room or the den or whatnot.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything. I mean we went over the computers in detail, checking email accounts, files, documents, everything the girls did on those computers was examined thoroughly.”

  “Right, but we weren’t looking for a link between the computers themselves, just between the victims. But what if their internet activity is related, like they visited the same websites, chatted with the same people? I think we need to pull in an expert and see if we can nail something that shows some kind of common denominator here.”

  “Guess we could talk to the captain about it.”

  “I already did. He said to go for it. Even gave me the name of an FBI agent who’s supposed to be some kind of genius with computers. Samantha Cash.”

  Andrew raised a red-tinged brow and nodded. “Yeah, I know Samantha. She and her sister, Jamie, go to my church. Angie’s done some ladies Bible studies with Samantha. So, what does the IM say?”

  Connor laid it on the desk. “Jake said it was almost illegible. It had obviously been folded and unfolded numerous times, parts of it were torn. It was practically falling apart. Thanks to modern science, he was able to reconstruct it.” His eyes followed the words as Andrew read aloud:

  TIME4FUN: Aw. Come on send me a pic.

  SEASANDS4EVER: 4 Real?

  SEASANDS4EVER: Why?

  TIME4FUN: Cuz, I know this guy that’s hiring models and if you wanna break into the business, you gotta know people. And I know someone. IF you look as good as you say you do.

  SEASANDS4EVER: I do. And I even have a portfolio already made up. Just haven’t had any luck yet.

  TIME4FUN: Well, Babe, that’s where I come in. I act as your agent, see?

  SEASANDS4EVER: Okay, hang on a sec.

  SEASANDS4EVER: Okay, I sent it. You get it?

  TIME4FUN: Got it. And yeah, you’ve got real potential. I think we can work something out. When do you want to meet?

  SEASANDS4EVER: Are you serious?

  TIME4FUN: Babe, I don’t have time to play. Time is money. Of course I’m serious.

  SEASANDS4EVER: I don’t know. How do I know you’re not some perv?

  TIME4FUN: Ha. I guess you’re just going to have to trust me on that one. Okay, I’m going to give you a phone number. (864) 555-1234. Give me a call and we’ll set something up. You can bring a friend with you if you’re not comfortable meeting with me by yourself. We’ll even meet in a public place the first time. Lots of people around and you can check me out.

  SEASANDS4EVER: COOL!

  “That’s it?”

  Connor nodded. “Yep. We called the number and it was a prepaid cell phone. Out of order now, of course. No way to trace it. No record of it. Whoever got it paid with cash.”

  “So now we see if we can get something else from the computers.”

  “Yeah.” Connor sighed and rubbed his eyes. He needed a break.

  Andrew said, “Oh, I went over and watched the video from the grocery store. It’s not clear at all, but it does show Leslie being dumped by some guy draped in black.”

  “The black monster?”

  “Obviously. And that homeless guy’s no help. I tried to question him, but he’s had some kind of psychotic break and is in the psychiatric hospital downtown.”

  “Great.” Connor rubbed the back of his neck and stood.

  Andrew stopped him with, “On a personal level—how’s Jenna?”

  “Hanging in there.” He tapped the IM still enclosed in the plastic bag to protect it. “Andrew, you know I love my daughter, but we’ve got a killer to catch before someone else goes missing—and Jenna is a pretty teen, just the right age. It makes me extremely nervous. I know, in one way, I’m not being the kind of parent I need to be, but in another, I feel like I’m focused on getting this guy before he gets Jenna.” Rubbing his eyes, he confessed, “Maybe that’s crazy, but every time I see one of those dead girls, I see—” He forced down the sudden lump in his throat that always seemed to form when he thought about Jenna.

  Andrew nodded, sympathy flashing.

  “Anyway,” Connor continued, “I’ll be home in time to eat supper with her—or at least at my parents’ home to eat. I asked my mother to pick her up this morning, take her to school, and pick her up later. She’s going to be staying with them for the duration of this case. I don’t like leaving her in the middle of the night. I don’t like leaving her alone, period. Sixteen or not, she should have someone there.”

  Andrew held up a hand. “Hey, you don’t have to justify it to me. There’s a killer out there who’s targeting girls like Jenna. I think you did the right thing. I do think you should call her. It’s what . . . a little after four?”

  Connor glanced at his watch. “Yeah, okay. I’ll call her. Guess I can at least find out what we’re having for supper, right?”

  Andrew just shook his head as Connor pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mom, it’s me.”

  “Hello, Connor. How are you?”

  He winced at the tightly leashed disapproval coming over the line. “Fine, Mom. Just really busy trying to find out who’s killing these girls.”

  “An
y luck?” Genuine interest found its way into her voice. His mother may not approve of his parenting, but she did care about the teenagers and the progress of the case.

  “Maybe. I’ve got a possible lead. We’re getting ready to check it out.”

  “You sound exhausted. How much sleep have you had in the past forty-eight hours?”

  “Not enough, that’s for sure. But I’m okay. How’s Jenna?”

  Silence, then, “She’s fine—I think. She’s supposed to be working on her geometry homework. Would you like to speak to her?”

  Connor heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Well, I guess the real question is, does she want to speak to me?”

  “Jenna, your dad’s on the phone.” His mother’s voice faded as she turned her head away from the mouthpiece.

  “So?”

  He heard that loud and clear.

  “So? How about saying hello. You haven’t seen him in a couple of days.”

  “Yeah? Well, whose fault is that?”

  Connor had heard enough. “Um, Mom, it’s okay. Forget it. I’ll catch up with her later.”

  “Connor, you’re going to have to do something about this disrespect. You can’t let her get away with acting like this.”

  “I know, Mom. I know you’re right, but what do I do? She’s right too. It is my fault. Look, I’ll be leaving here shortly. I’m just going to see if I can do a couple more things, then I’ll be home hopefully in time to talk to her.”

  Connor hung up the phone and rubbed his blurring eyes. His mom was right, of course. He definitely had to do something about Jenna’s insolence. But what? Ground her, then wind up having to stick his mom with enforcing it?

  Somehow he had to come up with a plan that would allow him to be both the dad he needed to be and the cop he was born to be.

  4

  By lunchtime Tuesday, Sam felt like a new person. When she’d answered her phone in the wee hours of yesterday morning, she’d refused to go in, knowing in her state of exhaustion, she wouldn’t be good for anyone.

  However, she promised to be available as soon as she completed the paperwork for the job she’d just finished and had a few hours of sleep. She’d had five, understanding the urgency of this new development in a case she’d been following.

  Missing teenage girls who were turning up dead. Knowing how desperate the police were to find this sicko, she’d had a hard time sleeping, forcing herself to do so out of sheer physical necessity.

  Now, she was ready to lend her expertise to the local police force. Their computer forensics guy was good, but Samantha was better and they knew it. Besides, they wanted to bring in the big guns for this case and Samantha’s boss was happy to oblige them. He’d sent them the best.

  She agreed to be down at the precinct by one o’clock in the afternoon to meet with the detectives working on the missing teens case. They thought somehow the vanishings and eventual deaths of the girls were linked to their computers.

  Sam’s job would be to find that link—if there was one. It had been a while since she’d been called in to work with the local police. As an FBI agent, it seemed like recently she’d spent her time and energy sitting in front of a computer, catching online predators. Now, she looked forward to being back out in the field, throwing all of her energy into nabbing this guy and getting him off the streets.

  She parked in the visitor spot and made her way into the building. The front door faced downtown, and the traffic zipped past her, causing the breeze to tug at the strands of her casual ponytail.

  Jeans, a hot pink T-shirt, and flip-flops completed her clothing ensemble. She didn’t bother with makeup. It just got rubbed off within minutes, due to her habit of massaging her temples, cheeks, and eyes when she worked.

  She paused at the entrance and put her hand on the door. “Okay, God. I’m here. Show me the way, use my skills, and let’s get this guy off the streets, okay?”

  Pulling open the door, she stepped inside and slid her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head. Sam walked up to the glass-enclosed desk and rapped her knuckles on the protective barrier. The woman typing on the computer swiveled her chair around and offered a smile.

  “Hey, Sam, it’s been a while. How are ya?”

  The woman’s deep southern accent made Samantha grin back. “Oh, pretty good, Deb, how ’bout you?”

  “I reckon I can’t complain too much. Who’re you looking for today?”

  “Detective Connor Wolfe, a SLED agent. I haven’t heard of him. Is he new?”

  Deb shook her head. “Naw, not really. He’s been in the business for a long time, a detective up in North Carolina, then joined up with SLED in Columbia about two years ago to be closer to his parents. The sheriff called them for help on this missing teens case about a year ago. Sheriff’s getting kinda grumpy with them, though. Says they’re taking up space and not showing much for the effort.”

  Sam grimaced at the thought of Sheriff Chesterfield. A good man who did a good job, but was a bit territorial. She knew he’d only call SLED in as a last resort. “Detective Wolfe, huh? I wondered why I hadn’t met him before. You guys haven’t called me in a while.”

  “Don’t know why not. It sure hasn’t been quiet around here.” Deb’s fingers tapped on her keyboard, and the visitor’s pass printed out. She handed it to Sam and said, “Okie dokie, you’re all clear. When you get into the ‘asylum’ you’ll just have to look for the name on his desk or ask someone. Good to see you again. Don’t be a stranger, ya hear?”

  A few clicks on the computer, and a buzz later, found Sam walking through the security door and down the hall.

  Sam traced the familiar path to the “pit,” a.k.a. the “asylum” according to Deb, where she entered the chaos she loved. Phones ringing off the hook, suspects being questioned and booked, perps exercising their right to one phone call. All in a day’s work.

  She wound her way around the desks, looking at nameplates, finally arriving at the third desk on the right.

  Detective Connor Wolfe. A dark-haired, well-built gentleman leaned back in his chair with a phone pressed to his ear. He didn’t look very happy. His next words confirmed that initial impression.

  “I said no, Jenna, and that’s what I meant. No going out after dark. You understand? Girls are disappearing and turning up dead. I don’t want you to be one of them. Clear?”

  Despite his firm tone, the man looked bleary and tired. He rubbed his eyes, then squeezed the bridge of his nose—one that looked like it had been broken a time or two. “Yeah, yeah, sure. I’m sorry I’m ruining your social life. You’ll thank me later. Look, Jenna . . .”

  He stopped speaking, pulled the phone away from his ear only to slam it down. The glare he shot the handset should have melted it. He muttered, “She hung up on me.”

  “Excuse me. Connor Wolfe?”

  He looked up. Blinked. Swallowed hard. Sam could have sworn his face lost a couple of shades of color as he gave her the once-over. “Huh?”

  “Connor Wolfe?” she repeated.

  Sam started to squirm under his avid scrutiny. Without taking his eyes from her face, he said, “Oh, yeah. That’s me. Hang on a sec.”

  He looked over his shoulder at another detective one desk over who Sam recognized. “Hey, Andrew, when’s that computer geek supposed to be here? Doesn’t she realize we got murders to solve and kids to find?”

  Computer geek? Samantha gaped at him.

  Andrew choked on the sip of water he’d just taken, then sputtered, “Uh, Connor, when you pull your foot out of your mouth, you might want to use it to kick yourself in the rear before you introduce yourself to the computer geek.”

  Andrew pointed at her.

  Samantha narrowed her eyes and gave Connor a tight smile. “Special Agent Samantha Cash. I was asked to come in and look at some computers?”

  Connor stood, and Samantha was startled to see how tall he was. He dwarfed her five-feet-nine-inch height by at least five inches.

  He hel
d out his hand and had the grace to look slightly embarrassed; still his gaze never left her features. “Um, sorry about that. I’m a little frustrated at the moment, and I didn’t realize . . . that is, I didn’t know . . . aw, nuts, help me out here, huh?”

  Samantha bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as the man stuttered out his half apology, half excuse. She shook his hand and said, “One computer geek at your service.”

  What was it with women and the careers they picked these days? First Serena, and now Samantha. She reminded Connor of a character on one of those cop shows he’d watched once or twice when he needed a good laugh at the thought of solving a case in the time frame of sixty minutes.

  He swallowed hard, looked closer. She was also a dead ringer for—

  Uh-uh. No way, not going there.

  Straight blonde hair, blue eyes, no makeup, and just about perfect. Definitely not your typical computer geek. He really had to stop typecasting. Still, her resemblance to—

  “Earth to Connor.” Andrew whistled.

  Connor blinked and rushed to cover the awkward moment. “Okay, now that I’ve got my foot out of my mouth, let’s get started. Oh, by the way, that’s my partner, Andrew West. I hear you two have met.” He watched the two exchange nods.

  “Yes, we’ve met. It was a missing kid, suspected online predator case, about two years ago. Andrew was the uniform on the scene. How’s Angie?”

  “She’s great. Good to see you again.” Andrew’s mirth still danced in his eyes. Connor shot him a warning look, mixed with a question Andrew would be answering later, before turning back to Samantha.

  All business now, she asked him, “Okay, what do you have for me?”

  Connor followed her lead. “Obviously you’re aware of the missing teenagers case. We think it’s the same guy doing it, and we think that somehow he’s contacting them through the internet and getting them to meet him. None of the houses have been broken into, no forced entry, etc.”

  “Hmm, so what makes you think he’s getting to them through the computer?”

  “This.” Connor handed her the IM. He reeled in his wandering thoughts again as he watched her read the note.