The Lovers' Lane Murders Page 10

  “I like kissing you,” he murmured before pulling away. He gave her a wink and returned to his food.

  Good. She liked kissing him, too. She smiled and finished her food, then rested back on her elbows to watch a pair of mallard ducks swim nearby. Since Jackson hadn’t asked her to leave, she’d stay a while longer. Pressley still hadn’t decided what to do with the house Grandma left her. There was no hurry.

  They returned a few minutes later to the station, Jackson to his desk, Pressley to her book. Same old routine that now felt as comfortable as her favorite sweatpants. She angled so she could see Jackson every time she glanced up from her writing. Not only did she enjoy his kisses, but she liked looking at him when he didn’t know it.

  ~

  Frank watched through the truck windshield from the safety of some low-lying branches. Imagine his surprise and relief when he’d felt well enough to return to town and found the extra law enforcement gone. It hadn’t taken the town long to return to their normal activities.

  Young lovers strolled the sidewalk hand in hand. All he had to do was decide which ones to follow. He didn’t care if they went home or somewhere else to park. Either way, he’d take care of the itch that had grown as he healed from his accident.

  The day after he’d wrecked his car, he barely was able to move. Bruises from the seatbelt had colored his chest. Not only did he need to kill again, but he needed supplies, which would be more difficult. Frank shrugged. He’d rob a convenience store and take what he needed.

  The police would know it was him, but he’d be long gone before they arrived. Maybe he could find his next victim where he bought his supplies, then he’d head back to the cabin before anyone could send out an alarm.

  Decision made, he pulled from his hiding place and headed to a convenience store on the outskirts of town. That late at night only one other vehicle sat in front of the store. Frank pulled to the side of the building and donned his mask. Grabbing his gun, he exited the truck and marched inside the store.

  The clerk and one other man were the only ones there. Frank had hoped for a woman but couldn’t be choosy at this point. He quickly disposed of the two men and started gathering food and bottles of water into a handheld basket.

  Frank was so busy gathering items, he forgot to be alert. He glanced up into the startled eyes of an older couple who hightailed it back to their car and sped away. He gritted his teeth, realizing he’d lost a prime chance to take out a man and a woman. Knowing they’d alert the police, he quickly grabbed the rest of what he needed and raced away from the store.

  As he drove, it occurred to him that not only did he target couples, but Roy had, too. He knew why Roy did. It had been a strange attempt to exact revenge on the woman who had dumped him. Why did Frank want a man and a woman? It was more than assaulting the woman. Was he that much like his great relative?

  No. Frank was much smarter. He’d already surpassed Roy’s record and was still going strong. The police were nowhere near putting a stop to his spree.

  He laughed, temporarily satiated, and he headed back to his cabin home.

  ~

  The ringing of his phone jolted Jackson from a deep sleep where he dreamed of more kisses from Pressley. “Hudson.” They told him of a murder/robbery in a convenience store. Witnesses waited for him at the police station. “On my way.” He rapped on Pressley’s door and received a mumbled reply that she’d be ready in five minutes. Rushing back to his room, he quickly dressed and waited for her by the front door.

  “Is it Frank?” She asked hurrying toward him.

  “Murder and robbery is all I know. We’ll speak to the witnesses first, then head to the location where the crime took place.” He locked the door behind them and opened the passenger side for her before getting into the driver’s seat.

  He hadn’t had time to wonder if it was Frank or not. Didn’t sound like him, but Jackson wasn’t ruling anything out. What a horrible end to what had been a wonderful day.

  An older couple waited in the conference room. Jackson and Pressley sat across from them. “Can I get you coffee or water?” Jackson asked.

  They both shook their heads. The man spoke, his visibly upset wife crying into a tissue.

  “Please tell me what you saw.” Jackson slid a box of Kleenex across the table.

  “We’re the Langleys, traveling through town. We stopped to buy a caffeinated drink so we could make it a little farther before finding a hotel. I saw the dead guy next to the counter first, then looked up to see a man in a ski mask filling a basket with food and water. When he looked up, we ran. That’s it. We came straight here.”

  “That was the wisest choice you could have made.” The two were very lucky. Whether the man was Frank or not, he’d already killed two people. He finished questioning the couple, then returned to the car with Pressley. With a sigh, he turned the key in the ignition and drove to the crime scene.

  “Maybe it isn’t him,” Pressley said. “Nothing out of the ordinary has happened in a week.”

  “It sounds like him.”

  “Lots of thieves wear a ski mask. Too bad the couple hadn’t got a glimpse of what the man drove.”

  “I’ll have a good idea if tire tracks were left behind.” He knew in his gut the man who shot the two others was Frank. Jackson parked in front of the store and held the crime scene tape up for Pressley to duck under, then approached the first responding officer. “What can you tell me?”

  “Same caliber bullet as The Phantom 2 uses. One kill shot to each man. The clerk is behind the counter. Bags of chips on the floor say the suspect left in a hurry, grabbing what he could.”

  Jackson nodded. “He’d know the couple who fled would call the cops. Any other reports of shootings?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Let’s hope there aren’t any.” He motioned his head toward the back door for Pressley to follow him.

  “Neither Roy or Frank have targeted just men,” she said, stepping outside. “An opportunity killing?”

  “More than likely. He needed supplies. Shot the two in the store, took what he needed, and left.” He shined his flashlight across the cracked asphalt.

  Grass and weeds grew in sporadic clusters in the dirt covering the asphalt. Jackson shined his light’s beam, searching for tracks. There. He squatted to get a better look. Not only tire tracks but size eleven shoes. The tire tracks would fit a Ford 150 truck. “It was Frank.”

  “He’s back,” Pressley whispered. “It’s starting again.”

  Jackson nodded. One week’s reprieve wasn’t nearly enough, although the townsfolk had quickly let down their guard. “I’m afraid the killings might increase if he’s changing his MO.” They needed to find him and find him fast.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Frank stepped onto the sagging cabin porch to the sound of a helicopter circling overhead. He’d have to ditch the truck and run. Where would he be able to hide now? He should have killed the couple he’d stolen the truck from. Hudson might not have been able to find him as easily, not knowing what he drove.

  He ducked back inside, shoved what supplies he could into a large backpack, then his few items of clothing into a duffel bag and made a run for the thick trees behind the cabin. Those in the helicopter might know he was on the mountain, but the foliage would hide him until he found a new place to hole up.

  Maybe he’d throw everyone for a loop and stay with the group of homeless men and women on the outskirts of town. He could blend in easily enough, at least for a while, but he’d need a vehicle to get there. Hopefully, he’d run across another farm. If not, he’d improvise. Frank considered himself the king of improv.

  Frank slapped a branch out of his face, cursing when it slapped him back. He put a hand to his cheek, seeing a trace of blood. Score one for nature.

  The helicopter continued to circle the area, but he was secure in the fact they wouldn’t see him through the thick trees. Sure, a herd of law enforcement would converge on the cabin, but finding Frank would
be a lot harder on foot.

  ~

  Pressley had started packing her suitcase a few days ago and now unpacked. Her time in Texarkana wasn’t finished.

  “You were going to leave?” Jackson stood in the doorway, a pained look on his handsome face. “Without saying anything?”

  “My time here was done. I wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.”

  He stared at her for a minute, then, his words clipped, informed her they had a lead on where Frank might be staying. Before she could respond, he whirled and marched away, leaving her with her heart at her feet.

  She ran after him. “Jackson, stop, please.” She put a hand on his arm. “If you want me to stay, all you have to do is ask.” There, she’d thrown into the wind what she longed for him to say.

  “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to.” His features hardened.

  “Is it so hard to ask?” She said softly. “This is your house, your town.”

  “Don’t you like it here?”

  “Yes.” She inwardly begged him to answer the question. Why was it so hard for him to be vulnerable, even for a moment?

  “Will you stay?” The look in his eyes seemed afraid of her answer. “I want you to stay.”

  She smiled. “Yes. I will. For as long as you want me.”

  He returned her smile and pulled her into a hug. “Now that’s settled, we have work to do.”

  Just like that, her insecurities rose. She wanted to ask if he only needed her until Frank was caught. Instead, she nodded and retrieved her bag from the bed. “Let’s go.”

  Jackson drove her to the airport. “Ever been in a helicopter?”

  “No.” She froze, not wanting to ride in one this time, either. “I’m afraid of heights.”

  “Are you afraid of flying?” He arched a brow.

  “In something that size, yes. I prefer a big jet.”

  “I’ll protect you.” He grinned.

  “You aren’t the pilot. Can’t we drive?”

  “It would take too long.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the machine.

  She dragged her feet, prolonging the minutes until she had to climb in. Her breath came in pants. “Wait.” She pulled her hand free and bent over, trying to breathe away the anxiety.

  Jackson put a hand on her back. “I’ll hold your hand the entire time. It’ll be fine. I promise. Do you trust me?”

  “With my life.” She glanced up. “But I don’t trust that thing.” She pointed at the helicopter.

  Laughing, he guided her inside and buckled her in before handing her headphones. Then, he climbed in the other side and told the pilot they were ready.

  The copter lifted into the air, sending Pressley’s stomach into her throat. She kept a death grip on Jackson’s hand and her other on the strap hanging next to her head. The thump thump of the copter’s blades drowned out all sound, reverberating in her chest. She closed her eyes and prayed.

  “Relax, sweetheart. We’ll be there in a few minutes.” Jackson’s voice came through her headset.

  Easy for him to say. Every breeze seemed to cause the copter to shudder and shake, lift and drop. She was going to throw up. Pressley breathed through her mouth and counted to ten.

  “We’ll be landing in less than five minutes,” the pilot said. “There’s a crosswind, so landing will be rough.”

  Just what she needed. She squeezed her eyes tighter.

  When they landed, she undid her seatbelt and scrambled out. “Can we have a car pick us up?”

  “Sure.” Jackson grinned. “Let’s see what we can find out about our elusive killer.”

  She turned to study a ramshackle cabin, the front door hanging open, the stolen truck parked out front. The pilot of the copter was good. The clearing was barely big enough to land. As the copter rose back into the air, kicking up dirt, Pressley’s hair pulled from her ponytail holder and whipped around her head. Her breathing finally returned to normal after having survived the scariest thing she’d ever endured.

  Two police officers exited the cabin. “About time you arrived, Hudson,” one said. “We’ve been here half an hour. The place is empty. Looks like the perp left in a hurry. Didn’t take everything, just what he could carry on foot.”

  Pressley glanced toward the thick woods behind the cabin. Where are you going, Frank? Where will you hide this time? She turned and followed Jackson into the cabin.

  ~

  Jackson could hardly believe Frank had actually lived in such a rundown place. Sunlight squeezed through cracks in the plank walls. Dust covered whatever surfaces he hadn’t used. No indoor plumbing or bathroom. Where had the man showered? With everyone in town on the lookout, even going to the gym would be almost impossible.

  He moved back outside and headed for the woods at the rear of the cabin. Size eleven footprints here and there. From the spacing, he could tell Frank had run. Most likely upon seeing the circling copter. Shaking his head, he pounded his thigh, then returned to where Pressley waited. “We’ll never find him in there.”

  “What’s our next move?” Concern crossed her pretty face.

  “We keep looking. He’s up here somewhere, unless he stole another vehicle.” Jackson didn’t think he’d leave the owners alive this time. The next time they heard of Frank, more people would be dead. The man was a killing machine. “The chief will have to implement a curfew again.”

  “Will you call for a car?” She asked again, her eyes imploring him to say yes.

  “Yes, but it will take a while. Might as well make yourself comfortable.”

  “We have one on the way,” one of the officers said. “Instead of coming back for us, we thought it best the copter keep searching the mountain.”

  “Excellent.” Although he wouldn’t find anything useful, Jackson returned to the cabin and searched the two rooms. A few articles of clothing, some food and water, and nothing else but rodent poop, cobwebs, and dust.

  Back outside, he glanced again at the woods, then sat on the porch steps next to Pressley to wait for their ride. He entwined his fingers with hers, glad she’d decided to stay. When he’d seen her suitcase, his heart had stopped, letting him know how much he wanted her by his side. Jackson didn’t know whether she’d stay after they caught Frank, but he’d do everything in his power to make her want to remain. Her leaving was not something he wanted to live through.

  A van pulled in front of them. Time to go. Go where was the question. Frank wouldn’t strike during the daylight. When he did, they wouldn’t know anything until after the fact. He and Pressley might as well head back to the precinct.

  When they arrived, the rest of the day settled into their routine. Things were calm in town, allowing Jackson to catch up on reports. He’d glance up once in a while to watch Pressley typing on her laptop, her hair secured once again in its ponytail. He smiled, preferring it whipping around her face.

  She looked up, her blue eyes fixed on him. Her lips curled into a smile before she returned her attention to her writing.

  “How’s the book coming?” he asked, reluctant to let her attention drift away from him.

  “Good, although we don’t yet know the ending, do we?” She kept typing. “But we will. I know it in my gut.”

  Hopefully, the ending didn’t result in one of them dying. He lived with that threat every day, but Pressley shouldn’t have to. The longer the killings went on, the harder it would be for Jackson to keep her safe.

  Yes, the chief had assigned her to Jackson not only to locate Frank, but to keep her from being killed. He prayed he was up to the task.

  “You look worried.” Pressley’s gaze fixed on him. “Need a break?”

  “From all this?” He waved his arm. “I don’t see that happening anytime soon.”

  “Neither do I.” She gave a sad smile and returned to her work.

  Jackson plucked a pencil from a nearby cup and tapped it on his desk pad. They needed a break in the case.

  Frank had disappeared, similar to Roy’s
disappearance back in 1946, except Roy had been institutionalized. His great nephew wouldn’t suffer the same fate. He’d show his ugly head again, and more people would die. Where would he hide? Where could he hide?

  He lunged to his feet, dropping the pencil on his desk, then grabbed Frank’s photo from the case board. “I have an idea.”

  “Okay?” Pressley packed up her things. “Are you going to share your idea?”

  “If someone wanted to hide, and their last place was located, where would they go?”

  She shrugged and shook her head.

  “In plain sight.” Jackson grinned. “Where in town can someone seemingly disappear?”

  “Again, I got nothing.”

  He slung an arm around her shoulders and led her from the building. “A place with lots of people who mostly go unnoticed.”

  She blinked a few times. “Where the homeless hang out?”

  “Exactly. I want to show Frank’s photo to the shelters, soup kitchens, and the edge of town where the homeless tend to stay.”

  “Good job.” Her face lit up. “Smart thinking. No one would notice another homeless person.”

  “The soup kitchen might, but those living in the field wouldn’t pay him any undue attention unless he caused problems.” He opened the passenger side door of his car.

  As they drove away from the station and approached the homeless shelter, Jackson studied every transient person they passed. One woman dug in the garbage outside a fast-food restaurant. A man slouched against the wall of a drugstore, a brown paper sack clutched in his hand.

  Frank wouldn’t be one of these. He hadn’t reached the point of digging for food or hanging out in the open. No, he’d make sure to keep himself surrounded except for when he ventured out to find his next victims.

  “Do you think the homeless will speak to you while you’re in uniform?” Pressley’s gaze locked on his.

  “You’re right. We’ll need to head home to change.” Jackson turned the car around. How could he not have realized his uniform would lock people’s lips? Rookie mistake. He’d change, then start the questioning. Someone out there had to know something. They couldn’t keep coming up against an impenetrable wall. Frank would have to make a mistake sooner or later.