The Lovers' Lane Murders Page 13

  Pressley could imagine. A mother’s heart would shudder at how close her son had been to a killer. She sat in one of the chairs, Jackson in the other.

  “Can you tell us what you spoke with him about?” Jackson asked.

  “The dude was weird. Asked about good places to hang out or go eat. Everyone knows that nothing’s open that late. Then, he went and sat in his car for a few minutes until Buddy and his girl left the game.”

  “He followed them?”

  Seth shook his head. “No, he drove off.”

  “Did you see who shot your friends?”

  “No. Just heard the shots. The game stopped. There was screaming. People ducked to the ground or hid behind things. This doesn’t happen here. It’s left everyone a bit whacked out, you know?”

  Pressley knew how they all felt. If she hadn’t engrained herself into the case and been exposed to violence, she’d have done the same and hid.

  “Did this man mention where he might be staying?”

  “Not a word.”

  Jackson rose to his feet. “You’re a lucky young man. Please don’t go out after dark with your girl until this man is caught.”

  “Don’t worry. My parents won’t let me go to my room alone after last night. I hope you catch this guy fast. Football practice starts soon.”

  “We’ll do our best.” Jackson led Pressley back to the car. “I guess the hospital is next.”

  “Seth wasn’t a lot of help, was he?”

  “Hopefully the other two will be.” Jackson followed her directions to the hospital in a neighboring town and parked in the mostly empty parking lot. “Not a lot of sick people here, is there?”

  “Not at this hospital. In the other one, you’d wait hours to be seen in the ER.” She shoved her door open and climbed out. Memories of her grandmother’s last days assailed her the moment the double doors slid open. It hadn’t always been easy being the caregiver, but she wouldn’t trade a minute of the time she’d had with her.

  “It’s good to see you again, Pressley.” Sharon, a classmate from high school, sat behind the receptionist desk. “You feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine. We aren’t here for me.”

  Jackson showed his badge. “We’re here to see Buddy Mayfield and Melissa Byrnes.”

  “Which one would you like to see first?” She scribbled their room numbers on a post-it note. “I’ll have to call and make sure the doctor isn’t with them.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Jackson smiled.

  Sharon blushed. Pressley smiled, knowing the handsome man had that effect on most of the women he flashed that gorgeous grin at. Sharon confirmed it was all right to see both of them and pointed in the direction they should go.

  “This place is a maze,” Jackson said as they turned their third corner.

  “If I hadn’t spent so much time here last year, I’d be lost, too.” Pressley led him to the patient wing. The first room was Buddy’s.

  He sat up in bed, his left shoulder wrapped, and idly flipped channels on the television. Buddy glanced up, then frowned. “Thought maybe they were finally bringing my lunch.”

  “Sorry.” Jackson introduced them. “Feel up to some questions?”

  “Sure. I’m bored out of my mind.”

  “Tell us about last night.”

  “Melissa and I got tired of the game. It went into overtime and she had to be home, it being a school night and all. We cut across the field to save time. A truck pulled up to the curb, a man shot us, then drove away whistling.”

  Pressley glanced at Jackson. “A bird call?”

  “Yeah. Real creepy.”

  “Can you describe the man?” Jackson asked.

  “He wore a hoodie. I wasn’t paying much attention to him. If I brought Melissa home late again, her parents would ground her, and it was already ten. That’s when she was supposed to be home.” Tears welled in his eyes. “If we’d left the game earlier, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Son, there’s no predicting what this madman will do. You couldn’t have known. Just thank God you’re still alive.”

  “Is this the same man who killed all those people down in Texarkana?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why is he here?” Buddy’s brow lowered.

  “To get me,” Pressley murmured.

  ~

  Melissa told them less than Buddy had. She’d been so worried about getting home she didn’t know anything other than she’d been shot and fell to the ground. “I’m sorry.” Her lip quivered.

  Pressley patted her hand. “It’s okay. You concentrate on getting better.”

  Outside, Jackson wanted to punch something. They were so close to Frank, yet farther than they’ve ever been. The forest around Applewood was too thick for a pilot in a helicopter to see through. They wouldn’t get that lucky again.

  “What does a white-throated thrush sound like?” Pressley opened her car door and peered over the top.

  “I can’t imitate it, but I can look it up on my phone.” Jackson searched until he found the sound, then played it. “It is creepy.”

  “At least now I’ll know to run if I hear it.” She laughed. “Even if it’s a real bird, I won’t be taking any chances.”

  “That’s my girl.” He enjoyed the flush that spread across her cheeks. “Ready to head home, order a pizza, and chill for the rest of the night?” They couldn’t do anything more until Frank reared his ugly head.

  “That sounds wonderful, after a stop at the church to sign up for the feeding-the-homeless event.”

  “Which one? I counted at least five.”

  “I’ll show you.” She smiled. “I’m glad I won’t miss out this year.”

  Jackson was, too, but for different reasons. His gut told him Frank would be there somewhere, watching. Pressley would encounter people who’d be excited to see her back home and willing to help out. “Folks sure know everyone here, don’t they?”

  “If your family has been here long enough, yes,” she said. “It’s both a blessing and a curse. I couldn’t do anything wrong without someone tattling on me to my parents.”

  “You did something wrong?” He tilted his head, smiling.

  “I wasn’t always the good girl you see before you.” She grinned back. “Now, how about that peaceful evening you promised me?”

  Something Jackson was more than happy to give. He supposed Pressley must have had a bit of a wild side not to run screaming into the night with the recent murders, not to mention the fact Frank wanted her.

  The next morning, he woke feeling a bit disoriented until he realized where he was. The aroma of coffee and frying bacon drifted to his room. He quite liked playing house with Pressley, and it didn’t matter which house. What man wouldn’t want to wake up to a beautiful woman who wanted to make the world a better place?

  Jackson flung off the thin sheet he’d covered himself with and padded to the kitchen. When Pressley turned with wide eyes, he rushed back to the bedroom to put on a shirt. He’d grown comfortable enough with her to forget proper behavior, it seemed. He chuckled at the look of shock on her face, and his grin widened imagining he might have seen a flicker of appreciation in her blue eyes.

  A few minutes later, he tried again and received a smile and a cup of coffee. “You’re going to spoil me.”

  “Like you spoiled me when it was your house. Sit. Breakfast will be finished soon.”

  “You seem pleased.”

  “Newspaper didn’t report anymore shootings or deaths.”

  So, the other night’s shooting was merely a ploy to bring Pressley home. Jackson had known that, but he sure didn’t like the idea. Frank would lie in wait, then grab her, and Jackson might not be able to stop him. The thought scared him enough to make the coffee bitter in his mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” Pressley glanced over from the stove.

  “Just thinking.”

  “Not good thoughts if your expression is any indication.” She set a cheese and bacon omelet in front of him. �
��We’ll find him, Jackson. Soon. I know we will.”

  He exhaled heavily and started eating. Jackson wanted to believe they’d apprehend Frank without him harming Pressley, but signs were strongly against that happening.

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He forced the words through a tortured throat.

  “I’m of the same sentiment. You’re in as much danger as I am. If Frank were to take you out first, I’d be easier to reach.” She sat across from him with a plate of her own. “Any plans for today?”

  He forced a smile at her attempt to change the subject. “Guess we drive around and try to find his latest hiding place.”

  “Good. That also lets us be seen, although I still believe the feeding event tomorrow is our best bet for contact.” She cut into her breakfast.

  “I’m going to ask that some plainclothes police officers be there. If Frank does show up, we’ll need backup.”

  “It might scare him off.”

  “That’s a chance we have to take. I’m assuming there’ll be young people there, right? Victims for him to target?”

  She nodded. “Several church youth groups will be serving.”

  If Frank couldn’t get to Pressley, he’d find someone else. “Any chance of calling off tomorrow’s event?”

  “No. It’s an annual thing. People around these parts won’t run scared. You can bet there will be a few, even a pastor or two, packing.”

  Great. Last thing they needed was a shootout with civilians. Jackson shook his head and finished eating. When he was done, he headed to take a shower and make a plan on how to spot Frank before he spotted them.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Jackson stayed close by Pressley’s side as she carried a stack of paper plates to a table in the shade of a large oak tree. Serving wouldn’t start for another hour, and already a line formed. He doubted all those were homeless, but times were hard, and no one would be turned away that wanted a meal.

  Where are you, Frank? He studied a man in a hoodie leaning against the side of the church. Too thin, but the day was also way too hot to be wearing a hoodie. If Frank wore one, he’d stick out like a sore thumb unless he found one as raggedy as these people wore. Jackson didn’t think the man would think that far ahead. The people of Applewood wouldn’t recognize him unless they’d closely followed the news out of Texarkana. He’d come without a disguise.

  “Could you fetch the tray of hot dogs?” Pressley glanced up. “I promise to stay right here unless Pastor Dave wants me for something else.”

  Hating to leave her, Jackson rushed into the fellowship building, grabbed the tray, and carried it outside. His breathing returned to normal to see Pressley where he’d left her talking to another woman. He’d just set down the tray when a supervisor sent him back for potato salad sitting in a bin of ice. So, he’d been cast as gopher. At least it helped him know who were the workers and who weren’t.

  A scream at the end of the parking lot froze him in his tracks. He shook his head to see a young man teasing a teenage girl. Why did girls have to shriek?

  “Thank you.” Pressley smiled up at him as he set down the potato salad. “This is my friend, Marley. We’ve known each other since grade school.”

  Jackson nodded at the cute blonde. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Pressley told me y’all are trying to catch a killer.” Marley cocked her head. “Sounds deliciously dangerous.”

  Strange thing to say. He frowned. “Not sure I agree with you on the delicious part.”

  “Pressley’s grandma talked about The Phantom all the time. Made it hard for Pressley to socialize much.” Marley winked. “She had to sneak.”

  “Stop telling all my secrets.” Pressley laughed. “I’ve already told him I wasn’t always a good girl. He doesn’t need to know exactly how bad I was.”

  “Oh, the stories I could tell.” Marley sidestepped to avoid Pressley’s playful punch aimed at her arm.

  Jackson enjoyed seeing Pressley carefree, the worry lines erased from her face. She deserved time to enjoy herself. While she caught up with her friend, he strolled down the line of waiting people, studying them while still keeping an eye on the two women behind the serving table. He noticed handguns in holsters on belts of several of the church members and even more rifles in gunracks hanging on the back window of trucks. There were enough firearms to start a war.

  “These people like their guns.” Chief Stone stepped next to him, wearing jeans and a button-up shirt. “Besides myself, there are three other officers here out of uniform. Borrowed them from neighboring cities. You really think the man will show?”

  “I do.” Jackson motioned his head toward Pressley. “He’ll come for her.”

  “I’ll make sure we have eyes on her the whole time.”

  “I appreciate that, Chief.”

  “Watch your back.” He strolled away heading toward a row of porta potties set up on the edge of a large grassy area.

  Jackson moved to the corner of the church and stood in the shadow of the building, hoping it provided some protection from being spotted. The place gave him a good vantage point of not only the table where Pressley stood, but the line of people and those milling around the area.

  Occasionally, he’d stiffened, catching sight of a man with the same build as Frank, but relaxed when that person would turn and Jackson could see his face. Were they wrong about Frank showing up there? Was he lying in wait somewhere else? Somewhere less crowded?

  If Jackson was the predator, he’d hide in plain sight. This gathering of people was the perfect opportunity. With the roughhousing of teen boys and the giggles and shrieks of the girls they tried to impress, a scream would be lost. No one would give the sound a second thought.

  He glanced back to Pressley and the future once Frank was caught. Would she want to stay in Applewood or would she return to Texarkana with him if he asked? Could he stay there, leaving behind his job? Jackson didn’t have family to hold him in the southern part of the state. Yeah, he could stay here. He might actually enjoy small town life, especially with Pressley at his side.

  The line started moving. Pressley smiled and spoke with each person she handed a plate to. Jackson’s growing admiration and love for her grew even more. He’d never met a kinder woman and laughed, thinking of her as a rebellious teen. She’d always be sweet, stubborn, determined Pressley to him.

  He tried to pick out the plain-clothed law enforcement and was relieved that he couldn’t. They blended in well with the others. Frank shouldn’t be in the least suspicious. So where was he?

  ~

  Frank continued watching from the hole he’d poked in the wall of one of the porta potties as Pressley served plate after plate of food. His stomach growled despite the stench of his hiding place.

  A few times, someone had tried the door where he hid but moved on when they found it locked. It had been hours and Frank still hadn’t found the opportunity to slip out. Sweat dripped down his face and back. All he needed was for Hudson to look away. Just for a second, so Frank could sneak out and hide behind the church near the dumpsters.

  There. Someone called for Hudson’s help with a couple of men arguing near the end of the food line. Frank darted from his hiding place and rounded the church. Breathing a sigh of relief at a breeze drying the sweat from his face, he leaned against the red brick and waited.

  ~

  “Could you take that bag to the dumpster?” Marley asked. “It’s overflowing, and we still have a lot of people to feed. If I trip over it one more time, I’ll scream. I can handle this for a few minutes.”

  Pressley glanced around to ask Jackson to help, but he was holding apart two men yelling at each other. She shook her head and tied the black bag closed, then slung it over her shoulder and trudged toward the dumpsters.

  Hefting the bag over the edge, she turned. The eerie song of a white-throated thrush froze her in her tracks.

  Frank stepped from behind the dumpster and pointed a gun at her head. “Time to go. Sc
ream, and I’ll shoot you where you stand, then hunt down Hudson. I’ll make sure to kill him real slow.”

  “Go where?” She forced the question from a dry throat.

  “I’ve a car waiting. Cut through those trees. I’m right behind you.”

  Pressley took a deep breath, sent up a prayer, and headed into the woods and across a pasture high with grass to where a white sedan was parked. She slipped her hand into her pocket and made sure her cell phone was on. Jackson would be able to track her as long as she had service. Unfortunately, she’d left her grandmother’s pistol in Jackson’s car. She knew Frank would show up but thought there would be enough people around to keep her safe. Stupid move.

  “Driver’s seat,” Frank said. “Can’t have you trying anything.” He reached around her to open the door. The man stunk.

  Pressley held her breath until he stepped back, then got in.

  Frank kept the gun trained on her through the windshield as he moved to the passenger seat. Once inside, he gave her directions to an old vacant motel. So he’d been staying two miles from Pressley’s house waiting for his chance. Good. She’d have cell service.

  “Why not kill me now?” She cut him a sideways glance.

  “I have plans for some fun before I do. The same kind of fun I’ve had with some of the girls I’ve killed. We’ll have more time than I had with them.” He gave a lecherous grin. “Imagine how crazy Hudson will be when he discovers your body.”

  Pressley shuddered. Do whatever it takes to survive was what her grandmother would tell her. She intended to do just that. Pressley was no violet. She could endure whatever she needed to until Jackson came for her. Please, God, help me endure.

  Frank ordered her to park the car behind the dilapidated building, then ushered her toward the furthest room. The shattered door handle told of how he’d gained entry.

  The room held no furniture, just a stained orange shag carpet, a couple of plastic bags full of food, and a dented milk crate. She didn’t want to know what had caused the stains.