“I don’t think he’s back,” she says, sitting back in her chair as she shoves her glasses up her nose.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because his modus operandi changed.”
I smirk at her using the correct term for MO. “Did it?”
Since Penny’s paper was based on killers who went silent and the reasoning behind it, I hadn’t looked into the Nightstalker’s recent killings. I’ve been acquainting myself with his earlier work to get her off and running.
Penny sniffs, wiping her nose on her sleeve, and I try to ignore how the action makes my skin crawl. “Of late, he’s been killing men. Some were in their late twenties, but the recent one was thirty-two if I remember correctly.”
“Odd that he’d change how he’s operating, but you have to wonder if it was the hiatus he was on, wouldn’t you?”
She shrugs as if she couldn’t care less. It’s clear that I’m the only one intrigued by this. She’s only here to finish the paper and get it off her proverbial plate.
“I gotta get to a class, but I appreciate all the help. Can we meet again on Friday?”
“Of course. However, on Friday, I leave early. We close at four.”
“I’ll be here before that, then. Thank you, Ms. Allen.”
I watch Penny go, then turn back to my MacBook.
“Weird one, isn’t she?” Melody asks, nodding in the direction Penny took off in.
I shrug one shoulder. “She’s alright. Looks tired, though.”
She sighs. “I know the feeling.”
“Maybe less partying after work would do you good,” I say, instantly wondering who I am because I used to be Melody.
“Sure thing, Mom.” She turns back, and I glide my fingers over the keyboard before I know what I’m doing.
At the touch of a few keystrokes, I pull up all the recent clippings about the Oakland Nightstalker’s return.
The names of his alleged victims are listed, and my heart clogs my throat as I read them.
David Sanke, Jack Clark, and his most recent victim, Daniel Mintz.
All names of men Allison hooked me up with, and I subsequently went on dates with.
They were lured into the woods, killed, and then cut into sections like a butchered animal, laid on the leaves, and placedstrategically as if they were a puzzle waiting to be put back together.
Tears spill over my lower lids, and I slam my computer shut.
Grabbing my bag, I bolt from the library.
“Greer?!” Melody calls after me, but I can’t stop running.
I hurry to my car, ignoring the note beneath the wiper, knowing what it says already.
And like a dutiful little captive, I do as I’m told.
I drive.
Allison holds me tight as I sob. “Shh. We don’t know what this means.”
“Yes, we do!”
