Time passed quickly after leaving a stunned Corey Shea with several charges levied against him. Amanda took pleasure in the fact one aspect of this case was settled. The forms from Molly in the DC firm’s accounting department came through to Trent and gave them a clear picture of the person behind the fake accounts. It wasn’t Howard Gabay, and Amanda felt better about releasing him. It also wasn’t Harris Finch, which came as a relief.
But Amanda’s primary focus was on apprehending the Anaconda Killer. She had to put it out of her mind that the woman had evaded capture for the last two years. Maybe longer. If she dwelled on that, she’d get sucked down by negative self-talk that would have her believing she wasn’t any different than any previous officer on this woman’s trail. Rather, she had to put faith in the fact she was and that tonight would be a success.
Plainclothes officers were in position on Charmed Court and neighboring streets. They were all armed with the Anaconda Killer’s photograph and a description of her signature apparel and tasked with looking out for her.
Amanda and Trent were to go inside Sharp’s house and make it appear as if she were home. They even got her Cadillac and parked it in the driveway. Hopefully, the killer didn’t take it as an obvious sign this was a setup considering the three-car garage. But they were counting on her desperation to finish this assignment and collect her money.
The house was cavernous at night. They turned on only a few lights, including the one in the primary bedroom. It was where they wanted to draw the killer. She might be eager, considering it was familiar terrain. Something else that might work to Amanda and Trent’s advantage. That’s if the killer even got this far. The plan was she’d be apprehended by officers while breaking into the home.
They had shown up at ten o’clock, an hour in advance, just to ensure they weren’t spotted going inside the house. They walked through the home to get the entire layout, including a stroll through Dominique’s home office. Amanda noted the wall safe fit Dominique’s character. It would be more unusual if she didn’t have one.
Amanda and Trent tucked inside the walk-in closet, so as not to cast their shadows in the windows.
“Five minutes,” Trent told her, having taken out his phone and waking the screen.
“I just want this over with.” To be so close to getting justice for Christine Lane and Joel Blackburn felt amazing. Not to mention her other five victims cataloged in ViCAP.
“Huh, and I think you’ll get your wish sooner than later. Look.” He pointed out that his phone had no bars.
This was something they were prepared for and why they were using tactical radios. They appeared to be active, so thankfully, the type of jammer being used didn’t affect them. Each radio was also paired with earpieces and an attached mike, which kept their hands free.
There was a deadened thump downstairs.
“She’s here,” he whispered.
Amanda’s heart picked up speed. “Why didn’t we hear from the officers?”
“The perp is in the home,” Trent said, notifying the lookout officers through the radio.
One responded, “We never saw anyone enter the home.”
This sentiment was parroted a few times.
“Well, she’s—” Trent started and stopped.
There were soft footfalls on the stairs.
Amanda held a finger to her lips.
There was one squeaky floorboard about five feet down the hall outside the primary bedroom, and Amanda heard it. She put her hand over her gun, ready to draw it.
The woman was coming into the room now, the sound of her shoes patting on the hardwood floor. She was headed toward the bathroom, where they had the lights on and the water running in the shower.
Just when Amanda expected her to carry on past the closet, all went silent.
What is she doing…Amanda was certain the woman might hear her heartbeat for how hard it was pounding.
A few seconds later, her steps continued. The handle on the bathroom door turned, and the door opened.
Amanda nodded at Trent, and they stepped out of the closet with their guns drawn.
Her shadow stretched into the doorway and showed she was approaching the shower.
Then three pops. Muffled shots through a gun with a silencer.
A second later, the shower curtain was pulled back, and the metal hooks scraped against the rod.
Then nothing.
