“Hey. It’s Sandy Simpson. We have it on good authority that the FBI has been calling in the Genesis Valley mayor’s kid for interviews on the Witch Creek killings. The kid has a juvie record, but we can’t get hold of it.” Sandy was a researcher for Rachel’s station, and she had excellent confidential sources.
Rachel’s blood hummed. The mayor’s kid? “I want that record. I don’t care who you have to bribe.”
Sandy snorted. “You’re not famous yet. We don’t have the kind of budget for bribery. The best I can do is try to interview the kid when he leaves school or maybe talk to some of his friends. You know how kids like to go viral.”
“I do. Okay. Get me what you can tomorrow and get some sleep.” Rachel ended the call, wide awake again. If the mayor’s kid was actually the serial killer, her ratings would rise faster than even she could dream.
This case was absolutely perfect—just like she’d studied in journalism school. A crazy killer who left flowers after stalking victims being chased by a photo-worthy Fish and Wildlife officer working with a brilliant and bizarre FBI agent? She couldn’t make this stuff up. The situation was as good as scripted. It was ideal for building her new show.
A rope wrapped around her neck.
She screamed, but the sound was cut off as the rope tightened. A sharp kick to the back of her ankle had her falling onto her knees. Her head jerked back. The pizza box flew away and landed noisily somewhere in the darkness. Gasping, tears filling her eyes, she clawed at the rope.
Her attacker stood above her and slightly loosened the noose. “I won’t kill you.” The voice was fake and raspy. It sounded like the voice distorter her nephew had worn with a Batman mask for Halloween last year, making it impossible to know anything about the attacker. “Put your hands down.” When she didn’t comply fast enough, the attacker tightened the rope again.
“Wait,” she squawked, forcing her hands down to waist level. “Stop.”
The rope loosened.
“What do you want?” she asked, her mouth working independently of her brain.
The chuckle was low and creepy, sending terror through her entire body. “I want to kill you, but I just said I would not. So I guess I’ll settle for the next best thing.”
A shudder racked her and she almost reached for the rope, stopping herself barely in time. “Please.”
“Begging doesn’t interest me. You need to solve the Witch Creek murders.”
She blinked as the words registered. “You want me to stop investigating?” The roaring of blood through her head was so loud her ears rang.
“No. I want you to figure out who the killer is, and I’m tired of waiting.” The rope tightened and then loosened. “Leave Laurel Snow alone. Talk about her again, and Iwillkill you.”
Her fingers curled into her palms to keep from reaching for the rope. The body felt substantial behind her, but she couldn’t be sure. The kitchen was in complete darkness, so she couldn’t see a shadow. “Laurel Snow?”
The rope snapped taut, and she grabbed for it, frantically scratching her neck.
“Down,” the attacker hissed.
Tears streaming down her face, she lowered her shaking hands.
“Don’t ever say her name again. Ever. Tell me you understand,” the attacker hissed.
“I understand.” Terror roared loudly through her head, making her ears ring.
The chuckle was even creepier than before. “I do not think you do. You’re still planning on calling the authorities if I let you live. Don’t. They can post someone at your door, and your news station can give you security. But for how long? Not forever. I will not forget. If you betray your word, I will watch. I will wait. And I will come and fucking kill you. It doesn’t matter when. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she whispered, unable to see through the tears.
“Say it. Say that I will kill you.”
She gulped, trying to take a full breath, but the rope was still too tight. “You’ll kill me.”
“Yes. It doesn’t matter how long I have to wait. Say you won’t call the authorities.”
She sniffed, and the world spun around her. Terror felt like ice sliding beneath her skin. “I won’t call the authorities.” The room started to tilt in defiance of gravity. “Please.” Her mind started to work sluggishly. “Did she send you? Were you hired by her?”
“No. I’m here for you, Rachel. I like the sound of your pain and your fear. Do you understand? Just nod.”
She nodded and the rope pulled against her throat. “Tell me why?”
