“No. He’d just moved to town when we met, and he said he needed to furnish the place. When he was in town, he spent a lot of time at my apartment.” She spun the key in her hands.
“He didn’t get far,” he said, scanning the room. “How did you two meet?”
She snorted out a sad laugh and walked by him. “We ran into each other at a grocery store. Literally. We were both looking through the produce and our carts smashed into each other.”
He glanced to the right at the kitchen. The room was so small, not even a table could fit on the thin strip of dingy tiles. “Did he speak to you first? Who asked who out?”
“Why does it matter?” she snapped. “I started a relationship with a nice man. I didn’t knowingly invite a monster into my life.”
He faced her with raised brows before continuing his quick appraisal of the apartment. A dirty green recliner sat in the middle of the otherwise empty living room. Dust hung heavy in the air and cobwebs cluttered the corners of the walls. Pieces of paper littered the time-warped wooden floor. He bent down and picked up a couple pieces of notebook paper crumbled beneath his shoe. Names and dates scrawled across the pages. They’d have to search every single one.
“I’m surprised he gave you a key. There’s not much in here. Is this what it looked like when you came here with Pete?”
She shrugged. “Pretty much. I think the only reason he gave me a key is because I gave him a copy of mine. He didn’t make a big deal about it.”
Footsteps echoed behind him, and he turned as Mickey disappeared around a corner. He stood to follow her. The last thing he needed was for her to hide, or worse, destroy, an important piece of evidence. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he took a few long strides down the narrow hallway. Mickey disappeared into a room at the end of the hallway, but a closed door on his right grabbed his attention. His hand curved around the handle, but when he tried to turn it, it wouldn’t budge.
“Mickey, what’s in here?”
She stuck her head out of the doorway. “’I don’t know. I’ve never been in there.”
“Do you know where the key is? It’s locked.”
She shook her head. “No, but the locks look the same as the ones in my apartment. You can turn the lock with the edge of a credit card.”
He grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and Mickey disappeared again.
What was she looking at in there? Should he follow her before he opened the locked door?
Curiosity and a strong gut instinct won out. He grabbed a credit card and the corner squeezed into the small slot on the door handle. Turning the card slowly, he turned the lock and opened the door. His eyes darted around the room and a low whistle vibrated through his lips.
He stepped into the room and grabbed his phone. He turned on the camera and took pictures of the far wall. Pictures scattered the cracked beige surface from floor to ceiling. He snapped pictures of every inch and then sent them all to Eric. Leaning closer, he studied each of them. The smiling face ofBecca stared back at him. Some of her with her mom, others with Mickey.
The other two girls littered the wall as well, and he clenched his hands into fists. The pervert had been stalking them all for months. Pictures of each of the girls leaving school, playing on a playground, and walking around the city were posted for the bastard’s pleasure. Pete had captured photos of the girls with their mothers, friends, and other close family members.
He hadn’t dated anyone close to the other girls, but both of the mothers interviewed yesterday recognized Pete. Both of them were horrified to discover he had taken their daughters. Pete had become a casual neighbor, showing up at places they had frequented and starting casual, friendly conversations while waiting in line or passing on the sidewalk. Neither woman knew his real name, but he had always been quick with a smile or a piece of candy for their daughters.
The sick bastard had slowly earned their trust from a distance before luring them away.
And they weren’tthe only girls up there. He’d bet money some of them matched the names on the papers he’d found.
His blood boiled and muddled his brain. But one question stood out in his mind. Why was it different with Becca? Pete had gotten to know Becca on a personal level, through Mickey. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Had he targeted Mickey to get close to Becca? Or was his gut wrong, and Mickey was involved in this disgusting mess? One thing was certain, he needed to stop letting his attraction to her creep up and steal his focus. Not only was it stupid, it could cost these girls their lives.
A sharp gasp sounded behind him, and he spun around and faced Mickey’s wide eyes. She lifted her shaking hand andcovered her mouth, her gaze fixed on the wall of pictures. “Oh my God.”
He studied her as her eyes darted over the wall. “Looks like we found his hideout. Too bad there’s not a big sign pointing to where he ran to next.”
All the color drained from her face and moisture filled her eyes. “This is the most disturbing thing I’ve ever seen.”
He squinted and kept the muscles in his face relaxed. Had she gone pale because of the disturbing images, or was she feeling guilty for knowing where Pete was? Maybe she had willingly brought him here because she knew Pete would be long gone, and there’d be nothing left to show him where to look next.
Her gaze drifted from the picture to his face and she dropped her hand from her mouth. Her jaw hardened and the moisture left her eyes and fire replaced it. “Stop looking at me like that.”
He tilted his head to the side and fixed a bored stare on her. “Like what?”
She threw her hands in the air. “Like I’m a criminal.” She gestured toward the wall. “Do you honestly believe I had something to do with this?” Her voice broke and she bit down on her lip and turned her head.
“I think we have plenty to secure a warrant once we figure out who owns the apartment. We should leave before we ruin more evidence than we already have.”
