Page 103 of Last Girls Alive

The sound of crashing coming through branches and bushes came directly at her as a dark figure materialized. Waiting for the right moment, Katie pushed her body and was able to block him like a linebacker. The hooded man abruptly stopped and landed hard on his back, letting out a groan.

Katie was soaked, filthy, tired, and felt like she had just jumped from a moving vehicle into a river. She wasted no time and jumped on the hooded man. “Who are you?” she said breathlessly, holding him down.

McGaven came hurtling through the woods. “Katie, you okay?” he said.

“I said, who are you?” she demanded, ignoring McGaven, and tore the hood from the phantom’s face in a fit of anger.

She gasped in disbelief. It was like looking at a ghost. She flashed on the first crime scene in every detail—long dark hair, the pink fingernail, and the body dumped at the Elm Hill Mansion. Lying on the ground, staring up at her, wasn’t a man at all—the mysterious hooded person that had been following Katie was Candace Harlan.

The rain began to pour.

Forty-Four

Wednesday 2000 hours

McGaven and John managed to help Katie and Candace back up the trail to a waiting police car. Candace was put in the backseat. Three patrol officers had assisted their call. Technically Candace Harlan wasn’t wanted for anything specific yet, but she had a lot of explaining to do.

Katie peeled off her raincoat and shirt to replace them with a heavy sweatshirt she had borrowed from McGaven. Then she used her shirt to try to clean the mud from her face. Her jeans were still wet, causing her to shiver, and she hoped that she wouldn’t catch a cold. Not having time to go home and change properly, Katie went to the patrol car, opened the passenger door and sat inside for a silent moment, trying to form her questions and keep her anger under control. Candace didn’t say a word—she sat quietly in the backseat, obviously detecting the extreme tension in Katie.

“I don’t know what I’m angrier about. The fact that you shut the door to a metal container and tried to kill two police officers or the fact you didn’t come forward when your sister was murdered. Am I missing anything?”

Candace didn’t answer her questions; she sat with her head down and kept quiet.

It was unclear to Katie if Candace was remorseful or trying to play her and the investigation. Either way, Katie was going to get some answers.

“You understand that you’re in trouble, right?”

Candace didn’t move. Her dark hair was shorter than her sister’s, just past shoulder length, and was messy and dirty from the fall. In a better light, it was clear that she resembled her sister almost perfectly. There was no mistaking that they were sisters. She had a gold nose ring and there were subtle remnants of makeup around her eyes, now smeared along with the mud.

“And you understand that you have compromised a murder investigation and things are looking sketchy for you. You do understand, right?” she said, and raised her voice. “I’m not a fan of repeating myself.”

“What… what do you want to know?” the young woman finally said.

“Oh, so youcanspeak,” Katie said, still remembering being pushed down the hill.

“Yes,” she said slowly, as if afraid to say anything at all. Her words slightly trembled as she spoke.

“Good.” Katie took a deep breath; she was too angry to suffer from any anxiety right now. As strange as it sounded, anger fueled her drive, pushed unnecessary thoughts and memories away, but in the end it was psychologically draining for her.

Katie heard Candace shift her weight in the backseat.

“Where have you been for the past five years?” she asked.

“Everywhere. I left town not long after I left Elm Hill.”

“That’s not telling me much.”

“LA, Sacramento, Boise, and then Phoenix.”

“Who helped you escape the mansion?”

“Ray. We hung out for a while, but he got weird, possessive, and I bailed.”

“Last name?”

“Ray Conner.”

“How did you meet him?”