Page 107 of Last Girls Alive

“I don’t know anything about that… honest. What’s going to happen to me?” Candace asked. Her voice strained, like that of a young girl.

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

“What do you mean? I’ve told you everything—the truth,” she stressed.

“Look, they are going to ask you some questions back at the department regarding the missing persons report, and probably the child protective services as well to clear the case that was opened on you. To clear that allegation—of you going missing.” Katie softened her voice; she could see that Candace was scared. “Just be cooperative and you’ll be fine. I’m sure we can dismiss the charges of you pushing me down the hill—it was maybe a misunderstanding and you were trying to protect yourself.”

“But I won’t be fine… There’s someone out there that wanted me dead and they killed my sister by mistake. I’m not going to be fine.”

“If that’s true, you’ll be safe at the department. No one is going to let anything happen to you.”

“Please, Detective,pleaselet me go.”

“That’s all the questions I have right now. I’ll be talking to you soon.” Katie knew that there was more Candace wasn’t telling, but maybe some time in holding might make her more forthcoming.

“How can I reach you?” she begged.

“Okay,” Katie said, looking for her business card and pulling it out of her pocket. “Here’s my card, okay?”

Candace took the card. “Thank you, Detective.” Her hand shook and the look of fear washed over her face. “I don’t know if someone from my recent past killed Carol. But now… I’m not sure of anything… I’m not safe and I don’t think anyone is safe from Elm Hill. I know whoever killed Carol won’t stop until there’s none of us left. I’m going to be the last girl alive.”

Katie looked at the wide eyes of the young woman, scared, unsure, but knowing that there was a killer looking to murder her. She wanted to help her, but she couldn’t get personally involved or slack in her thinking. “You’ll be fine,” she said, and stepped out of the car. Turning to see Candace’s face, the woman mouthed the wordsPlease help me.

Katie turned, gave the patrol officer the thumbs up sign, and returned to the Jeep. She sat in there until everyone had left the parking lot and the last of the headlights disappeared. She turned over the engine and the SUV roared to life. Slowly driving out of the parking lot, Katie digested everything that Candace Harlan had told her. The case was becoming more complex and Katie’s gut instincts were turning into trepidation.

Please help me.

Forty-Five

Thursday 0905 hours

“Morning,” Katie said as she dropped her briefcase on her desk. “What a night, but I got everything done and submitted. Hopefully we won’t be getting a surprise visit from she who shouldn’t be named.”

McGaven watched her as she went through her routine of clearing the desk for her notes and updating the murder board. “I have an update,” he said solemnly.

“What?” she said with concern.

“I received a message from my buddy at the prison about Shelly McDonald.”

“She did commit suicide, right?” The thought of McDonald being so distraught over their visit that she took her own life made Katie extremely distressed.

“Yes, unfortunately. But, I wanted to know if anyone had visited her recently besides us.”

“And?” Katie knew there was a bombshell about to be dropped, by the look on McGaven’s face.

“She had one visitor,” he said and paused. “They signed in as Ray Roland.”

“Are you kidding me? The name of the author of the ‘Hunter-Gatherer’ series?” Katie’s mind spun with all the reasons why the visitor picked that name. “Would the killer really take the chance of being identified? Or perhaps it’s a hoax?”

“I saw the camera footage of this guy as he signed into the prison and he definitely knew how to avoid the cameras.”

“Of course.”

“And this,” he said as he pulled a piece of paper from the printer, “is the best we can see of him.”

Katie eagerly took the printout and studied the grainy photograph. It was a man, average height, average build, standing at the entrance, readjusting the clipboard to an awkward angle and signing in. He kept his face at an angle that made it almost impossible to see it clearly. He wore a heavy jacket and baseball cap.

“Damn,” she said. “I can’t tell if the man is twenty or fifty from this angle.”