“Grimm!”
From where she stood it looked as if every other pane had been cracked or shattered accounting for the breeze blowing through the door. She took a few steps forward around the island and saw the lifeless form of Bathsheba lying stretched out as larger pieces of glass enshrined her.
“Bath-she-ba,” she cried out, the cat’s name getting caught in her throat as she fell to her knees. A black cloud engulfed her, and her heart ached at losing her beloved companion for so many years.
Grimm was beside her in seconds, pulling her back away from the mess, and bringing her out of the fog.
“They killed my cat!” she whispered. “Why would someone do this?”
He didn’t respond, only holding out a white piece of paper with cut-out magazine letters that looked like the first death threat she’d found wrapped around the brick in her car.
YOU DIDN’T STOP. NOW YOU MUST suffer. next time itwillbe you.
CHAPTER 7
The Altoona Policeresponded to Grimm’s call immediately, and men and women in blue uniforms as well as detectives swarmed her carriage house. They even called in the Medical Examiner to take Bathsheba to do a necropsy to find out just how the cat had died since it was an active crime scene.
Quinn sat on the couch in a daze trying to wrap her head around what had happened tonight. Or had it happened earlier in the day after they left for the Observer? Had the black hoodie returned and done this? Was that who was responsible for this horrible crime? She didn’t care about the patio door or the furniture. They could be replaced, but nothing could bring Bathsheba back. Nothing.
Logan Burrows and Sheraton came barreling through the front door together in the midst of the chaos. Logan went to talk to the detectives while Sheraton headed straight for her.
“You can’t stay here tonight,” he said, his overprotective nature coming out in full force.
“I’m not going to run scared from my own home, Sher. Whoever did this is grasping at straws with idle threats. Yes, whoever this was broke my patio glass door panels and killed my cat, left another threatening letter taped in the foyer on the inside of my front door, but so far that’s all that was done. Nothing else was messed with that Grimm or the police have found. It will take hours to clean the place to get all of the black dust removed from where they’ve been fingerprinting things. But I don’t believe they’ll find prints that belong to anyone other than me and Grimm and those who have been invited. And unless they say I can’t stay here tonight, I’m not leaving.”
“Come on, Quinn,” Grimm said. “You can’t tell me you won’t sleep better somewhere else tonight.”
“I’ll sleep just fine in my own bed.”
“Stubborn woman,” he grumbled, turning away.
Logan came over and joined them. “They’re almost finished and will be out of your hair. How did the meeting go with the Cranston’s? Sorry, I couldn’t go.”
“It went well. You won’t believe who was leaving as we arrived. Cliff and Candace Beamer. He was devastated by my article when he learned after all of this time that Sandy had been missing.”
“Interesting,” Logan said.
“Isn’t it,” Sheraton agreed.
“Quinn got the Cranstons to open up about Sandy and Cliff’s relationship and why they broke up as background,” Grimm said, coming back over and huddling close to the men so the police didn’t catch what he was saying.
“What kind of story are you thinking of running?” Sheraton asked.
“I thought of doing a profile piece on each of the victims, like a feature of who they were. Focusing on the fact that both Sandy Cranston and Barbie Martin grew up here in Altoona.”
“Is it possible that Heather Randall has that same connection?” Grimm asked. “Or even a close relative that she would have spent time with during the year?”
“I haven’t found one,” Logan said. “But I’ll keep digging. Anything is possible in these types of cases. There is always some type of connection. Usually, a serial killer picks his victims because they look alike, but so far from the photos I’ve seen of Sandy, Barbie, and Heather, they are nothing similar.”
“Then what could it be?” Grimm said.
“The trophy,” Quinn said. “He’s attracted to their jewelry. That is what has been similar between all three so far. It’s been something heart-shaped. For Sandy it was the locket, Barbie it was the earrings, and for Heather, it was the stone in her ring.”
“Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt.” A man in a suit said coming up behind Grimm and Logan. The two men stepped aside.
“Ms. Moynahan, I’m Detective Don Phillips. We’re going to keep an unmarked car outside tonight, and until we catch whoever is behind these death threats against you. We take this seriously and we’re deeply sorry about your cat,” he said. “If you need anything, or need to reach me, here’s my business card.”
Quinn took it from him. “Thank you.”
