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CHAPTER TWELVE
REED RUBBED A hand across his eyes. They were gritty and heavy, and he felt like he could sleep for a week. The three hours he’d managed to grab last night wasn’t nearly enough, but he’d just have to keep pushing through. Things had gone completely bonkers on the island since they’d found those bones yesterday morning. Three more police units—teams of two—had arrived yesterday afternoon to help in the full-scale homicide investigation. And the media. Damn, Reed didn’t even want to think about that insanity. They were ceaseless in their pursuit of a story, and their numbers were growing to plague-like proportions. You could hardly move on the island now without tripping over a swarm of them. He was on his way back to Penneshaw from the Kingscote station, going to meet up with the mainland officers and take them all out to the gravesite.
The saddest part was, they still hadn’t found any trace of the little girl, Jessica.
His phone buzzed on the seat beside him. Sierra’s number flashed up, and his pulse thumped in his neck. Even with all that’d been going on yesterday he still found his thoughts often circling back to her. Wondering what she was doing, was she managing to get some sleep, if he would see her again today. He pulled over to the side of the road and punched the Answer Call button.
“Reed, it’s Sierra.” Her voice was high and breathless, and his internal alarm bells went off.
“What’s the matter?” he demanded. Even from those few short words, he could tell she was scared.
“They’re dead. They’re all dead.” Sierra’s voice hitched on a sob. “I tried to call Sam and Debbie, but they must be on their way into town to keep searching. They didn’t answer their phone. Which is why I called you.” She wasn’t making any sense and Reed’s heart lodged in his throat at her garbled words.
“Who’s dead, Sierra?” Reed asked carefully, using a low but firm tone to try and break through her near-hysteria. His hands gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, as his mind went into overdrive. Dear God, not more dead bodies.
“The chickens. They’re all dead.”
“What?” It took his racing mind a few seconds to understand what she’d said. He’d been conjuring up dead children’s bodies strewn all over her house. But chickens? What the hell was she talking about?
“My chickens. I went outside this morning to check on them and they’re all dead. Murdered. Reed, someone cut their heads off.” Sierra moaned as she said these last words.
Reed swallowed as a sour taste filled his mouth. He sat very still, digesting her words. Shit. His brain finally began processing what she’d said, and then the uneasiness and fear crept in.
“Someone’s sending me a message, Reed. A very powerful message.”
“Are you okay?” he barked, his police brain taking over.
“Yes, yes, of course. I’ve locked myself in the house, but I’m pretty sure whoever did this is long gone.”
Reed went over the layout of Sierra’s house in his mind, and he wasn’t happy with what he remembered. Snellings Beach was an isolated spot on its own, but then Sierra’s house itself was hidden in a small dip in the land, sheltered by large trees and not visible from the road or any of the neighboring houses. A perfect spot for a criminal to carry out his deeds unseen, if that’s what he was planning. The house also had lots of glass windows; easy to smash if someone really wanted to get in. Reed put the Land Cruiser in gear and was about to turn the car around when he caught himself. He wanted to get out there, to protect her. But he was duty-bound to meet these mainland cops.
“Damn, Sierra. I want to come out there. To help you. But…” His mind raced with scenarios. Could he get someone else to take these guys to the site? But then he was the one who knew most about it, he’d been first cop on the scene. His input might be vital to help them find a clue to nail the killer. And he did want to talk to these new guys, get their take on the situation. A fresh pair of eyes and opinions could often help see something everyone else had missed.
He heard her take a deep breath over the phone, as if drawing on some previously unknown strength. “It’s okay, Reed. I know how busy you are. This is such a terrible time.”
He could imagine her standing in her kitchen, tall and slim, her shoulders hunched and arms crossed defensively as she held the cell to her ear. Those dark eyes of hers staring out the window towards the ocean. She was a tough woman. A strong woman. At least that was the façade she projected. But everyone needed comfort at some time or another. And he sensed this was one of those times. His fingers twitched with the need to take her into his arms. But there was little he could do over the phone. He wanted to get out there and see her for himself. Make sure she was truly alright.
“Give me a few minutes, Sierra. I’ll call Don and see if I can—”
“Don’t, Reed. Please don’t let me take you away from work. I’m almost sorry I called now, my problems seem pretty insignificant in light of the missing girl and now the bones. I just needed someone to talk to, that’s all.”
“Stop being silly. Your problems are not insignificant. And of course, I’m worried about you. If I could, I’d be out there in a flash.” His brain was still working overtime, trying to come up with a solution. “You need to come into town, Sierra. Where it’s safe.” Yes, that would be better. He would feel much better if he knew she was somewhere he could keep an eye on her.
“I was going to come back and help search some more,” Sierra admitted.
“Good. Let me know as soon as you hit town. You can stay at my place.” His mind was already coming up with plans of what to do, how to keep her safe. Then he remembered the letter still sitting in the station. The one full of threats. His hands went suddenly cold and clammy. His instincts had told him there was something going on there. And it seemed they might be right.
He didn’t like to ask, but the question was a burning one. “Do you think this has anything to do with the letters? With your stalker?”
There was the slightest hesitation before she answered. “I’m starting to think it might. I got a letter and an email yesterday.”
“Well, if it is him, we need to figure out what’s got him so riled up all of a sudden.” Why had this guy suddenly ramped up his aggression? And why, after ten years, had his threats gone from the fairly harmless written word and tipped over into more hard-core physical attacks? If it was the stalker, then Reed needed to act quickly. It meant the guy had been on the island. Could still be on the island.
Or the most bone-chilling thought of all: the stalker actually lived on the island.
What the hell was going on here? This place had gone from a sleepy, small-town island to one full of child abductors, possible pedophiles, killers, and deranged men who stalked women. And he thought he’d moved here for a change of pace.
“I might have some idea what’s bothering him. I’ve started another investigation,” Sierra said carefully. “But I’ll tell you everything I know when I see you. It’s a long story.”
