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“Son of a bitch.” Like most cops, Roger wasn’t big on coincidence. “Where does this guy know all of them from? They work together or something?”
“Yeah, at Hammerstead Technology, just off I-696 at Southfield. He probably works there, too.”
“He’s someone with access to their personal information. That should narrow it down.”
“Hammerstead develops computer technology. A lot of people there would know how to access the personnel files.”
“It couldn’t be easy, could it?” Roger asked wearily.
“My gut tells me something about the List set him off, and he’s going to be coming after the other three.”
“Jesus. You may be right. You got their names and addresses?”
“T.J. Yother, Mount Clemens, husband’s name is Galan. Luna Scissum, Royal Oak, unmarried and lives alone.” He gave Roger the street addresses. “Jaine Bright, the third one, is my next-door neighbor. She’s single, too.”
“Huh. Is she your lady friend?”
“Yeah.”
“So you’re dating one of the List Ladies? Man, that takes balls.” Roger caught his own joke and laughed.
“You have no idea.” Sam grinned, thinking of Jaine and her stubborn chin with that cute little dent in it, and her almost-dimples and sparkling blue eyes. She attacked life, rather than simply letting it happen; he’d never before met anyone so annoying and funny and sharp. He had major plans for her, the most immediate of which was getting her under him. No way would he let anything happen to her, even if he had to quit his job and become her twenty-four-hour-a-day bodyguard.
“Okay, if you’re right, at least we have a place to start,” Roger said, briskly returning to the subject. “Hammerstead Technology. I’ll get the ball rolling on getting access to their personnel files, see what shakes out of the tree, but if you’re right about the computer geeks, this could take a while. Officially, I don’t know what we can do to keep the ladies safe. You’re talking four different towns—”
“And two counties. I know.” The administrative hassle would be a bitch. Sam got a headache just thinking about it.
“Unofficially, we’ll work out something. We’ll call in favors, maybe get some guys to volunteer for watchdog duty. The ladies do know to be cautious, right?
“They’re all supposed to get Caller ID and cell phones today. We might get lucky if he calls one of them again. I also told them not to let anyone in except family, not to accept rides from anyone. I don’t want this son of a bitch to be able to get anywhere near them.”
twenty-one
Jaine found herself studying every man she saw at work that day, wondering if he was the one. That one of them could be a killer was almost beyond belief. They all seemed so normal, or at least as normal as any other large group of men who worked in the computer industry. Some of them she knew and liked, some of them she knew and didn’t like, but she couldn’t see any of them as killers. A lot of guys, particularly the ones on the first two floors, she knew by sight but not by name. Had Marci known one of them well enough that she had let him into her house?
Jaine tried to think what she would do if someone she recognized knocked on her door at night, maybe claiming to have had car trouble. Until today, she probably would have opened her door without hesitation, wanting only to be helpful. The killer, even if he turned out to be some stranger, had forever robbed her of that trust, that inner sense of security. She had liked to think she was smart and aware, that she didn’t take chances, but how often had she opened her door at a knock without asking who was on the other side? She shuddered now to think of it.
Her front door didn’t even have a peephole in it. She could see who was at the door only if she climbed on her sofa and pulled back the curtain, then leaned far to the right. And the upper half of her kitchen door was nothing but nine small panes of glass, easily smashed; then all any intruder would have to do was reach in and unlock it. She had no alarm system, no means of protecting herself—nothing! The best she could hope to do if anyone broke into her house while she was there was escape out the window, assuming she could get it open.
She had a lot of work to do, she thought, before she would feel safe in her house again.
She worked half an hour later than usual, doing a little catch-up on the pile of paperwork that had accumulated during her absence. As she was crossing the parking lot, she noticed there were only a handful of cars remaining and, for the first time, realized how vulnerable she was leaving work late like this, alone. All three of them, she and Luna and T.J., should time their arrivals and departures with the crowd, to take advantage of the safety in numbers. She hadn’t even told them she intended to work late.
There was so much she had to think about now, so much inherent danger in things she had never before had to consider.
“Jaine!”
As she crossed the parking lot, the sound of her name broke into her consciousness, leaving her aware that someone had called her at least twice, maybe more. She turned around, mildly surprised to see Leah Street hurrying after her.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized, though she wondered what Leah wanted. “I was thinking and didn’t hear you at first. Is something wrong?”
Leah stopped, her graceful hands fluttering, an uncomfortable expression on her face. “I just—I wanted to say I’m sorry about Marci. When is the funeral?”
“I don’t know yet.” She didn’t feel up to explaining again about the autopsy. “Marci’s sister is making the arrangements.”
Leah nodded jerkily. “Let me know, please. I’d like to attend.”
“Yes, of course.”
