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He shut the door behind him and waited until he heard the faint beeps of the alarm being set, then started toward his car.
Then paused.
Raina’s story had struck more than an emotional chord with him, it had rung a few memory cells. And now that he had a few minutes—because he wasn’t comfortable with leaving just yet—he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Holt’s number.
“Satterfield.”
“Holt.”
“Hey, Vince, what’s up?”
“I have a question for you about a case I remember you talking about.”
“Sure. Shoot.”
Vince rubbed his head, trying to get his thoughts in order. Should have done that before he dialed the number. “All right,” he finally said. “About four years ago, there was a young woman who was found beaten to death in her apartment. I only remember it because it was the second woman found in a similar manner even though their deaths were six months apart. And then you found yet another woman, same MO. All in different cities. You wondered if you had a serial killer.”
“Yeah,” Holt said, “of course I remember those cases. Then the deaths stopped and that was that.”
“But you never found who did it, right?”
“Right. All three families thought it might have been a boyfriend, but they’d never met the guy and had never seen a picture of him. The names they gave us were different and seemed to be bogus. Local detectives chased it for a while, consulted with us, then eventually, the cases rolled to the coldcase department—and then one more came to light about two months ago.”
“Really?”
“Someone finally entered the case details into VICAP, and it pinged as a match to the other three. Three years ago, a woman was beaten to death, but the boyfriend disappeared without a trace. No pictures on social media, no friends remember meeting him, nothing. Exactly the same as the other three. And because they were in three different states, we got pulled in.”
An ominous shudder rippled through Vince. “Would you mind sharing everything you have on those cases? They sound an awful lot like a case that I was just told about. I’ll fill you in a little later once I have all the details.”
“Sure. I’ll send them on. Let me know if you find anything. I’d love to catch this guy if he’s still out there.”
“Will do. Thanks.” Vince hung up and did a walk around Raina’s home. All looked peaceful and calm from his perspective, so he climbed in his truck, keeping his gaze on the home. Lights shone around the plantation shutters and a glow came from the master bedroom at the far end of the house. He cranked the truck and shot one last look at the house. “Keep her safe, Lord, please?”
????
Raina locked the door to the garage she and Vince had entered. Normally, she left it unlocked, but after the incident with the man outside the restaurant, she’d feel better with it secured. With that done, she snagged her laptop from the kitchen counter, walked into the den, and aimed the remote at the television.
Settled on the couch, she opened the laptop and did a search for Kevin Anderson, then clicked images. And, of course, got nothing. She huffed a sigh, leaned her head back against the cushion, and closed her eyes.
And heard a noise.
She froze, opened her eyes, and listened. Then closed the laptop and rose. Grace’s story about the intruder who’d broken into her house and tried to kill her flipped through her mind. But ... no. It wasn’t possible. Vince had cleared her home and she’d set the alarm. No one was in her house.
And yet ...
She grabbed the heavy crystal vase from the end table and walked toward the kitchen. Peered inside. Empty. The house was older and not the popular open floor plan, but Raina had never felt like she needed that. She liked her cozy rooms, although right now, she’d give anything to be able to see into every square inch of her home.
Still, the closet just inside the entrance from her garage was cracked. And she had a mental picture of Vince closing it after checking it.
A slight scuff sounded from the hall.
She snagged her phone, fumbled it, and it landed with a thud on the hardwood floor. She ran to the front door, twisted the lock, even while she glanced down the hallway to see a dark figure step out of her bedroom. A scream escaped her, but she yanked on the doorknob and jerked the door open just as a hard hand landed on her right wrist.
While the home alarm warning went off, instinct—and years of practice—kicked in. She spun and jammed the palm of her left hand at the man’s nose. It was just a graze, as her aim was off, but he cried out and stumbled back, releasing her arm. She tumbled out the door and onto the front porch, then down the steps. The man lunged after her.
Her left ankle twisted beneath her and she went down hard. As he reached for her, she rolled, wanting to scream but not willing to waste the breath.
“Raina! Hey! Get away from her!”
