Blind inside the closet, she stood on tiptoe and moved her hands over the ceiling. Where was the panel?
The floor moaned outside the closet. She froze and held her breath. The knob turned.
Crawling off the chair, Serena ducked into the corner and hid behind three dresses dangling off hangers. A whoosh of air touched her bare feet when the closet door opened. He breathed in the doorway, knowing someone was inside the house with him. Reaching up, she snatched a loose coat hanger and clutched it against her chest. Straightening the tip, she fashioned a weapon. It wasn’t much. But if he drew the dresses aside and discovered her, she’d jam the tip into his eye.
Each second lasted a lifetime. She sensed his presence towering above her. At any moment, he’d grab her by the neck.
Then the door eased shut. He gave up and left to search the rest of the house.
Or had he?
She imagined him standing in the darkness, inches from her. Holding his breath to fool her. A Cheshire cat’s grin on his face.
Serena held her breath too. Working up the courage, she parted the dresses and stared into infinite blackness. Benson might be looming over her with a knife. She couldn’t see.
Poking her foot out, she swept it across the floor and hissed when she struck a solid object. A shoe rack in the corner.
She breathed again. A moment later, another door opened inside the house.
This was her chance. She pulled herself up and stood on the chair. Then she groped at the ceiling, feeling for the panel. She found it.
Pushing the panel aside, she gripped the cold, splintered floor of the crawlspace. Winter’s breath poured through the opening and rippled her skin with goosebumps. With a grunt, she hauled herself into the crawlspace, careful not to bang her head on the low ceiling. Nails jutted from the woodwork like deadly stalactites.
On her hands and knees, Serena set the panel in place and walled herself off from humanity. She might have crouched within a black hole in outer space, she felt so disconnected from the house. The ghostly wind keened over her, the joists creaking with each gust.
Serena didn’t know how long she hid inside the crawlspace. Minutes, hours. Time held no meaning inside that frigid nothingness.
When she finally crept down, her lips were blue, body trembling, fingers and toes numb. She listened at the closet door before pushing it open.
Benson had left the house to stalk Raven.
Serena needed to warn her daughter.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
October 31st
9:15 p.m.
Thomas leaned over Detective Presley’s shoulder and scanned her computer monitor. The Facebook profile for Gardner Raimi filled the screen. The teenage boy hadn’t posted in nine months, not since the messy breakup with Valerie Leonard. Pictures of Valerie and Gardner dominated his profile. Friends wished him well and urged him to move on. Gardner responded, “We’re friends now. It’s all good.”
Presley crossed her arms.
“This isn’t much to go on. I can’t move Gardner Raimi to the top of my suspect list because Valerie broke up with him last January.”
“Yet he had motivation and opportunity.”
“This teenage girl, Scout. I appreciate she’s your friend and neighbor. But why would you seek her advice during a murder investigation?”
“Because I know her, and she’s stayed two steps ahead of us all day. The geolocation tags prove the killer lives in Barton Falls.”
Presley waved her hands.
“No, it suggests a poster named Krueger31 lives in Barton Falls. We can’t prove he’s a killer.”
“We have a photograph of Gardner Raimi wearing a Nightmare on Elm Street T-shirt. It appears he’s obsessed with Freddy Krueger's character. And we found his Facebook profile. He dated Valerie Leonard and suffered through the breakup. I admit, the evidence is circumstantial. But it all adds up.”
“Still, I can’t alter the trajectory of our investigation based on a teenage girl I’ve never met.”
“I’ll vouch for Scout. She helped me catch Jeremy Hyde.”
Presley dropped her face into her hands and clutched her hair. Beyond the bullpen’s windows, Theo Pierpoint slumped in a chair inside the conference room with a blanket wrapped around his body. He’d given a second interview to Officer Stanton, and a psychologist was en route to evaluate Pierpoint. As far as Thomas could determine, Derek Jordan’s death had caused Pierpoint to have a nervous breakdown. Was he a danger to himself? Or was the teacher a wolf in sheep’s clothing?
“This is crazy,” Presley said, pulling Thomas out of his thoughts. “Gardner Raimi is still friends with Valerie Leonard and Leland Trivett.”
“Gardner wanted more than a friendship with Valerie,” Thomas said. “We should have interviewed Gardner after we met with Leland.”
“We didn’t have a reason to suspect Gardner this afternoon.” Presley tossed a pen across her desk in frustration. “If I go out on a limb for you, and the investigation goes south, it will be my ass on the line.”
“I’ll take full responsibility. If the chief asks why we suspected Gardner Raimi, I’ll tell him I strong-armed you.”
“I don’t know about this.”
“Trust me, Detective. Scout never steered me in the wrong direction.”
Presley rolled the cruiser’s keys in her palm.
“What do you suggest?”
“I say we drive to the Raimi residence and knock on the door. At least determine if the kid has alibis for the attacks on Derek Jordan and Leland Trivett.”
Presley chewed on the suggestion.
“All right. But I’m keeping Valerie Leonard on my suspect list. Between the sick infatuation with gory movies and the murder—which mimicked the legend she created—it’s possible she’s our killer.” Thomas turned his head away to hide his frustration. “What if Raimi has alibis?”
“Then I’ll admit I’m wrong, and we’ll turn the spotlight on Derek Jordan’s stepfather, Valerie Leonard, and
