“Yeah, but two things. First, there’s almost no way to approach the place without being seen. Day or night. Second, he’s a former Marine and a damn good one until he went haywire. Who knows what kind of security he might have set-up. He’s got to be thinking he might have to run at any moment, and he could have some sort of security signal or trigger that’d let him know if someone’s been in or out of the house. That’s Kraft’s speculation anyway. So, you better think of something else.”
“I did get one idea tonight. We might have to do it in the bar.”
The group met at the Gas amp; Shop at 3:15 a.m. This time Riley was there first. “What do you guys think? Maybe two or three more nights, he’ll go for her?”
“That’d be my guess,” Lich replied.
Everyone else nodded in agreement. Mac confirmed it for them, giving a run down of how Knapp was staring her down in the bar. “It’s not an obvious thing, unless you are looking for it, but he’s getting hungry. You can just see it. It’s in the eyes.” Mac rubbed his eyes, stifled another yawn.
Riles jumped in, “The chief wants to meet tomorrow. We’re all going in at 10:00 a.m. Mac, I’m thinking one thing, though.”
Mac knew, “We gotta talk to Linda, right?”
“Yes.”
Chapter Twenty-One
It was Tuesday morning, chilly and the weather forecasters on the morning news had uttered something about snow. If the newsies weren’t talking about snow, they were talking about the University Avenue Strangler. Last night, Channel 6 had gone with an in-depth story about the investigation. The morning show then played excerpts, which Mac caught. He’d seen more flattering depictions and, in an ominous tone, Channel 6 was promising an additional installment tonight.
Sylvia Miller was getting butchered. She’d had enough, demanded an update, and the chief acquiesced. That’s why Mac was rubbing his eyes as he exited the elevator on the way to Flanagan’s office. He’d gotten to bed at 4:00 a.m. and it was 8:00 a.m., the meeting with the chief was moved up two hours.
When Mac walked in, Miller and Flanagan were waiting, along with Helen Anderson and Sally. Mac had fitfully slept at home. Sally, with a full night’s rest, looked like a million bucks by comparison. The chief nodded to the couch where Mac grabbed a seat and poured himself a steaming cup of coffee. He drank it as fast as the roof of his mouth would allow. As he poured himself another cup, Riley came in, and the meeting came to order.
The Chief started everything off. “Riles, where you at on Knapp?”
Miller jumped in with, “Who’s Knapp?”
Riles smiled tiredly. “Sylvia, let me tell you about our serial killer.” He flipped open his notebook.
The chief jumped in before he started. “Sylvia, you can’t repeat any of this. At least not yet.”
Riley gave everyone the run down. When he’d finished Flanagan looked relieved, Anderson looked excited, and Miller was just plain incredulous. Sally knew all about it, pillow talk of the strangest kind.
“How long have you been on this guy?” Miller asked.
“A week now,” replied Riley.
“How have you kept it so quiet? I haven’t heard even a whisper of this?”
“Because if anyone did, they wouldn’t have a badge,” replied the chief. “And, Sylvia, you can’t talk about it either.”
“I know. I know,” she replied, the relief showing. “I’m just glad to know you’re getting somewhere. That this thing might come to an end. I assume you think he’ll hit soon?”
Mac jumped in. “Next couple of days. Everyone agrees who’s seen him inside the bar, watching the woman. The hunger’s building.”
“Have we seen the van yet?” asked the chief.
“No.”
“Doesn’t that concern you?” Anderson asked.
“Not really,” replied Riles. “We think he uses it only when he takes the women. We think it’s stored in one of the outbuildings at his place.”
“You going to talk to the bar back?” Sally asked.
“Mac and I are going today,” replied Riley.
Mac and Riley got to Dick’s as Linda was pulling up in her Trailblazer. When Mac got out of the unmarked car, she looked at him quizzically and then smiled.
“A little early isn’t it?” a shy smile creased her face.
“It would be, Linda, but that’s not why I’m here.” Mac pulled out his badge, introduced Riley and explained the investigation and Knapp. She led them into the bar and to the upstairs office. Whereas the lower bar was a throwback to a bygone era of a hole-in-the-wall bar, upstairs was a well-furnished office with a distinct woman’s touch. There was a large tasteful offwhite couch and two sitting chairs, which surrounded a coffee table sitting on a Persian area rug that covered a good portion of the wood floor. Two antique oak desks, each with a new laptop computer on them, allowed the women to do business. A thirty-two-inch TV sat in a corner, along with a CD player. The office served as a pleasant alternative to the bar below.
“So, what does your investigation have to do with me?” Linda asked, as she fell into one of the chairs. Mac and Riles took seats on the couch.
Riles, cutting to the chase. “You’re his next target.”
Linda quickly put her hand to her mouth, a look of horror overtaking her face, her voice stammering, “You’re su… su… sure… he’s after me?”
“After last night, we’re real sure,” replied Mac. “He’s been in your place the last several nights. We’ve had a cop in there every night as well as all over the place outside. He leaves the bar and watches from the parking lot until you leave to go home.”
“But why me? Why me? I mean, what did I do?” She asked loudly, her voice anxious, full of alarm.
“He goes for shy, reserved women; you’re that. He goes for workingclass women. I know you own the bar with your sister, but you have a working-class look and manner about you. He goes after women who are smaller physically, which you are,” Mac replied. “You fit the profile to a T.”
“So when do you think he’ll come after me?”
“Any night now.”
“Tonight?”
“Possibly.”
“Why don’t you just arrest him now?”
“We can’t,” Mac answered. “Without going into the legal niceties, we don’t have enough. We’re very lucky to have stumbled onto him so to speak.”
“But so are you,” Riles added. “So, we need your help.”
She didn’t look relieved. “What do you need?”
Riles didn’t sugar coat it, “Him to make a move on you.”
More stammering, “You… you… you mean, letting him come after me? What? You want to catch him in the act?”
Riles and Mac nodded.
She excused herself and went downstairs and returned a minute later with a glass and bottle of Beam, no ice. She sat down, poured herself a shot and knocked it back. She poured herself another one and offered the bottle
