Death's Door by Gail Lukasik

Author:Gail Lukasik
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction detective, resorts, serial murders, women journalists
Publisher: Gail Lukasik

* * *

The lake was running high, with silver waves rippling in the moonlight. Salinger, sensing my need for comfort, was sitting quietly between Joe and me.

I’d set up two lawn chairs on the bluff and opened Lydia’s bottle of Australian chardonnay. The air was chill but clean and invigorating.

“I think I’m in trouble,” I said to Joe, who’d taken two polite sips of his wine and placed the glass down in the grass. I’d told him about the purple hair band left on my doorknob, which was now in Hallaway’s possession.

I poured myself a second glass.

“You thinking this guy may come after you?” Joe asked. There was real concern in his voice.

I hadn’t thought of that. “No. I don’t think so. He’s not after me. Besides I don’t fit the victim profile. You know, blonde, younger. He wants me as a witness. In the biblical sense.”

“What do you mean?”

The idea had come to me during the drive to the police station. “To attest to what he’s done. As if to authenticate it in some way. Or maybe my witnessing it makes it right somehow. You know, like when you sign a document to make it legal. Or you have witnesses at a wedding to make it right in the eyes of God. Something like that.”

“There’s no way he could have known you’d find Stephanie. That was random. Any of us could have found her,” Joe countered.

“Maybe that’s what set him off. I don’t mean killing again. But involving me. I found Stephanie. I wrote the first article. For some reason he wanted me to find the second victim.”

“So you could write about it. Get it right, like he said.”

“Get it right,” I repeated. “But I’m not sure if I’m getting it right for him or for the victim.”

“Now, what does that mean?”

“I’m not sure. Something about this ritual placement, somehow I think it all goes together.”

“He’s going to do it again.” Joe said what I’ve been thinking. “If he’s not caught.”

“I know.” I downed the rest of my wine and reached to pour another glass.

“It’s getting kinda cold. You want to go in?” He took the bottle from my hand and picked up his own glass. “Let me help you.”

As we walked toward the mobile home, Salinger ran ahead and into the open door. Yellow light was spilling across the clearing, welcome and warm as day.

“Don’t think I’ll be getting much sleep tonight,” I said to Joe as I walked up the steps into the mobile home. “I keep seeing her face. Their faces. It was so awful.” I stopped myself before the horror overtook me completely.

Joe didn’t follow me into the home but stood in the doorway holding the bottle and his glass.

“You gonna finish this?” he asked, raising the bottle.

I looked at the half empty bottle. Then I looked at him—his sharply angled face, high cheekbones, the deep-set eyes, his dark hair. “They say it’s not healthy. You know, drinking alone.”

“ ‘They’ say a lot of things. What are you saying, Leigh?”

“I’m saying I’d like you to stay.

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