Targeted (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 9) Read online

  Jenny had heard this excuse a million times, and it always infuriated her. However, with her new goal of marital harmony in mind, she simply said, “I plan to buy a breast pump so that I can make some bottles in advance. That way you can experience the joy of a midnight feeding.” She tapped him on the chest.

  “Me?”

  “You.” Jenny’s tone was light. “The way I see it, this breast pump has the ability to fix the place where Mother Nature screwed up. See, I carried the baby. I dealt with the pregnancy. As far as I’m concerned, I should be done now. You should have the breasts so you can take over the responsibilities after the baby is born.”

  “If I had breasts, I would never leave the house,” Zack replied. “I would just stay home and fondle myself all day long.”

  “There’s something wrong with you.”

  “Just being honest. I think Mother Nature actually knew what she was doing when she put the boobs on the women, considering she probably wanted men to be productive members of society.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, then Mother Nature is a man. It’s Father Nature. A woman wouldn’t do this to all the other females of the world.”

  “I disagree. I think Mother Nature simply didn’t trust the men enough to give them such a big responsibility. She knew that the dads wouldn’t hear the baby cry during football season. Kids still need to eat on Sundays, which is why she gave the boobs to you. Besides, I don’t think I would have made it through that whole birth thing. That looked rough.”

  This was the sense of humor that Jenny had fallen in love with. She had since gotten used to his goofy remarks, so she didn’t laugh at them as much as she used to. But they were still there, and she needed to remember that.

  “It was rough,” she replied. “All the more reason you should have the breasts. I will head out to the store after this and get myself that pump.”

  “Will the sales lady demonstrate how to use it? If so, I’ll go with you.”

  “You’re such a pig,” Jenny said with a smile.

  He shrugged under her head. “I’m a guy. Pig goes without saying.”

  She sighed and repositioned herself so that she was on top of him, her lips just inches from his. Studying his face, she remembered feeling enamored with him once upon a time. While the newness had definitely worn off, she did still love him deep down inside, and she ultimately wanted him to be happy. “I’m sorry if I’ve been neglecting you. I don’t mean to, and it has nothing to do with how handsome you are or anything like that. I just haven’t felt very…sexy lately. I felt fat and bloated at the end of the pregnancy, and I’ve been completely exhausted since the baby was born. I know it wasn’t fair of me to jump your bones every chance I got in the second trimester, only to turn around and completely shoot you down after that.”

  Although he didn’t say anything, he ran his hands up and down her back. She had to admit, it felt nice.

  “So,” she continued, looking at him flirtatiously, “are you willing to strike a deal? We should both make more of an effort to meet each other’s needs?”

  “Let me confer with Little Zack for a minute.” He looked up and to the right as if he was having a conversation inside his head. He quickly gave an emphatic nod, stating, “We are both in agreement that it’s a good idea.”

  He pulled Jenny in close and gave her a kiss.

  Chapter 2

  Four months later, in April…

  “It happened again,” Zack announced, looking at his laptop.

  “What did?” Jenny grinned at little Steve, who emphatically returned the gesture from his high chair. Cereal oozed down his chin and his legs flailed with happiness. Jenny absolutely adored how he smiled with his whole body, her feelings toward the baby having completely turned around since the newborn days. He was the light of her life, and she couldn’t have loved him more if she tried.

  Zack’s tone was solemn. “Another murder at Perdion University.”

  The joy left Jenny’s body in an instant. “What happened this time?”

  “Same as last time,” he replied. “A female grad student had her throat slit in her bed.”

  “That’s got to be the work of the same person,” Jenny announced.

  Zack shrugged. “Could be a copycat.”

  “Do you really think two people would be capable of something like that?”

  “I would hope not, but we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

  Jenny shook her head, unable to fathom that even one person had that type of violence in him…or her. Like Zack said, she shouldn’t jump to conclusions. “Do they have any suspects?”

  “They did, until the second incident,” Zack said. “According to this, they originally thought the first victim must have known the killer personally. There was no sexual assault, nothing was taken...there weren’t even any signs of torture, so it wasn’t a pleasure killing. It appeared as if the killer just wanted this particular girl dead, so they were looking at people that may have had a vendetta against her. But now that they’ve got this second victim killed in a similar fashion, they don’t know what to make of it.”

  “Did the girls know each other?”

  “That’s what they’re investigating. They went to the same school, but it doesn’t look like they did.”

  “Could they have had a mutual acquaintance?”

  “Apparently, they had a sick and twisted mutual acquaintance.”

  Steve fussed, reminding Jenny that she had been forgetting to feed him while she had this conversation. Spooning a bite of cereal into his mouth, she looked at him with a broken heart. She had been freezing her breast milk, saving it for a day when she’d have to leave town to investigate a difficult homicide. This murder spree certainly sounded like it qualified, but the thought of leaving her baby behind with her mother for a few days was nearly unbearable.

  Her focus shifted, however, to the two mothers whose babies had just been murdered by a psychopath. Jenny was upset about not seeing her son for a few days—these women were without their children for a lifetime, and there could have been more grieving mothers if this killer wasn’t caught.

  While she would miss her baby dearly, she knew she had to go and do her part. She reached out and touched Steve’s face, fully aware that he would understand this one day considering he had also been born with psychic ability.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Jenny asked Zack.

  He looked up from his laptop. “I’ll start packing a bag.”

  During the drive, Zack had called the Girard County Police Department in Bennett, Missouri, where Perdion University was located. He had informed them that he and Jenny were on their way, sending them links to articles featuring the previous murders that Jenny had helped solve. The woman on the phone had been surprisingly accommodating, putting Zack on hold briefly before telling him that the chief was glad they were coming. She told them they should ask for Detective Savannah Brennan when they arrived, which, after the six hour drive, would be in the early evening.

  Once Zack and Jenny reached the station, they walked to the desk, asking the young officer sitting there if they could speak with Detective Brennan. The officer, who literally appeared to be fifteen, sent out some calls on his walkie-talkie, eventually informing them that the detective was on scene, giving them directions to the location. Although getting back in the car was the last thing Jenny wanted to do, she got behind the wheel and started heading to the spot they had been instructed to go.

  “Was it just me,” Jenny began once she put the car in drive, “or did that kid look like he was in middle school?”

  Zack let out a laugh. “Yeah, he did look pretty young.”

  “How old do you have to be in order to become a cop?” she asked.

  With a shrug, he replied, “Twenty-one, I guess?”

  Eighteen. After a little math, Jenny realized exactly how much younger that was than her. “Maybe cops still look the same, and I’m just getting old.” Her shoulders sunk a little as she drove.


  As they made their way down the city streets, Jenny started to notice some academic buildings cropping up among the older homes that lined the roadway. “I guess this isn’t a self-contained campus,” she noted. “It’s just part of the city.”

  “I like these old houses,” Zack said as he looked out the window. “Do you know how nice these were once upon a time?”

  While sitting at a red light, Jenny looked at a few of the buildings. They were huge, with columned porches and brick fronts, but there were only about two feet between the buildings. “I bet they’ve been converted to student apartments.”

  “And they’ve been neglected,” Zack added. “That’s a shame. Although, I guess it wouldn’t make sense to put much work into them. A couple of good parties and the place would be trashed anyway.”

  Jenny felt a slight buzz in her stomach as they approached the house where the latest victim had lived. The physical reaction was good news, leading Jenny to believe that she would be contacted by this young woman. It seemed this long trip wasn’t going to turn out to be a waste of time.

  The scene was familiar—as with the other crime scenes she’d visited in the past, the house was enveloped in yellow tape, which was in turn surrounded by a mob of reporters and onlookers. While still in the car, Jenny turned to Zack and said, “I’m getting something, which is promising.”

  “That’s good, although you may have a difficult time working your way through that crowd. That’s a lot of people in a small space.”

  She looked beyond him and out the car window, focusing on the people gathered around the tape. Some wore expressions of sadness, some fear, and others bewilderment. Some managed to wear a combination of the three. Jenny shook her head, overcome by the intense emotion emanating from the crowd. Quickly, however, that feeling turned into determination; she wanted to make sure no other crowds had to gather for a similar reason.

  Reaching for the door handle, she announced, “I have permission to cross the line, which is a bit surreal, but I think they’re willing to try anything to get this case solved. I have to give them credit for being open to using my ability. A lot of departments would have called me a loony.”

  “It was my fancy talk on the phone that convinced them,” Zack replied.

  Jenny flashed him a playful look. “And my previous successes had nothing to do with it?”

  “Maybe a little, but it was more me.”

  Without saying another word, Jenny got out of the car and headed toward the mob. She felt strangely important as she worked her way through the crowd, approaching the tape, knowing she would be let through. Once she finally reached the yellow barrier and started to go under, an officer confronted her. “Are you supposed to be here?”

  “I am,” Jenny explained. “I was asked to meet with Detective Brennan. My name is Jenny Larrabee.”

  “You the psychic?” he said, louder than Jenny would have wanted.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Come on back,” he said as he lifted the tape. Jenny bowed underneath it, walking toward the house. To Jenny’s surprise, flash bulbs started to go off as she crossed the small lawn. She looked toward the cameras with confusion, wondering if she was really photo-worthy. The answer must have been yes; the barrage of bright lights from photographers and news cameras was nearly blinding.

  “Pay them no mind,” the officer said, placing his hand on Jenny’s back and guiding her to the front door, “and try not to touch anything. And here.” He handed Jenny a pair of shoe covers. “Put these on before you go inside.”

  After sliding her feet into the covers, she clasped her hands together in front of her chest, making an extra effort to keep her fingers off of anything important to the investigation. Once she walked into the house and the officer closed the door behind her, the energy of the crowd disappeared, and a funny feeling took over Jenny’s belly. It wasn’t enough to provide any information at this point, so she didn’t mention it, but she felt confident she’d get something useful out of this visit.

  A petite woman with blond hair rounded the corner, sticking out her hand. “Savannah Brennan,” she said in a commanding voice, which was in contrast to her pleasant face and tiny body. Even though her expression was serious, she had an appeal to her that made her seem approachable.

  “Jenny Larrabee. Thanks for having me today.”

  “Thanks for coming,” the detective replied, shaking her head. “Between you and me, this case has us stumped.”

  “Does that mean you don’t have any leads?” Jenny asked.

  “We don’t know what we have, other than two dead co-eds,” she replied. “How familiar are you with the cases?”

  “I only know what I’ve read, and I’m not sure how much of that is reliable.”

  “On the Internet? Oh, boy,” Detective Brennan said with a roll of her eyes. “Let me tell you the real story.” Scratching her head, she began, “It all started three weeks ago with our first victim, Song Yi Lee, who goes by Sonya. Twenty-three, Asian, lived alone in a first-floor apartment on Queen Street. She was a grad student at Perdion, studying social work. No known enemies to speak of. She was last seen by her friend, Becca Newman, on Monday evening three weeks ago, when they ran into each other at the grocery store. She engaged in a few text conversations with friends until 10:37 that night, not saying anything unusual. She claimed to be at home studying while those exchanges happened, which her cell phone records verified.

  “On Tuesday, she failed to show up for class. Her friends tried calling and texting, but she didn’t respond. After a while, the messages went straight to voicemail, presumably because the phone ran out of charge. Concerned, her friend, Maggie Wallace, went over to check on her. When Sonya didn’t answer the door, Maggie walked around the perimeter and found the bedroom window open with the screen cut. She immediately called the police, who went in and found Sonya in her bed with a blunt force trauma injury to her head and her throat slit. Based on the position of the body, it appeared she hadn’t even woken up before the attack happened.”

  Jenny curled her lip. “It sounds like the killer was on a mission.”

  Detective Brennan widened her eyes and nodded emphatically. “There were no signs of the typical motives. No sexual assault. Nothing taken. Nothing ransacked. She wasn’t bound or tortured in any way. The perp just clearly wanted her dead for some reason. We had every reason to believe it was personal, so the first place we looked was her romantic history. Nothing says ‘you shouldn’t have left me’ like a quick slit of the throat, right?” She shook her head. “We looked into her dating life, but we weren’t able to come up with anyone who stood out as either jaded enough—or crazy enough—to do something that drastic. And then this happened.” She swept her arm to the side, gesturing to the apartment on Jenny’s right.

  “What went on here?” Jenny asked.

  “More of the same,” Detective Brennan replied. “This victim is Lisa Penne, twenty-two, also a grad student at Perdion, but studying pharmacology. Killed the same way. Also appeared to have been murdered in her sleep. No signs of struggle, no defensive wounds. She was lying on her side in what appeared to be a comfortable position. Nothing in the room was disturbed. Once again, the perp appeared to go in and out of a bedroom window.” She looked up at Jenny. “He’s like the wind, this one.”

  “I wonder what his motive is,” Jenny said, dumbfounded.

  Detective Brennan shook her head. “We don’t know, at this point. We can only assume it’s personal, but there doesn’t appear to be any immediate link between the two victims. The only things they have in common are that they are grad students at Perdion and they lived alone in first-floor apartments. Their fields of study are different enough that they wouldn’t have had any of the same classes. According to the officials at Perdion, social work and pharmacology aren’t even in the same building. The girls lived on opposite sides of the school, a total of eight blocks apart. They don’t have overlapping friends that we are aware of.” The detective shr
ugged her shoulders. “But we are still looking into that. So far, though, we have nothing to suggest they hung around in the same social circles.”

  “I guess that’s where I come in,” Jenny said.

  “We don’t normally rely on psychics, but we usually have a little more to go on than we do this time.” Detective Brennan started walking into the apartment, with Jenny following suit. “When you called, the chief seemed grateful. We need something to kick start this investigation.”

  After taking only three steps into the apartment, Jenny announced, “She has a cat.”

  Detective Brennan looked at her strangely.

  “That’s not a psychic reading,” Jenny clarified. “That’s allergies speaking.” Her throat was becoming scratchy and her lungs tight. This would have to be a quick visit.

  “Will you be okay?”

  Jenny nodded. “For a little while. If I stay too long, I’ll regret it.”

  “Well, the attack happened in the bedroom, obviously,” Detective Brennan said. “We can lead you there, but don’t disturb anything.”

  “I got that memo already.” Jenny walked to the doorway of the bedroom, feeling a large sense of nothing. It wasn’t the typical sensation of when she wasn’t getting a reading; this seemed more deliberate. Jenny nodded and headed back out toward the front door where she could breathe better.

  Detective Brennan was right behind her. “That was fast. Did you get any insight?”

  “Of sorts,” Jenny said, looking at the hopeful detective. “It seems Lisa doesn’t know who did it, either.”

  Chapter 3

  “You mean, a stranger did it?” Detective Brennan asked.

  Jenny shook her head. “Not necessarily. When I say she doesn’t know who did it, I mean she has no idea if it was her best friend or someone she’d never met. She simply doesn’t know who it was.”