Targeted (A Jenny Watkins Mystery Book 9) Page 5

  “Look into him. See what he’s capable of,” the chief demanded. “Who had Eddie’s Brewery?”

  A man gave a report that sounded similar to the other locations—a million suspects, yet none stood out as particularly promising.

  “What about Luke Thomas? Who had him?”

  Jenny felt her stomach flutter at the mention of his name. She hoped they would find a piece of evidence that would allow them cross him off the suspect list. She just knew in her heart he didn’t do it.

  “I did,” a man said as he adjusted his tie.

  “Any link to Lisa Penne?”

  “Basketball practice happened every morning from ten to one. That would have put him at the gym at the same time as Lisa. He’s also been known to frequent Shenanigans; it’s one of his favorite hang outs.”

  “Him and half the kids on campus,” someone noted.

  “At six-foot-ten, he’d have the ability to easily climb in and out of the window,” a woman added.

  The chief gestured his head in the direction of the person in charge of researching Luke. “Go back to his place. Find out if he had an alibi for the night Lisa was attacked, and check it out. Don’t just take his word for it.”

  The chief’s phone rang from his belt, and he glanced at the caller. Answering the phone with his seemingly-favorite phrase, he said, “What’ve you got.”

  The room remained silent aside from the occasional “uh-huh” and “interesting” coming from the chief. After he hung up, he squeezed both hands into fists and placed them on the table, leaning forward. “That was Atkins. He’s been looking into Lisa’s whereabouts and the contacts she’d had with people over the past few weeks. Phone records indicate she’d been in contact with a male student from one of her classes.” His eyes circulated the room. “A student by the name of Scott Sweigert, who happened to work at Jensen’s drug store with Sonya Lee. Folks, we may have found ourselves a connection.”

  Zack and Jenny pulled into the parking lot of Jensen’s Drug Store. “So, let me get this straight,” Zack said. “Lisa was a pharmacology major, and she was in class with another pharmacology major who was interning at this drug store.”

  “Yes.”

  “And Sonya worked here as well.”

  “Yes, as a cahier in the pharmacy.”

  “Huh,” was all Zack said. They got out of the car and headed toward the sliding double doors. “What are you hoping to find during this trip?”

  “I’ll know it when I see it,” Jenny replied. “If I see it.”

  “Do you even know what this guy, Scott Sweigert, looks like?”

  “Nope,” Jenny confessed as they walked inside, “but maybe one of the girls will let me know.”

  Jenny wandered aimlessly through the store, but the only sensations she felt were familiarity and fondness. She believed those to be Sonya’s emotions; she must have had fun working there. As Jenny worked her way around to the pharmacy counter in the back of the store, she saw photographs of the employees hanging on the wall. She scanned the pictures, noticing an empty spot. That must have been where Sonya’s picture used to be. She looked around, finding the picture resting on the counter with a small shrine of flowers, cards and stuffed animals around it. She stared at the image for a moment, looking at the beautiful woman who smiled in her white lab coat. The picture was labeled with her given name, Song Yi, which Jenny found to be as lovely as the woman who owned it.

  Jenny sighed and looked back at the collage of photos, searching for Scott Sweigert’s picture, finding him a few spots down from the empty space. He was blond with glasses, looking rather average and nondescript. A ripple of both excitement and fear worked its way down Jenny’s body as she remembered the detective who insisted the killer was someone ordinary. Scott Sweigert, it seemed, fit that description perfectly.

  Jenny focused on the picture, trying to get some sort of reading from it. An image popped into her mind, leading her to close her eyes and allow the vision to run its course.

  “You just don’t try,” she heard herself say in a friendly tone. “I refuse to feel sorry for you if you don’t try.”

  She glanced to her left, seeing the profile of a smirking Scott Sweigert, who counted out pills on a tray. After accounting for them all, he poured them back into a container and replied, “You don’t know what it’s like. You’re a girl. You don’t have to do the asking. You’re the one who gets asked.”

  “Well, that would never happen if every guy had your mindset, now, would it?”

  “It’s hard,” he argued playfully.

  “What’s the worst that can happen? She says no. That’s it.”

  “Okay, then,” Scott said as he walked over toward Jenny at her register. He placed one hand on his hip and asked, “Will you go out with me?”

  “Nope. I sure won’t,” Jenny replied in a chipper tone. “See, now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  He paused for a moment, smiled at her and replied, “No, it wasn’t…but that’s only because I didn’t mean it. If I had been serious, that would have hurt.”

  Jenny glanced down and picked at her brightly painted fingernails. “It’s all how you look at it. You can decide that your life sucks because one girl turned you down, or you can shrug it off knowing that she just wasn’t the one.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You must have men asking you out all the time.”

  “Yeah, they’re beating down my door.”

  “Didn’t you just get asked out last week?”

  “Yeah, by Jason. That hardly counts.”

  “It might to him.”

  “Can I help you?” The female voice was out of place. For a moment, Jenny was confused, but then she figured out the question had come from the present-day woman who stood behind the counter.

  She had been frozen during the entire length of the vision; Jenny realized she must have looked like a crazy woman. “No, I’m just browsing, thank you.” She smiled pleasantly, although she laughed at herself internally. What type of person browses by standing in one spot with her eyes closed?

  Turning around, Jenny walked along the back of the store, glancing down each aisle in an attempt to find Zack. She discovered him in the magazine section and approached him with a giggle. “We need to get out of here before the pharmacist calls some guys with straitjackets to come get me.”

  “Made a good impression back there, huh?” Zack put the magazine back on the rack as they headed toward the exit.

  “I got some information at least, even if it did cost me a little bit of pride.”

  “What did you find out?”

  Jenny thought about the vision before flatly stating, “I don’t know.”

  Zack let out a laugh. “That’s not helpful.”

  “Well, I saw a conversation between Sonya and Scott, where Scott asked her out and she said no…although, it seemed to be a joke. Maybe. But then he mentioned that Sonya had been asked out by a guy named Jason, and she turned him down…adding that his invitation hardly counted.”

  “Who is Jason? And why would his invitation not count?”

  Jenny pulled her keys out of her purse as they reached the car. “I don’t know…but I think we need to find out.”

  Chapter 5

  Sitting in the driver’s seat, Jenny noticed the rearview mirror reflected the roof of the car, not the back window. As she maneuvered it into place, she asked Zack, “Did you hit this thing on the way out?”

  “I don’t think so,” he replied. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t even come close to it.”

  With a shrug, she put the key in the ignition and started the car. With it still in park, Jenny dialed her phone, and soon the tiny detective’s booming voice blared through the car speakers. “Brennan.”

  “Hi, Detective Brennan, it’s Jenny Larrabee. I have a question for you. Has anyone by the name of Jason ever come up as a suspect?”

  “Jason,” she repeated as if she were thinking. “It doesn’t sound familiar. Why? Did something happen involving
a Jason?”

  Jenny described the vision, concluding, “I’m not sure whether Sonya was trying to implicate Scott or Jason—or both. Considering she doesn’t even know who did it, she may be grasping at straws herself.”

  “Well, Scott Sweigert is in the interrogation room as we speak. I’ll make sure they get the message to ask who Jason is…that is, if they don’t get a confession out of him first. I’m hoping they do, honestly—get a confession, that is. Then this whole thing will be over and the young women of this town can stop being afraid to go to sleep. This entire case has been a nightmare.”

  “I agree,” Jenny replied. “Well, my plan for the day is to go to Buford Park and walk the trails…I want to see if any insight comes to me that way or if I can get an idea about what the deal is with that homeless man. Then I will go to the bars in the evening.”

  Zack chimed in, “I think we should go to the diner where Lisa Penne worked first. Maybe one of her coworkers or customers is the key to this whole thing. That, and I’m hungry.”

  Jenny rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I married a bottomless pit. Although, he may be on to something; going the diner is not a bad idea.”

  “Let me know if you’re able to come up with anything,” Detective Brennan said. “I’m going to get off the phone and call the guys doing the interrogation—let them know to ask about Jason.”

  “Sounds good,” Jenny replied. They hung up, and she turned to her husband. “Do you know where the diner is?”

  Pulling out his phone, he answered, “No, but I can find out.”

  Jenny stretched and thought about her baby as Zack looked up the information. She felt an ache in her stomach when she envisioned her mother holding her son, giving him the love that Jenny felt like she should have been giving. She had to admit she did enjoy the freedom that went along with not having the baby with her, a notion that made her feel even worse. What did that say about her as a mother?

  She had no idea that motherhood would make her feel so conflicted.

  Mercifully, Zack interrupted her thoughts. “It looks like the diner isn’t that far from here. It’s just a few blocks away.”

  “Cool,” Jenny said as she put the car in reverse. “Which way should I go?”

  “Well, considering it’s a one-way street, you should head that way.” He pointed in the only direction she could turn. “Then, once you hit Maple Street, you should take a left.”

  She followed Zack’s instructions to the diner, which seemed to be a simple place that catered to college students. The square building was situated in the front portion of a plaza, leaving Jenny unsure which side was the front. “Where’s the door? I have no idea where to park,” she announced.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Zack said. “Just pick a spot and we can walk.”

  Jenny pulled into one of the many available spaces, and the couple got out of the car. Soon, she realized why the lot had been so empty; she had parked in the back. “Sorry,” she said with defeat. “Somehow I knew I’d get that wrong.”

  Zack only shrugged. After rounding the corner, a sign indicated they had reached the front of the diner, advertising that the restaurant was open twenty-four hours. As they walked up the three stone steps to the front door, Zack asked, “Can you imagine this place at three in the morning on a Saturday night? I bet it’s crawling with drunks.”

  “Great,” Jenny said sarcastically, pulling the door handle and walking in. “That’ll help us narrow down the suspect pool. Holy mother of pearl, would you look at that?” She pointed to the dessert case at the front counter, which displayed an array of cakes and pies of every imaginable flavor. “I think I’ll skip lunch and just climb right on into that thing. If you need me, I’ll be behind the glass.”

  A waitress in all black approached them, grabbing a couple of menus and silverware rolls from behind a podium. “Two?” Her face seemed sullen, an appropriate look considering one of her coworkers had just been found murdered.

  “Yes, please,” Jenny replied politely. The couple was led to a booth along a window, where they got situated and the waitress walked away without a word.

  “Are you getting anything?” Zack asked. “Readings, I mean, not lunch.”

  Jenny squinted as she focused on the feeling inside. “A little bit. There’s a stir, but nothing definite.” She looked around the diner, seeing a few men sitting alone at the counter. A wave washed over her, and the images of several faces flashed in her head in rapid succession. Each of them had been sitting at that very counter, but the view was from the other side—the employees’ side, where Lisa had spent a good deal of time. “I take that back,” Jenny added. “I’ve just gotten a glimpse at a handful of men.”

  Zack remained quiet for a moment before posing, “Any of them look promising?”

  “No.” Jenny shook her head. “She’s guessing.” More flashbacks ran through her mind—images of men sitting in booths, guys looking at her as she walked by. The visions came and went quickly, as if inspired by panic. Making a sound to voice her displeasure, Jenny admitted, “I don’t like this very much.”

  “What’s the matter? Do you need to leave?”

  Once again, she shook her head. Releasing a controlled breath, she held up her hand and said, “No, I’m good.” She took a stand inside her own mind, regaining some order, and the images came to an end. Still uneasy, she felt her hands tremble a bit as she began, “Do you know what this feels like to me?”

  Zack shrugged and waited for her to continue.

  “I imagine this is what it feels like to survive an attack.”

  At that moment, the waitress came by. After a quick glance at the menu, Zack and Jenny placed their orders and handed the menus back to the server. Once she left, Zack leaned forward onto his elbows. “What were you saying?”

  “I was saying,” Jenny continued, “that this is what it must feel like to be a survivor.” Her eyes worked their way around the room, landing on each man that sat in the dining area. They all looked like murderers to her. She brought her attention back to her husband—the only male in the room she trusted. “I can imagine that the panic I’m feeling is what every survivor must experience. I mean, if a woman got attacked by a man in a mask and she has no idea who it was, she must look at every man differently after that. I see all these faces in here, and in my head, and I keep asking myself, Is it him? Is it him? Is it him?” She could no longer contain the shudder that sat just beneath the surface. “It’s horrible.”

  “Yeah, that’s got to be tough.”

  “It would be life-changing.” She rested her chin in her hands. “I have to confess, I’ve had these crazy thoughts before. I’ve been alone in elevators with a male stranger, and it has occurred to me that the only reason he doesn’t kill me is because he was raised right. I’m essentially trapped in there with him, and he’s bigger than me, so I’m totally at his mercy if he’s inclined to do anything violent. Now, for me, these thoughts are just random, unwarranted things that pop into my head. But for someone who has actually been attacked—and the person who did it is still out there—it would be entirely different. Maybe that stranger in the elevator is the attacker. Maybe he recognizes her as his victim and he wants to finish off what he started. Can you imagine how paralyzing that would be?”

  “I think I would take the stairs,” Zack replied.

  “But being alone in a stairwell would be no different. The killer could just as easily get you in there.” She leaned back in the booth, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve heard victims say they have to make an effort to reclaim their lives after they get assaulted, and I guess that’s what they mean. They have to work at not being scared to take the elevator. Or the stairs. Or go anywhere alone, for that matter.”

  Drinks appeared before the couple. Zack took a sip of his coffee and remarked, “I’d probably get a gun and a permit to carry.”

  “My mom tried to encourage me to get a gun,” Jenny announced as she shook a sugar packet, ripping it open and p
ouring it in.

  “She did?”

  After nodding and taking a drink, Jenny grunted her approval at the taste of the coffee. “Yeah. She wanted me to pick one up after she found out we brought Mick home with us to use the shower.”

  “Mick wasn’t dangerous,” Zack remarked.

  “I told her that, but she didn’t believe me. She just figured in our line of work we would run into some shady characters.”

  “We do run into some shady characters.”

  “I know,” Jenny confessed, “but I still don’t want a gun. I could never shoot anybody. I’d probably end up shooting myself as clumsy as I am sometimes. Besides, I’d want to keep it locked up with a child in the house, and I don’t think an attacker would stand around and wait patiently while I got the key and opened the gun closet.”

  “Her point is valid, though. We get mixed up with murderers more often than your average couple.”

  “Well, this time we’re dealing with a guy who likes co-eds who sleep alone, so I think I’m pretty safe.” She reached down and fumbled around in her purse. “Speaking of my mother and Mick…I want to give each of them a call. I’d like to know how everybody’s doing back home.” She pulled her phone out and dialed her mother’s number first.

  Isabelle picked up after two rings. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Ma. How’s everything going?”

  “Fabulous. Little man is sleeping right now.”

  Jenny’s heart soared at the thought of her little baby snoozing away in his crib, making her wish she was there to see it. “Has he been doing okay?”

  “He’s doing fine. We’ve had fun; we went on a walk earlier today, and he made a little friend.”

  “He did?” Jenny could hardly contain herself. “Who?”

  “A little sheltie who lives down the street.”

  She knew that dog; she had met the owners a few weeks before while on a walk. The sheltie had been quite curious about baby Steve, who didn’t share the same enthusiasm about getting to know the dog. Still, Jenny beamed when she pictured the meeting.