glanced at his watch. Eight forty-five. A slow smile curved his lips.
The fun was about to begin.
Chapter Six
Kendra reentered the liquor store a little before nine, barely noticing the drunk who staggered out ahead of her, metal flask in hand. The wall clock reminded her to hurry. She realized she didn’t really need to be here, that it was probably overkill. But a handle of tequila would go a long way toward sweetening her and Marie’s reception, especially when added to their earlier purchases.
That creeper Barry was still at the counter, eyeing her up and down as she paid for the booze. She kept her gaze averted and got out as quickly as she could.
She was late and she knew it. The party was already under way, and Marie would be pissed off that she had to wait.
Tucking the tequila under her arm, Kendra crossed West 113th Street, and headed directly toward the brownstone where the frat house was located. She was excited. She didn’t go out often; she was too busy with her schoolwork. But she’d killed herself studying this week, all so she could have some fun tonight. All she could think about were the hot guys Marie had told her would be at the party.
She’d taken care with her appearance. Gone was the pathetic-looking geek who buried her nose in philosophy books. She’d straightened her curly auburn mane and tied it back neatly. She’d put on her favorite pair of skinny jeans, a V-neck sweater and some makeup. Not too much, not too little. Just enough to ensure that she wasn’t lost in the crowd.
That was important to her. She didn’t have much of a social life. She was an introvert and aware that people saw her as a bit weird. She studied not only to get A’s, but because the philosophers fascinated her. Tonight would be different. Tonight she’d actually cut loose and have some fun.
She picked up her pace, eager to meet Marie and check out what promised to be a great party.
A flicker of light flashed from the alley, like a lighthouse warning an approaching ship of impending danger. Kendra was oblivious to it, as well as to the beam of light that bounced off the alley wall. She never saw the dark silhouette or smelled the acrid contents soaking through a handheld rag.
The fraternity house was just down the street. Kendra passed the narrow alley between two buildings.
Abruptly, a figure in black darted out of the shadows and grabbed her. A damp cloth was clapped over her nose and mouth. A powerful arm locked around her waist, pulling her into the dark alley.
Kendra began to struggle the instant she realized what was happening. But it was too late. The handkerchief was held in place. And the sharp point of a knife pressed against her abdomen. She felt its sting just as the sickeningly sweet smell pervaded her nostrils. Too terrified to move, too groggy to fight, she ceased her struggles.
The world went black.
It would never grow light again.
* * *
The fraternity party was already crazy when Marie showed up at the path leading to the front doors. She waited there as she and Kendra had agreed, which was just fine with her. As enticing as the thundering base was coming from inside, it always felt better to have at least one friend along when you made an entrance. Anyway, the liquor would be as welcome as the two of them, no matter how hot they looked.
Still, she found herself growing impatient as the minutes ticked by. She called Kendra’s cell phone, but it went directly to voice mail. Marie hoped her friend hadn’t gotten lost in the library stacks, immersed in one of her beloved Aristotle books.
Three phone calls and thirty minutes later, Marie gave up. She hadn’t spent two hours tearing through her closet to find just the right outfit so she could stand outside and get odd looks from all the other partygoers. It was time for her to suck it up and go in on her own. She’d hand over the bottles and tell the frat guys that her friend was on her way. Then, she’d keep an eye out for Kendra. Hopefully, her friend would snap out of whatever trance had sidetracked her and show up.
On that thought, Marie marched up the path and went through the doors, ready to tackle the party on her own.
* * *
Claire had been sitting in a small dark office at Forensic Instincts all evening, handling Jan Olson’s personal items. The energies she’d been picking up were dark and complex.
Icy coldness. That was the prevalent aura that emanated from Jan’s clothing, her textbooks, even her notebooks. An icy coldness that was the absence of life. And the book bag, the running shoes—they held another energy. Fear. A powerful fear that Jan had internalized, shared with no one.
Whatever she’d been afraid of, it was key to their investigation.
A killer’s random learning curve. The awareness slid into Claire’s mind, then took root. Whatever had happened here, it was the initial part of a string of evil. Strategically planned. But a random choice of victims. At least it had been with Jan. Fine-tuning had brought with it a honed expertise. But Jan had been one of the first. A learning experience.
Claire could visualize Jan Olson running through a park. Water was glistening in the background. Her heart was slamming against her ribs. She’d peer over her shoulder, stumble on the uneven ground, then struggle on. Squeezing her eyes shut, Claire focused intently, trying to pick up something specific about Jan’s surroundings—a landmark, a street sign, anything that could tell her about the locale. Butterflies...birds...
Abruptly, there was a loud buzzing in Claire’s head, followed by an eclipse in time and a radical shift in scene. A jolt of ominous energy shot through her—one that was so powerful it caused her to physically double over.
Something horrifying was happening. Not in the past. Right this moment. Whatever energies Claire had been picking up from fifteen years ago had opened up a channel to a fatal crime that was occurring as she sat there. She fought her panic, trying desperately to zero in on the crime.
Pain. Agonizing pain. Terror. A woman. Struggling, clawing, fighting for her life. A monster who was overpowering her. The hard feel of a concrete floor. A warehouse? Yes, a warehouse. Dirty floor. Large wooden crates with shipping labels. The smell of the river. The sound of bells. The flash of a clock tower. Not right there. But close by.
Clothing was being torn. The woman was screaming, begging. She was pinned to the ground. Naked. Helpless. Violated.
Large hands locked around her throat crushing her air supply as he raped her. Searing pain. Paralyzing panic. Heightening more and more and more...
Claire almost screamed aloud, the violent energies she was experiencing were so acute. Beyond excruciating.
She couldn’t wait any longer. Drenched in sweat, she forced open her eyes and fumbled for her phone. Ordering her brain into rational action, she blocked out her vision and honed in on reality. Think. Think. The phone number. She’d called it a dozen times.
His direct line escaped her, so she settled for the general number and punched it in.
“Eighty-fourth Precinct,” a voice answered.
“Is Detective Werner in?” Claire made her voice sound relatively normal.
“Just a minute.” There was a short series of rings and then a familiar baritone.
“Werner.”
“Tom? It’s Claire Hedgleigh.”
“Ah,” Detective Thomas Werner replied with wry amusement. “The brilliant psychic addition to Forensic Instincts. I should be pissed that you’re not consulting for us anymore. But I can’t blame you for taking on a challenge like working for the FI team. How can I help you?”
“Something bad just happened. A rape. And an attempted murder. It could be a fait accompli already. I don’t know. But it’s in your district. A warehouse near the East River. Rows of wooden crates. And bells—I know those bells. They’re