Page 33 of Just Right

"He's not doing any harm to anyone. It's wasting police time."

"He might harm himself, surely?"

"And your point is?"

"Look, if he does harm himself, he'll be wasting other people's time. Paramedics are also busy people."

"True, but like I say, he's there often."

"This time looks different."

What were they talking about?Cami wondered. This seemed to be something they had discussed before. So, maybe she could backtrack in the conversations and discover more.

She searched, using key words as well as the names of the people in the neighborhood who seemed to like discussing this the most frequently.

And, to her astonishment, she was able to figure out what they were referring to.

There was even a grainy photo of a featureless person, taken on a cloudy day and from a far distance. But the description of the location tied it in. It all made sense, logically. Of course he would be here. But the fact he was meant there was a risk attached. And the clock was ticking down.

"Connor," Cami said as he got off the phone from yet another frustrated call to the office. "Look here. I think I know where he is."

"Where is he?" Connor's voice sounded urgent. Cami could hear the stress and tension in his tone. He was feeling desperate now, as was she. This killer had to be stopped.

"He's at the bridge where the accident happened. Where the family's car drove off the road," Cami said, hearing the shock in her own voice. "It seems he goes there regularly," she said. "And from the conversation, he's most definitely there now."

"We need to get there immediately." Connor's voice was filled with resolve.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Cami keyed in the coordinates of the bridge and put them up on Connor's GPS. He was already accelerating away from the suspect's home, taking them on a southerly route that led to the bridge where James the journalist turned criminal might even now be standing.

"What if he's been thinking about suicide?" Cami asked. If this man died, they would never know if he was the killer or not. And if he was innocent then there was even more reason to rush there and help him.

"We're on our way now. We'll figure something out."

"Hurry," Cami said as Connor took a sharp turn.

She was filled with dread. If he jumped into the water and drowned, their investigation might even go cold. That was unacceptable. It was becoming personal to her now.

Cami guessed that he must have been drawn back here again and again by some compulsion, some urge she couldn't understand. But she knew one thing. While they had time, they had to try to prevent him from harming himself.

Another thought came to her, chilling her as she considered it. "What if he goes back there to gain more resolve to kill again?" she suggested. "That might be the place where he relives this crime, and it keeps triggering him to murder."

"We're going to be there in five minutes," Connor said. "In five minutes, we'll be able to ask him that question." He sounded the same way Cami felt, that five minutes was too long a time. All they could do was watch the road scroll by in tense silence.

And then, the bridge came into view.

Cami was shocked by how high the bridge was. It arched over the lake, which was a sizeable drop below. It made her stomach feel queasy to imagine how the car must have skidded, slid, and then fallen, arcing down in a rush of silence before the explosion of hitting the water.

And there he was. She saw him and drew in a breath. He was standing, staring out over the water, a dark-haired man, broad shouldered, wearing a gray shirt and faded jeans.

Strong looking. Cami noticed that immediately. Without a doubt, this journalist would have had the physical power to carry his unconscious victims to the final place where he had drowned them.

Connor pulled over about twenty yards away from James. It was as if the journalist didn't even notice his arrival. The bridge was fairly busy with cars passing in both directions. But, standing on the pedestrian walkway next to the road, it was as if he didn't notice anything except the dark, cool waters of the lake below.

"James McCallum," Connor said, striding fast toward the lone man.

The disgraced journalist didn't turn around. He just kept staring out over the water.

---