Page 12 of Just Tonight

Faced with the prospect of trouble if she didn’t remember, she was frowning more deeply.

"Look, there were one or two customers who – you know – used to flirt a bit. She was new, so she got more of the attention than our longer-term servers."

“Can you give their names?” Connor asked.

Now she was backtracking. “They’re good people! I don’t want to slander them, especially for something like that. To tell you who they are – well, it’s like implying they’re a stalker or a pervert!”

“Remember, what we have here is a dead woman,” Connor reminded her with an edge to his voice. “Being questioned and cleared of a crime is a very minor problem in comparison. And what I always suggest that people say, if anyone asks you about it later, is that the FBI arrived on site and demanded to look at the records. We don't mind looking like the bad guys if it helps you to smooth things over with your regulars."

That was a very convincing argument, Cami thought. Clearly, the manager thought so too. She sighed. “I guess I can give you the names, but in my opinion, they’re decent folk,” she insisted.

“Absolutely,” Connor said. “Like I said, just ruling them out.”

“There’s Derek Corrigan,” she said thoughtfully.

“Approximate age? And what does he do for a living?”

“Maybe late thirties,” she said. “I don’t know what he does for a living. I think he’s a freelancer of some kind. I do know he always pays the servers a lot of attention, sometimes asks them about their personal lives, and I did hear him asking Debbie a few questions, but in a friendly way.”

“The other?” Connor asked.

“The other is Samuel – what’s his last name again? She shook her head. “This is very stressful. Samuel Cotton. He’s a younger man. Maybe in his twenties. He works for an extermination company. And I did hear him asking her on a date a week or so ago. But I mean, why not? He’s a regular here, and you do have to meet people some way, don’t you?” She stared at him anxiously. “I think she said no, but he didn’t seem angry.”

“Exactly. More than likely, it’s just a case of ruling them out. Thank you,” Connor said to the worried manager.

Cami felt encouraged as they left. They had two names, two leads. One was close to the age that Harriet had mentioned, and the other worked for an extermination company – but maybe that was what exorcists called themselves. Exterminators. It would be more socially acceptable, Cami thought.

Armed with these new leads, they could now go to the police station office and await the arrival of the phones.

Cami felt as if things were starting to come together. A man who’d targeted Lisa, maybe when she was out walking, could easily have stopped by the diner and seen Debbie there. If they were looking for somebody who was using this local area as his hunting ground, she felt sure they were on the right track.

But, as they arrived at the police station, and Cami was ready to head in and get to work, Connor’s phone rang.

“Yes?” he answered it. He paused, and then his voice changed.

“Really?” he said, now turning away from Cami as if he didn’t want her to overhear the conversation. But she couldn’t help picking up on the next words.

“Where is he? Do they know?”

A surge of fright went through her. This was the FBI office, she knew it. And this call was about Oertel – she strongly suspected it.

It sounded as if he was on the run.

CHAPTER SEVEN

It was like a drug. That’s what Boy had realized, like a drug. Once he'd gotten it into his system, there was no going back again. He needed more.

It wasn’t just the moment itself, but the build up to it. The excitement. The preparation. A succession of days and hours where he felt his focus sharpen and his eagerness soar, ready for the finale.

But he couldn’t overlook the fact that it took a lot of hard work to get there. He was still in the preparation stages, and he knew that he could not skimp the hard work. Failing to plan is planning to fail, after all, he reminded himself.

Be well prepared. He remembered his father saying that to him, in his harsh childhood years, always with a grin on his face that was strangely mirthless, and usually shortly before he found something wrong with what his son had done.

He'd received many beatings, and his mother had not once stepped in or intervened. She’d never tried to save him. No wonder he distrusted women so much. No wonder he felt there should be some punishment due to them. Maybe that was why he had started doing what he did – quite suddenly, one day, after both his parents were finally dead.

Finally dead. His poor, cowardly mother had died in a car crash. As for his father, well, that might have happened a little sooner than nature would have intended. Luckily, Boy's planning had been excellent, and nobody had suspected he'd been involved. But after that, it was like a switch had been thrown. Suddenly, he realized what he needed to do to set the balance right. That was how he thought of it.

He walked along the sidewalk, heading for the place where he could watch his next target. He didn’t have to do too much here. His main task, after all, was at her home. But he needed to be sure where she was now. Her whereabouts was important, because that would give him an idea of her routine.

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