01 Only Fear Page 14

  But he had. And Sharon was still dead.

  She glanced at her cell phone, frowning when it noted no new calls. David, who had to be crushed by Sharon’s death, still hadn’t called her back. And she hadn’t heard from Ethan yet. She hated to admit that she was missing his company.

  Becca bounced up to her at the front of the classroom in jeans and a T-shirt proclaiming the logo of a local band as other students filed out. She’d recovered her confidence after Damian had placed Maggie in her care last night, but Maggie knew Ethan’s approval would still mean the world to the young woman. “Great class.”

  Despite her somber mood, one side of Maggie’s mouth quirked up in amusement. “You were listening?”

  Becca nodded, the dangly, star-shaped earrings she wore today jingling at her ears. “Freud was a nutcase, wasn’t he?”

  Maggie smiled at that, a full-blown smile that lifted some of the heaviness around her heart. “Some scholars think so. However, he’s certainly done a lot for the study of psychology.”

  “I mean, all that talk about sexuality. That’s a seriously repressed man right there.”

  Maggie nodded a greeting to a passing student, the last of nearly a hundred to leave before she and Becca were alone. Once the lecture hall was clear, Becca straightened up. “Seriously, though, I was watching and nobody seemed suspicious.”

  Maggie sighed in…what? Frustration? Relief? She didn’t know anymore.

  “I was thinking the same thing. But then, Intro to Psych is usually full of the younger crowd. My afternoon class, Abnormal Psychology, is an upper-level course and tends to have older students.” And her stalker could easily be masked among them.

  “Whoa. Abnormal, huh? That’s like sending an engraved invitation.”

  Maggie nibbled at her bottom lip. “You know, I was thinking. Maybe I should offer a special lecture about fear. Give a couple days’ notice first. Maybe he’ll show up.”

  Becca began shaking her head at the word offer. “Absolutely not. Ethan already reamed me for letting you try to lure this guy out before. What do you think will happen if you do that again, but out in public? Absolutely not,” she added again for good measure.

  “It was just a thought. I hate not doing anything. You all have your assignments, but I’m just bait.”

  Becca winced. “It’s not like that.”

  “It feels like that.”

  Becca grabbed her book and notebook, which Maggie had actually seen her writing in during the lecture, and headed to the door. Maggie followed. “For both our sakes, let’s hope not. I want to prove myself, but I’m not willing to present myself on a platter.” Her voice dropped as they neared students. “I’ll be behind you, but within shouting distance as you cross the Quad. If you need me, holler. Once you’re safe in the president’s office, you’ll stay there until Ethan comes to get you.”

  “Bait,” Maggie muttered again.

  “This guy is nuts.” Officer Lewis’s tone held a bit of awe as he stood with Noah at the entrance to the tunnel. “I hope you know how to track him. We sure as hell have never had anything like this here. And I’ve been here twenty years.”

  Noah nodded and gave the man what he wanted. An out. “We’ll take it from here.”

  At the subtle cue, Lewis left and the CPD’s crime-scene team, along with Sandy on behalf of SSAM, moved ahead into the tunnel to capture what evidence they could. One person swabbed blood samples as another snapped photographs, the light from the flash glinting off the long walls like bottled lightning.

  Before Noah and Ethan could follow, however, they caught sight of Damian making his way across the empty basement. His face was taut. “Good work, finding these tunnels,” he told Ethan.

  “Maggie deserves the credit for that, sir.”

  His eyes narrowed. “She didn’t…”

  “See the tunnels? No.”

  Thank God for that, Noah thought. She’d had enough to deal with in her living room. This was ten times as much. The stench of dried blood, mildew and decades of dampness was nauseating even to someone who’d seen, and smelled, worse things.

  And Noah had seen what she’d dealt with a year ago. Her brother, murdered in front of her. Because of some woman’s obsession with her. How much could one person take?

  Beside him, Ethan looked like he was ready and willing to go to battle against Fearmonger singlehandedly. But not just because it was his job. Noah had the distinct impression Ethan would fight to the death for Maggie, if someone could just point out who he was supposed to fight.

  Damian nodded. “Good. She’s been through enough.”

  “She’s teaching?” Noah asked.

  Damian checked his watch. “She should be in the president’s office by now. Her first class is over, Becca reported nothing unusual, and Bellingham and the commissioner are about to start the press conference.”

  “She won’t be a part of that though.” In his peripheral vision, Noah saw Ethan gritting his teeth. The man’s interest in Dr. Levine couldn’t be any more obvious if he’d worn a neon sign on his head that blinked I’ve fallen for the Voice of Reason.

  “No. She’s to remain in the office until her next class. But Becca has to leave. I want her to get back to the other murder scene, where Deborah Frame was found.”

  “Part of her education, sir?” Ethan asked, clearly not excited at the prospect.

  “She needs to know what she’s getting into,” Damian answered. “All of it.”

  “I agree.”

  “Noah has things handled here. You go take care of Maggie.”

  Noah hid a grin as Ethan took off at a sprint down the dorm hallway. “He could at least try to hide his enthusiasm.”

  Damian’s gaze followed his SSAM agent’s hasty retreat. “Why bother? Life’s too short.”

  Maggie sat in a high-backed chair in the university president’s plush office, nibbling on her thumbnail as she waited for Bellingham’s face to fill the screen of the television. The room was large enough to seat a small gathering, with a podium just like the classrooms had sitting in the corner, waiting for just such an event. But an announcement of this magnitude clearly required a larger setting, and they’d set up in the Quad, hoping to beat the midday heat.

  Ethan sat forward in the matching chair opposite her in front of the president’s desk, elbows on his knees as he waited. He had more patience than she did, apparently.

  She forced her thumbnail away from her mouth in disgust. She couldn’t help but worry that the conference might push Fearmonger to do something else. To kill someone else. To set off a wave of alarm that would ripple across the university.

  Amidst the shining sun in the middle of campus, the university president took the podium. The police commissioner positioned himself behind him. As President Bellingham spoke, a merciful breeze lifted a lock of white hair from his forehead. The lines on his face and the set of his jaw showed the stress he’d been under for the past twenty-four hours.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said in a voice heavy with sincerity and exhaustion. “It is with great sadness that I confirm that a violent crime was committed on our campus this week. A young woman was murdered.”

  A reporter raised his hand and Bellingham acknowledged him. “Can you release her name? Was she a student? Faculty?”

  “Her name is Sharon Moss and, yes, she was a third-year communications student on our campus. She will be sorely missed.”

  “What does that mean for university operations?” the reporter asked.

  “Our numbers here on campus are greatly reduced during the summer terms and we are operating as normal. No classes have been canceled, but there will be a candlelight vigil this weekend to honor Sharon. We’ll provide that information as we get it.”

  “Brilliant,” Ethan said. “That might lure Fearmonger out. He’s been so vocal that he might not be able to resist the opportunity to see the results of the chaos he’s started.”

  “Is it true the woman was a victim of Fearmonger?” a
female reporter asked. A murmur went through the crowd.

  “Holy hell,” Ethan muttered, standing up abruptly and swiping a hand across the back of his neck. “We didn’t expect them to pick up on that tidbit so fast.”

  “Maybe they didn’t.”

  Ethan swung his gaze from the screen to her. “What?”

  “Maybe Fearmonger leaked it. He obviously likes attention. He’s proven that by calling in to my show and provoking people on numerous occasions.”

  Ethan tipped his head to the side. “Makes sense. He wants the notoriety.”

  Maggie nodded. “Not to mention he gets some kind of power trip from making people fear him.”

  On the television, Bellingham was addressing the question. “We don’t know who did this, or why. I stress that to our parents and students. We are doing everything we can, cooperating with the police to find the killer and bring him or her to justice. This campus has always prided itself on its safety record, and we will remain vigilant and watchful until the perpetrator is caught. But I stress that this is an isolated incident, and no further violence will be tolerated. I ask that students be careful, but don’t let fear override common sense.”

  And wasn’t that just a challenge thrown in the face of the killer, Maggie thought, feeling sick to her stomach.

  From the shade of an old elm tree, across the Quad from the media circus, Fearmonger stood among a cluster of other students and watched the show. He couldn’t help grinning to himself.

  “A serial killer, here on campus?” a pretty blonde to his right said to her friend. She shuddered. Actually shuddered. His smile widened, his eyes crinkling behind his shades. “I’m going to get an apartment off campus.”

  As if that would keep her safe. He almost laughed aloud.

  “Can you afford it?” her friend asked.

  “Are you kidding? My parents will do anything to make sure I’m safe. They’ll be worried.”

  “Mine, too,” the plain brunette said, clutching a three-ring binder to her chest.

  He felt the familiar rush of power—the power that pushed him from a plain nobody into bigger-than-life Fearmonger. From someone these girls would normally overlook into someone to be reckoned with. Owen had been interesting and scholarly, but Fearmonger was so much more. Fearmonger was someone who could show these girls what fear really was. What it tasted and smelled like. How it felt.

  But these girls were already afraid. The body and mind he really longed to instruct belonged to Dr. Margaret Levine. She thought she knew everything, but he had a few things to teach her. He knew Maggie was on campus. She’d taught her morning class and had another one in a couple hours. He knew her schedule better than she did, and that she had three different routes home, to avoid someone learning her routine.

  He wouldn’t risk approaching her. Not yet, anyway. Sometime soon, though.

  What he wouldn’t give to have seen her reaction. The police had found Deborah Frame’s broken, carved body sooner than he’d expected. He’d cut her heart out and left it in the dirt on the floor of that abandoned shed. After all, that had been Deborah’s greatest fear—that Maggie would take her heart and stomp all over it. It lacked a certain finesse he strived for, but he’d been limited by time and resources.

  He ached to take credit for it. But then, he told himself, Maggie already knew it was him. He would get credit. One day he would claim her gratitude in person.

  For now, he’d be content to continue their lessons. Apparently, a murder in her classroom hadn’t hit close enough to home. He’d just have to up the ante. Find something that would lure her away from her safety zone and force her to acknowledge his superiority.

  Something more personal.

  Sharon and Deborah hadn’t hit close enough to home.

  First though, Maggie should be receiving his little gift…

  Maggie let out a gasp as Ethan yanked her aside, intercepting the messenger who’d walked into her psych classroom. The room was empty of students as class wasn’t due to begin for another twenty minutes. She’d asked him to let her leave the president’s office early to prepare her notes. Truthfully, she’d felt stifled there.

  “It’s for a Dr. Maggie Levine.” The young man looked like he could barely be in college himself. “I just need someone to sign for it.”

  When Ethan didn’t move, Maggie stepped forward. “I’ll—”

  “Don’t,” Ethan ordered and she stopped in her tracks. Ethan continued to stare down the boy, who shuffled his feet. “What company do you work for?” The boy told him, pointing at the cap on his head that said the same. Ethan jerked his head toward the desk at the front of the classroom, indicating the messenger should set the bouquet of flowers down there. He took the clipboard with the paper that required a signature. “Sit.”

  He sat in a chair in the first row, his blue eyes wide with confusion as Ethan made a call from his cell phone. Maggie tried a tentative, calming smile, but the messenger wasn’t looking. Who knew what a homicidal maniac looked like, anyway? For all she knew, the boy could be Fearmonger—which would have made him all of eight years old at the time of the initial murders. Ridiculous.

  “Take pity on him, Ethan,” she said, trying to peek at the flowers, an arrangement of white lilies, without touching them. What, did he think they would explode? He grabbed her outstretched wrist with a shake of his head and she pulled away.

  “I’m calling to check on a messenger of yours,” he said into the phone. “And a delivery. For Dr. Levine. Can you tell me who they’re from?” His lips tightened at the response. “I know I can check the card. I’m not certain I want to open it until I know… Okay. Thanks.” A moment later, his gaze met Maggie’s. “Deborah. I see.”

  Maggie drew in a sharp breath. The flowers were from an admirer, all right. Had Deborah sent them before meeting up with Fearmonger? If so, how? Deborah’s body had been found within a few miles of the mental hospital.

  She reached out to check the card. Ethan took her wrist to stop her from touching them. “Any credit card receipt? Cash? Okay. Maybe a description of the person who purchased them?”

  “I can help you there,” the messenger said, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed under Ethan’s glare. Ethan ended his call and turned all of his attention on the boy.

  “How can you help?” Ethan growled.

  The boy’s chin shot forward in defense. “I took the order when it came in. It came by phone. Woman’s voice.” He looked toward the floor. “I think.”

  “You think?” Ethan advanced a step.

  Maggie stepped forward and knelt by the messenger. “What did she say?”

  “Just asked for a traditional funeral bouquet and said the money would be delivered, along with the card to be included.” The kid shrugged, suddenly looking ten years old as he hunched his shoulders. “I just did my job. But the voice sounded a little off—like when a guy impersonates a woman, you know?”

  “Who delivered the money and note?”

  “A kid. I remember I was surprised to see him, since he’s from our neighborhood, but he just said some guy paid him to drop it off.”

  Maggie paled. Fearmonger was involving kids now? Why not? He’d obviously felt no compunction about preying on a mentally ill person like Deborah. The flowers weren’t from her, but her name was used. Surely, that had to be part of his message. Her heart pounded against her breastbone, and she forced herself to breathe regularly.

  “What’s this kid’s name?” Ethan growled.

  Maggie smiled encouragingly to the messenger, glancing at his nametag. “Todd, we’re just trying to figure out a little mystery.” He returned her smile with a wobbly one of his own. “I promise the kid won’t get in trouble. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Kenny,” Todd blurted out. “I don’t know his last name, but he’s always playing basketball down the street from the flower shop.”

  Her smile widened and he actually seemed to perk up a little. “Thanks, Todd. You’ve really helped us
out. You can go now.” On shaky legs, the kid stood, tossed one final wary glance at Ethan, then rushed out the door.

  Ethan shook his head. “If you think you’re touching that bouquet, you’d better think again.”

  “Then what do we do?”

  He pulled some nitrile gloves out of his jeans pocket and reached inside the bouquet for the card that was clipped to a plastic stick. Opening it, his mouth pressed into a firm line. He held it up for Maggie to see. Not touching it, she moved closer so she could read over his shoulder.

  “‘Fear me,’” she read. It was written in bold red letters. Thankfully, it appeared to be everyday red ink. Not blood. “It is from Fearmonger, then.”

  Ethan nodded. “He’s written either Fear or Fear me everywhere, like in the tunnels—”

  “The tunnels?”

  He looked over his shoulder at her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for you to find out this way.”

  “It won’t help to protect me. At least not from information like that.” Still, her chest was beginning to hurt. “But why pretend they’re from Deborah? And who’s next? If he targeted her, anyone I’ve ever been connected to is in danger. If he’s stepping things up, what’s to say he won’t go after my family next?”

  “I’ll speak to Damian about getting added protection for your family. At least they’re all aware of the danger.”

  “Are they?” Maggie snapped. “They don’t have a clue what could really happen. Brad was different. The woman who shot him wasn’t in her right mind. This guy is cold and calculating. He truly stalks prey and takes great joy in torturing them.” Her pulse pounded, echoing in her ears.

  “From everything I’ve seen and heard, your family loves you. They want to help.”

  Maggie turned away. God, she was going to lose it. She could feel the weight crushing her chest. She was starting to feel lightheaded as her breath came in shorter and shorter gasps.