Overwhelmed by his sudden show of affection, Jenna swallowed hard. “Yes, but now I’m confused.”
“Trust me, not as much as I am right now.” Kane gave her a wry smile.
Jenna squeezed his arm. “You’re a complicated guy, Dave, but I’m starting to figure you out.”
“I hope so.” Kane blew out a relived breath. “One of us sure needs to.”
With effort, Jenna gathered herself and concentrated on the problem at hand. “Now, show me the messages.”
“Sure.” Kane handed her his phone. “Check them out. I was going to block her number but if anything happened, I’d need them for evidence.” He pressed his lips together. “It’s not me, I’m concerned about, Jenna—it’s you.”
Jenna scanned the messages and sucked in a breath. The messages started nice enough and then turned to blaming her for being the reason Kane refused to meet with her. “How much do you know about stalkers?”
“Enough to know she’s stalking me.” Kane pulled his thick woolen cap down tighter over his ears. “They’re people who exhibit obsessive behavior for example, following someone, sending unwanted gifts or messages, showing up at a person’s workplace or uninvited to their homes. Following them, watching them. All these are obsessive traits associated with stalking. I can profile a killer but this is different. Whatever I’m doing it’s making her worse and turning her aggression toward you.” He met her gaze. “I don’t know what she is capable of, Jenna.”
Eighteen
Elated, Preacher couldn’t help smiling at his good fortune. Ignoring the biting wind and snowflakes brushing his cheeks, he pulled a woolen cap down over his ears and strolled down Main taking his time to peer into shop windows. He marveled at how clean and fresh Black Rock Falls appeared. Usually after the snowplow and salt spreader had been through, a mound of gray slush banked each road but as the snow fell it laid down a clean white surface. When the moon peeked through the clouds tonight the bright colors and snow-covered parked vehicles would exist in a world of gray and blue—his world.
He wanted so much to go by the park and see the crime scene tape flapping in the wind. It was as if the sheriff had hung the tape to advertise his artwork. A “Come and see” or “Look here,” notice for any passersby but it wasn’t the snowman he’d left in the park that amused him. As if staging his artwork hadn’t been enough excitement for one day, last evening, a young woman had walked into his life—a perfect example of what he craved. Dark hair and small with an attitude he would love to tame. Her black fingernails and tattoos had drawn him to her like a magnet. Everything was perfect, Zoe was new in town, homeless—she needed him and now she was fast asleep in his cellar. He’d found two perfect examples of Delores—which one would come to him first?
He rubbed his hands together and peered at a display of chainsaws. He loved chainsaws and had a mind to buy another. They gave him a surge of creativity with such intensity, he could almost compare it to lust. He moved along the visually tantalizing display. New and glossy, the machines lined up with price tags and cards explaining their many virtues. He read each one, savoring the features. There were so many different types to choose from with different blade widths, engine size, or run by electric or gas. Preacher inhaled. He could almost smell the oily slickness of the chain and hear the noise they made. His hands trembled with excitement as he visualized the blade cutting through a frozen body like butter.
Nineteen
Black Rock Falls had three homeless shelters and a soup kitchen. The soup kitchen received funding from a local charity and the local Catholic church ran one of the shelters. Overseen by Father Derry, the volunteers came mainly from his congregation, and he rarely turned anyone away from Our Lady’s Sanctuary. The homeless didn’t get the same automatic pass into the council-run shelters. The town council had converted the abandoned sawmill into two. New Start for men and New Hope for women. They offered a different solution to homelessness and people who wanted to turn their lives around, received assistance to find work but in return did chores and gave a portion of their salary to keep their bed. The latter received funding from a charity overseen by the town council. Apart from the live-in managers, all other assistance to run New Start and New Hope came in the form of volunteers.
Jenna had helped on many occasions and found giving a couple of hours serving food in the shelters or soup kitchen, fit into her busy schedule. She made her way to Our Lady’s Sanctuary, heartened to see many of the Black Rock Falls community giving their time to assist the less fortunate. She edged through the line crowding the front door and waved at the woman sitting at the check-in counter. The front of the building held an area for serving meals. The stark room with its tile floors and plain white walls buzzed with low conversation and the clatter of plates and cutlery. A long line of bedraggled exhausted looking people waited with trays to collect a hot meal and beverage. Volunteers worked in a production line wearing brightly colored aprons and hair nets. They seemed to avoid eye contact as they dished out the food, a stark contrast to Father Derry’s calm voice welcoming everyone and the cheery old man chatting as he wiped down tables and collected dishes.
Jenna tried to ignore the pungent smell wafting from inside and making her slightly nauseous. The food cooking in huge steaming pots in the kitchen, mingled with body odor, cigarette smoke and bleach. She made her way around the trestle tables and headed for the main hall. In the walkway hidden beside a vending machine, she found the bulletin board and moved a few notices to make room for one of Kane’s flyers. She plucked one from his hand and attached it with a pin. Across the top of the images of the tattoos he’d printed in bold:
Do you recognize these tattoos? Call the sheriff’s department hotline on the number below or drop by.
“These are great.” Jenna made her way into the main hall and stopped at the door. “Oh, this isn’t good.”
Her heart ached for the sea of miserable faces packed inside the room. People spilled out of the sleeping areas and crowded around the main hall. Many had squashed onto old sofas and beanbags. Others sat on mattresses pushed hard against the wall. Most looked bewildered and clutched plastic bags or duffels to their chests as if terrified someone would take them. Some sat on the cold floor, backs propped against the wall, staring with empty vacant eyes as if not believing their situation. Although a TV tuned to a local channel chatted away in one corner and the room was brighter with pictures on the wall, this part of the shelter had the feeling of hopelessness. “I wonder if those people have eaten today? They look too scared to move.”
“Unless they have a buddy, I doubt it.” Kane’s mouth turned down at the corners. “They’d figure a bed was better than a meal.” He scanned the room. “I had no idea we had so many homeless.”
Jenna wrinkled her nose at the smell of boiled cabbage wafting from the kitchen and shifted her gaze to him. “I blame Mayor Petersham. He had to crow about this being a town where we cared about people’s wellbeing and the fact he’d built two shelters. Since the news hit the media, the down and out have been coming here in droves.”