Till Death(84)

Striker nodded as he rose. “Liz Chapman, a waitress just down the street, was just reported missing. Her mother hasn’t seen her since Sunday night.”





Chapter 25




The picture of twenty-three-year-old Liz Chapman was in the middle. Her photo was flanked by two smaller images of Tania Banks, the nurse from Frederick, and Angela Reidy.

It was hard to look at them.

It was also hard to not see the uncanny similarities between the women. All were in their twenties. All were pretty in a common, girl-next-door type of way. All were a version of blonde.

And they all faintly resembled me.

Just like I faintly resembled the Groom’s victims ten years ago.

The most horrifying thing, and most likely why Miranda was downing wine like water, was the fact that we’d briefly met her.

She had been the waitress at the steakhouse we’d gone to.

When I’d seen a picture of her earlier in the day, I’d immediately called Tyron and told him that I had recognized her. Ten minutes after I got off the phone with him, Agent Myers called.

He was as friendly as he was the first time I met him, but I told him what I told Tyron. Liz had been my waitress at the steakhouse, and even though no one said it out loud, I knew. They knew.

It was yet another connection.

“I think I need a bottle of wine,” Miranda said, glancing down at her glass. “Your mom only picked up one bottle?”

I smiled faintly. “Only one.”

“I’m about to obliterate it and totally regret it in the morning,” she replied, and then downed the contents before she rose.

Jason raised his brows. “Nice.”

We were sitting in my apartment. Cole was beside me on the couch, one arm around my shoulders and one leg propped up on the coffee table. I was tucked against his side, and Miranda had been sitting on my other side. She was now at the counter, pouring herself another glass of wine.

Mine sat on the coffee table, precariously close to Cole’s foot, and virtually untouched.

Jason had brought the chair in from my tiny kitchen and had set it on the other side of the end table. We’d all had dinner in the kitchen together while I tried not to watch Jason to see how he acted around Miranda, and then Mom had retired to her apartment, and at first, when we sat around the TV, we all pretended like this was a normal Tuesday evening. That lasted about five seconds.

“This is just absolutely insane.” Miranda stood by Jason, her wine glass full once more. “They’re saying we have a copycat.”

I wasn’t too sure of that anymore.

Miranda looked over at me. She opened her mouth to say something, seemed to change her mind, and then took a drink instead.

I hadn’t had the chance to tell any of them what I learned today, and I figured now was a good time. “Striker stopped by.”

She lowered the wine glass.

Cole leaned to the side, and without even looking at him, I could feel his stare. “He’s the journalist,” I explained.

“Yeah, I know who that is.” Anger thickened his tone. “You should’ve said something earlier. I don’t want him—”

“He wasn’t trying to get a story. Not really,” I said, and held up my hand when Miranda opened her mouth again. “He was just asking questions. I didn’t tell him anything, but he did say something that was super interesting.”

“What?” Jason asked, leaning forward.

“You guys know how the mayor hasn’t been happy with me being here, and I thought it had to do with more than just the possibility of me giving an interview?” I crossed my legs. “So I asked Striker if he knew why the mayor would be so unhappy about it.”

Miranda sipped her wine. “Because he’s a giant dick face?”

I smiled. “He was related to the Groom.”

“What?” Jason sat back, eyes wide.

“For real?” Cole’s brows furrowed.

I nodded. “Apparently, the mayor comes from a really wealthy family—”

“I knew that.” Miranda frowned. “Everyone knows that.”

I shot her a look. “The Groom was his grandfather’s sister’s son or something like that.”

“I’m surprised that didn’t get out and blow up like a gas station in an action movie,” Cole said.

Miranda snorted and laughed.

“It didn’t because I’m guessing the mayor used his wealth to keep that quiet,” I explained. “Anyway, I think that’s why he’s worried about me talking about what happened. That people will start asking questions again and it’s something he doesn’t want brought up.”

“Then maybe he does have something to do with what has been happening.” Jason pushed his glasses up to his head, and tufts of brown hair stuck up. “Messed with your car—your mom’s.”

“And killed two women?” Miranda leaned against the kitchen island. Or possibly staggered against it. The bottle was looking awful empty on the counter. “Because that’s not going to bring unwanted attention on yourself.”

“Hey,” he said, holding up his hands. “No one ever said killers and liars were smart.”

“He has a good point there,” I said, folding my hands in my lap. “But it also really wouldn’t make sense.”