I’d probably pushed too hard. Ollie was eyeing me suspiciously as he took a sip of his coffee.
To deflect, I shrugged and smiled. “My friend said it’s a rumor circulating online. Which is why I’m asking if there had been other attacks like mine.”
That part, at least, was true. Everyone in Toronto was beginning to put the pieces together from the news reports that had come out about the three bodies. It seemed that everyoneexceptthe Toronto PD was talking about a serial killer. Based on the horror on my source’s face, the upper branches of law enforcement were trying to keep a tight lid on it.
Ollie winced and set his mug down. “Yeah, I’ve seen some of that chatter.” He sat forward, that kind smile back on his face. “Trust me, Ms. Torres, nothing links your case with those other unfortunate women. There’s no reason to worry yourself. Just because you bear a passing resemblance to the three women who have died doesn’t mean you’re in danger. It’s all a big coincidence. Is that causing you some anxiety? That the mugging might be connected to somehypotheticalserial killer?”
It felt like our rapport was going well. Maybe now that we’d talked for a bit, he’d be more open to some direct questioning.
“The real reason I’m asking questions is because I’m a reporter forThe Chronicleand want a little more information on the situation.”
The good-natured smile on Ollie’s face vanished. He’d have found out, anyway, when he checked out my background. No reason to keep it hidden.
He leaned away, an icy look in his eyes. “Ms. Torres, I think we’re done here. Thank you for the statement. I’ll add it to the case file.”
“Hang on,” I said as he stood and rounded the desk. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Couldn’t I just ask a few more questions? Off the record. I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble. I protect my sources.”
He took me gently by the arm and helped me stand. “I don’t think that would be appropriate. Follow me.”
I huffed and let him lead me from his office to the front door.
Seeing my chance evaporate, I threw caution to the wind. Might as well see what I could pry out of him before we got to the exit, subterfuge and professionalism be damned.
“Are there any leads on the three murders? Any persons of interest?”
Ollie ignored me.
“Would Toronto PD like to make a statement, perhaps?”
The door made awhooshing sound as Ollie shoved it open. He held it and smiled, though it wasn’t nearly as warm as it had been earlier.
“You have a good day, Ms. Torres,” he said. “We’ll be in touch with any further developments in your case. You can count on that.”
As I stepped through the door, I thought I caught him sniffing the air as I passed. The frown on his face—confused and surprised—made me wonder if I’d forgotten deodorant. Whatever it was, he said nothing about it and nodded as I departed.
Without another word, he went back into the building, leaving me out on the sidewalk.
“Well, shit,” I hissed. Not the most graceful way to go about things. Maybe I needed more practice before I could move to the crime beat.
I turned to leave, then paused. What had Ollie said?Just because you bear a passing resemblance to the three women who have died doesn’t mean you’re in danger.
A shiver crept up my spine, like someone was sliding an ice cube across it. I pulled my phone out and pulled up the obituaries for the three victims. I’d seen them in passing, of course. Had studied what had been written by my colleagues in the paper and done some more research when my source gave me a thread to work on. Even so, I’d never really looked at them. In my mind, they were a story, not people. And I admit, that was a pretty shitty way to think of the women who had been cut down in their prime by some psycho.
As each picture loaded, that icy feeling on my spine grew more intense. Ollie was right. There was more than apassingresemblance. All three women—four, if you counted me—looked quite similar. Exactly what a serial killer would look for if he had a type.
Had I been seconds away from being killed?
The shock of that possibility rocked me to my core. Even though it was a bright, sunny morning, everything looked darker and more malevolent now that I could see the world for what it was. A dangerous place full of menace.
After a few minutes of freaking out, I got myself under control. There was no way that was what happened. The guy who jumped me and Lesley had been out of his mind, high or drunk off his ass. It wastotallydifferent from the other deaths. None of those had been anywhere near witnesses and had been more secluded than a parking garage where anyone could walk by. No serial killer would blow his cover like that. Plus, loads of women had dark complexions and dark hair. It didn’t make me special.
By the time I climbed into my car, I’d calmed myself down enough to think straight. Detective Vickers was hiding something—that had been obvious from the look on his face. Thepolice knew more than they were letting on, and I needed to follow that trail.
A quick glance at the clock on my dash told me that I wasn’t going to be as late to work as I thought I would be. I decided to head in and immediately go find my editor. Maybe if I showed him something really juicy, he’d give me some leeway to chase it.
I really didn’t want to cover another off-Broadway show or country music festival. If I played this just right, maybe my dream would come true.
4
