Cause to Kill

He picked a spot about twenty yards behind her. Wanda’s dorm, he knew, was about a ten-minute walk east, through the parking lot and over a number of winding and narrow pathways where they might be alone.

On his blanket, the killer pretended to watch the movie.

Don’t do it, his mind blared. Don’t do it!

I have to do it, he roared back.

The pain in his stomach, like a hand that suddenly closed into a fist, made him curve forward. The All Spirit filled his mind. More! the god blared. More! More! MORE!

I know, he pleaded. I’m sorry.

No joy could be taken in the movie. Every climactic scene only reminded him of the desperate urgency of his own situation, and the people everywhere, and his guilt. It was wrong, all wrong, and he couldn’t say it out loud; he couldn’t even think it.

When the credits rolled, Wanda Voles collected her blanket and personal items and headed home. Many of the students remained on the lawn. There was a lot of kissing and laughing. Numerous small exoduses took place along the edges. A few people moved beside Wanda.

He stood up only seconds after Wanda had passed and followed her out. Just another ordinary student, he told himself. Lies, his mind blared. Stop it! he fought. More! the All Spirit roared. The decree shook him and reverberated throughout his being. To those nearby, he seemed to have an epileptic shiver.

Calm yourself, he thought.

He tracked Wanda through the parking lot. She passed right by the killer’s car. A few lines of students were headed in the same direction, only they were further away.

Alone, he thought. She’s alone. Now!

None of the joy, the ease, and the personal investment were there. The power of the All Spirit had left him. Yet he had to go on. As always, the All Spirit watched and waited.

Wanda was ten feet in front of him. She began to hum a tune.

His ruse was prepared. He would greet her, pretend that he’d come to see the movie with his daughter and then complain about his car tire. She would lower down to help him check the pressure and that’s when the needle would be placed. No fuss. No witnesses. Just a young girl that disappeared in a parking lot.

Five feet behind her.

He prepared his needle.

Four feet and she was about to enter a new line of cars.

Three feet and he opened his mouth to speak.

In front of Wanda, a student jumped out from behind a car.

“Rah!” he roared with his arms up.

Wanda jerked back in fright.

He instantly turned and walked in a perpendicular direction. Behind him, he could hear the boy laughing. “I got you good!” Wanda screamed back, “You scared me half to death!” “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he apologized, “but man, that was good! I saw you coming and I just had to do it. What are you up to? It’s too early to.”

Their conversation faded in the background.

Relief flowed through the killer, a desperate relief at being saved from his crime. It wasn’t right, he told himself. I knew it wasn’t right. I have to rethink. I have to replan. Don’t worry. Don’t worry, he placated his god. This will be fine. I promise.

High above, the All Spirit growled in disapproval.

CHAPTER THIRTY

A dreamy, surreal quality had taken control of Avery Black.

There was no memory of her final words with Jessica Givens, or when she’d hung up or where she’d put her phone.

She stood in the dark of the Brandeis campus. Ahead of her were a rolling green field and a line of trees and the stars. Behind her were red brick buildings illuminated by lower lights.

Calm down, she told herself.

You’ve been down this road before.

The memory of her near-assault on John Lang from Art for Life was still fresh in her mind, along with the captain’s reprimand and the extended weekend she’d been given to think about her actions.

You were taken off the case, remember?

Not anymore, she answered.

Cindy Jenkins had been hired by Devante. Molly Green had been hired by Devante. What about Tabitha Mitchell?

On the way to her car, Avery dialed Finley. The phone rang numerous times before his voicemail picked up. He’s avoiding me, she thought. Five more calls were placed. The results were the same. Every time, Avery left the same message, only with more urgency:

“Finley. We’ve got a connection. Jenkins and Green were both hired by the same firm in Boston. You have to get back to me. Did Tabitha Mitchell have any kind of job lined up for her senior year? Call me back as soon as you get this.”

Avery sat in her BMW and logged onto her dashboard computer.

Devante was a private company based in Boston.

General information was all she could find online: the founder of the company, chairman of the board, the CEO, and the statewide structure.

A quick search revealed the vast number of jobs within an actual accounting firm: staff accountant, junior and senior level accountants, tax manager, tax auditor, CPA… The list was seemingly endless.

Who hires college girls? she wondered. It has to be some kind of human resources head that scouts out colleges and finds likely applicants. That person would most likely then take resumes and distribute the promising ones to the people in charge of whatever positions happened to be open within the company.

How would I find out who scouted and saw the resumes of those two girls?

The answer was obvious, and tricky given her currently diminished status within the Homicide division. You have to get to the Chairman or the CEO, she realized. Only they can give you access to the right people. She laughed. OK, how do I do that?

A warrant, she thought.

You’re going to need a warrant.

Warrants were difficult to get. Probable cause was necessary. In this case, Avery was confident that the connection between the girls and the company that planned to hire them was enough probable cause for a warrant. However, a judge would also want to know that items connected to the crime might be found at the offices of Devante. That might be a problem, she thought, unless the affidavit included computer information. If the killer has anything related to the case on his computer, I can use that to bolster a warrant.

Sleep on it tonight, she thought. Don’t make a mistake. Wait for Finley to call. Get everything in place before you go to the captain.

Her mind blared back: Not on your life.