Page 71 of M for Murder

She watched him set the pizza box down on the table, next to her open notebook, and cringed inwardly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the notes she had made. Her attempts to get in contact with Jennifer Isaac had proved unsuccessful. Rodney Boone’s one surviving victim had returned to her family home in New York, and she had only stayed there for a couple of months before the whole family uprooted and moved away.

There was no recent address or contact number on the Isaac family, but Rebecca didn’t doubt that by making a few phone calls she would easily be able to locate them. Hickok had told her not to bother, claiming that it was a waste of time tracking her down unless she still lived locally as they couldn’t afford the time or the manpower to go see her. Although Rebecca disagreed with him, she didn’t push the matter as she was eager to concentrate on the files she’d been studying about Rodney Boone. The more that she read about the serial killer, the more she managed to convince herself that he was still alive and had something to do with the recent spate of murders.

It made perfect sense.

Boone’s body had never been recovered from the fire, so it was probable that he was alive, but too injured to continue the killings alone. Therefore, it was plausible that he had found himself a disciple to finish the job for him. Her theory would explain why the murders had ceased for eight years, why there were slight differences in the way the victims were killed, and why the prints on the vodka bottle hadn’t matched up to those of Rodney Boone’s.

Unfortunately, neither Hickok nor Sutton shared her view, still believing that the two sets of murders were unrelated and suspecting that the recent killings were probably the work of someone at Juniper College. Hickok’s theory on Lawrence Parker had been shot to pieces and the two Feds had decided to try and get the prints of everyone in the college, in the hope that they would get a match to the print found on the vodka bottle. They had already spoken with Dean Edwards about their plans and he had given them his full support. On Monday morning they intended to set up a room in the main building of the college where the long and drawn out process of collecting the prints would begin.

Rebecca knew it was possible that they might net themselves a killer, but she was also aware that by the time everyone’s prints had been collected, the series of murders would probably be complete. That was why she had decided to do a little after-hours snooping into Rodney Boone’s background. She knew it was unlikely she would uncover anything new, but that wasn’t about to stop her. Her mother had always complained about how she tried to take on the impossible and she guessed it must be her stubborn streak again.

Of course, on most occasions her mother had turned out to be right, but that never stopped Rebecca, who was a firm believer that if you didn’t try then you’d never know, from giving things her best shot. That thought in mind, she had spent much of her afternoon on the telephone talking firstly to Information then to Wyefield Children’s Home and finally to the San Palimo Town Library.

While she had uncovered quite a bit of information on Rodney Boone’s childhood, which she had planned to share with Hickok and Sutton on Monday morning, she had hoped to come up with a good story first as to why she had gone behind their backs. Watching Hickok studying her notes, she realised that the story was no longer going to be necessary.

Finished looking at the page listed full of names and phone numbers, he glanced up at her and frowned. ‘What’s this?’

‘Just a few notes I’ve been making,’ Rebecca mumbled, feeling a bit like a child who’d just been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

Hickok raised his eyebrows sceptically. ‘So, have you actually been calling these people, or did you just decide to write their numbers down for fun?’

‘That’s none of your business!’ Rebecca snapped, perhaps a little too abruptly, having decided that anger was her best defence. ‘What I do in my free time is up to me.’

Instead of biting back at her like she expected, Hickok lowered himself onto the couch and gave her a sly smile. ‘You know. You’re way too uptight. Maybe you should try getting out more.’

Rebecca’s mouth dropped open. She was a little surprised that he wasn’t mad at her, but also amazed that he seemed to think he could continually insult her.

‘Like you, you mean?’ she retorted. ‘I’ve noticed that your social life seems to revolve mainly around my doorstep these days.’

‘I like you, Angell. Be flattered.’ He grinned at her and pulled the lid off the pizza box. ‘Pizza?’ he asked, offering her the box.

Rebecca gave an exaggerated sigh, secretly relieved that he hadn’t blown up at her for defying his orders. Taking a slice of pizza, she sat down on the floor in front of the table.

‘So, you’ve been doing a little after-hours research on Boone, have you?’ Hickok pushed.

‘You know I have, so why bother asking?’

‘I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, as I hoped you weren’t really that stupid.’

‘Hey! I am not stupid.’ Rebecca glared at Hickok, angry with herself for allowing him to draw her into another fight. ‘I thought that in order to investigate a crime properly you had to explore every possible angle.’

‘Rodney Boone has got nothing to do with the recent murders.’ Hickok shook his head, seeming both exasperated and amused. ‘The man gets stabbed with a butcher’s knife, locked in the cellar and caught up in a fire. Okay, I admit his body was never found, but you’re trying to tell me that eight years after disappearing without a trace, after no one has heard a word from him, he suddenly comes back to the scene of his original crimes to start killing again?’ He laughed sarcastically. ‘Jeez, Angell! This is real life, not the fucking twilight zone.’

‘What I’m suggesting is not as stupid as you’re trying to make it sound,’ Rebecca argued through gritted teeth, fighting to keep control of her temper. ‘Sutton himself admitted that Boone could quite possibly still be alive.’

‘Sure, it’s possible. Remotely possible. If he is, though, the guy has to be looking like a piece of toast. You really think he’s in any fit condition to start killing again?’

‘You don’t know what kind of condition he was in,’ Rebecca argued. ‘How can you say for sure that he didn’t manage to get out of the house before the fire took hold?’

‘Because he was trapped in the fucking cellar with the butcher’s knife in his back.’

‘Was the cellar door locked?’

‘No! I don’t know.’

‘Then it’s possible that he could have managed to crawl away.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Hickok agreed in a patronising tone. ‘He’s some kind of superhero, right? He manages to escape from the house and then he flies away before the cops can get there to arrest him. Oh, and let me guess, the reason no one’s been able to find him for the past eight years is because he can make himself invisible. Jesus, you idiot, would you listen to what you’re saying?’