The next morning when Tommy got out of the shower, she saw a missed call on her cell phone.
Kelly had left for work when the day was still dark. But it wasn’t him.
When she played the message, wrapped only in a big towel, a chill raced through her that had nothing to do with the wet droplets on her skin. The message was brief.
The voice was that same creepy high-pitched one.
“I did it all for you. Tell those idiots at the P.D. to go back to the crime scenes.”
And then dead air for a few seconds before he hung up.
Tommy dropped her phone onto the floor as if it had burned her.
Within the hour, Tommy was seated in a small conference room at the police station with Lt. Costello, Kelly, and two other detectives.
Tommy hit the “speaker phone” button on her cell and then played the message.
Again, the voice sounded distorted, as if the caller were trying to disguise his voice.
“Son of a bitch,” Kelly said, scraping back his chair and standing. He began pacing the room.
“Calm down, sport,” Costello said. “We’ll figure out who this creep is. Meanwhile, Kelly, why don’t you make sure you’re having sleepovers at Tommy’s every night until we find this sucker. And you know, you’re off the case, now? It’s too personal. It won’t stick in court if they show how you’re connected here and you make the bust, right?”
Because the Mississippi River Killer case was so big, homicide had brought in other detectives from narcotics and fraud to help out. Kelly had been hoping he could hone his skills for a stint on the homicide squad one day.
“That’s bullshit. I can’t back off now,” Kelly said angrily.
“Sorry Charlie. Them’s the breaks. And here’s the deal,” Costello said turning to the other detectives, “Because Tommy here is sort of a special case, being Kelly’s sweetheart and all, we’re going to do things a little differently to make everyone happy. Nobody higher up has to know, but I want you guys to take turns doing surveillance on her. For two reasons: Obviously to keep her safe, but also because if our killer is doing it for her, as he said, there’s a good chance he’s watching her. If you watch her, you might just find him watching her, got it?”
“Yes, sir,” both men said simultaneously.
For the first time, Tommy gave them a good looking over. Both were young — one redheaded and freckled enough to be her brother. The other was blond and buff with a weight lifter physique. The blond noticed her looking and winked, making her blush.
“Thank you very much, but I don’t need bodyguards,” Tommy protested. “I can take care of myself.”
“You heard me,” Costello said, dismissing her complaint. “It’s part of our strategy to catch our killer. Boys, once Miss St. James is home, you can turn her care over to Detective Kelly. I know he’s got the skills to handle her at that point.”
Tommy blushed at the innuendo. Or was she just extra paranoid because the beefy blond cop kept winking at her when nobody was looking?
She waited until everybody left the room and then stood in front of the lieutenant until he met her eyes.
“Lieutenant, you know I walk a fine line. I am loyal to Detective Kelly and I also support the police department’s investigative efforts, but the bottom line is I’m a journalist to the core. I’ve done what you asked and sat on this story. Until now.”
She waited, holding his eyes.
Costello exhaled a long, slow breath, pursed his lips together and nodded.
“I know. You’ve got a job to do. Can you at least give me a heads up when it’s going to appear?”
Tommy nodded and left.