The Girl Who Said No More: The Girl Who Ran Series, #3

By Susan Lund

A notorious serial child killer escapes custody and is on the loose.

Another girl goes missing, and her family ties to Michael's sister and Tess's old best friend are too close for comfort.

In the chilling conclusion of The Girl Who Ran trilogy, Tess McClintock and Michael Carter continue the investigation into the disappearances of young girls in the Pacific Northwest.

Will Michael and Tess escape unscathed?

• Language: English
• Publisher: S. E. Lund
• Release date: Dec 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781988265827

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

James Klein and his fishing buddy Aaron Day woke before the sun had risen to get to their favorite spot near Clear Lake, in the shadow of Silver Peak. They were staying at his family's cabin and had spent the long weekend fishing and drinking beer. Monday was the last day of their trip before returning to civilization, so they hoped to get an early start. The morning was fine, with few clouds in the sky, the last stars of the night still visible on the western horizon. They took a side road to get to the lake, after traveling east on Interstate 90. The road was deserted at that time of day and there was no traffic.

The first thing James noticed was dark smoke rising ahead on the road and a yellow-orange glow in the darkness. That early in the morning, the light from the fire was clearly visible, and so he pulled the truck over and the two men got out to inspect. They weren't sure whether it was a forest fire or something else. James leaned over the embankment, staring down the side of the mountain at the source of the smoke.

Jesus, it's a vehicle, he said, nodding to himself. Someone ran off the road. Look at this, he said and pointed to the guardrail, which was torn and warped from the force of what must have been a crash. Someone's down there.

James took out his cell to call 9-1-1. He gave the operator the location of the burning vehicle, using the GPS on his cell so they knew exactly where to come.

Let’s go down and see if there's anyone inside, James said. If there is, it's probably too late for them.

The two men climbed down the side of the mountain to the vehicle, stumbling down the steep embankment, the truck's fire extinguisher in hand. The way was rock-strewn, with boulders and gravel and they both had to be careful not to slip and fall. When they arrived at the burning vehicle, James could see that it came to a violent rest, the front end crushed against a tree. Even from where James stood, he could feel the heat rising from the burning car, the flames licking up the side of the old fir.

Do you see anyone inside? Aaron asked, shading his eyes from the heat.

Can't tell if someone's in there, but if they are, they're a little crispy by now, James replied, rubbing his chin, which was covered in stubble after two days in the wilderness.

You got that right, Aaron replied, shaking his head.

The small extinguisher did little to staunch the fire. By the time they heard the wailing of the firetruck's siren, the car was fully engulfed, the red-orange flames rising high in the air, the heat scorching the ground and the trees surrounding the vehicle's final resting place down the side of the mountain.

James and Aaron climbed back up the embankment and stood at the guardrail where the car had gone off the road. The road itself was rarely traveled so theirs had been one of the only vehicles to pass by and spot the smoke rising from the deep ditch that fell off the side of the road.

The firefighters arrived and quickly went to work, spraying the vehicle with foam, and eventually, the flames were sufficiently smothered. If someone was inside, they'd be burnt to a crisp.

A deputy from the King County sheriff's office arrived and took their statement.

Is there someone inside? James asked while they watched the firefighters climb back up the embankment once the blaze had been extinguished.

One of the firefighters removed his helmet and rubbed his bald head. He nodded, but didn't say anything, the expression on his face saying everything he need to know.

Jesus, Aaron said and the two men watched as the deputy climbed down to the vehicle to start his inspection.

The two men finished giving their statements to the deputy, and then started towards their truck.

Should we head out? Aaron asked as they approached the truck. The sun is rising.

I'd like to stay a bit, James responded, having always been curious about how police responded to that kind of event. See what happens. We can go later.

So, instead of going to the lake as planned, they pulled out a couple of folding lawn chairs from the back of the truck and sat in the shade beneath a fir tree and watched the proceedings as deputies marked off the spot where the vehicle went off the road and inspected the burned-out vehicle. In about an hour, after they'd finished the thermos of coffee, a white van drove up followed by a dark sedan. Out of the sedan came a woman with long steel grey hair in a bun and dark-rimmed glasses. Two young men got out of the van. James assumed they were the forensic team.

Dr. Keller, she said and shook the deputy's hand. State Medical Examiner. These are my assistants. What have you got for us?

There's a body inside, the deputy replied. Can't tell whether it's a woman or a man. I'll leave that to you.

That's my job, she said and went down the hill for a brief look at the scene. She climbed back up and began pulling on white coveralls, which she removed from the back of the van.

And who are these two fine gentlemen? she asked once she was fully suited up, turning to James and Aaron, who were seated a few feet away at the guardrail.

We're the ones who called in the vehicle, James replied with a smile. We wanted to stay and find out what happened.

Dr. Keller nodded and slipped on the hood of her overalls. ‘Thanks for calling it in."

She walked over to the deputy and spoke to him, keeping her voice low, but not low enough that James couldn’t overhear.

I'll tell you what most likely happened, she said. Someone pushed the vehicle over the side of the road, and poured gasoline over the dead body inside. Then, they lit the body on fire.

You serious? the deputy asked. To cover up a murder?

Most likely. From what I can tell, she said. The other option, which is highly unlikely, is that the container of gasoline happened to spill all over the driver and was lit on fire in the crash. But you never know. Stranger things have been known to happen but my money's on this being staged.

The two techs joined her and the three of them prepared to go to work. Dr. Keller slipped on a mask and gloves and then carried a big black kit down the side of the embankment to the vehicle. The two techs followed.

This was what James wanted to see, but he wasn't allowed to follow them back down to the vehicle. Instead, he took out his small set of binoculars from the glove compartment and watched Dr. Keller from where he sat.

She bent down and glanced inside the vehicle, then shook her head.

One of the two techs had a camera in hand and began taking photos while Dr. Keller marked off a grid around the vehicle with stakes and tape.

I'm going to need some help, she said and motioned to the sheriff's deputy to assist her. I want to put up a tent.

The three erected a white tent over the burned-out vehicle. James was disappointed that he could no longer see what was happening, so he turned to Aaron.

We might as well go, he said. They're not going to let us see them remove the body.

Did you actually want to see that? Aaron asked.

Well, James said hesitantly. Maybe to see how badly it was burnt.

I don't want to see it, Aaron said. I saw enough of that in Iraq.

The older of the two men, Aaron had been in the first wave of soldiers to cross into Iraq back in 2003. He saw some pretty hairy stuff so James could appreciate his reluctance.

James took one last look back at the accident scene and sighed. Unlike Aaron, he really was fascinated by forensic science and would have liked to have been right there to watch as the medical examiner removed the body from the vehicle. 

In fact he would have liked to have gone with her to watch the autopsy. It was one of those things he was curious about, and if he had another life, he would have liked to become a forensic scientist. But he made his choice and had joined the army when he was eighteen and that led him on a whole different path. 

The two men got up and folded their lawn chairs. They trudged back to their truck, and packed up. They drove off towards Clear Lake, their minds turning from the burnt car and incinerated body to the fish they might catch for the day.

James would make sure to check the news throughout the day to see what police reported on the murder. It clearly wasn't an accident because the deputy had said it looked like there was accelerant used, and that meant one thing. 

Someone had killed the driver and set the body and car on fire. They would only learn who the poor sucker was after the ME finished her autopsy and had ID'd the body.

Until then, James had fish to catch.

CHAPTER TWO

Eugene thought that the best course of action was that he should hide in plain sight.

For the first twenty-four hours, he stayed at a safe location Al Young had arranged for him, tucked in a warehouse in the downtown core. There, he could plot out his next move. He had so many plans and each one was intricate and required a lot of work. First, he had to make sure he stayed under everyone's radar and kept Al afraid so that he'd cooperate and keep the spigot of money open.

Hiding in plain sight had served him well for almost twenty years, but that was before anyone suspected him of being a serial killer. Now, hiding in plain sight would require him to alter his appearance enough that no one would recognize him. He still planned on doing so, but for the immediate future, he decided to hide out and stay at the cabin he had up near the mountains in Yakima. That way, he'd be close to Kirsten and the boys and could watch them, see what they were doing while he underwent his transformation.

And it was going to be a transformation that would even impress the FBI drones who were probably searching for him.

Most criminals were stupid. They were impulsive and did things that led to them getting caught.

Eugene was smart. It was what kept him out of prison for all those years. One slip-up had taken him down, but he was smart enough to get back on his feet and plan his escape. He planned well, and now, he was free. He'd bulk up, he'd shave his head, he'd grow a beard. He'd wear colored contacts. He'd wear lifts in his heels to change his height.

He'd researched CIA disguise techniques and would try to age himself sufficiently. Plus, he'd gain weight, and the fat would alter his facial proportions. He'd wear glasses. He'd wear different clothes from what he wore before he'd been caught. He'd transform himself, becoming a chameleon so that no one would recognize him or suspect him of being anyone other than a janitor, wearing a janitor's uniform, his head shaved, a beard growing on his chin and jaw, thick rimmed glasses to disguise him even further.

The day after his escape, he staked out an open garage and waited inside for the owner to come out and drive to work. It was easy enough to do, since the young man had on earphones and didn't see Eugene standing there in the darkness. Once the man was inside the garage, Eugene followed him and didn't let him get into the truck. Instead, he brought the pipe wrench down on the young man's head, bashing in his skull. The man crumpled to the ground. He looked like a young laborer who was getting ready to drive off to a day of hard work. The young man was dressed in work uniform, steel-toed construction boots and had a reflective vest on. Poor bastard. Unlucky enough to become Eugene's first victim out of jail.

Eugene quickly changed clothes with the man, putting on what fit him and leaving what didn't on the man's body. He removed the man's wallet and read the driver's license.

Kirk Lawrence, twenty-three. Mechanic at the local auto body shop nearby.

He was going to miss work.

Then, Eugene wrapped the man in a tarp he found in a box in the garage, and dumped him into the back of the truck, throwing another tarp over top to cover the body. He loaded up the ten-speed bicycle leaning against the side of the garage into the back of the truck and the extra container of gasoline, and drove out of Seattle. He had a spot near Clear Lake in mind that he used to use on occasion during the off season.

It was still nearly pitch-black out when he arrived at a suitable spot on the remote logging road. He removed the ten-speed and his gear, and moved the body from the truck bed into the driver's seat. He strapped the man in with the seat belt, and then took the vehicle out of gear and pushed it off the side of the road down the embankment. It had enough momentum to take out the metal guardrail and then it careened down the slope and smashed into a large tree about twenty feet below. Eugene followed it down and then poured the gasoline over the body, leaving the canister on the man's lap.

He threw a match and stood back, enjoying the sight of the flames erupting in a delicious vooom!

He always loved a fire.

Next, he trudged up the embankment and pulled on his backpack and drove off, taking the logging road to Garcia, which took about an hour. He'd told Mary Ann that he had to lay low for a few days, before leaving for Vegas but that she should come and meet him there. The bitch seriously thought they were going on a fucking honeymoon. She was such a stupid creature.

Stupid but useful. A useful idiot.

He told her that once the coast was clear -- he'd actually used those words -- they'd drive down to Vegas and get married. He told her to let her friends and family know that she'd be gone for at least three weeks on a special missionary trip to help out homeless people in Vegas. Luckily, she was able to book off work for she'd saved up time, having no real life outside of corresponding with him.

She showed up at the truck stop, driving her secondhand Chrysler Caravan, right on time and ever hopeful for their budding romance. He kissed her and hugged her, showering her with praise and love, thanking her for believing in him and all that bullshit that she ate up like candy.

Eugene decided it was time to launch his next move. He drove her van, while she happily slid into the passenger side. Then, he drove north to a side road and stopped the vehicle.

I thought we were going to head south, she said, her voice a bit nervous.

We will, sweetheart, he said and kissed her knuckles. I want to take secondary highways, to avoid being stopped by any curious police. Just in case.

Of course, she said and gave him a smile.

We're going to stop first at a cabin I have in the mountains. You'll like it. It's really rustic and has great scenery. We'll leave in the morning and drive for twelve hours straight, but today, I want to spend some time in the mountains.

Okay, if you say.

When they arrived at the cabin near White River, she got out of the vehicle and glanced around in wonder.

It's beautiful, she said, smiling. Eugene went to the back of the van and opened the rear door. Inside was a tool kit.

It is, he said. Look up at the mountains.

She did, shading her eyes from the mid-afternoon sun.

He grabbed the large pipe wrench from the tool kit and slammed her with it on the back of the head.

She crumpled to the ground with an oooommph. A few more strikes with the wrench, and she was dead, her brainpan a mush of bloody-red grey matter and shattered bone.

He wiped off the wrench with a cloth and then took a small shovel, grabbed onto Mary Ann's feet and dragged her into the darkness of the forest surrounding the cabin. He pulled her a full fifty paces, her pulverized head thumping against roots and fallen branches. He buried her, digging a shallow grave which took a lot of effort, given the density of the forest floor, thick with fallen pine needles, and brush. He could have set her on fire like he did poor Kirk, but he didn't want anyone to know right away that Mary Ann was dead. He needed her family and friends to think she had taken off out of state, heading to Vegas. That way, no one would report her missing. It would take a while to find her, if anyone ever did.

Good riddance.

She'd played her part in his little escape drama, and now he was finished with her. He had her laptop, her cell, her credit cards and knew her passcode at the ATM. For the next few days, he would update her Facebook page and act as if nothing had happened. He made her promise not to tell anyone about them as a couple, other than a vague description of him as a 'new man' she'd been seeing so no one knew for certain that she might have gone with him after he escaped. Sure, the prison would have a record of her visits of course, and she would eventually be checked out by cops when investigating his escape. Police would suspect that he was with her, but she'd be gone.

To Vegas.

Let the cops search for him there.

She'd still be of use to him for a while, even as a corpse. So as much as he would have liked to see her go up in flames, he held off and merely buried her in a pile of branches and leaves.

Soon, she'd be nothing more than bones.

And Eugene?

He'd be long gone, off to carry out the rest of his pay-back plan...

CHAPTER THREE

Michael Carter enjoyed driving. That's why he bought a Jeep. He always wanted to take a long road trip across the USA, and visit all the national monuments. While the drive down to Mexico wasn't exactly what he imagined for such a trip, it was a good substitute.

I can't believe they pay me to do this, he said to Tess, who sat beside him, her cell with the GPS tracker app in her hand. They'd lucked out that Tess's co-worker, Craig Lang, left Seattle the previous day and Michael hoped he was leading them directly to Rachel Martin and her daughter, Sadie.

She glanced over and smiled at him, her sunglasses reflecting his own smiling face. I can't believe they pay you either. I can't believe Kate let me go and said I could work while we were traveling.

We're lucky, Michael said. He took her hand and squeezed it, glad that they were together.

Before they left, Michael spent some time with his boss, Nick Hampton, going over their strategy to deal with Rachel and Craig.

Let him go, Nick said. Follow him. If Rachel really is okay and both of them are alive, I want her back so I can close the missing persons cases and finish the double murder case. We need to hear from Rachel and get her to explain what happened and why she left. Maybe she can clear Mickey and put Robinson, I mean Ericsson, as the killer. If she's already in Mexico, and if she won't come back willingly, we'll have to extradite her once we have a solid location. If you can't talk some sense into her first, that is. Try to get Rachel to come back willingly so we don't have to resort to extraditing her.

I'll do my best.

Michael hoped he'd be successful. He understood that Rachel might want to escape having to face the whole mess of her father's murder and the truth coming out about her identity and that of the father of Sadie, but it had to come out eventually. She had to be convinced it was in her own best interest to cooperate now, before things got too far along and they'd have to charge her with obstructing justice.

She'd probably witnessed a double murder and had maybe helped the perpetrator escape justice. While it was understandable that she was thankful that Mickey -- or Ericsson -- had rescued Sadie, Rachel needed to help police close the case. Hopefully, they'd find her using the GPS tracker Michael had slipped onto Craig's vehicle and persuade her to return.

They'd already stopped in Redding, California, briefly, and while Tess wrote in a local cafe, trying to get an article finished for the Sentinel, Michael went to the warehouse with the video camera feed he needed to watch. He had been in touch with the warehouse manager previously, and was certain they had some useful footage. It had taken several hours of review, but he finally found the one sequence with the van, previously owned by one Thomas Gibson, aka Mr. Scott, her pornographer father. She'd pulled up on Saturday and had filled the van with gas, parking the van in one of the visitor slots and taking Sadie into the station probably to use the restroom. Then, they drove off. The image was tiny, but Michael could tell it was Rachel by her hair and the fact that she had Sadie in tow. And of course, the van itself. Unique enough that he didn't really need to see it up close. Using the zoom function, he was