Predator

  He watched as teachers monitored the place, keeping order among their students, but the low chatter seemed disrespectful. He wondered if they knew that Ella’s sister was the speaker and that they were here for such a serious matter.

  When everyone had taken a seat, the principal went on stage and spoke into the microphone. “I guess you all know we’re here today to remember Ella Carmichael, who was a dear friend to so many of you and whose death impacted our lives greatly. I’ve asked her sister to speak to you today, and I hope you’ll pay attention to her, because she has something to say that you need to hear. This is Ella’s sister, Krista Carmichael. Krista, come on up.”

  There was a smattering of applause as Krista took the stage. She hadn’t dressed up for the occasion. She wasn’t here to impress anyone. She stood in a pair of jeans and a cream-colored sweater, her unadorned blonde hair long and straight.

  Krista took the microphone. “Thank you, Mr. Trenton.” She looked down at the floor, collecting herself.

  Even from where he sat, Ryan could see how hard this was for her.

  “First, I’d like to thank you all for helping so much when Ella was missing. A lot of you came and volunteered to help look for her, and for that I’ll be eternally grateful. As you know, she was found, and her death tells a story that’s important for us to hear. Ella’s life had a purpose, even though it was short.” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat, looked down, and went on.

  “And if Ella’s death can save your life, then I’ll believe that even that had a purpose.”

  Ryan watched as she crossed the stage to a cart that held a laptop computer. A PowerPoint slide projected Ella’s GrapeVyne page onto the screen behind Krista. Krista pointed out all the places where Ella had given information to her killer. Her voice was flat and emotionless as she went through each of the Thought Bubbles and pictures, moments in Ella’s life recorded for all to see. The school was so quiet, you could hear a whisper.

  Krista put the microphone close to her mouth and stepped to the edge of the stage. A shadow fell over her as she moved out of the stage lights. “Guys, what I’m trying to say is that the killer is still out there. He’s reading your profiles, listening in on your GrapeVyne Thought Bubbles, your Facebook status updates, your Tweets. Last night a girl from Rice University was attacked, and just like Ella, her Thought Bubbles led the killer right to where she was. She escaped and is in the hospital now, but after she escaped, the killer went to her house and murdered her roommate.”

  A gasp rose from the crowd, and Ryan saw faces turning to each other as they whispered. Some of the girls began crying.

  “I was with her when she got the news about her roommate.” She stopped, and Ryan looked across the auditorium. No one was looking down at their phones, sending their own Thought Bubbles through cyberspace. They were all transfixed on Krista.

  “He’s bloodthirsty,” she said into the microphone, just above a whisper. “And you could be next. Don’t think that just because you post things only to your friends that you’re safe. You all know that you’ve accepted people as Friends who you’ve never met, that you’ve looked on someone’s profile when they asked to Friend you and thought, ‘Hey, that person looks cool.’ You don’t know who’s behind that cool picture. It could be the latest up-and-coming rock star, or it could be somebody’s killer. And I realize I’m scaring you to death. But if that’s what it takes to make you think about what you post online, then I’ve succeeded today. And Ella’s death will not have been in vain.”

  She charged them with going home and changing their profiles, erasing anything on their online sites that would give a predator information, deleting any Friends they didn’t know personally. Ryan sat in the back row, realizing how much damage she could do to his company if she spoke publicly more often, or if she contacted the media. Part of him rooted for her and hoped she succeeded; the other part dreaded the trouble her success would cause him with his board of directors.

  When she finished, Ryan stayed in his seat as the students ambled out. He’d never seen a high school assembly break up with such thoughtful silence. Many of the students wiped tears from their faces or patted each others’ backs as they exited the room. No one here had escaped the impact of Ella Carmichael’s death.

  He got up and walked against the flow of people down to the front row where Krista stood. She was shutting down the computer as she spoke quietly to the principal. As he went toward her, Ryan took his hat off and kept his face down, and waited on the side of the auditorium until the principal walked away.

  The moment Krista was alone, Ryan approached her. “Good job,” he said.

  It took her a moment to recognize him out of context. “Were you here the whole time?”

  “In the back.”

  Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why did you come?”

  “I just wanted to listen.”

  “Well, you heard.” She closed the laptop. “And hopefully all the students will go home and make some changes.”

  “Hopefully,” Ryan said.

  “But there are only six hundred students here. GrapeVyne could reach several million at once.”

  He hit his cap against his leg. “You have to understand, Krista. I don’t own the company anymore.”

  She breathed a laugh and bent over to put the laptop in its case. “Give me a break.”

  “Seriously, I’m not the one who’s calling the shots.”

  “Get real. I’ve read about you. You’ve got a hundred million dollars sitting in the bank and a seven-figure annual salary to keep working there, but you’re not in control? Every employee there works for you.”

  “But I have a board of directors I have to answer to. You have to understand that if profits fall, I’m going to be out. There are clauses in my contract that make me accountable to them.”

  “Is that why you slunk in here on the sly? So no one would recognize you? Are you embarrassed to be seen here? You afraid they’ll fire you?”

  “I didn’t want to distract anyone from you.”

  “I would have gladly given you the microphone.”

  “Okay,” he admitted, “I’ve been cautioned not to get the company entangled with this. We’re not responsible, and my being here could be misinterpreted.”

  She zipped up her briefcase with a jerk. “You are responsible. You’re just as responsible as any business who invites kids onto their premises. If a fire broke out and children were killed, they would be sued. Well, get a clue. A fire has broken out, and people are dying.” She grabbed her purse off her seat, slung the strap over her shoulder, and started for the door.

  “Krista.”

  She stopped and look back. “What?”

  “I thought we were going to the hospital.”

  Her face was still pink. “I figured you had some excuse not to go. Don’t want your board of directors mad at you, do you?”

  “I said I would go, and I will.”

  She looked like he’d ripped her sails. “All right. We’ll go now. I’ll drive.”

  He had to smile. She wanted the upper hand, and he supposed she had earned it. He followed behind her as she made her way out of the building.

  Nineteen

  The local media had gotten wind of Megan’s attack and Karen Anders’ murder by the time Ryan and Krista arrived at the hospital. They clustered outside the main entrance with their cameras cued up and their reporters waiting for word about the person they were now calling a serial killer.

  Though Ryan knew no one was watching for him, he feared the reporters might recognize him if he and Krista went in that entrance. In fact, Krista just might cause her own stir.

  “Pull around, and we’ll go in through the ER entrance,” he said.

  Krista didn’t argue as she drove to the other entrance and found a parking space.

  Ryan carried his briefcase with his laptop and followed Krista into the hospital and down the long hall. Her shoulders were stiff, guarded. He wondered what she was like when
she smiled. He didn’t suppose she’d done that in quite a while.

  As they approached Room 323, Ryan dreaded the encounter. This was out of his comfort zone, something he never would have done if guilt didn’t plague him. When friends from work were hospitalized, he never went to see them. Didn’t everyone hate being visited when they felt their worst?

  Krista knocked. A voice called for them to come in, and she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Tentatively, Ryan followed her in, and saw what he assumed were Megan’s parents, sitting on the vinyl sofa next to the window. On the bed lay a girl who looked lucky to be alive.

  “Krista,” the girl said.

  Krista crossed the room and bent down to hug her. “How is she doing?” she asked Megan’s parents.

  “She’s okay,” her mother said. “It’s been a rough day.”

  Ryan stepped further into the room. Krista turned back to him. “Megan,…Mr. and Mrs. Quinn, this is Ryan Adkins.”

  They gave no indication that they recognized the name.

  “He’s the President and CEO of GrapeVyne Corporation.”

  Megan’s parents still didn’t bat an eye, and she realized they didn’t know what that was. Megan tried to sit up. “The guy used GrapeVyne to get to me,” she said through her locked jaw. “The man…he’s on GrapeVyne somewhere. He told me. The FBI sent a composite artist, but my description wasn’t good enough. The picture wasn’t right. It didn’t look enough like him. We can’t use it at all.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up,” her father said. “It was dark and you were traumatized.”

  “But I saw him clearly at the airport. I know I’d recognize him if I saw him. I just get confused when we break it down into eyes and nose and mouth…”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Ryan said. “Maybe I can help you identify him. I’m really sorry about what happened to you.” He set his briefcase down on a chair, pulled his laptop out. “I pulled out the Friends that you and Ella Carmichael have in common. There are about twenty-five.”

  “Really?” Megan asked. “I don’t even know anybody in high school here.”

  “But you had 1500 Friends.”

  Her parents gave Megan an astonished look. “Fifteen hundred people?” her mother asked. “You posted your thoughts for fifteen hundred strangers?”

  Megan shook her head. “I know you’ve talked to me about giving out information to strangers, but Mom, it was such a great way to make friends in college. And a great way to stay in touch with old friends. I didn’t know…”

  She did know, Ryan thought. Her parents had clearly warned her. “Ella had a lot of Friends too—1143 of them. And since there are only six hundred people at her high school, she couldn’t possibly have known most of her online friends. A lot of them were probably complete strangers.”

  “I shouldn’t have Friended anyone I didn’t know,” Megan said. “I wish I could take it back.”

  “Well, we can start with where we are,” Ryan said. He set the laptop on her bed where she could see the screen. “Do you know any of these twenty-five people personally?”

  She went down the list. “I know Michael and Greg. Susan…”

  He deleted everyone she mentioned, which left nineteen people she’d never met. “Krista, come here and tell me if you recognize any of these as being real people that Ella knew.”

  Krista came over and looked at the list. She was able to identify four people as Ella’s personal friends. That left fifteen suspicious profiles, most of them girls.

  “This gives us a starting point,” Ryan said. “I’ll turn these names over to the FBI, and their cyber crimes unit can trace these people back to their original source. If anyone is not who she says she is, hopefully they’ll be able to tell.”

  Krista stared at him. “Can’t you tell right now?”

  “All I can do is look at their profiles. It’s against our Terms of Service for people to set up aliases, but people do it all the time. And that makes it tricky to track down their real identity.”

  Megan’s father stood up. “How long do you think it’ll take for the cyber crimes unit to trace these people back?”

  “I don’t know,” Ryan said. “I don’t know how many people will be working on it or how much time they’re devoting to it.”

  “My daughter’s attacker is still out there,” he bit out. “He killed her roommate. He could come after her again.”

  “They haven’t posted a guard?”

  “No, we’ve asked for one all day, but nothing’s been done.”

  Krista turned to him. “You have influence, Ryan.”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “You could call the FBI or the police or whoever, and get them to station a guard outside Megan’s room. This is life or death. She’s not safe.”

  He looked at the girl with the bloody eye, at her father, her mother. Krista was right. They did need to guard her. “Okay, I’ll make a phone call right now.” He would pay someone himself if he had to.

  It took about two minutes for Ryan to tell his secretary what he wanted done. When he snapped his phone shut, Krista turned back to Megan’s mother. “Is someone staying with her tonight? Because I’d be glad to.”

  “One of us will.” Megan’s mother patted the bag next to her. “I have a gun, and I’ll use it in a heartbeat.”

  Megan closed her eyes, her face twisting. Krista shook her head. “It’s a dangerous world we live in. And it’s getting more dangerous all the time.”

  By the time they came out of the hospital, word had gotten out that Ryan Adkins was there. Reporters surrounded the door they’d gone in, and flashed pictures and shouted questions as they came out.

  “Ryan, why are you here?”

  “Is GrapeVyne responsible for the murders?”

  “Do you know the girl who was attacked?”

  Ryan muttered “No comment” as he and Krista pushed through the crowd to her car. By the time they got it unlocked, one reporter had realized who Krista was.

  “Miss Carmichael, do you think the same person who killed your sister is involved in the latest attacks?”

  Krista got in and closed the door. As Ryan slipped in, he said, “Go! Let’s get out of here.”

  “How? They’re blocking me!”

  “Just pull out slowly. They’ll have to move.”

  Krista pulled out, and the crowd grudgingly parted. She put the car into Drive and inched forward.

  “Keep going,” Ryan said. “Just move. They’ll get it.”

  She finally got through them and drove to the exit. “They’ll follow us.”

  He watched in the rear window as the reporters ran across the parking lot toward their cars. He turned back around and searched for an escape. There was a strip mall up ahead. “Pull in there and go behind the buildings. They’ll race right past, and then we can head back to my car.”

  She did as he suggested and took a hard right, pulling behind the stores. Hopefully none of the reporters had gotten to their cars in time to see her turn off the road.

  She cut off the engine, and they both sat motionless. Krista finally broke the silence. “That was crazy.”

  “Tell me about it.” He looked back. No one had followed. “It worked. Let’s just sit here a minute until they all have time to pass.” He drew in a deep breath. “My board of directors isn’t going to like it. I don’t like it. I never should have come.”

  “You did the right thing, Ryan.”

  “It’ll be all over cable news before I can get back to the office.”

  “It’s a good thing. It shows that GrapeVyne cares.”

  “Yeah, well, my board members may not see it that way.” He leaned his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about it, so he racked his brain for something to talk to her about that didn’t involve the murder. “So what do you do for a living?”

  She glanced at him as though the question surprised her. “Why?”

  “Just wondered. I don’t know much abo
ut you.”

  “I work with at-risk teen girls, at a rec center called Eagle’s Wings.”

  He opened his eyes and frowned. “Eagle’s Wings? Where’d that come from?”

  “From the Bible—Isaiah 40:31. It says, ‘But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.’ The girls we minister to need strength. We get them off the streets, help them get their GEDs, teach them Bible studies, train them with life skills, and counsel them.”

  That explained the Bible studies on her GrapeVyne page. He could have guessed she worked in a cause-driven job. “So who pays you?”

  “We’re supported by several local churches and individual donations.”

  “Not much money in that, huh?”

  Krista shook her head, clearly irritated at his question. “Everyone’s not motivated by money, Ryan.”

  He took the blow. “I read your GrapeVyne page. You were valedictorian in both high school and college. You could have gotten some big corporate job, but you chose to work for a nonprofit?”

  “That’s where I’m needed.”

  “So where is this place?”

  “It’s on Kickrow Street.”

  “Really? That’s a pretty bad area.”

  “Exactly. That’s where our girls live.”

  “But…don’t you feel like you’re in danger coming and going every day?”

  She stared at a spot on her windshield. “My dad was totally against it when I took the job. He worried himself sick. But I convinced him that God was calling me there, so he finally let it go. It’s ironic that I wasn’t the one who was stalked and murdered. He never thought it would happen to Ella.”

  Her gaze fixed on something outside the window, and he felt her melancholy growing heavier. “Have you been back to work since her funeral?”

  She nodded. “I was there Tuesday. I warned the girls about GrapeVyne.”

  Tuesday? She was even tougher than he thought.

  “When we painted the front room of the center, I painted scripture along the top of the wall. The first thing you see when you come in the building is, ‘Be strong and courageous,’ from the book of Joshua. The girls who come there, they need that courage and strength. They’re all in danger every day of their lives.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat. “I try to teach them how to put on the armor of God to protect themselves. But I didn’t protect Ella.”