Keep Me Safe(66)

In essence, she, Caleb, his security and the city and county police were his puppets, dangling from strings while he directed their actions. She couldn’t even imagine how many resources were being utilized in the hunt for this madman or the toll it was taking, both financial and psychological.

The two detectives looked haggard, like they hadn’t slept in several nights. Dane and the men he oversaw all had determined, focused looks on their faces. There was an air of expectancy that hovered over the crowd of people standing in the front yard and then she realized that they were all looking expectantly . . . ​at her.

The pressure she was under, the expectations and demands placed upon her, weighed heavily on her heart and soul. Her feet dragged as she took a few steps closer to the rickety front porch of the trailer. They were so heavy it felt as though her feet were encased in lead.

“Do I just go in?” Ramie asked, staring in bewilderment at all the people staring back at her.

Their stares left prints on her skin. She fidgeted underneath their scrutiny. She lifted her gaze to Caleb in a silent plea for help. Did they expect her to perform like a circus monkey in front of them all? It felt as though this were some gruesome party where she was expected to entertain everyone by acting out a vicious crime.

“Detective Briggs?” Caleb said, raising his voice to be heard. “If you want Ramie to go in then the rest of you need to stand back and give her breathing room. Have you cleared the trailer yet? Is it even safe for her to go in?”

As he spoke, he put his arm in front of Ramie as if protecting her from whatever was inside.

Detective Briggs nodded shortly. “I realize that we can’t ask you not to touch anything given that your gift manifests itself through touching, but if you could limit it to only what’s necessary, perhaps we’ll be able to collect fingerprints or DNA.”

Ramie knew that was a tenuous hope at best. The killer was getting smarter, not more careless, as he escalated. Most killers probably did get more out of control and more convinced of their invincibility as time went on. But not this one. And Ramie found this kind of killer to be the most frightening of all. What could be worse than a man who couldn’t be found or apprehended? Free to kill and torture at will. How could any woman ever feel safe again with men like this out there? He could be a neighbor, a member of the same church, a schoolteacher or even a pastor.

There was no limit to the possibilities and Ramie already knew the killer looked . . . ​ordinary. Good-looking even. Neat and clean. Precise in his movements and meticulous in his dress.

Most women would find such a man harmless in appearance and would be liable to feel comfortable and at ease around him. He was, no doubt, charming and likeable.

What kind of world was it when such monsters lurked in seemingly benign waters?

“I’ll take her in,” Dane said. “One of our men and one of the county sheriff’s deputies. Touch as little as possible but as much as you need, Ramie. We want to nail this guy for good this time.”

Ramie nodded, her chin trembling with the effort.

“Not without me,” Caleb bit out.

Ramie turned, resting her fingertips on his wrist. “It will be easier if you don’t. I need to focus. It could look . . . ​pretty bad.” She grimaced and then lifted her gaze to meet his. “You wouldn’t like it. You may even interrupt or intervene.”

“Damn right,” he said vehemently. “The minute this goes south, I’m getting you the hell out of here.”

She gently shook her head. “No. We need to catch him this time. I have to try to look deeper than the surface. I have to see beyond what he wants me to see and see the things he doesn’t. It’s our only chance of taking him down. He’s too smart to slip up and make a mistake.”

Before he could argue further, and because he would argue the point into the ground, she turned and hurried toward the dilapidated wooden steps that were built onto a small square front landing.

The bottom step cracked as soon as she put her weight on it and her hand flew up to grasp the railing to prevent her falling. Dane gripped her other arm.

“Are you all right?” Dane demanded.

A loud roar burst through her ears, as though a hundred freight trains collided at seventy miles per hour. She swayed precariously and then sagged to her knees, her arm stretched upward because she still had a death grip on the metal handrail and her knuckles were white and straining.

A barrage of images, messy and chaotic, flashed rapid-fire in her mind. They were jumbled and confusing, no apparent rhyme or reason.

Fear had a chokehold on her. Not her fear. The victim’s fear.