was to put the public on alert. And to avoid giving specifics. But the reporters went crazy with speculation. Tonight Mooney and I have to go through boxes of evidence, see if there’s a connection to old cases.” Alves looked at the six boxes of reports and photos stacked in the corner.
“The reporters are saying the Prom Night Killer is back.”
Alves had wanted to spare his wife for as long as he could, but the reporters had pounced on the obvious connections. One after another they’d called out the name of the killer linked to six unsolved murders.
“I need you at home. Iris is up in her room. She didn’t eat any dinner. She’s got her brother all nerved up. Angel, she found that young couple right down the street.”
“Marcy, if it helps any, he didn’t murder those kids in our neighborhood. Franklin Park was a secondary crime scene, a dump site.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized how bad they sounded.Not comforting to think of a killer using your local park to stage a murder scene.
“What the hell does that matter.” Her voice was strained with anger. “This maniac was in
our
neighborhood, where our kids play, where we sleep at night.”
“That’s why I need to be here.” Alves tried to talk calmly, but she had a point. His first job was to protect his family. “The only way I can hope to solve this case is to learn as much as I can from Mooney’s old files. Try not to worry. I asked the captain at E-13 to make extra rounds on our street.”
“We’ll be fine.”
“Marcy…” He heard the phone click. Alves placed the receiver down. He could feel the vein in his temple throbbing. She was right. He shouldn’t be here. He should be home with his family, making his wife and kids feel safe enough to sleep.
He picked up a stack of photos—at the top was one of Courtney at the crime scene. Her face wasn’t contorted in terror. He studied the photo, from the gentle wave of her long hair caught back in its braid to the firm line of her chin. He’d seen the look before, on the faces of other victims. A little smile almost, a kind of peace.
CHAPTER 20
A lves was starved. Mooney finally got back from BC, and he brought pizza. Alves cleared a space on the conference table and found some paper plates and napkins in a file drawer.
“No football practice tonight?” Mooney said.
“Cancelled for the rest of the week. One of the other parents is taking over for me when they start up again.”
“How are the kids? How’s Iris?”
“Not playing anymore. Iris won’t go near the field. And Angel has never seen his sister scared before. Let’s eat,” he said. He didn’t want to think about Marcy getting the kids ready for bed. How he wasn’t there to tuck the twins in. He opened the pizza box and took a long, stringy slice. He held the box open while Mooney took one. “Learn anything about Courtney Steadman and Josh Kipping today?”
“Both decent students. Good kids. Saturday night they were pretty drunk. We know that from the autopsy. They were lightweights who got caught up in the tailgating atmosphere. At some point they slipped away.”
“Probably to go fool around,” Alves said.
“They didn’t seem the type. They were pretty caught up in the whole Jesuit education thing. Liked to hang out and talk.” Mooney’s face flushed with anger. “Two goofy kids go out and have a few drinks, and this bastard takes their lives.”
“Did you get a chance to reach out to the parents of the other victims?”
“I did that before I went to BC. I had to let them know what happened and prepare them for the media blitz that is sure to follow. I’ve kept in touch with them over the years. Six families.”
“Eight now,” Alves said.
Mooney paused. “I call them every summer on the anniversaries, just to let them know I haven’t forgotten. I told them that we’re working the cases together, that you’ll look at everything with fresh eyes.”
“Where do you think
“The reporters are saying the Prom Night Killer is back.”
Alves had wanted to spare his wife for as long as he could, but the reporters had pounced on the obvious connections. One after another they’d called out the name of the killer linked to six unsolved murders.
“I need you at home. Iris is up in her room. She didn’t eat any dinner. She’s got her brother all nerved up. Angel, she found that young couple right down the street.”
“Marcy, if it helps any, he didn’t murder those kids in our neighborhood. Franklin Park was a secondary crime scene, a dump site.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he realized how bad they sounded.Not comforting to think of a killer using your local park to stage a murder scene.
“What the hell does that matter.” Her voice was strained with anger. “This maniac was in
our
neighborhood, where our kids play, where we sleep at night.”
“That’s why I need to be here.” Alves tried to talk calmly, but she had a point. His first job was to protect his family. “The only way I can hope to solve this case is to learn as much as I can from Mooney’s old files. Try not to worry. I asked the captain at E-13 to make extra rounds on our street.”
“We’ll be fine.”
“Marcy…” He heard the phone click. Alves placed the receiver down. He could feel the vein in his temple throbbing. She was right. He shouldn’t be here. He should be home with his family, making his wife and kids feel safe enough to sleep.
He picked up a stack of photos—at the top was one of Courtney at the crime scene. Her face wasn’t contorted in terror. He studied the photo, from the gentle wave of her long hair caught back in its braid to the firm line of her chin. He’d seen the look before, on the faces of other victims. A little smile almost, a kind of peace.
CHAPTER 20
A lves was starved. Mooney finally got back from BC, and he brought pizza. Alves cleared a space on the conference table and found some paper plates and napkins in a file drawer.
“No football practice tonight?” Mooney said.
“Cancelled for the rest of the week. One of the other parents is taking over for me when they start up again.”
“How are the kids? How’s Iris?”
“Not playing anymore. Iris won’t go near the field. And Angel has never seen his sister scared before. Let’s eat,” he said. He didn’t want to think about Marcy getting the kids ready for bed. How he wasn’t there to tuck the twins in. He opened the pizza box and took a long, stringy slice. He held the box open while Mooney took one. “Learn anything about Courtney Steadman and Josh Kipping today?”
“Both decent students. Good kids. Saturday night they were pretty drunk. We know that from the autopsy. They were lightweights who got caught up in the tailgating atmosphere. At some point they slipped away.”
“Probably to go fool around,” Alves said.
“They didn’t seem the type. They were pretty caught up in the whole Jesuit education thing. Liked to hang out and talk.” Mooney’s face flushed with anger. “Two goofy kids go out and have a few drinks, and this bastard takes their lives.”
“Did you get a chance to reach out to the parents of the other victims?”
“I did that before I went to BC. I had to let them know what happened and prepare them for the media blitz that is sure to follow. I’ve kept in touch with them over the years. Six families.”
“Eight now,” Alves said.
Mooney paused. “I call them every summer on the anniversaries, just to let them know I haven’t forgotten. I told them that we’re working the cases together, that you’ll look at everything with fresh eyes.”
“Where do you think
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