The Last Straw (The Jigsaw Files #4) - Sharon Sala Page 0,54

more than he had bargained for.

When he began hearing the shouting, and then the pounding, he began pulling harder, digging in his heels for leverage to move her faster, because Dodge knew she was gone.

When he paused to get a better grip, he felt her muscles tense beneath the pressure of his fingers.

No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening! She was regaining consciousness! He had not used enough of the knockout drug for someone her size. This was turning into a serious cluster-fuck.

When he heard wood shattering, and then the sound of running feet, and Dodge shouting her name, he turned and ran, flying through the passage, down the stairs, then through the tunnel, past the room where Rachel was and then out of the shed, moving swiftly through the thicket of crape myrtles.

Once he was back in the alley, he headed for his car. His heart was hammering as he jumped in and sped away, taking the alley for two straight blocks before making his way to the beltway, then going straight for the Galleria.

Normally, he enjoying shopping at his favorite mall, but since he’d established his exit from Detter House earlier, this time he just needed to come home with purchases to tie up the alibi.

* * *

Charlie was still running and shouting Wyrick’s name when he suddenly saw her on the floor ahead of him, her silver jumpsuit glittering beneath the light, like a diamond in the dirt. She was alone, and she wasn’t moving. He could hear footsteps in the distance and wanted to give chase, but she was what mattered most.

Seconds later he was on his knees beside her, holding his breath as he felt for a pulse. Only after he found the slow, steady beat did he give himself permission to breathe.

“Thank you, God,” he said softly and then began trying to wake her. “Wyrick! Can you hear me? Wake up, honey. Come on, wake up.”

She moaned.

“Yes, yes, open your eyes. Come on, Jade. Look at me.”

She moaned again, and at that point Charlie picked up his phone and called 911.

As soon as they were dispatched, he called the manager.

“Hello, this is Wayne. What’s up, Charlie?”

“Wyrick was just attacked in Rachel Dean’s bedroom. I’ve already called 911. When they arrive, get them up to her apartment.”

“Oh, my God! Attacked? By who?”

“Likely whoever took Rachel.”

“Lord, oh, Lord,” Wayne cried. “Yes, yes, I’ll take them straight up the moment they get here.”

Then Charlie disconnected and made another call, this time to Detective Floyd.

* * *

Floyd and his partner were coming out of a meeting with their lieutenant about the closed cases of the three missing women.

After pulling the old files, they had discovered a letter in each file that had been sent to the Detter House manager, lightly explaining away a sudden decision to move. Asking that their clothing be donated. Of course, the manager quickly notified the police, turned over the letter and the case was closed. But when it happened again, there was a different manager, who had no knowledge of the first incident, and when he received a letter from the second woman with an explanation that she’d eloped, and he’d turned it over to the police, that case was also closed. When the third woman went missing the manager at that time had no knowledge of the other two incidents, and had received a similar notice. And that letter was turned over, and that case was closed. And in all three cases, different detectives within the department had worked the cases.

But after viewing the letters side by side, it was determined that the handwriting on all of the letters was the same. With the added fact of the inactivity of their social security numbers, a horrible truth was beginning to emerge. There was a serial killer right beneath their noses, taking women from the same address for the past eleven years and no one had seen it happening.

The current manager of Detter House had only been here three years, and Rachel was a relatively new resident. Neither of them would have had any knowledge of other women having gone missing, and had it not been for Jade Wyrick’s attention to detail, they might never have seen this for what it was.

It was a shock to their lieutenant, and to the whole Missing Persons bureau.

They were still talking about the revelations when Floyd’s cell phone rang. He glanced at it, frowning.

“It’s Dodge again,” he said and answered as they walked. “Hey, Charlie, what’s