Run (7 page)

I turned towards the bed and grabbed my laptop bag and duffle. I grabbed
Kitty and dumped her into the duffle and then zippered it shut. I didn’t take time to grab anything else. My clothing and the shampoo left in the shower would stay there. I called Max to my side and with the laptop bag and duffle (Kitty making pathetic sounding mews) over my shoulder, I crept over to the window.

I didn’
t see either of the agents. I was afraid to move, but while the way was clear, I had to go. Giving Max an order to stay close by my side, I held my keys in my hand and eased the motel door open. Still no sign of either agent, I quietly shut the door behind me and moved toward my car. Still no sign of either agent. I reached my car and used the key to open the door. I placed the duffle and laptop bags in the back and urged Max to get in. He stood at the end of the car watching.

“Max
. Max come here,” I whispered.

He
whined and backed towards me.

“MAX
!” My whisper this time was furious and nervous.

He finally turned toward me and jumped into the car. I gave him the order to be quiet, and shut the door.

Mere seconds after I shut the back door, the main office door opened and Agents Moore and Clarke walked out. I slid around the back of my car. They couldn’t see me. They headed straight toward the room I had just left. If I hadn’t woken up or looked out the window, I would have been trapped in that room right there. Once they were in the room, I slid back up the driver’s side and opened the door. Within seconds, I had the key in the ignition and I was on my way. I looked behind me as I exited the parking lot. There was no one there. I had gotten away.

I sped away. I drove a
s fast as I could. I headed north.

While driving
, all that I could think was how had they found me? What had happened? I felt so safe. I felt like I was making progress. Apparently, I wasn’t safe anywhere.

At 11
:00, I stopped by a payphone and placed a call to the FBI. I wanted answers. I wanted to know how Agent Moore had found me. I also wanted to see if he was still out looking for me. If he was in the office than I would know that I had gotten away.

The
pleasant-voiced receptionist (I think it was a different one from the previous day) placed me on hold for Agent Moore.

“Agent Moore
.”

“How did you find me?”

“What? Who is this?”

“Charlotte Marshall
… how did you find me?”

“Charlotte
, where are you?”

“Please, please just tell me how you found me. If you can find me
, he can find me. Please.”

I could feel myself
losing control. I hadn’t cried since this all began. My throat was tight and my voice was getting higher. I kept trying to breathe to keep myself under control, but it felt like everything was falling apart. I couldn’t keep running forever. I needed to trust. I needed help. It felt like a net was tightening around me, like he was getting closer and no matter what I did it wouldn’t be enough.

“Charlotte, Char
… calm down, it will be okay. Take a deep breath, okay. Tell me where you are.”

“I don’t know what to do anymore. I want to trust you
. I need someone to trust. I don’t … I don’t know what to do.”

“Char
, just tell me where you are. I will come and get you … just me, no one else. Char, we need to make sure you are safe.”

It sounded so logical. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to listen to him. I wanted to have someone else be in charge for a little while
, someone else to call the shots. I wanted to sleep. It was on the tip of my tongue to say yes, to give in, to let him come and fix this.

“No
.”

I shocked myself.

“I’ll meet you somewhere, but I am not telling you where I am. Someone that has access to the information you have is a killer. He is trying to kill me. This morning you and Agent Clarke found me. I almost didn’t get away. I have six suspects and Agent Clarke is one of them. I will meet you tomorrow at 11:00 at the Art Museum Café. If anyone else is with you, I will leave. Did you find out anything about Phoenix?”

“Char
, you are right. If we can find you, he can too. I think you are right. I think that there is a serial killer; I think you found him, and I think he is after you. Let me come and help you.”

“How did you find me?”

“Traffic cameras … and luck. You have done a good job of staying on the move, but there are always ways to track people and cars. If you won’t let me come meet you, then stay away from intersections, convenience stores, and gas stations.”

“
Did you find out anything about Phoenix?”

There was a pause before he responded. “I checked into
who was here in the office was in Phoenix. Agent Clarke and Agent James were both in Phoenix in 2000. That does not mean that either of them had anything to do with the murders.”

“What about Agent Davis?”

“I don’t know.”

“
I’ll see you tomorrow … 11 am.”

I hung up.

_____

Ok
ay, now I just had to avoid gas stations and traffic lights. No problem … right?

I figured it would be best to stop at a
gas station now and fill up the tank. Then I would head back west and try to get some more research in. I had started to gather information on my six suspects, but so far I had not been able to rule any of them out.

Three hours later I was in a
suburb west of Philadelphia. I had found unprotected Wi-Fi and picked up where I had left off. I had done my best to avoid traffic lights and areas where I thought cameras would be. On TV, they could use cameras like that to track and find suspects. I should have guessed that was a risk. I wasn’t sure what the solution to that was. It seemed obvious to get rid of my car, but I needed transportation. I still had cash, so I could rent a car, but they would want my ID, which would give my killer or the FBI another way to track me. I decided that it was best to save my money and use the car I was familiar with, especially if I could be tracked either way. I just needed to do my best to avoid places where cameras might be. I knew it was almost impossible, but I would do my best.

Now
, with Internet access, I could continue my research. I started by making a list of the suspects and what I knew of each of them.

Bruce Clarke, FBI agent, 55 years old, in Phoenix spring of 2000.

William Davis, FBI agent, 44 years old, unknown location in the spring of 2000.

Frank James, FBI agent, 52 years old, in Phoenix the spring of 2000.

I pulled my notes on the consultants and with my story ready, called the two numbers I had. I began with Peter Lyons. I used a southern accent and added a bit of twang.

“Hi there
, this is Julia Daniels; I am calling on behalf of Lynton Associates. We are putting together a conference in the fall and I am looking for a specific speaker.” My Southern accent was, I think, really quite fantastic.

“Mr. Lyons often speaks at conferences
. Send us an e-mail or fax with your request and Mr. Lyons will review it.”

“Well
, you see this is a little embarrassing. My boss is very interested in a particular speaker. He saw him speak at a conference in Phoenix in 2000. He was very impressed with this particular speaker and is willing to offer an incentive in order to lock him in as a speaker. Can you tell me was Mr. Lyons a speaker in Phoenix in 2000?”

“
Let me check.”

Jazzy hold music started playing. I was
hoping that I would soon have an answer. Minutes passed. I was starting to get a little nervous. Maybe I should hang up. If I hung up I would not be able to call back and use the story I had come up with. I was just about to hang up when the receptionist came back onto the line.

“Well now
, it looks like Mr. Lyons was in Phoenix in the spring of 2000, but not as a speaker. He attended a conference out there. Would you like me to ask him if he remembers the speakers?”

“Well thank you
, sweetie, aren’t you nice? I don’t think that will be necessary though. I only have a few people left on my list. I certainly do appreciate your help. You have a good day now, bye-bye.”

Ok
ay, Mr. Lyons was in Phoenix.

Next
, James Carson. After a phone call very similar to the one I just made, I confirmed that James Carson was not in Phoenix in the spring of 2000, but was in fact, overseas.

I couldn’t help feeling a little elated as I hung up the phone. Finally I had been able to rule someone out. It seemed that all my work had left the list of suspects
growing, not getting smaller, but here I had clearly ruled someone out. It may have only been one, but I would take it.

The next consultant on my list was Lawrence Pheares. I had
been unable to find a phone number for him, but I had the e-mail from his website. After some time thinking over the best approach I decided to create an e-mail address and compose an e-mail to Mr. Pheares. Within half an hour I had an e-mail from Lorean_associates (don’t ask me how I came up with Lorean) sent to Forensic Consultants. Now I just had to wait for a response.

I reviewed my list
…

Bruce Clarke, FBI agent, 55 years old, in Phoenix spring of 2000.

William Davis, FBI agent, 44 years old, unknown location in the spring of 2000.

Frank James, FBI agent, 52 years old, in Phoenix the spring of 2000.

Peter Lyons, consultant, 50 years old, in Phoenix in the spring of 2000.

James Carson, consultant, 49 years old, out of the country in the spring of 2000.  No longer a suspect.

Lawrence Pheares, consultant, 54 years old, location in the spring of 2000 unknown.

One suspect
cleared … five suspects to go.

______

Avoiding areas where I thought I would run into traffic cameras made the drive to find a motel somewhat torturous. I did eventually find a place not too far from the city and away from any cameras (that I knew of at least). I was in bed asleep by 9:30. Tomorrow I would meet with Agent Moore.

Chapter 11
: April 3, 5:00 am - 9:23 pm

I was up the next morning by 5
:00. I wanted to get to the museum and get in place before Agent Moore. In every TV show or movie that I have seen, the agents or cops or whoever, would get to the scene of the meet (TV cop speak) way early in order to set up. If that was true then I needed to get there even earlier. I wanted to get there early enough that I could watch Agent Moore arrive.

By 6:30 I was at the museum, parked, and with a good vantage point of the café and parking lot.

I sat and waited for a long time. I may have been overly ambitious in getting there so early. At about 10:30, I saw Agent Moore walking from the parking lot toward the café. I watched him sit down at one of the tables. I didn’t see anyone else enter. I didn’t see anyone who looked like they were watching Agent Moore (well, other than me). It seemed that Agent Moore had indeed arrived alone.

A
few minutes after 11:00, I entered the café and sat down at a table with Agent Moore.

At first I didn’t know what to say. After everything that had happened and
everything I had been through, it seemed so strange to be here now looking at the only person I had trusted so far.

“You look good.”

“Thanks.”

What a weird start
. I felt like this was date conversation.

“Agent Moore
.”

“Please
, call me Jack. I’m going against all the rules by speaking with you, so I think you can at least call me Jack.”

“Jack
, who at your office knew about me?”

“Wow
, you just jump right to it. Okay. Agent Clarke, which you know; my supervisor, Agent James; then well, possibly, everyone at the office. I didn’t talk over the case with anyone else, but anyone in the office could have seen the files.”

“What about the consultant? I heard you mention showing the case to a consultant.”

“Oh yeah, Lawrence Pheares. He was looking at some other things for me, so I had him take a look at the case.”

Lawrence
Pheares. The guy I still had yet to confirm his location during the spring of 2000.

“What about Peter Lyons
? Could he have reviewed the case?”

“Who is Peter Lyons
?”

“Peter Lyons is a consultant who helps out with police cases. I confirmed that he was in Phoenix in 2000.”

“We have not worked with a Peter Lyons.”

“So there is no way he could have seen the file.”

“I don’t see how, no.”

Another suspect ruled out.
I should get up now and walk away. He gave me the information that I needed. However much I could trust him, however much I wanted to trust him; ultimately, I was in this by myself. There was no explanation then, no logical explanation for what I did next.