Joe Victim: A Thriller

“Were there any new faces tonight, anybody suspicious?” Schroder asks.

Raphael puts his hand to his chin and crosses his forefinger over his lips, then slowly taps the finger up and down. All he can think about is the woman in the car. “Suspicious? In what way?”

“Somebody who didn’t belong,” Schroder says.

He shakes his head, the finger remaining in place. “No, nobody,” he says. “I mean, there were new people here, there often is and always will be as long as people keep getting murdered. As for somebody suspicious, no, nothing. Nobody who didn’t belong.”

“You sure?” Schroder asks.

“It’s not like somebody came in here covered in blood and waving a knife,” he says. “Most people when they come, they don’t speak. It’s almost like an AA meeting. People are nervous. They don’t know what to expect. They want to hear other people’s pain before sharing their own. It takes them a few weeks to open up. We’re doing good work here. We’re helping people.”

“What about a woman?” Kent asks. “Were there any women tonight who stood out?”

“A woman?” he asks, and he has to make a conscious effort not to look back at the car. “Why? Was it a woman who killed Tristan Walker?”

“Nobody is saying that,” Kent says, “but there’s a woman we’re hoping to question. A blond woman,” she adds.

A blond woman. The woman in the car has black hair. Even so, the woman in the car wants to kill Joe. Why would a woman who wants to kill Joe also want to kill Tristan Walker? He thinks about the others who came along. There were blond women there, there always are, but there are . . . what? Fifty thousand blond women in the city?

“You have a name? Or any other features?”

“Just blond,” Kent says, glancing at Schroder first. “A woman wearing a blond wig.”

“That’s not a lot to go on,” Raphael says. “There were new faces here tonight, there always are, and we don’t have any kind of sign-in sheet. There were blond women here tonight, but nobody stood out.”

“How about you make us that list,” Kent says, “of the people you do know who came along.”

“It’ll take me about five minutes,” he says.

“We can wait.”

Raphael nods once, then moves back inside. The final few people are leaving. They say their good-byes and offer sad smiles. He starts working on the list, but doesn’t put Stella on it, not wanting to draw attention to a woman who had no reason to hurt Walker, and who has the potential to bring him so much happiness.





Chapter Twenty


I’m getting hungry again even though dinner was only an hour ago. The easiest way to kill an appetite in a place like this is to think about what it is they’re serving. I do that now and the hunger pains fade a little. Then I make the mistake of thinking of a tender steak, some fries, some barbecue sauce. The harder I try not to think about it, the more I can taste it. It’s a last-meal kind of meal, and perhaps that’s what I’ll chose if it turns out I have an appointment with the hangman’s noose.

Of course the way to make sure that never happens is to find Melissa’s message. I flick through the books again, knowing there’s nothing in them, sure there’s nothing in them, and finding just that everywhere I look. It’s almost time for lights out. Our cell doors have all been locked so it’s just me, my cot, my toilet, and books that aren’t telling me what it is I want to hear. I can hear my neighbors in the cells next door. They’re talking to themselves. Or talking to their imaginations.

Six books.

One message.

Or perhaps no message.

Frustrated, I begin throwing them into the corner of my cell, creating a game in seeing how close I can get them to land to each other. The other game, the one that Melissa is playing, is lost on me.

I pick the books back up. And throw them again. It’s the most fun I’ve had in my cell. I kill ten minutes, wondering if it’ll be this easy to kill the next thirty years, or if I’ll be killed instead. The six books land in the corner. I pick them up. Line up the spines. Tap them so all the edges are level. Then throw them again. Tomorrow Caleb Cole is going to come and find me. Tomorrow may be my last day in this world.

I pick the books back up. Line up the spines.

I look at the titles.

Twilight Angel. Show Love to Get Love. Bodies of Lust. Love Comes to Town. The Prince of Princesses. Twilight Angel Returns.