Operation Xoxo

Kendall Laughlin pulled up beside the picket fence on her bicycle and braked to a halt. “Hi, Ms. Johnson. Hi, Luke. Yo, Brandon.”

Luke squirmed in Melissa’s arms. “Kenny!” Melissa set the child on his feet and he was off like a shot and through the gate. “I have a bike now. You wanna see?” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the gate.

Kendall laughed and smiled down at the six-year-old. “Let me get off mine first.” She shot a curious look at Elise. “Is everything okay?”

Elise stood, her hand lingering on Brandon’s shoulder. “Yes, Kendall, everything’s okay.” My world is catching up to me and my killer husband might be alive, but everything’s just fine and dandy. She attempted a smile that turned into a grimace. “Kendall, could you do me a big favor?”

“Sure.” She climbed off her bike and rolled it into the yard.

“Could you watch the boys for a few minutes while I talk to…my old friends, Paul and Melissa?” And please don’t ask too many questions. Her students couldn’t know about her past. Her principal couldn’t know or her peaceful life would be shattered. Who wanted the wife of a serial killer teaching children in their school? Elise had never hurt another human in her life. But her husband had killed five people that she knew of.

“I’d love to. Luke and I are old friends already. Aren’t we, buddy?” She ruffled the boy’s hair.

Luke jumped up and down. “Come see my new bike.”

Brandon stuck by Elise’s side, his hand creeping into hers. “I don’t want to play.”

“Go with Kendall. I promise, everything’s okay.” She stared down into her son’s eyes. “As the man of the house, you need to help me keep an eye on your brother.”

His face scrunched into a fierce pout and he glared again at Paul. “Kendall can watch him.”

“She doesn’t know all his hiding places.” She let go of his hand. “You do. So it’s up to you to keep your brother safe and in the yard. Neither one of you is to leave the yard, understand?”

Brandon nodded.

She patted his shoulder instead of bending down to hug him close. He wouldn’t appreciate being treated like a child in front of the other adults. “I need a few minutes to talk to Mr. Fletcher and Ms. Bradley, alone.”

“Come on, Brandon,” Luke called out. “You can show Kenny your new bike, too.” With Kendall’s hand clutched in his, Elise’s youngest son tugged the teen across the yard, grabbed his brother’s hand and headed for the back.

Brandon pulled loose of Luke’s grip and gave his mother one last look as if to say, Are you sure?

Elise nodded, a reassuring smile plastered to her face. “Go on, honey. We’ll be in the house.”

Dragging his feet, Brandon followed Luke and Kendall around the side of the house to the shed where the bicycles were stored.

Paul’s gaze followed the boys. When they were out of sight, he turned to Elise. “Want to show me the note?”

The mention of the note set her heart racing again. If she could she’d have burned it and scattered the ashes to the winds, as if by doing so, her troubles would blow away. “It’s in the house.”

She led the way into the living room, taking no pleasure in all the warm and colorful furnishings that were so different from the Spartan look Stan had preferred. The note had turned her happy and sunny home sinister, a place where evil lurked, waiting to pounce. She crossed to the kitchen and glanced out the window.

Brandon and Luke had their bicycles out of the shed. Kendall smiled and laughed with the boys, admiring their new wheels.

Elise pulled the letter out of her purse and held it out for Paul to see. “I don’t know what to make of it, but I’ll tell you…it has me scared.”

Paul pulled a rubber glove from his hip pocket and stretched it over his large, capable hand before he took the note from her. He turned it over, inspecting the outside of the envelope. “Where did you find it?”

“It was in my mailbox cubby at school today.” Elise spun away and paced across the ceramic kitchen tiles. This was her home, a place where she could make new friends and her boys could grow up unencumbered by their father’s crimes. Fear turned to anger and she marched back across the tile to face the two agents. “Tell me, guys. What really happened to Stan? Did he, or did he not die in that fire?”

Elise’s blue eyes blazed, the anger a welcome change from the defeated and frightened young woman of a moment ago. Paul remembered the shock and disbelief in her face after she’d learned what her husband had done two years ago.

She’d suffered through the stares and whispers of the people she’d sat beside in church for years. They’d shunned her as if she’d been the one to kill those innocent women. They couldn’t understand how her husband could have committed all those crimes with her unaware. Didn’t she live in the same house?

Paul had heard the whispers, the catty remarks and the name-calling. When the reporters descended on her, he’d been there to get her out and relocate her to a private room where she, the boys and her mother remained out of the spotlight. All the while, she’d put up a strong front for Brandon and Luke, shielding them from the ugliness as best she could. They had been too young to understand and hopefully too young to remember.

He stared down at the letter, like so many others he’d seen on the case in Riverton, North Dakota. Had Stan Klaus lived through the fire and flood? They’d never found his body. “We’ll have the letter examined by our lab.”

Melissa pulled out an evidence bag from her back pocket and opened it.

Paul dropped the letter inside. “What did it say?”

Elise inhaled through her mouth, her lip quivering ever so slightly. “‘Dear Alice, for better or for worse, until death do us part. Let death begin.’” She said it in a flat, emotionless tone. When she finished, her body trembled from head to toe.

“Alice? He specifically said ‘Dear Alice’?” Melissa asked.

Elise nodded. She’d put that name behind her, even went so far as to consider her old self as someone who’d died along with Stan. Alice Klaus had been young, naive and stupid. Elise Johnson was savvy, aware and would never harbor a killer in her home. Ever.

“Have you or the boys told anyone your former names?”

“No. The two years we spent in Minneapolis gave us time to adjust to the new names. When we moved here, we started our new lives. No one knows who we are.”

Melissa snorted. “Someone does.”

“Question is who?” Paul held the evidence bag up. “Who would write a note like that and for what purpose?”

“Could be just a scare tactic.” Melissa shrugged. “Who have you made mad since you moved here?”

Scratching through her recent memories, Elise could think of only a couple people she’d angered. “One of my students’ parents, or maybe a student?”

Paul glanced up, his blond brows rising on his tanned forehead. “A student?”

“I have a bully and a talker. I sent the talker to detention for two days straight. Her mother read me the riot act, claiming I was denying her daughter an education, although she gets the same work at the detention center as in the classroom. In fact, she gets more. The only thing she doesn’t get is cheer practice and she’s benched for the next game.”

“Do you think that student could be using your past against you?” Paul asked.

“Ashley?” Elise shook her head. “She’s more interested in her next boyfriend than exacting revenge on a teacher.”

Melissa’s mouth thinned. “You’d be surprised what kids can do.”

Elise pressed her fingers to her temples where a dull ache grew into a steady pounding. “I’d be more afraid of her mother than Ashley. Gerri Finch is a nightmare in heels. Your basic overachieving stage mother.”

Melissa stared across the evidence to Paul. “Wouldn’t hurt to question her.”

“Does that mean you’re taking the case? Or should I have turned this in to the police?”

“Technically, we don’t have a case,” Melissa said. “No one’s been hurt.”

“Yet. That’s the whole idea. I don’t want anyone else hurt by my husband or whoever sent this. I don’t want to be responsible for any more murders.”

Paul lifted one of Elise’s hands. “Elise, your husband murdered those women, not you.”

She pulled her hand from Paul’s grasp, wanting the comfort, but feeling unworthy of it. “I should have seen through those late-night service calls.” She threw her arms in the air. “At the very least, I should have suspected something. Good God, I lived with the man.” The manipulative, verbally abusive, domineering son of a—

“You weren’t the only one who trusted him. He had an entire community snowed.” Melissa moved up beside Paul. “In most cases involving serial killers, the people closest to them never saw it coming.”

Elise rolled her eyes, a shaky laugh erupting from her throat. “Oh, that makes me feel so much better about the women my husband killed.”

“I know it’s not much. But it took us a while to figure him out, as well.” Melissa gave her a crooked smile. “Hell, we were almost too late to save your sis—”

“Mel, let me handle this,” Paul said.

Melissa’s face turned pink and she backed away. “Yeah, maybe you should.”

Elise felt sorry for Melissa having to walk on eggshells around her. Elise didn’t need people feeling sorry for her any more than she wanted their blame for the deaths. After two years, she’d managed to start over and put the horror behind her, only for it to resurface and slap her squarely in the face. Would she ever be free of Stan Klaus?

“Elise.” Paul was talking to her. “For now, we’re going to do some checking without opening a case. The local police would be handling this one if we were to turn it in, which we might do soon if we need their help.”

“I’d rather the locals didn’t know any more than they have to. We have to live here. I can’t keep uprooting my children and moving every time someone recognizes me.”

“Or threatens you and your children?”

Her blood ran cold. She drew in a deep breath and let it out. “If my husband is still alive, he’ll come after his sons. I won’t let him have them. I swear I’ll kill the monster first.”

PAUL AND MELISSA RODE BACK to San Antonio in silence. Paul immersed in his memories of North Dakota and the first contact he’d had with Alice Klaus. He remembered thinking how unfair life was to dump this horrific burden on such a nice woman and her kids. He’d gone to the evacuation shelter and played with Brandon and Luke to help her out and give her a break while her hometown flooded and her life fell apart.

She’d been strong then, but now he recognized her behavior as that of a person in shock and denial. The Texas sunshine had done her good, tanning her pale northern skin. She was too young to be widowed and too pretty to live alone. Elise Johnson needed a man around to run interference for her and provide some kind of protection. Either that or a gun.

The sound of little boys shouting in the backyard had grounded Paul in Elise’s reality. A gun in the house wasn’t a good idea, either. Not with curious boys on the loose.

Stan had set fire to the house he supposedly died in. When Paul, Melissa, Nick and Brenna left the house, the river had already flooded the road and the house was a raging inferno. By the time they were able to return, the house had been swept away in the floodwaters. Stan’s vehicle had been found along the banks of the Red River, five miles south of Riverton. Empty.

Had Stan Klaus survived? If so, why had he showed up now? Why not sooner?

Paul turned to Melissa. “Until we get something solid to go on, I want this case kept between you and me.”

“You’re the boss.” Melissa gave him a mock salute. “It really is hard calling you boss.”

“You didn’t have to take this assignment, you know. And if you recall, I tried to talk you out of it.”

“And miss my one and only opportunity to transfer to Texas?” She gunned the accelerator of her cherry-red F150 four-wheel-drive pickup. “I’d take a job with the devil himself just to leave the snow behind.”

AT 7:00 P.M., PAUL ENTERED the Bureau building in San Antonio and headed for his office, Melissa close on his heels.

As they passed Special Agent Trevor Cain’s desk, the agent looked up from his conversation on the telephone. His eyes widened and he smiled up at them. “Muy bien. Adios,” he said into the receiver and hung up. “Hey, Bradley, Fletch. Where’ve you been?” Cain rose from his desk and followed them down the hall.

“Cain.” Paul acknowledged the man with a nod before he entered his office.

“You’re pulling a late night,” Melissa commented, standing in the doorway. “Still working those applicant background investigations?”

“Yeah.” Trevor moved as if to enter, but Mel wasn’t in a hurry to make way. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb, effectively blocking his entrance.

Thank goodness Mel had decided to transfer to San Antonio with Paul. She understood him, could read him like only a close friend could. Paul smothered a grin.

“Your ability to speak Spanish is a plus around here,” Mel commented.

Paul fought impatience. He was ready for the conversation to end and for Cain to disappear so that he could discuss Elise with Mel.

Cain shrugged, his attention focused on Paul. “It comes in handy.”

“Making any headway?” Paul asked.

“Some. There’s just so many, it doesn’t feel like it. I’d rather sink my teeth into something more interesting.”

“We all do our jobs.” Paul refused to be drawn into another discussion about what FBI agents should be doing. He knew Trevor wanted a case more substantial than applicant background checks, but everyone had to do them. Trevor just needed to do his share.

Cain snorted. “We can’t all get the national headliners like you two, huh?” His tone held more of a bite than just another agent joking with his comrades.

“No, we can’t.” Paul glanced at Melissa. “Could you close my door? I have some calls to make.”

“Will do.” Melissa closed the door, luring Trevor away.

Paul owed her for that one. Trevor might be a good agent, but he was too impatient for the next big case. What he seemed to forget was that when they got a big case, it meant people were being either kidnapped or murdered. While Trevor was looking for a thrill, others were just trying to survive or keep someone else from being hurt.

Trevor had a lot to learn about being a good agent. In his new supervisory role, Paul hoped he’d have the patience to teach the man.

For now, he wanted to fish and see if Elise’s note had more guts behind it than just paper and ink.

His first call was to the Kendall County Sheriff’s Department. Now how did he phrase his question in a manner that wouldn’t raise too much suspicion?

“Kendall County Sheriff’s Department.”

Paul identified himself, stating his position with the FBI in the San Antonio field office.

“What can I help you with, Agent Fletcher?” the woman asked.

“Have there been any missing persons reported in the past forty-eight hours, particularly women?”

After a long pause, the woman spoke. “No, sir. Do you want me to notify you if something should come up in that respect?”

“Yes, please.” He gave her his number, hung up and repeated his query at the sheriff’s office for the next county over and got the same response. So far, so good. Maybe there wasn’t anything to the note after all.

His gut told him differently and his gut was rarely wrong.

A light knock sounded at the door and Melissa stuck her head in. “Mind if I join you?”

“Trevor head home?” he countered.

“No, he’s at his desk, slogging through more background checks.” She chuckled. “He’s not at all happy about it, either.”

“He’ll get over it.” Paul tipped his head to the side. “Come in.”

Melissa entered, sinking into the seat across from Paul’s desk. “What are you going to do about the note?”

“I made a few calls to outlying counties. I haven’t called the Bexar County Sheriff or San Antonio Police Department yet. They’re next on my list.”

“What exactly are you asking them?”

“I’m inquiring about missing persons reported in the past forty-eight hours.” He glanced at Melissa. “You got any other ideas?”

“I’ll run the envelope and letter over to Forensics to see if we can lift any prints.”

“Thanks.”

“What do you think? Is it a real threat or a prank?”

Paul tapped a pencil to his desk blotter. “I don’t know. But I have a bad feeling about it. Elise and her kids are on their own. Vulnerable.”

“Why don’t you assign an agent to them?”

“A note isn’t enough to go on. By rights, it should be a local case, not even in FBI jurisdiction.”

“Unless Stan Klaus really is alive and up to his old tricks again.”

The phone on Paul’s desk rang. “Let’s hope not.”

Paul lifted the receiver. “This is Fletcher.”

“Agent Fletcher, this is Rita at the Kendall County Sheriff’s Office. We just had a woman reported missing. Last seen at ten o’clock last night. Normally a missing-persons report isn’t filed until twenty-four hours after the person has supposedly gone missing, but you wanted to know.”

Chapter Three

Elise spent two hours lying in bed that night willing herself to sleep with very little luck. Shortly after midnight, due to sheer exhaustion, she dozed off.

The dream started with her as a teenager during the first flood when her family had evacuated Riverton. Her father, mother and sister were all there, alive and well. The dream transitioned into the flood of two years ago, when the Riverton Police Department and the FBI were hot on the case of a serial killer.

They didn’t know who it was, but she did. She was lying in bed next to her husband in her house in North Dakota. Her husband was the killer, but he didn’t know she knew. Terrified, she lay there, afraid to look at him lest he see in her eyes that she knew. When she worked up the courage and looked at Stan, he was gone.

Afraid for her boys, she leaped out of bed and ran down the longest hallway of her life. She didn’t remember the hall being that long, but the more she ran, the longer it became. When she finally reached the boys’ room and peered in, their beds were empty and floodwaters had seeped through the walls.

She searched through the house, the water rising from her ankles to her knees, dragging at her nightgown, pulling her down. With water up to her waist, she couldn’t find the front door to the house. Where were the boys? They weren’t good swimmers. Had Stan taken them? Would he murder his own sons like he’d murdered those women?

When she finally found the front door, she grabbed the handle beneath the surface of the water and pulled, but the door wouldn’t open. The water kept it from moving and had risen to just below her chin.

“Help!” she cried. “Help me!” No one heard her, no one came. When the water covered her face, the door opened and she poured out into the cold, dark street. The flood had only been in her house. The streets were dry and everyone was gone.

She was completely alone.

Elise knew in her heart it was all a dream, but when the fear and emptiness threatened to choke off her air, she forced herself awake. She was the only one who could stop the nightmare from sucking her into a black abyss of despair. She was the only one who could make the evil go away.

At two o’clock, she woke, her body shaking. The covers had slid to the floor and the air conditioner had done an excellent job of keeping the house cool. Too cool.

A subtle creaking sound reached her from the living room. Was someone in the house or was she going to start imagining that every noise was Stan trying to break into her home?

She slid her feet over the edge of the bed and stepped onto the floor, glad it was dry and not flooding like the house in her dream. Padding quietly down the hallway, she confirmed both boys were still in the house. As if they sensed their mother’s restlessness, they’d tossed off the covers from their matching twin beds. She tucked them in, kissed their foreheads and trudged back to her room.

By four o’clock, Elise gave up her pretense at sleeping, afraid she’d go right back to the same nightmare. Instead, she paced, working through every possible scenario. If the note wasn’t from Stan, who would be sick enough to send it to her? Since it hadn’t gone through the postal system, someone who had access to the school had to have left it there. How many people could she have angered in the past few months? Angry enough to send her threatening notes? One of her students? A parent? The garbage man? Her next-door neighbor? Who? Her head ached and she still hadn’t come up with one viable suspect.

INSTEAD OF LETTING THE BOYS ride the bus that morning, she dropped them off at school. If Stan were alive, he’d want his boys. How could she keep them safe? She couldn’t stay home and lock the doors forever, could she?

Before the boys got out of the car, she warned them that she was the only person allowed to pick them up and they were not to talk to strangers. Ever.

Brandon nodded, his face somber.

Luke bounced out of the car, shouting, “Okay, Mom.”

On her drive to work, she almost wrecked when she saw a man who vaguely resembled Stan. She circled the street, looking for him, but he’d disappeared. By the time she arrived at the school, she swore she’d seen at least a dozen Stan Klaus look-alikes.

This is crazy! How could she live like this, scared of every man with brown hair and brown eyes?

Afraid someone would stop her in the hallway and ask her what was wrong, she ducked into her classroom and hid behind her computer, hoping no one would talk to her before class started. What could she say? I’m not sleeping well because my demented, serial-killer husband is not dead like I thought.

Ten minutes before the bell rang for second period and Elise’s first class, Gerri Finch flounced into the room, a sullen Ashley in tow. “Ms. Johnson, what do you mean by giving my Ashley three tardies in your class?”

At barely eight in the morning, after a sleepless night of worry, Elise was in no mood to put up with Gerri. “Did you ask Ashley?”

“Don’t get flippant with me. I pay your salary out of the god-awful amount of taxes I pay each year. Don’t think I can’t pull the plug on your little vendetta against my little girl.”

Elise would bet Gerri Finch hadn’t worked a day in her life and if she had, she hadn’t paid a dime of taxes. As the general manager of one of the larger auto dealerships in San Antonio, her husband raked in a six-figure salary plus bonuses, enabling him to keep his wife and daughter in the manner to which they’d become accustomed.

“Oh, Mom.” Ashley tugged against her mother’s clawlike grip. “Just leave it.”

“I will not. She’s been out to get you since the first day of school and I won’t have it.” Gerri’s voice rose with each word she said until she was yelling.

“Ms. Finch, my class starts in five minutes. Unless you plan to stay and keep quiet, I suggest you take your complaint to the principal’s office.” To Ashley, she said, “You’ve been late to class five times. The rule says three tardies and you’re in Saturday school. I gave you two freebies.” Elise raised her brows at the girl. “Didn’t I, Ashley?”

Ashley shrugged instead of answering.

Gerri stepped between Ashley and Elise. “If she goes to Saturday school, she’ll miss the cheer competition. She’s captain of the cheerleading squad, for chrissake.”

“Then maybe she should set the example for her peers and get to class on time.” Elise stood and herded the mother and daughter toward the door where students waited to get in. “I’m following the rules, Ms. Finch. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the bell is about—”

As Elise opened the classroom door, the earsplitting school bell blared in the hallway.

Teenagers filed in looking no more rested than she felt, but probably possessing a lot more energy.