Free Girl With a Past by Sherri Leigh James Page B

in people, ignored
shortcomings. It used to drive me crazy sometimes, she was such a
Pollyanna.”
    I smiled.
    “You know, after she was supposedly killed
by a serial killer, I researched the subject thoroughly––it’s been
a secret obsession of mine.” Carol said.
    “Why do you say supposedly?” I asked.
    “No one was ever caught, tried or
convicted.” Carol hesitated as though she were deciding if she
should voice her thoughts. “Serial killers used to be called
“stranger killers” because most murderers kill for a motive rather
than for thrills. I’ve never been totally convinced that Lexi was a
stranger to her killer.”
    “What?” Steven broke his silence.
    “A couple of her friends were, still are,
strange enough to be serial killers.”
    “Who?" he asked.
    “I’ve got a list of serial killer
characteristics. You can look at it and see for yourself.” Carol
said.
    “I read a file Dad had about the Zodiac.
Douchebag was wacko and wrong. Nobody who could even pretend to be
normal could be that messed up,” I said.
    Carol gave me a quick glance. “You might be
surprised. Sometimes they can seem pretty normal and the
characteristics aren’t all that weird.”
    “Give me an example of a characteristic.”
Steven asked.
    “Portly,” Carol said.
    “Fat?” Steven asked.
    “Ever seen pictures of John Wayne Gacy? That
kind of pudgy.”
    “Like Elliott?” I asked.
    Carol nodded and pulled the car up to the
curb in front of Kroeber Hall. I glanced at the spot where I had
waited for Steven earlier in the day, but looked away. A chill ran
down my spine. I let Steven do the talking.
    “That’s where it happened.” Steven waved
toward the middle of the lawn. “She was on the bench, then she saw
me I guess.” Steven looked to me for confirmation, I nodded and he
continued, “She stood up and started to run towards the car when
all of a sudden she collapsed onto the grass, scared the hell out
of me, but then she jumped up, ran to the car and hopped in.”
    “And the police? What did they find?” Carol
asked.
    I had to answer; Steven had waited in the
car while I spoke with the Berkeley cops. “They found two bullets,”
I managed to choke out.
    “In the grass?” Carol asked.
    She was strangely curious about this
shooting. I nodded an affirmation to her question.
    “Show me.” Carol opened her car door.
    I really didn’t want to get out of that car,
but she stood waiting on the sidewalk.
    “Al, I’m going to park the car legally this
time.” Steven said as he slid into the driver’s seat. “You
okay?”
    I nodded, but I wasn’t okay. My heart was in
my throat.
    “Hey, you don’t have to do this.” Steven
leaned across to the passenger window. “Aunt Carol, I don’t
think––”
    “It’s okay Steven. I’ve gotta do it some
day. Might as well get it over with.” I opened the car door and put
one foot at a time on the sidewalk. I took a deep breath and stood
up.
    My heart pounded, my eyes teared. What the
hell? I had to stop overreacting. After all, I hadn’t gotten hit by
the bullets. But now that adrenalin was no longer coursing through
my veins, my legs felt like lead weights, and my headache was back
with a sharp pain. I dragged myself over to where Carol rubbed the
raw scar on the tree branch.
    “Yeah, that’s how the cops found the
bullets. One of them hit the tree.” I said.
    Carol drew me into her arms and hugged me
until it hurt. “Oh my god, thank god you’re okay.” She brushed my
hair back and kissed my cheek.
    I nodded, but I didn’t feel okay. “Aunt
Carol,” I whispered, “We’ve gotta find Mom. Don’t you have any
ideas?”
    She shook her head. She held me close while
she spoke in my ear. “I just can’t imagine that any of the people
we know could have had anything to do with this. You are like, well
for me, you’re the closest thing to a daughter I’ll ever have, and
I think all of your uncles feel the same way about you. The thought
of losing