Free Killer Instinct by S.E. Green

along.
    Our front door opens and Ercita walks in. I’d forgotten she was coming today. I glance at my laptop clock. Six fifteen a.m. As usual, she’s right on time.
    Ercita’s our housekeeper. She only comes once a month and spends the whole day sanitizing our home from the ceiling fans on the second floor down to the lumpy couch in our basement.
    She’s approved through the FBI, which is why my mom hired her some five years ago.
    “Good morning, Lane.” She closes the door and goes straight into the laundry room.
    Something’s wrong. Ercita never walks past me without sitting and talking.
    She comes out of the laundry room and goes into the bathroom. Seconds later she crosses right in front of me and into the living room to turn on the TV.
    “Ercita, what’s wrong?”
    She turns and—oh my God—there’s tears in her eyes. I’m not good with tears.
    “Federico didn’t show up.”
    I know she’s been saving money to bring her brother from El Salvador to America. Just like she brought her sister and their mother. “What do you mean didn’t show up?”
    She shakes her head, holding back tears. “We went two days ago to meet him on the bus, and he never got off.”
    “Well, do they know where he’s at?”
    She shakes her head and gives in to the tears.
    My mom comes downstairs at that second, takes one look at a broken-down Ercita, and turns to me. I quickly tell her what she just said.
    Mom walks over and wraps her arms around Ercita. “It’s okay.” She sits with her on the couch. “When was the last time you spoke to your brother?”
    “A week ago.” She sniffs. “He’d already crossed the border into America.”
    Mom nods, in full-on investigator role. “Good. Did you use the same sponsor you used for your sister and mother?”
    Ercita shakes her head. “No, we used a new one. But he came highly recommended.”
    “By whom?”
    “Other people in our apartments that have used him.”
    Mom hands her a tissue. “Name?”
    “Lynn Hoppman.”
    Mentally I catalog that name.
    Mom gets up. “Let me make some phone calls.”
    Ercita nods, and Mom charges off into her office. “Lane, make sure your brother’s up,” she says right before closing the door.
    I get up from the table and go upstairs. I’m eager to research Lynn Hoppman. My inner sense tells me something’s up. I’m curious to find out what. . . .

Chapter Seventeen
    FIRST-PERIOD TA JOB I do my customary checking in with Mr. Bealles, then head over to my station. Reggie calls me not more than five minutes later.
    “Got your message. What happened?”
    “Nothing to worry about.” I continue the lie. “Like I said, I got in trouble with Mom. You covered your tracks, right? I don’t want the FBI to know I got nosy in their Decapitator business and you helped me.” I don’t want the Decapitator to know my best friend helped me research him.
    Reggie snorts. “Puh-lease. Did you just meet me? Nobody knows anything I do. I have so many filters it would take two of me just to figure me out.”
    I like it when Reggie gets cocky. “You sure?”
    “I’m positive.”
    I believe her. But I’m still not taking any chances. “You’re a good friend, Reg, but no more on the Decapitator. Okay?”
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
    I don’t press it. I know if I do she’ll pick up on my tone, so I play it cool. “Be a good girl.”
    She laughs at that and hangs up. What I need to do is give her something to sidetrack her. Something non–serial killer. Something harmless. I’ll get her involved with researching Lynn Hoppman when I know a little more.
    I log on to the computer, disable the wireless, and plug in my flash drive. I bring up the Decapitator files Reggie sent me and begin perusing them. Each of the known victims was a blonde and a preschool teacher. Two points of similarity. They don’t share the same names or birthdates. And since the killer has moved around, they’re certainly not from the same area.
    Blond and preschool teachers.