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Chapter 22

Bianca went home the day after New Year’s Day. That evening, as she was unpacking her suitcase, the phone rang.

“Hello?” she said, picking it up in her bedroom.

“Hey, Bean!” called a voice. Bianca recognized it as Howie’s.

“Hey, Howie!” she replied. “Happy New Year.”

“You too,” said Howie. “So, how are you doing? I haven’t talked to you in awhile.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m doing okay. How about you?”

“Same. Did you have a nice Christmas?”

“Yeah, it was fine. How was yours?”

“Pretty good.”

The small talk ended, and there was a pause. Then, Howie said, “Well, here’s the real reason I was calling – Brian and Kevin are both flying in on Monday to get together with Nick and I and management for a meeting… about, well, you know… what we’re going to do.”

“Oh,” said Bianca, a lump rising in her throat. What we’re going to do. About the Backstreet Boys, he meant. She was almost positive this meeting would officially end the group. She didn’t see how the remaining four Boys could go on without AJ. There would be solo acts, she was sure, but the Backstreet Boys had most likely died with AJ. As a Backstreet Boys fan, this was depressing to her. They had been together for a decade, but the Backstreet Era had finally come to a close.

She never thought it would end like this. She had always assumed the group would break up once they got too old or too bored or wanted solo careers or families. She never expected one of the members to die so young, thereby killing the group.

“Well, anyway,” continued Howie, “Leigh and Kris are coming down too with Bri and Kev, so we thought maybe we could all get together one of the nights they’re here – Kev and Kris, Bri and Leigh, Nick, Krystle, me, and you.”

“Oh, that would be nice,” said Bianca. “I haven’t seen anyone in a long time, except that night you, Krystle, Nick, and I went out.”

“Yeah, same here. Brian and Kevin haven’t been here since… well… you know.”

She knew. AJ’s funeral – that was the last event they had been around for. They both had stayed a few more days after that and then flown to their respective homes with their wives.

“Yeah,” she said. “Well, I don’t have any plans for next week that I know of, except work, so just give me a call a few days in advance, and I’m sure I can get off work to do something with y’all.”

“Okay, great,” replied Howie. “I’ll call you sometime soon then. Talk to you later.”

“Yup, see ya, Howie.”

They said goodbye, and there was a click on Howie’s end of the line. Bianca hung up as well and went back to her unpacking.

***

“… And in other news, Florida’s ‘Smiley Face Killer’ has struck again. Early yesterday, police discovered the remains of 20-year-old Billy Forrester, who was reported missing last week, a few miles from his home outside Tampa. An autopsy revealed the same injuries as the killer’s other victims – trauma to the head and stab wounds to the torso in the pattern of a happy face. Forrester is the fifth person to be murdered in this fashion, and police are now saying they’re definitely dealing with a serial killer here…”

“Not another one,” Bianca moaned, shaking her head sorrowfully as she pulled into her usual parking space and shut off the ignition, cutting the radio news brief off. Five people – this person had brutally murdered five people. Did the police have any leads, any suspects, even some kind of psychological profile? Would they ever catch this guy? (Or girl, Bianca thought – Can’t be sexist about it.)

Slowly, Bianca climbed out of her car, grabbing her purse before she shut the door, and headed through the parking lot to Barnes and Noble. It was the Monday after New Year’s, four days after she got back from North Carolina, and her first day back after her Christmas break.

“Hey, Bean,” Eddie greeted her inside. “Have a good New Year’s?”

“Yeah, I did,” Bianca replied truthfully. “A few of my old high school friends came home, and we had a little party. It was fun.”

“That’s good,” said Eddie. “Oh, is that the necklace?” His eyes traveled from her face to her neck, where the little golden angel charm gleamed.

Automatically fingering the angel, Bianca nodded. “Yeah,” she said. She wasn’t exactly sure why she kept wearing that necklace. Maybe subconsciously she was pretending that the necklace really was a gift from AJ. She wasn’t sure if that was it or not, but she liked the necklace. It was not just its physical beauty, but something beyond that that appealed to her, something she could not put her finger on.

“It’s nice,” said Eddie. “Well, we better get stuff ready to open up.”

Bianca nodded, ready to get to work and forget about AJ and the necklace and the serial killer and everything else.

***

“Thanks, Mr. Gunzenmeier. Have a nice day,” Bianca said, as she slipped the receipt into the bag and handed it to Mr. Gunzenmeier.

“Same to you,” he mumbled, took the bag, and turned away from the counter.

“I can see someone down here!” Bianca called to the line of customers waiting to check out. A woman carrying an armload of books came over and set her burden down on the counter. Bianca took the first book off the stack and started to ring it up when Eddie came up to her.

“Hey, Bean, you’ve got a phone call on Line 2. Go take it and then take your break; I’ll cover your register.”

“Oh, thanks, Eddie,” said Bianca, handing him the woman’s book. “He’ll check you out,” she said to the customer and went off to the break room, where there was a phone. She picked up the receiver and hit the flashing button for Line 2. “Hello?”

“Miss Parker?” came a serious, professional-sounding male voice.

“Yes,” said Bianca.

“This is Officer Davidson from the Broward County Police Department. I’m not sure if you remember me or not, but we met back in November, the night Mr. McLean was killed.”

The events of that night were still something of a blur to Bianca, but she vaguely remembered speaking to the police officer at the morgue that night and at the police station later. “Yes, I remember you,” she said, wondering why he was calling her now, a month and a half later.

“Okay. Miss Parker, is there any way you could come to the Orlando police station this evening? We need to question you and the others who saw Mr. McLean that night,” said Officer Davidson.

“Again?” Bianca asked before she could stop herself. “Not to be rude,” she went on quickly, “But I was already questioned the day after it happened.”

“I know,” Officer Davidson said gently, “But we really need to talk to you again. I’ll explain when you get here. Do you think you can make it?”

“I get off work at five,” Bianca said. “I can be there by 5:30. Is that okay?”

“That’s perfect,” replied Officer Davidson. “I’ll see you this evening then. Sorry to bother you at work.”

“No problem,” said Bianca. “Bye.” She hung up the phone slowly, her brow furrowed in confusion. What could they possibly want to talk to her about now?

***

When her shift got over at five o’clock that evening, Bianca left Barnes and Noble and drove straight to the police station. Officer Davidson was waiting there for her.

“Good evening, Miss Parker,” he greeted her with a handshake. “If you’ll just follow me, we’ll try to get this over with as soon as possible.” Bianca nodded and followed the officer down a hallway and into a room. There was a desk on one side of the room, which several men were standing behind. On the other side of the desk, a circle of chairs was set up, and in the chairs sat Howie, Krystle, Nick, Brian, Leighanne, Kevin, Kristin, and AJ’s mother, Denise. Bianca stopped, shocked to see them all there. She had assumed she was the only one called in for questioning.

No one spoke, but the others all nodded up at her in greeting. Howie offered her a tight-lipped smile.

“Go ahead and have a seat, Miss Parker,” said Officer Davidson, motioning to the open chair between Howie and Nick. Bianca nodded and sat down, feeling increasingly nervous being there.

“Now that we have you all here,” said Officer Davidson, stepping behind the desk with the other men, “We can get this underway. Let me introduce Officer Newton, of the Orange County Police Department.” A man in a police uniform tipped his head in greeting. “This is Dr. Greenly, a physician at Fort Lauderdale’s Mercy Hospital.” He pointed to a second man, who was wearing a business suit. “And finally, Agent Downing, of the FBI.” He acknowledged the third man. “We have brought you all together this evening because we have uncovered some shocking evidence about the death of Mr. Alexander James McLean.”

“And what’s that?” said Kevin, his eyes fixed on the police officer.

“We have reason to believe,” said Officer Davidson, “that Mr. McLean’s death was not a random serial killing, but instead a premeditated, deliberate act targeted specifically at Mr. McLean.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” asked Nick.

”It means,” Officer Davidson answered gravely, “that your friend was not murdered by the Smiley Face Killer. Someone was out to get him.”

***