“So when did you catch him peeping at you?”
“After the Homecoming dance when we were seniors.”
David typed the details into Microsoft Word. “That was after he hooked up with Jane.”
“Jane?”
“His wife. He married the older girl you mentioned.”
“I didn’t know that. But I find it interesting that he’d bother spying on me if he was still with her.”
So did David. It showed that having Jane in his life didn’t stop Burke from acting on his less-than-appropriate impulses. “Did you ever hear of him bothering other girls—peeping, stalking, that sort of thing?”
“No, but I’m almost positive he was the one who sent me anonymous love letters. I can’t imagine how he got the combination to my locker, but that was where he’d put them.”
“What makes you think Oliver was behind the letters?”
“The way he’d stare at me. Especially right after I received one. It was as if he enjoyed my mortified reaction.”
“What’d the letters say?”
“Some were really explicit. Gross, particularly to a seventeen-year-old girl. And they always included suggestions of violence and these little drawings along the edges.”
David eyed the picture of a knife dripping with blood in the notebook. “What kind of drawings?”
“Various pictures of boys and girls, hands, faces, wedding rings, eyes, sexual organs. It changed, except for the naked br**sts and the knife. Those were always there.”
A rush of adrenaline propelled David to his feet. “Tell me you still have one of those letters.”
“No. I’m sorry. They weren’t something I wanted to keep. I told my parents about them, and they had me turn them over to the principal.”
If David could connect those letters to Burke, along with this notebook, he’d be able to prove Burke had entertained fantasies involving knives and women well before his attack on Skye and the murders along the river…. “Did the principal ever question Oliver?”
“He once called us both into his office. Oliver showed him that the handwriting didn’t match and claimed he’d have no way of knowing the combination to my locker. Mr. Easton let him go.”
“Did you receive any more letters from him after that?”
“No. But it was only another week or so before I caught Oliver peeping at me through my bedroom window.”
David guessed this was where Oliver’s cravings had begun to escalate. “Did it make him angry that you told your parents?”
“Not that he revealed. He made up some elaborate lie about how he’d just been trying to get my attention, to see if I’d come out and talk to him.”
“What happened after that?”
“Nothing. We moved across town and I finished my senior year in Roseville.”
That move might’ve saved Miranda’s life. Or the move she made afterward, the one that took her away from Sacramento and the young man who was sexually obsessed with her. “When did you leave the area entirely?”
“After I graduated from high school. I headed to New York to start my modeling career.”
“Is that where you live now?”
“No, I’m in Jersey. More house for the money.”
“Has Burke tried to contact you since you left Sacramento?”
“He sent me a card once, after the spread in Playboy.”
“How’d he get your address?”
“He contacted my mother and dropped enough names of kids I’d gone to school with that she believed we were old friends.”
“She didn’t remember the stalking incident?”
“No, it was so far from her mind at that point that she didn’t clue in. Even if she had, she probably would’ve discounted the past, figuring it’d been what so many people claimed it was—typical teenage sexual experimentation and curiosity. Especially when he introduced himself as Dr. Burke.”
“What’d the card say?”
“He told me he was an ‘affluent’ dentist now and that if I ever came back to town he’d whiten my teeth for free. He also said I could stay in his guest house.”
“Did you respond?”
“No. I didn’t want him to start bothering me again. It wasn’t just the peeping incident. I still believe Oliver was the one who wrote all those scary letters.”
David read over his notes. “Is there anything else that sticks out in your mind about Oliver Burke?”
There was a pause. “Not really. But he always gave me the creeps. There’s something odd about him, no matter how successful he became. That’s why I wasn’t surprised by the attempted rape conviction.”
Moving his mouse out of the way, David pulled the notebook toward him. There were several repetitions of Miranda’s initials, which indicated she was on Burke’s mind in a recurring fashion even after she left. M.D. Didn’t respond… M.D. Thinks she’s too good… M.D. The informant. If those initials belonged to another woman, it’d be one hell of a coincidence. And David didn’t believe in coincidences. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Dodge,” he said. “You’ve been very helpful.”
“Those heinous crimes you mentioned,” she said. “Are we talking about other rape cases?”
“I’m talking about rape—and murder.”
Silence. Then she said, “But he’s still in prison, right?”
David instinctively checked his watch, which he’d been doing more frequently as it drew closer to the end of the day. It was nearly five. “He gets out tomorrow morning.”
She gasped. “You don’t think he’d ever look me up again, do you?”
M.D. Doesn’t realize… M.D. Someday. “I hope not. But you might want to take down your Web site.”
“What?”
“If he Googles you, those pictures and the accessibility offered by that e-mail button will only whet his appetite for more contact.”
“But my husband and I are…having some problems,” she admitted. “I-I’m pretty sure we’ll be separating, and I make my living off that Web site.”
David rubbed his forehead. What could he say? He knew it’d be wiser to remove the temptation, but she had to be able to pay her bills. “I don’t like it,” he said. “But if you can’t take it down entirely, at least remove the more risqué pictures. Then keep your eyes open. And call me immediately if you hear from him.”