Already Seen (Laura Frost FBI)

her route, made him follow her somewhere else?

Laura spun in the back of the aisles, looking around. What if she’d got it completely wrong, altered events so greatly that she was never going to track him down? What if he was out there now killing his victim, now that the sun had finally started to go down and he knew he wouldn’t be so easily seen?

How had she managed to mess this up so badly? She should have known that the killer would never be so obvious to strike in a crowded place like this!

Laura paced the back of the chairs anxiously, trying to think. What could she do now? How could she turn this around? She passed by a young man in a long-sleeved overshirt who was standing in one of the back rows, by himself, muttering under his breath. As she drew closer, she was able to make out what he was saying, some kind of repetitive exercise.

“Kiss her quick, kiss her quicker, kiss her q-q-quickest. Kiss her quick, k-kiss her… Damnit. Kiss her quick, kiss her quicker, kiss her quickest…”

Laura stared at him, her mind racing. He was doing a speech exercise to prepare for his audition, that much she could see. But the stutter had made her realize something.

That there were different kinds of coaches that an actor might need.

How many times had she heard stories about vocal coaches? About actors learning to do a new accent or speak a new language convincingly enough for a big film role, or even learning to stutter or convincingly play a real person? And, of course, there would be actors who needed coaching to get over their own speech impediment.

Yes, that had to be it! If she was striking out on acting coaches, then it had to be another kind of coach she was looking for – and here she was, being presented with the perfect person to ask!

“Hi,” Laura said, keeping her voice low to avoid disturbing the action on the stage or attracting attention. “Can I ask, do you have a speech therapist or coach?”

“Yes, I do,” he said, glancing up at her in some surprise. He was in his early twenties, Laura thought, with sandy, messy hair and pale blue eyes. Such a shame for someone his age to still be struggling with a speech impediment, one that would probably impact his confidence and possibly even prevent him from going for roles that he would be great at. “Why? Do you need one?”

“Maybe,” Laura said, with a put-on nervous smile. “I have this thing – it seems like it only comes out when I audition. Could you let me know the name of your coach? I’d like to see about booking a session with them.”

“Yes, it’s Genevieve P-Piper,” he said. “Actually, she’s here somewhere. She was just doing some last-minute coaching with me.”

“Oh, really?” Laura said, glancing around. “Do you know where she is?”

“I don’t know,” he said, following her gaze and scanning the crowed. “You might have just missed her. I saw her a few minutes ago, b-but then she went to audition herself, so I didn’t see her after she went on the stage. She’s an actress, too.”

Laura turned away, thinking. Maybe this Genevieve Piper had gone backstage after her turn. Maybe the killer had been watching her, had followed after her while Laura was distracted talking to someone else or thinking she was a failure. Or maybe Laura’s presence here and the changed schedule of the day had disrupted the vision, and he hadn’t followed her yet, but was instead waiting outside.

Anything could be the case. But she didn’t have a moment to lose.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll try and find her.”

Then she turned and walked rapidly away, leaving the auditorium – trying to ignore the voice in the back of her head which was afraid she would miss the pivotal moment if she didn’t stay put – and heading towards the backstage area.

This time, the assistant on the door recognized her and let her through without a word. Laura headed into the same space she had seen before, finding it much more full this time. Actors were milling around by the stage itself, waiting next to a new woman with a clipboard and headset who was telling them when to go on. They were also gathered in a loose group around a water cooler that had been set up more recently. Laura recognized one of them from being on the stage earlier. They must be relaxing and debriefing after their attempts.

“Hi,” she said, summoning her bubbliest possible self and approaching the group. “I wondered if one of you might know – I was looking for Genevieve Piper. Someone recommended her to me as a coach, but I can’t seem to track her down?”

She was hoping that one of them would be Genevieve herself, but all of the people in the group shook their heads. One of them, an older man with grey hair who must have been trying out for a different role entirely, gestured towards the door with his plastic cup. “You just missed her,” he said. “She left pretty soon after her audition, said she had to get home.”

“Right,” Laura said, and then dashed out of the room, hoping she could get out of the theater before Geneveive had gone too far out of her reach.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

He watched the woman, who was so obviously a cop, walk towards the backstage entrance and smirked, heading outside himself instead. She couldn’t have known that he had sent her in the wrong direction. In fact, Genevieve had come out after her turn on the stage to wish him luck and then left from the front entrance.

He’d only been doing his speech exercises as a way to pass the time, to give her enough of a lead that he wouldn’t be too visible under the bright lights outside the theater before she got started on her journey home. He didn’t want her to turn around and see him before he was ready. Didn’t want her to strike up a conversation. It was better that he watch from a distance and follow her, like always.

Ah, Genevieve. Perfect angel. She had been under his nose for so long, and he had ignored her. It was his own fault, really. He slipped out of the back of the room and out of the theater, deliberately not greeting the receptionist so that she wouldn’t remember him passing by. Out in the parking lot in front of the entrance, he could see no one, which was also good.

He knew where Genny was going, of course. He’d followed her so many times now. She had been one of the earliest women he identified as a potential muse, after he signed up for her services and saw how patient and gentle she was. A woman like that, he had thought, was worthy of anything. Certainly his worship.

He walked under the streetlights with his hands in his pockets, quickening his pace in the spaces of darkness between them. There was a shortcut he had figured out: turn left while Genny went straight on, and he would be out ahead of her on the next turn. She probably didn’t want to take the shortcut because it took him through dark alleyways. Places that were full of danger. Or maybe Genny just went with the flow, and the flow told her to stay in the light where others could always see and admire her.

Back then, he had tried too hard to get rid of his stutter. Nothing had worked. Genny had tried everything, but he had been angry and impulsive. He hadn’t been able to master himself. He’d had to put up with these humiliating roadblocks, these interruptions to the proper flow that he couldn’t control. He could see how it should be. How others did it, so effortlessly. But for him, it wouldn’t happen.