Dear Reader:
The book you are about to read is the latest bestseller from the St. Martins True Crime Library, the imprint The New York Times calls the leader in true crime! Each month, we offer you a fascinating account of the latest, most sensational crime that has captured the national attention. St. Martins is the publisher of bestselling true crime author and crime journalist Kieran Crowley, who explores the dark, deadly links between a prominent Manhattan surgeon and the disappearance of his wife fifteen years earlier in THE SURGEONS WIFE. Suzy Spencers BREAKING POINT guides readers through the tortuous twists and turns in the case of Andrea Yates, the Houston mother who drowned her five young children in the familys bathtub. In Edgar Award-nominated DARK DREAMS, legendary FBI profiler Roy Hazelwood and bestselling crime author Stephen G. Michaud shine light on the inner workings of Americas most violent and depraved murderers. In the book you now hold, OUT THERE, acclaimed author Diane Fanning explores the story behind the astronaut love triangle that captivated America.
St. Martins True Crime Library gives you the stories behind the headlines. Our authors take you right to the scene of the crime and into the minds of the most notorious murderers to show you what really makes them tick. St. Martins True Crime Library paperbacks are better than the most terrifying thriller, because its all true! The next time you want a crackling good read, make sure its got the St. Martins True Crime Library logo on the spineyoull be up all night!
Charles E. Spicer, Jr.
Executive Editor, St. Martins True Crime Library
To everyone who has ever done anything stupid
in the name of love
Contents
The Crime
It soon emerged that my life was highly structured and that there had always existed a major goal of one sort or another. I had excelled academically, being at the top of the schools and classes I had attended during my life. Finally, there had been the most important goal of all and it had been realizedI had gone to the moon. What to do next? What possible goal could I add now? There simply wasnt one, and without a goal, I was like an inert Ping-Pong ball being batted about by the whims and motivations of others. I was suffering from what poets have described as the melancholy of all things done.
Astronaut Buzz Aldrin, Return to Earth
Chapter One
Just after 3 A.M., on February 6, 2007, United States Air Force Captain Colleen Shipman rolled her luggage behind her as she walked in a light drizzle across the C section of the Blue Satellite parking area at the Orlando International Airport. It was the last leg of her journey. All she wanted to do was go home. As she reached row 33, the sense of relief she expected to feel at this point in her travels shattered when she realized that the strange woman from the shuttle was following her.
Colleen picked up her pace. The footsteps behind her slapped the wet pavement at an increased speed. She cut across to row 31, moving even faster toward her car. Now the sound of her pursuers running footsteps echoed in her ears. Dont be paranoid , she thought as she tried to calm herself. The woman is probably just going to her own car and is in a hurry.
Despite the self-assurances, anxiety clutched Colleens body in its tight grip. Relieved to reach her car, she jerked open the rear door and tossed her bag onto the back seat. She slammed it shut and opened the one in front. Sliding behind the steering wheel, Colleen pulled the door shut and locked the doors in one swift move.
Two hands slapped on the window beside her. She flinched. Hearing a jerk on the door handle, she jabbed her key into the ignition.
The sight of the woman outside of her car did nothing to still Colleens fears. Beneath the raised hood of a khaki trench coat, bushy black hair framed a pinched face. The dark glasses the woman wore in the dead of night obscured her eyes. She looked so much like an inept spy from a low-budget film that it would have been laughable if it were not so frightening. Colleens fear for her personal safety ratcheted up yet another notch.
With a hand pressed against the closed window, the woman shouted Can you help me, please? My boyfriend was supposed to pick me up and hes not here. Ive been traveling, and its late. Can you give me a ride to the parking office?
The womans obvious distress touched Colleens heartbut not her head. No, if you need help, Ill send someone to you. Colleen started the engine.
Can I use your cell phone?
Colleen wanted to help another woman traveling alone, but she didnt dare. So she lied. The battery is dead.
Crying and sobbing, the woman begged, Please roll down your window. I cant hear you. Please roll down your window.
Colleens sympathy conquered her common sense. She hit the button to lower the window. She only wanted to drop it down two inchesshe thought that would be safebut it went into automatic full roll-down. She stabbed the button to raise the window up.
Colleen realized her helpful impulse was a mistake when the pepper spray made contact with her skin, and a hot, angry burning spread across her face. Her eyes automatically slammed shut. You bitch! Colleen shouted.
For a moment, the agony was so intense, Colleen could not think. Then, she turned her head away and felt for the window control and rolled up the pane of glass. Despite the burning, tearing and swelling of her eyes, she forced them open. She held her breath as she slammed her car into reverse and backed out of her parking space.
She looked back, saw no one, put her car into drive and headed for the parking lot exit. The oddly dressed woman swung her black duffle bag at the retreating vehicle as it sped away from her. Inside the fleeing car, the smell was horrendous. Colleen hit the buttons in the door panel to roll down the two rear windows and the passenger window in the front to let in fresh air. Her nose, throat and sinuses were on fire. She gasped for breath as she drove toward the gate.
The only exit with a green light was the one reserved for holders of an E-Pass, but Colleen did not have one so she pulled up to a shuttle bus, told the driver about the attack and asked, How do I get out of here?
Pull into the E-Pass lane. Theres someone in the booth. Shell help you.
Colleen backed up, pulled in and told her story again. The tollbooth attendant called the police. Colleen cried in reaction to the chemicals and rubbed at her eyes. The woman in the booth handed her two wet paper towels. Here, use this. Dont rub your eyes. Itll only make it worse.
Colleen dabbed at her eyes, getting some measure of relief from the burning. It didnt help her nose, though, which was now running profusely.
When responding airport police officers Tim Ryan and Wendell Reeve arrived less than five minutes after the attack, they instructed her to pull forward and out of the E-Pass lane. She described the dark-haired lady in the tan trench coat and cuffed blue jeans. Officer Ryan escorted Colleen into the tollbooth to get out of the rain. Officer Reeve began a search for her assailant in the parking lot.
Chapter Two
Reeve spotted a lone woman with light hair in a black coat. She didnt quite fit the victims description, but he saw her make a suspicious move. She dropped a white plastic bag and a black object into a trash can and turned and walked away.
Reeve approached the woman and asked for identification. While she rummaged in her duffle bag for her I.D., Reeve spotted the tan trench coat inside and knew hed stopped the right person.
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