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„Say what?“
„Don’t tell me to go to a hotel. This is my home. I will not let him make me leave.“
He picked up their cups and put them in the sink. „I wasn’t pla
„Why are you being so nice to me, Detective?“ It was a damn good question. Because she seemed so alone? Because he’d seen her scared and vulnerable when the face she showed everyone else was confident and brave? Because he wondered why there were no party dresses in her closet and no family pictures on her nightstand? Because he found her fascinating and couldn’t get her out of his mind? Because her laugh was like a sucker punch to his gut?
„I don’t know,“ he answered grimly. „Why won’t you call me by my first name?“
Her eyes flew open, suddenly wary. „I… I don’t know.“
„Fair enough.“ He pulled on his coat, conscious of her eyes following the movements of his hands as he buttoned up. When he reached the button at his throat, her eyes rose to meet his and he could see she was still troubled by his question. Good, because he was troubled by hers as well. „I’ll swing by the courthouse tomorrow morning to pick you up. I’d like to visit the rest of the original victims before the families of our five dead guys make a co
At the mention of Richardson, her lips thi
Thursday, February 19,
10:30 p.m.
He was cold. Very cold. His hands ached and he glanced longingly at the fur-lined gloves sticking up out of his bag. Soon. For now he’d have to make do with the thin leather gloves. The warm gloves were so thick he couldn’t feel the trigger.
He wriggled a little on his stomach, trying to get comfortable on the hard concrete. Fought the urge to check his watch. No more than an hour could have passed since he arrived. He’d spent three times that long crouched in duck blinds on cold mornings waiting for feathered prey. He could wait a little longer for a prize infinitely more valuable.
He expected his guest to show at any moment. That Trevor Ski
So enticing that even a man like Ski
He heard the car before he saw it pull around the corner, headlights dimmed. He watched, silently waiting as Ski
It was.
Quickly he dropped the sight to Ski
He waited another half minute until he was satisfied Ski
No, if anyone would have retribution this night, it was to be himself. And the young woman whose brutal rape went unpunished a year ago. Renee Dexter.
And, of course, Leah.
He rolled the platform up the ramp into the van on top of the thick plastic he’d laid down. Bloodstains were so difficult to remove from carpet fibers, and the police had ways of detecting trace amounts even after a carpet had been thoroughly cleaned.
As a final step, he patted down Ski
„Why… why are you… doing this?“ Ski
He chuckled, closed the van doors, pocketed the organizer, and tossed Ski
He checked his watch a final time. Less than seven minutes for the whole second act. King had been eight minutes twenty. He was improving.
Thursday, February 19,
10:30 p.m.
From his car Abe stared up at his apartment building, at the dark concrete that seemed to loom into the sky. In reality it was only a twenty-story building. His apartment was on the seventeenth floor. He had a bed, a recliner chair, and a television set. With cable – 250 cha
He sighed, the sound rife with frustration. He didn’t have pictures of family in his place, either. They were all in boxes, in storage. He’d put them there himself the day before he’d transferred the keys to the house to its new owners. The house he’d bought with Debra, with the swingset in the yard and the nursery Debra had just started to decorate in baby blue.
Kristen Mayhew had her little shed in the backyard.
He had the Chicagoland U-Store-It in Melrose Park. I am a first-class hypocrite.
He glanced at the clock on his dash, then at the empty bowls on his passenger seat. His mom stayed up late sometimes, usually when Aidan or his dad were pulling night patrols. Or me, he thought, remembering all the times he’d dropped by for breakfast after his shift to find her dozing in her favorite chair, the movie she’d started watching long since over.
Without another glance up, he backed out of his space. Twenty minutes later he pulled into his parents’ driveway. Sure enough, the light was still on and his key still worked in the front door. It had been a long time since he’d let him-self in after midnight, before he and Debra were married. Sure enough, his mom was dozing in her favorite chair. Some things truly didn’t change. He put the empty bowls in the kitchen sink, then covered his mother up with an afghan. She stirred, then jerked awake, her eyes widening at the sight of him.
„What’s wrong?“
He crouched down. „Nothing. I needed to bring back the bowls.“
Her eyes narrowed. „It could have waited till Sunday. What’s wrong?“
He took her hand, linked his fingers through hers. „Nothing. I just missed you.“
She smiled, squeezed his hand. „I missed you, too. How was your meeting?“
„Busy. Your cabbage casserole was a big hit.“
„Good. Nobody teased you about your mommy bringing di