I’m Watching You

Julia knelt on the other side of Ski

„Vise grip,“ Jack said and Julia looked up at him with approval.

„That would do it.“

„Do what?“ Abe asked.

Julia stood up. „I’ll be able to confirm it after the autopsy, but if your boy is consistent and this bullet hole in Ski

Abe sighed. „Meaning he cut out Ski

Mia rose to her feet, brushing her knees. „I think we need to put a watch on the guy that was acquitted for Renee Dexter’s rape. It’s logical that that’s where he’ll strike next.“

They all stepped back as the ME’s office zipped Ski

„He’s crossed the line,“ Kristen murmured. „Ski

„What’s next?“ Jack asked bitterly. „Judges?“

„Or prosecutors who don’t win,“ Abe said and Kristen’s eyes widened, meeting his. „This guy has no boundaries, Kristen. He doesn’t blame you yet, but that could change.“

„We asked Spi

„Thank you,“ she said instead.

„And until then,“ Abe said, „you stay with one of us.“

Mia’s phone beeped and she flipped it open. „Mitchell.“ Her lips curved in a feral smile as she listened. „You don’t say. Ain’t technology grand? Hold on.“ She looked at Abe, blonde brows lifted. „They found Ski

Abe’s pulse jumped. Finally a break. „Ask them if they can track the car’s movements Thursday night.“

Mia looked satisfied. „They can and they did. Looks like we have our own little x-marks-the-spot.“

Saturday, February 21,

7:00 A.M.

He staggered back against his basement wall, nauseous. He slid to the floor. Gasping. His heart thundering as if it would claw its way out of his chest. His hands, his arms, his chest, his face… all covered in blood. I did this. Dear God… I did… this. This.

He closed his eyes. Relax. Take a deep breath. Get control of yourself.

He drew in the air with deep gulps, shuddered it out, felt control return in slow spurts. He was finished. Angelo Conti was dead. Very, very dead.

Bracing his feet on the cement floor, he pushed against the wall, forcing himself to his feet. And surveyed the carnage he’d left in the process. He’d lost control. He mustn’t allow that to happen again.

But Conti deserved it, the cocky punk. It had been no great mystery finding him last night. He’d just waited until Angelo came out of his favorite bar just off Northwestern’s campus, weaving drunkenly. He’d headed for his brand-new Corvette, obviously intending to get behind the wheel. Conti hadn’t cared that he was too drunk to walk. One would think the boy would be minding his ma

Angelo had been wrong…

He never saw me coming. He could have just hit Conti on the head and dragged him into the van, but something about that drunken swagger and the brand-new Corvette made his blood boil. So he’d popped his knees. Both of them.

Then he’d coshed him on the head and dragged him to the van.

He’d savored the anticipation of Conti’s return to consciousness, the fear that would make the boy’s eyes go glassy and his tongue finally stop flapping. But no. Angelo had roused from his stupor surprisingly alert and in seconds had figured out where he was.

And who I was.

He hadn’t stopped talking, and before I knew it, the tire iron was in my hand. The first few blows were to get his attention. But still Conti wouldn’t shut up. Then he started talking about Kristen.

And I lost control.

The things Conti had said… vicious, vile things. „How did she pay you for doin’ her dirty work, huh? How was she? I bet there’s a real tiger under that prissy suit.“ He kept talking, saying perverted, vile things about him, about Kristen. He just wouldn’t stop.

And then neither could I.

He drew a breath. No one would recognize Conti now. Most of his face was gone. There would be no sense in taking any Polaroids. He walked to where he’d left Conti’s things and found the boy’s wallet. His driver’s license had been taken away for too many DUI’s. But Conti did have a university-issued photo ID. That would have to do.

He busied himself, taking care of Conti. The sharp crack of his pistol and the acrid odor of a fired weapon soothed. It was routine by now.

He checked his watch and grimaced at the time. „I’m late,“ he murmured. He had to clean himself up and get back to work. Later, he’d return and make the marker. Paula Garcia and her unborn son deserved that much.

Saturday, February 21,

9:30 A.M.

Trevor Ski

They’d found the ambush site easily, thanks to modern technology. Ski

Abe was ready to call it quits with the hysterical Mrs.

Ski

At instant alert, Abe and Mia escorted the housekeeper to the next room where they could hear her soft voice over Mrs. Ski

„When was this package delivered, ma’am?“ Abe asked.

„Thursday.“ She shrugged uncomfortably. „Maybe two o’clock.“

„Did you see anyone deliver it?“

„No, sir. Someone just rang the doorbell and left it there.“

„Can you describe this package, ma’am?“ Mia asked.

„It was wrapped with plain brown paper. There was a label, typed, just with Mr. Ski

Light like air. A single piece of paper, another letter, most likely and Abe wondered what could have been compelling enough to lure Ski

„Yes, yes I did. It was a white van. I remember thinking it was odd because it was a florist van, but there were no flowers.“

„Yes,“ Mia muttered. „A flower by any other name smells just as sweet. Did you open the box?“

The housekeeper’s eyes widened in something akin to horror. „No. Mr. Ski

Oh yeah, thought Abe. Mr. Ski