All the Pretty Girls - J. T. Ellison [64]
Suddenly she heard the toilet flush and relaxed. A shadow moved along the wall and he popped into view. It was him all right, tousled and naked, looking even sexier than she had remembered.
“Mornin’, darlin’. You wanna get me out of this and we can pick up where we left off?”
He smiled and moved no closer, just stood watching her like a feral cat in heat.
“Seriously, get me untied. This is starting to hurt.” She realized even before she saw the knife that he had no intention of letting her go. Ever. She opened her mouth to scream but he was on her, slapping a piece of duct tape over her mouth so all she could hear was her own hysterical cries, muffled and caught in her throat.
As her mystery man dragged the tip of the knife slowly across her face, his cheerful grin disappeared, and he spoke only one word, the last Christina would ever hear.
“Bye.”
Twenty-Six
Taylor was back in her office, waiting for Lincoln and Marcus to return from interviewing the previous alleged victim of the Rainman. She had missed a call from Baldwin, which left her moody. She wanted to talk with him, but he was up to his ears in dead girls.
As she fiddled with a few reports that needed to be completed, Fitz rolled in, with Marcus and Lincoln on his heels. He got to the office door first.
“Everything okay?” he asked gruffly.
Taylor gave him a startled look. “Everything’s fine. Why?”
“You’re just looking a little ill, that’s all. You’re not catching something, are you?”
Taylor waved his concern away. “Had a long night. I’m fine, really.”
“Ready to go over what the kids got on the Rainman?”
She nodded. “Yeah, let’s do it. But let’s go into the conference room, I don’t feel like crowding in here.” She led them to the room down the hall, then locked the door behind herself so they wouldn’t be interrupted at an inopportune moment.
“Okay, give it to me. Marcus and Lincoln, you first.”
Lincoln leaned back in his chair and flipped a file open in his lap. “We talked with the last victim of the Rainman, Lucy Johnson. She was victim number seven, and had told Betsy she thought she recognized the guy, right? Well, after thinking on it for a few days, she wasn’t totally sure she even wanted to point a finger. Marcus charmed her right out of her panties, so to speak, convinced her that it would be the right thing to do. Here’s where the problem is. She thinks it’s a guy that works out at her gym. She also sees him around town a lot, the Mapco when she goes for gas, Publix when she’s shopping. So he’s local to the area. Too local.”
Taylor nodded. “Think she’s legit?”
Lincoln shook his head. “We know he’s been working a specific geographical area. He went pretty far out of it to get to Betsy in East Nashville. All the other rapes occurred out in the west and south parts of town, Bellevue, Forest Hills, Franklin and Brentwood.”
“Where does Lucy Johnson live?” Taylor interrupted.
“That south part of Davidson County off Highway 100 that straddles Williamson County.”
“And what gym does she use?”
“She goes to the YMCA at Maryland Farms.” Lincoln was pulling more notes from his file. “At least three of the other victims work out at that gym. So that’s a connection between them. I guess I can understand why Betsy got excited when Ms. Johnson told her that she thought it was a guy from her gym.”
“Well, that’s great, but did she identify him?”
Marcus gave a half smile. “Well, that’s the problem. She’s a treadmill and bike, he’s apparently into the free weights. She didn’t see his face anyway, so there’s no ID to go on. She recognizes his arms.