Dead by Midnight - Beverly Barton [83]
He had lost track of how many old video copies he had destroyed. If only he could have bought every copy in the world. But now the movie had been rereleased—this past fall—on DVD. There was no way that he could escape from the sins of the past. Other people’s sins as well as his own. Their wickedness had not only destroyed their own lives, but had brought such unthinkable misery into the lives of the people who loved them. They deserved to die. All of them. Once they were dead, each actor whose evil had tormented him and tempted him all these years, he would be free, wouldn’t he? And she would be free, too, her sins atoned for.
After scrubbing himself until his flesh was cleansed, he dried off and dressed hurriedly. He had work to do, important work. That’s why he was in Atlanta, why he’d been here for two days, plotting and planning in preparation for tonight’s kill.
If she thought her bodyguard could protect her, she was wrong. Killing someone who wasn’t on his list had not been a part of his original plan. But in order to follow through and eliminate all of the actors, he now knew he would be forced to kill their protectors. People who guarded the wicked against their rightful judgment were not innocents. They were tainted by association. He felt no qualms about doing whatever was necessary to rid the world of such evil.
He lifted the suitcase, set it on the bed, unzipped it, and flipped it open. There nestled inside was the mask that Ebony O had worn in the movie. She had been the only African American in the film, so she had stood out, her dark beauty a stark contrast to the paler flesh of her costars. Where Dewey Flowers, Lacey Butts, and Puff Raven had looked on film like the sluts they were in real life and Candy Ruff had somehow maintained a look of angelic blond innocence, Ebony O and Cherry Sweets had oozed a raw, earthy sensuality that somehow seemed natural and, oddly enough, even classy.
He knew these actors inside and out because he knew the film inside and out. Years ago he had memorized every line of dialogue and knew by heart every movement and every sound. He had studied their bios, investing time and money into digging deeply into their present-day lives. They had become not only his hobby, but his passion.
And when they’re all dead? What then?
I’ll be free of my obsession.
Will you? an inner voice taunted him.
Chapter 17
Mike called her at 10:05 P.M. “We need to talk.”
“Go ahead. Talk,” she said.
“We need to talk face-to-face.”
“Fine. Come by sometime tomorrow.”
“It won’t wait. We need to talk tonight.”
“Has something happened?” she asked.
“Look, we’re fixing to leave the party. I have to take Abby home first and then I’ll come by.”
He hung up before she was able to respond.
At 10:35 P.M., he drove up in the driveway and got out of his truck. Shelley unlocked the front door and let him in, then excused herself and went to the guest bedroom.
The width of the living room separated Mike from Lorie. He stood at the threshold in the foyer and she on the opposite side near the fireplace. They stared at each other, but neither of them spoke for several minutes.
“You left the party without telling me,” he finally said.
“I gave Cathy a message for you. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“I could have brought you and Shelley home. You didn’t have to borrow a car from Cathy.”
“Why are you making such a big deal about this?”
He huffed and shook his head. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have been worried about you. I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t have left my girlfriend at her front door with just a kiss on the cheek. And I sure as hell shouldn’t be here right now.”
Lorie stared at Mike. He was furious. Furious with her? Or with himself?
“Whatever’s wrong, whatever has you so pissed off, I’m sure it’s my fault, isn’t it? It’s always my fault.” She practically shouted the accusation.
He stomped across the room, his gaze focused on her, his dark blue eyes turning obsidian with anger. She stood her ground, her shoulders squared, meeting him face-to-face or as