Into the Fire - Anne Stuart [73]
When he finished he pulled the T-shirt back down, and the tracings of blood began to soak through the cotton. He leaned over and kissed her slack mouth, using his tongue. And then he rose.
Carbon monoxide shouldn’t hurt a dead man. How many times could a man die?
But he wasn’t ready to see Dillon. He’d go back to one of his vantage points and wait for him to return. Wait for him to find Jamie’s body. And then the fun would begin.
When Dillon left the church basement the snow had started falling again. It was going to be a hell of a winter, if late November and early December were anything to go by. He didn’t mind—he preferred the deep snow to the icy rain that had been prevalent back in Rhode Island. Hell, he preferred everything in Wisconsin to life in Rhode Island. Except for Jamie Kincaid.
And now here she was. And there she’d go. He’d fill her tires when he got back, unless of course she’d figured out how to do it herself. If she was determined enough she’d manage it, and he’d left her in a very determined state.
He should be feeling better. Usually after a meeting he felt grounded, centered, not the total fuck-up he really was. But not tonight. Tonight he’d checked his watch, and he hadn’t listened to a word the speaker had said. And when everyone headed out for coffee afterward he begged off, for the first time in years. The after-meeting coffee times were almost better twelve-step programs than the actual meetings. But all he could think of was that he had to get back. Had to find Mouser. Had to make sure Jamie was safe. Make sure that his irrational, eerie suspicion didn’t have an ounce of truth to it.
He headed back at an easy run. He had to keep himself warm, didn’t he? And running was the best way to do it. He wasn’t really worried that anyone was in any kind of danger. After all, who could possibly be a threat to Jamie?
But he knew. Deep inside, he knew, and he felt sick that he’d left her alone.
She would be getting her behind out of his garage, out of his fucking state, as fast as she could. Maybe once he found out what was really going on he might go after her. Though probably not. Once he managed to get rid of her, he’d be a fool to seek her out. She had too strong an effect on him, and distance was the best cure for that.
He could hear the music from almost a block away. Nirvana, cranked up almost to ten, shrieking in rage and pain. What was she doing in the garage? And what was she doing listening to Nirvana when her tastes ran more to mournful girl singers than screaming rockers?
Maybe she’d managed to fill her tires and drive away. But the garage door would be open—she wouldn’t have bothered closing it behind her, she would have just gotten the hell out of there. In fact, the snow was piled high against the bottom of the door, sealing it.
Sealing it. The kitchen door was locked, when he never locked it, and even when he used his key it was jammed. He slammed his body against the door, once, twice, and if finally flew open, the chair that was blocking it splintering beneath the force of his body.
He could smell it—the carbon monoxide seeping under the doorjamb. He didn’t hesitate—Jamie hadn’t left, and she wasn’t upstairs. She was in that garage filled with poisoned air.
He kicked the door open. The blue haze of car exhaust floated a few feet above the cement floor and it took him a moment to see her, sprawled on her back between the row of cars.
Later, he couldn’t remember scooping her up and racing out of there with her. She was still breathing, and her pulse was steady, but he had no idea how long she’d been in there.
Even the kitchen stank of exhaust, so he simply carried her outside and put her down in the snow. She stirred, and he left her for a moment to grab a pile of coats to cover her with.
Four of his cars were running, filling even the cavernous spaces of the garage with carbon monoxide. He turned the damned music off first, then tried to turn off the cars.
None of them had keys in the ignition. Someone had managed to jump-start them, and he knew damned well that