Sense of Evil - Kay Hooper [42]
Rafe frowned as he followed her from the room. “Do you believe Jamie was targeted because of her sexual preferences? Because she was a dominatrix?”
“I don't know. It's about relationships, I'm sure of that. Somehow, it's about relationships. I'm having a hard time seeing Jamie's sexuality, or even the S&M games, as the trigger, that's all. Given his history. But it's the only thing hidden in Jamie's day-to-day life, and that means we have to be sure how much it means.”
“Makes sense.”
“So we need to find that room. And we need to find it quickly. It's been four days since he killed Tricia Kane; even if he waits a full week between murders, we only have three days to find him and stop him before another woman dies.”
And before Isabel moved up on the hit list, Rafe thought but didn't say.
“You think he's stalking her now?” he asked instead.
“He's watching her. Thinking about what he's going to do to her. Imagining how it's going to feel. Anticipating.” She was surprised that after all these years and so many similar investigations, it could still make her skin crawl.
But it wasn't just the fact of this killer, she knew that. It wasn't even what he had done to his victims. It was him. What she felt in him. Something twisted and evil crouching in the shadows, waiting to spring forward.
She could almost smell the brimstone.
Almost.
“Isabel—”
“Not now, Rafe.” For the first time, there was a hint of vulnerability in her slightly twisted smile. “I'm not ready to talk about that evil face I saw. Not to you. Not yet.”
“Just tell me this much. Does it have something to do with you becoming psychic?”
“It had everything to do with it.” Her smile twisted even more. “The universe has an ironic sense of humor, I've noticed. Or maybe just an innate sense of justice. Because sometimes evil creates the tool that will help destroy it.”
Cheryl had planned to drive back to Columbia for the night, especially after Dana's warning, but something was bugging her. It had been bugging her all day, ever since she'd noticed it early this morning.
She had her cameraman wait for her in the van and went to check it out, telling herself she'd be safe; it wasn't even dark yet, for God's sake. Of course, telling herself was one thing, and feeling it something else entirely.
Every time the breeze stirred it felt like somebody touching her with a ghostly hand, and she caught herself looking back over her shoulder more than once.
Nothing there, naturally. No one there.
The whole thing was just her imagination, probably. Because it didn't make sense, not if she'd seen what she thought she had. Not if it meant—
A hand touched her shoulder, and Cheryl whirled around with a gasp. “Oh, Jesus. Scare a person, why don't you?”
“Did I? Sorry about that.”
“You of all people should know—”
“I do. Like I said, sorry. What're you doing out here?”
“Just following up a hunch. I'm sure the rest of you saw it, but it's been bugging me, so . . . here I am.”
“You really shouldn't be out by yourself.”
“I know, I know. But I'm not a blonde. And I hate it when something bugs me. So it seemed like a risk worth taking.”
“Just for a story?”
“Well,” Cheryl said self-consciously, “that's part of it, sure. The story. And maybe to stop him. I mean, it would be so cool if I could help stop him.”
“Do you really believe your hunch could do that?”
“You never know. I could get lucky.”
“Or unlucky.”
“What're you—”
“Not a blonde. But nosy just like they are. And you'll tell. I really can't let that happen.”
Cheryl saw the knife, but by the time understanding clicked into place in her head, it was too late to scream.
Too late to do anything at all.
Friday, 11:30 PM
Just occasionally, whenever her day had been particularly stressful, Mallory was so wild in bed that it took everything Alan had just to keep up with her.
Friday night was like that.
She held him with her arms, her legs, her body, as though he