Silver Falls - Anne Stuart [56]
He didn’t look appeased. “One more change isn’t going to make that much difference. Don’t you think knowing she has a father to count on in case anything happened to you would simply increase her sense of security?”
For a moment a stray chill ran across her backbone, distracting her. “Why would anything happen to me?”
“Accidents happen all the time, Rachel,” he said, patiently explaining to an idiot child. “You could get hit by a car while crossing the road, you could choke to death on a piece of pizza. You could even be the random victim of a serial killer. There are no guarantees that anyone is safe from the evil in this world. Everyone, everything dies.”
He was sounding so pompous that her alarm faded. “I’m the wrong physical type for the Northwest Strangler. He likes young, thin blondes, not strapping redheads.”
He looked startled. “The Northwest Strangler?”
“That’s what they’re calling him. Apparently Sophie picked that up in school.”
“That’s ridiculous! Who came up with such a completely unimaginative name? For that matter, why do they think he only works in the Pacific Northwest? I don’t think he should have a pseudonym at all, like Ted Bundy, who you have to admit was the greatest of the serial killers.”
“‘Greatest?’” Rachel echoed, startled.
“At what he did,” he said impatiently. “Don’t play semantics with me, Rachel, you know you’d only lose. When you think of serial killers, what name comes to mind?”
“Jack the Ripper,” she said promptly.
She’d managed to surprise him. “You’re right,” he said, thoughtful. “And of course he was never caught. Maybe having an extra name isn’t such a bad idea. Too bad it’s such a boring one.”
“They don’t know enough about him to give a better description.” Despite the macabre oddness of the conversation at least they weren’t talking about the adoption anymore. “Maybe they could call him the Blonde Murderer. But that might suggest that he’s blonde, not his victims. Have they been able to link any other murders to the same man?”
David shrugged, some of his earlier irritation vanishing. “I gather there might be a connection between the murders of several young women, mostly college students, in Oregon and Western Washington, but as far I know they haven’t figured out anything definitive. Who knows, the killer might have traveled even farther afield.”
“I’d just as soon he would,” Rachel said, her stomach knotting. “Until he’s gone for sure it makes me nervous. Could we stop talking about this? I need to see what we’re going to have for dinner and I don’t want Sophie to see that I’m upset.”
“Certainly. And I’ve taken care of the adoption papers.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You have?”
“Blanchard drew up some generic papers for you to look over. You may want to change some provisions—for instance, you may want her to spend time with her biological father, or have your parents have visitation rights if anything happens to you.”
“Jesus, you’re gloomy.”
“Language, Rachel,” he chided gently. “You know how much I hate it when you curse. And I’m just being responsible.”
“And I’m not?”
“I didn’t say that.” He was very patient. “I’m just saying that this is a simple matter that needs attending to, and since you’ve been avoiding it I’ve gone ahead and taken care of it. Just tell me what changes you want Blanchard to make and I’ll tell him. I already assume you want to ensure that Sophie has no contact with my brother. What about your family?”
“You know that my parents have nothing to do with me and prefer their safe little fundamentalist world in Oklahoma where they can concentrate on two obedient children. As for Jared, he died in a plane crash three years ago, still never having even met Sophie.”
“So you see, it’s even more important that Sophie be taken care of,” David said. “I promised Blanchard you’d take a look at it and sign