Without Mercy - Lisa Jackson [168]
What was it her shrink had said? That she had the unique ability to block out impressions she didn’t want to face, but also to dwell on those that were the most repulsive. He’d been fascinated by her case and had told her that she’d locked Trent away from her life because she was afraid that if she trusted him too much, he’d leave. Just as her father had left her the first time Rip and Edie had divorced. Just as her stepfather, Max Stillman, had after his short marriage to her mother. Then her father, after remarrying Edie, dying as he had…Rip’s death had been the ultimate abandonment.
He hadn’t wanted to leave, though, had he, Jules?
He left because someone took his life.
You pushed Trent away because you were afraid of loving him too much, of being hurt, of him leaving you…You were a coward.
“Stop!” she ordered, her voice ringing louder than she’d expected. Too bad. She wouldn’t listen to the arguments that raged in her mind, the stressful battles that always brought with them pounding, merciless headaches. Just like the one that was forming behind her eyes right now.
Think, Jules, think. Figure this out, damn it!
Before something happens to Shay!
She walked into the bathroom, found her bottle of Excedrin and tossed back four pills before dipping her head under the faucet for a swallow of water. Standing, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she caught her reflection in the mirror, witnessed her own fear, her own frustration in her own eyes.
Who was behind these murders, the brutal killings, all with separate MOs? She and Shaylee had spent night after night watching CSI and Law and Order and anything forensic on what was then Court TV. She knew how things worked, and it seemed odd, out of character, for the murderer to kill Drew with an ax or hatchet, to strangle Nona and dangle her from the rafters, and then to slit Maeve’s wrists, after burning her hair. Nona and Drew had been naked, Maeve fully clothed, but then Nona and Drew had taken their own clothes off presumably while having sex.
The killer hadn’t undressed them.
There had to be a connection between the killings, one she was missing. One that was deeper than the fact that the killings had been committed in the stable.
Or was that just a line from TV? She stared at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. Who was killing off students? And why those particular students? Were the killings random, the victims’ deaths a matter of opportunity, or had the murders been meticulously planned, the victims chosen and stalked? That seemed more likely, considering the methods of death.
Or was that, too, something she’d learned from watching too much television crime?
She threw cold water on her face, willing the headache to subside, then yanked the hand towel from her face and patted her skin dry.
How had the killer known Maeve would be in the stable?
Because he’d lured her there with his note. Remember? The piece of paper with OMEN scrawled upon it?
She glanced at her reflection one more time, and confirmation parked in her mirrored gaze.
There was only one reason Maeve would go out in the middle of the night: to meet Ethan Slade. Hadn’t she said as much to Trent earlier?
Snapping off the bathroom light on the fly, Jules walked into the living area and stopped at her desk. She rifled through a few papers stacked haphazardly in the corner near her computer and found the schedule for the security patrols. Her eyes skimmed down the list of assignments, stopping when she came to the guards listed for the time span when she assumed Maeve had been killed.
“You guys are toast,” she said aloud, reading that Ethan Slade and Roberto Ortega, under the guidance of Salvatore DeMarco, had been on security duty early in the night.
Jules didn’t doubt for a second that Ethan made plans to meet up with Maeve after his shift ended.
She checked further, running her finger down the security detail. After Ethan and Roberto, Missy Albright and Eric Rolfe