madman.
Cordie was so shocked by what she was hearing that she grabbed Regan’s hand to comfort her.
“Thank God you got away from him,” she whispered.
Sophie wanted more details. “Could you identify him if you saw him?”
“I don’t know. Yes… maybe. I was so scared. I turned and there he was. He wore thick glasses.”
Cordie found her cell phone and handed it to Regan. “Call right now and tell them there’s a lunatic roaming around the conference center.”
“I’ll bet he’s long gone by now,” Sophie said.
“Are you saying she shouldn’t call?” Cordie asked, ready to argue.
“Of course she should call, but after you give the police the description, tell the officer we’re on our way to the police station. There’s one about two miles from here.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Cordie said. She put the car in drive and headed out while Regan made the call.
“We’ve got to get some ice on Regan’s knee,” Sophie said. “And the sooner the better.”
Regan motioned for her friends to be quiet when the phone was answered. She worried she would end up talking to another detective like Sweeney, but fortunately, the officer who took the call was efficient and polite. As soon as she explained what had happened, he dispatched policemen to the conference center to search for the man.
“I think he believed me, but I don’t know why,” Regan said after she had ended the call. “I rambled, didn’t I?”
“A little,” Cordie said.
“Turn left at the next corner,” Sophie directed. “There’s a QuikTrip where we can get her an ice pack, and a police station is just about a mile farther down that street.”
“How come you know where all the police stations are?” Regan asked.
“Not all of them, just some,” she corrected. “I’m going to be an investigative reporter, remember? It’s good to know these things.”
“I liked Officer Martinez,” Sophie said an hour later as the three left the police station.
Regan was replaying what she had said and shaking her head over her descriptions. “I sounded like an idiot. There was a man… dressed like a runner,” she quoted herself. “He appeared out of nowhere and I fell, and I think he might have been chasing me. But then again… maybe he wasn’t…”
“You were smart to run, Regan,” Sophie said. “That’s what Officer Martinez said. You went with your instincts.”
“He also said there hadn’t been any problems at the center in over a year.”
“You still did the right thing,” Cordie said. “You reported the incident, and if he’s some kind of wacko, which, by the way, I think he is, they’ll be on the lookout for him.”
“Could we not talk about this anymore?” Regan said. “How about eating in the hotel dining room? I’ll get you both settled at a table in the restaurant, run upstairs to change out of these wet clothes, and we’ll have a lovely dinner.”
“I don’t think you’re going to be able to run anywhere,” Cordie said. “And you need to keep ice on that knee.”
“Then come up to my suite, and we’ll order room service.”
They both agreed, and the rest of the evening was blessedly uneventful. As far as Regan was concerned, the matter was closed.
Chapter Thirteen
He had blown it. After all the worrying and the planning and the practicing, he had let her get away. He’d worked so hard. It wasn’t fair. No, it wasn’t fair at all. It was his right to take her life, his duty.
She’d tricked him into feeling confused and sympathetic when she’d fallen. She’d blindsided him. Yes, that’s exactly what she had done.
He pulled the Jeep over to the curb, put it in park, and began to pound the dashboard with his fists. He knew he was behaving like a child having a full-blown tantrum, but he didn’t care. He had failed. He kept beating the console until the shaking subsided. By the time he was able to think clearly again, his knuckles were raw.
Panic didn’t set in until he’d reached the safety of his garage. He stayed in the car until the garage door was down and he was safe inside his frigid cocoon. And still he didn’t move. He leaned against the seat and closed his eyes while he thought about his situation, his mind jumping from one thought to another. He knew it was only a matter of time before the police found the accident he’d buried. Would they connect him to that crime? If they did, he’d be locked away for the rest of his life, and his Nina, his dear, sweet Nina… how could she exist without him?
Stay cool, he told himself. There would be other chances. He
wouldn’t get caught. The beast wouldn’t let that happen. It was going to be okay.
He continued his internal monologue as he crept through the house and opened the bedroom door to check on Nina. She was sound asleep. He quietly closed the door and went into the laundry room just off the kitchen. He stripped out of his clothes, tossed them into the washer, and grabbed the box of Tide.
His mind wouldn’t quiet down. He analyzed his poor performance this evening, and he was appalled and disgusted. He had to do better next time. Had to.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He kept picturing her, his beautiful angel with the broken wing, falling, so gracefully tumbling down. Had he heard her cry out, or had he only imagined she had? His chosen one, his perfect angel, was innocent, as innocent as his beloved Nina.
He closed his eyes and bowed his head. He had seen her weep, and his heart ached for her. He was so confused, torn between worrying about her and raging because she had gotten away.
“Can’t have it both ways,” he whispered. And he knew, in his heart he knew, that he had to appease the demon.
Stark naked, he went back into the garage. His chest and arms were covered in goose bumps. There was a small mirror propped on a shelf near the door. He paused to admire himself. His body was that of a Greek god, he thought with a great deal of pride. He’d worked hard to get it that way. Flexing his muscles, he smiled at his reflection.
He stood there a full minute before he turned away. He had the sudden urge, no, need, to look at her things, just to make sure they were where he’d hidden them in the small wooden crate with a stack of rags on top. The crate was tucked in the corner. It wasn’t a very clever hiding place, and tomorrow he planned to move the box.
The hammer, the girl’s driver’s license, and her pepper spray were just where he’d put them. He still wasn’t sure why he’d taken them, but he couldn’t make himself get rid of them just yet. He picked up the license and read her name. Haley Cross. In the photo, she was smiling. The picture he had of her in his mind was a face contorted in terror. He dropped the license on top of the spray and picked up the hammer.
The sound of a phone ringing close by jarred him. He whirled around with the hammer upraised in his hand. It took him a second to realize the noise was coming from his Jeep. Of course. Her phone. Someone was calling her. He waited, frozen, with the hammer in midair, until the ringing stopped. He found the phone and her folder on the backseat.
Shivering from the night chill, he hurried into his kitchen. He placed the phone and the folder on the table, went to the sink to wash his hands and clean the cuts on his knuckles, and then made himself a drink.
He dropped into a chair and opened the folder. He spread the contents across the table and began to read.
Chapter Fourteen
