Born To Die

as he hurried down the rickety old stairs. The scent of the basement, of dust and dirt, filled his nostrils as he unlocked the door and stepped into his private office. Without thinking, he locked the door behind him and tried to calm himself.

“One.” Breathe. “Two.” Take another, deeper breath.

Agitated, he slowly counted to ten, then to twenty, but his fists were still clenched, his shoulders tight, his mind a blaze of red. A deep fury that burned bright. Opening a drawer in the desk, he saw the yellowed records that he had collected, soon intended to destroy. The ancient computer from which this information was taken was long gone, the floppy disks of that era already disintegrated into nothing, their files corrupted and irretrievable.

So all that remained were these papers he’d preserved with such care. And he would burn them, one by one, as soon as each of those he called “the Unknowings” was dead.

Of course, there was always a chance that one of them could still stumble upon the truth, and that thought twisted his guts. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, let it happen, he thought, anger rising again.

Wanting to kick something or someone, he made his way to the specialty bar he’d installed himself, slid out of his clothes, and stepped into his pair of gravity inversion boots.

After strapping himself in, he began doing abdominal pull-ups, curling himself toward the ceiling, feeling his spine decompress, forcing his muscles to work hard.

He needed the release and gritted his teeth as sweat began to run along his skin.

He’d plotted out his revenge neatly and spent years slowly taking care of the Unknowings. The pictures he had of them, all taken moments before their deaths, were proof enough of how patient and careful he’d been, the years he’d put into this project. But every once in a while, some of his best laid plans were undone.

The most recent case in point was Elle Alexander. How could he have predicted that her shyster of a husband would pull up stakes and join a law firm here? In Grizzly Falls of all places? It complicated things, and now that damned Elle was going to ruin everything. She’d already visited Acacia Lambert, and that spelled trouble.

But you can fix this. You know you can. Think!

His muscles strained as he pulled up, held the position, then slowly lowered himself to hang upside down for a second or two before repeating the process.

He couldn’t afford any screwups now.

There’s still time. Just concentrate!

Again he pulled upward.

This time his abs screamed.

Slowly he rolled downward, and while his muscles protested, he forced himself to do another set and unhooked his boots only when his abs and back felt as if they were on fire and sweat dripped down his body to pool on the floor.

Good. It’s good.

Taking a deep breath, he flipped lithely to his feet. He was agile and strong, a high-school wrestler who’d gone to state and later, in college, a member of a competitive crew team. He’d rock climbed, explored caves, scuba dived, and snow skied.

And he’d never backed down from a challenge.

Even the biggest of his life.

So he couldn’t allow anything to get in his way.

Not even that niggling sensation that caught him off guard once in a while. That someone knew.

“Stop!” he said aloud, to jar himself away from the unfounded fear that sometimes burrowed into his heart.

Already he’d had to accelerate his schedule. He’d planned on taking his time, to not arouse any suspicions, but now he felt a tightness in his chest, a sense of dire urgency. Time was running out.

At least he understood who would be next.

Finally, his thoughts were clear. He always had a plan B, which was always a little more dangerous, with more chance of being found out, but at this point, he had no choice. Elle had to be dealt with.

It would work out. Most of those far away had been dealt with, which left him a clear shot at those who were near.

He would have to tread carefully, as ever. One mistake now and he’d be exposed before his mission was finished, before he could be free. He couldn’t allow himself the sense of ego to think that the cops were stupid; he’d just been lucky, as so far they had been in different jurisdictions. And the actress had brought national attention. Because of her fame, Shelly Bonaventure’s untimely demise had caused a deeper scrutiny; because of her lifestyle, her death had been ruled an accident.

He’d gotten lucky; he knew it.

Now things were about to change.

Now that his work would be nearby.

The police here could possibly put two and two together.

Smiling, he thought of that answer: it was far more than four. He glanced at his stack of photos, proof that the Unknowings had died, and felt a buzz of excitement sizzle through his veins. He was about to add another.

Closer and closer to his ultimate goal.

Grabbing a clean towel from the neatly folded stack that he kept on the same shelves as his boots, he patted off the sweat that still sheened his body, then slid into a thick robe. Calmer now, in complete control again, he sat at his desk, where his computer screen was already glowing. He dragged up all the information he had on Elle, then stared at her photo. He’d have to follow her, but that wasn’t a problem. She was a ditzy, scattered woman who could be dealt with fairly easily.

He’d make her a priority.

He was certain, with a little patience, the perfect opportunity would present itself.

He’d be ready.

All of Kacey’s worries about adopting a dog had melted the second Kacey had picked up Bonzi on Saturday and driven him home. Calm by nature, he’d sniffed around the perimeter of the house, decided a near-dead rosebush near the garage was his favorite spot to relieve himself, and accepted the dog bed she’d purchased as his own. He followed after her everywhere she went, toenails clicking, ears cocked, eyes bright with curiosity, but she found out on Sunday that if she walked him for half a mile twice a day, he was content to sleep away most of the rest of the hours.

“Oh, right, a fine guard dog you turned out to be,” she chastised as she made herself dinner and he yawned in response. She thought about calling Trace O’Halleran and checking on Eli and Sarge, but she realized it would sound too much like the excuse it was.

To her surprise she’d enjoyed herself on Friday night at Dino’s. Since then, she’d found herself thinking, no, make that fantasizing, about him and his son. She had even picked up the phone a couple of times to call and ask about Sarge, then had thought better of it. But she hadn’t put him out of her mind. At least not easily. And there were questions she had about him, and about his boy, about Eli’s absent mother. Though it didn’t seem as if Trace had a current girlfriend, he’d been recently involved, at some level, with Jocelyn Wallis, even ID’ing her when she lay in the hospital, clinging hopelessly to life.

How close had they been? she wondered now.

“None of your business,” she told herself, but it didn’t stop her thoughts from turning to him. She hadn’t dated much since her marriage had crumbled, and after JC she’d sworn off men for a while. But, she sensed, Trace O’Halleran could change all that.

In a heartbeat.

Elle stepped on the gas. Her minivan was zooming along the dark road, but she wasn’t worried, even though night had fallen hours earlier. She’d driven “hazardous” mountain roads since she was sixteen; they were no big