Never touched the weights, never bothered with the other machines. Just liked to show herself off in one of the tight outfits she changed into.
No different from a street-corner whore.
Afterward, she’d walk the three blocks back to work, get her car from the parking lot, then drive the half mile home.
She wasn’t fucking anyone at the moment.
Career-focused. Self-focused. Nobody and nothing mattered as much to her as herself.
Selfish bitch. Street-corner whore.
He felt the rage rising up. It felt so good. So good. Hot and bitter.
He imagined pounding his fists into her face, her belly, her breasts. He could feel the way her cheekbone would shatter, smell the blood when her lip split, see the shock and pain in her eye as it swelled and closed.
“Teach her a lesson,” he murmured. “Teach her a lesson, all right.”
“Hey, buddy, move it up.”
His hands shook and fisted as he whirled on the man behind him in line. His rage quivered, and his pride spread as the man took an instinctive step back.
Paying attention now, he thought. Everyone’s paying attention now.
Perry’s voice murmured in his ear. He made himself turn back, cast his gaze down. He was sick of blending. Sick of not being seen.
But... but...
He couldn’t think with all this
Not yet. Not yet. He needed to calm down, to remember the preparations. To focus on the goal.
When he glanced up again, he saw the prey already moving toward the door, her take-out cup in her hand. His face burned with embarrassment. He’d nearly let her walk away, nearly lost her.
He stepped out of line, kept his head down. It couldn’t be tonight after all. Discipline, control, focus. He needed to calm down, to calm himself, to box in the excitement until
She’d have one more night of freedom, one more day of life. And he’d have the pleasure of knowing she was unaware she had already stepped into the trap.
Fiona considered a voodoo doll. She could probably get one of Sylvia’s artists to make a doll in Kati Starr’s likeness. Sticking pins in it, or simply bashing its head against a table, might be childish, but she had a feeling it would also be therapeutic.
Simon didn’t seem to be concerned about the latest story with Starr’s byline. He was probably right. Probably. But the idea that she claimed to have sources stating the FBI was looking for a “person of interest” in the RSKII investigation grated.
She didn’t just pull that out of the air.
Someone was leaking information, and she was confident enough of the source to print it, and to have traveled to Orcas, again.
To have pushed Fiona’s name forward, again. And this time linking her with Simon. The
The paper had even printed a sidebar on him, relating his work in the medium of wood, his practical applications with a creative flair, its organic center.
Blah, blah, blah.
She had a few dozen things she’d like to say to Kati Starr, which of course was just what the reporter wanted.
The continued publicity put her in a tenuous position with clients. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—answer questions, and they couldn’t help but ask them.
And because the questions, and the crazies, were popping up on her blog, she had to close the comments section and rerun old entries.
Desperate for something to keep her mind occupied, she focused on a new project. And hunted Simon down in his shop. Whatever he was making involved the lathe and the use of a small carving tool—and looked as though it required precision and focus.
She stood back and kept her mouth shut until he turned off the machine.
“What?”
“Can you make this?”
He tossed the protective goggles aside and studied the photo.
“It’s a window box.”
“I know what it is.”
“It’s actually Meg’s window box. I asked her to take a picture and upload it for me. Simon, I need something to do.”
“This looks like something for me to do.”
“Yes, initially. But I’ll plant them. If you could make four of them.” She caught the wheedling edge in her voice and hated it enough to change tones. “I know maybe you don’t actually want window boxes, but you have to admit they’d look good, and they’d perk up the front of the house. You could even decorate them for Christmas with—or not,” she said as he only stared.
“Okay, I guess I won’t mention an idea for some raised beds on the south side of the house. Sorry. Sorry. One look around here and anyone could see you’re already busy enough without me dreaming up more to keep myself occupied. What’s that?”
She gestured toward the tarp that covered the wine cabinet.
“That would be none of your business.”
“Fine. I’ll go clean something and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”
“Fiona.”
She stopped at the door.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
“No, it’s fine. You’re in the middle of something, and my problem is I’m not. So I’ll get in the middle of something.”
“So, I’ll go for a walk by myself, and you can go in and sulk.”
She heaved out a breath before crossing over and putting her arms around him. “I was planning on sulking, but I can put it off.” She tipped her face up. “I’m restless, that’s all. I’m used to coming and going when I please. Heading off with the dogs, or jumping in the car and driving into the village. Stopping by Sylvia’s, or going by to see Mai. I promised I wouldn’t go anywhere alone, and I didn’t realize how stir-crazy I’d get when I couldn’t. So now I’m a pest, and it annoys me. Probably more than it annoys you.”
“Doubtful,” he said, and made her laugh.
“Go back to work. I’m going to go take some new pictures of the boys and update the website.”
“We’ll go out later. Go out for dinner or something.”
“I feel sanity returning. I’ll see you when you’re done.” She walked back to the door, opened it. Stopped. “Simon.”
“What now?”
“Agents Tawney and Mantz just pulled up.”
She tried to be optimistic as she walked across the yard. Tawney greeted the dogs, and was immediately offered a rope by Jaws as Mantz stayed several cautious steps back.
“Fiona. Simon.” Despite his dark suit, Tawney gave Jaws a quick game of tug. “I hope we’re not interrupting.”
“No. In fact I was just complaining I had too much time on my hands today.”
“Feeling hemmed in?”
“A little. Lie. A lot.”
“I remember how it was for you before. We’re making progress, Fee. We’re going to do everything we can to
