Susan saw him approaching the window, and she dropped to the ground. She could see his silhouette directly above her. “What makes you so certain those two haven’t gotten hold of the state police by now?” she heard him ask. He was so close to the glass, it sounded as if he were talking to her.
“Relax,” the deputy said, with a cryptic smile. “They won’t give you any more trouble.”
Susan watched the shadow move away from the window. She remained crouched down below the ledge.
“I’ve come up with a plan for them that I think you’ll like,” Deputy Shaffer went on. “By tomorrow morning, there will be three dead teenagers in this house. The two boys—and the third, I don’t think you’ve met. She’s Jordan’s girlfriend, a very pretty girl. You’ll like her. In fact, your lovely Susan pulled a fast one on me and e-mailed me from the boat, pretending to be you. I thought you’d finally come around, so I sent you a photo of this pretty, young thing. I have her tucked away in a closet at the old Chemerica plant. I was going to kill her myself, but I’d really like to do her with you, Allen. You know, like Bianchi and Bruno—the Hillside Strangler? Wouldn’t that be fantastic—if we killed together, and they ended up giving us one name like that? We’d be a team, Allen. Maybe the Cullen Killer? This sweet teenager is just waiting to be our first joint effort….”
Susan finally dared to peek over the window ledge. She saw Allen sitting in a chair at the far corner of the living room—near the stairs. He was hunched over, rubbing his back while Shaffer stood in front of him. The cop still had the gun in his hand, but the barrel was aimed at the floor.
“Here’s the part you’ll really like,” Shaffer continued. “We’ll leave her body in the woods back here. Everyone will think those two asshole teenagers did her in and then shot each other—until we team up for another kill and then another. They’ll start to see a pattern and realize we’re a force to be reckoned with. There are plenty of women out there for us, Allen. It doesn’t matter how cautious they are either, we can still get to them. One of the nice things about being a cop is that I make a pretty girl pull over on a lonely highway whenever I want. What do you think,
“What if I were to say no?” Allen asked warily.
The deputy let out a long sigh. “Well, you’re going to want these two teenage avengers dead, am I right?”
Allen just nodded.
“This girl is going to disappear anyway. She’s already ID’d me. Unfortunately for you, her bra can be found somewhere at Twenty-two Birch—among your things. Plus I’ve been inside your place in Seattle—and Susan’s place, too. I’ve cleaned your hairbrush for you, Allen. Wouldn’t it be bad luck for you if they found this girl with some silver and black hairs clutched in her fist?”
Allen said nothing. He slumped forward in the chair and buried his face in his hands.
“By the way, speaking of unfinished business,” the deputy said, digging into his pocket. “Susan will have to disappear.”
“What?” Allen looked up at him.
The deputy lobbed something at him—and it hit Allen in the face. Susan realized the white item now landing in Allen’s lap were her missing panties.
“She knows too much, Allen. Besides that, she’ll be a detriment to our work together. I know you’re fond of her. But she has to go. We’ll have to put our heads together on how to handle this….”
Out of the corner of her eye, Susan saw a shadow creeping behind her.
She ducked below the ledge and swiveled around. She saw the shadow was within a patch of light that spilled across the bushes and part of the lawn. It came from the second-floor window, where someone was standing.
Susan raised her head and peered into the living room again. The two of them had stopped talking. The deputy had his gun ready. He put his finger to his lips and shook his head at Allen. Then he pointed up toward the ceiling. Susan realized they must have heard the footsteps above. The deputy didn’t seem at all surprised. In fact, he was smiling.
She crouched down again and scrambled toward the lawn and that little patch of light. She saw Jordan Prewitt upstairs, trying to open the window—possibly to escape. He tugged at it, but the window squeaked. He hesitated.
Susan straightened up and started to wave at him. She had to warn Jordan that they were on to him. Stepping back, she accidentally kicked the metal rake head she had stumbled over earlier. She heard it clatter against the same rock it had struck before.
Susan glanced over and saw Allen approaching the living room window. She quickly darted behind some bushes.
“I think someone’s outside,” she heard him say, his voice muffled in the distance.
Crouching close to the ground, she glanced over at that patch of light—and Jordan’s silhouette as he struggled with the window. It squeaked again, and as far as she could tell, he didn’t even have it halfway open yet. From his shadow, it looked as if he was shaking his head. Then he turned away, and the silhouette disappeared.
Holding her breath, Susan peeked around the shrub. Allen wasn’t at the living room window anymore. She crept back to the ledge and gazed into the house again.
His gun ready, Deputy Shaffer skulked up a few steps toward the second floor. Behind him, Allen waited at the bottom of the stairs.
Susan remembered the pellet gun and took it out of the pocket of her cardigan. She didn’t expect to do much harm with it—except perhaps create a diversion by blowing a hole through the window. Maybe Jordan could get away if she distracted them. Trembling, she stepped back, aimed the gun at the glass, and squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
Of course, nothing happened. Shaffer had given her the damn gun.
Susan was about to hurl the gun through the window, when she heard Allen yell:
Two loud shots rang out.
Through the window, Susan watched in horror as Jordan Prewitt tumbled down the stairs. Near the bottom of the steps, Shaffer stepped aside and brutally shoved him. Jordan went crashing through the banister. There was a loud crack as the wooden railing broke and the pieces snapped off. A poker flew out of Jordan’s hand. He fell to the floor amid the scraps of wood.
Allen marched over to his prone body and kicked him in the ribs.
Covering her mouth, Susan turned to run, but she tripped and hit the ground with a thud. The useless pellet gun fell out of her hand. She was almost certain they had heard her. As she pulled herself up, she noticed the rake-head contraption. She swiped it up and scraped her hand on the sharp prongs. But she barely noticed. She was already heading for the police car. She wedged the device—prongs up—under the rear tire.
Then she raced for the wooded area at the side of the driveway. She ran as fast as she could toward her Toyota. Bushes scratched at her hands and face as she sprinted through the thicket to her car. By the time she climbed into the front seat, Susan was shaking violently. She could hardly get the key in the ignition, and once she did, the car wouldn’t start. She tried it again, and the car responded with a loud wheezing sound. No doubt they heard it in the cabin. Finally, the engine turned over with a roar. The Toyota started to make that rattling noise again.
Susan backed up to the driveway, plowing over a few shrubs in the process. Turning the car around, she peeled out of the driveway.
Tears streaming down her face, Susan sped down the dark, winding road. Her tires screeched at each bend, and the rattling seemed to grow louder. She kept checking the rearview mirror. The road was dark in back of her. Maybe that pronged device had crippled the patrol car.
Up ahead, she saw the disabled Honda Civic. But the emergency flashers were off. Shaffer must have switched off the lights. It didn’t look like anyone was in the car. Was it too much to hope that Jordan’s friend had made it to the store and called the state police by now?
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Susan glanced in the rearview mirror again. “Oh, no,” she whispered.
A pair of headlights appeared in the distance behind her. They began to loom closer and closer—disappearing behind the tree-lined curves every few moments and then reappearing again. Susan wondered if there was a chance
