“Am I? Would you have said the same thing if Al had told you that he and Lonnie were going to spend an evening at The Factory?”
“In case you haven’t noticed,” Will said, “this psycho doesn’t pick on middle-aged, gray-haired men.”
“Hey, watch it.” Al was grinning, obviously enjoying the exchange. “You’ll hurt my feelings.”
Jen took a deep breath, trying to control her anger. Would it ever change? For the decade she’d been a cop, she had experienced either male protectiveness or male criticism. She knew Will’s concern was on a more personal level, but it still angered her. She’d been right to avoid getting involved with him.
“Look,” she said, striving for a reasonable tone of voice. “Jamie and I will both be armed. We’ll have a portable radio in the car in case we run into trouble on the way there or back, and of course, we’ll have our phones. I’ll let Dispatch know when we get there and when we leave. Okay?”
Will looked at her, making no attempt to hide his concern. She could see him weighing his options and coming to the conclusion that he had none. He shrugged.
“I guess it will have to be, won’t it?” he said.
CHAPTER 19
The man who used to be Arthur Kelty threw the paper on the end table and leaned back in the recliner, closing his eyes to rest them. Across the dark screen of his eyelids, he could still see the image of the man standing by the cruiser parked in front of the scene of his latest kill. The picture had been taken the day before, but it had been too late to make the Tuesday edition. Now it graced the front page.
The young police officer who had been first on the scene of his father’s capture was no longer the fresh-faced man he remembered. In fact, he was surprised that he’d recognized the mature FBI agent as the man who’d ruined his life. But in spite of the years, he had recognized the same strong jaw, the same intense eyes—black in the newspaper photograph but blue in real life. The hair had streaks of gray in it now, but it was the same thick hair that had spilled out from under the young officer’s cap as he’d held his service revolver on his beloved father while he writhed in pain from the dog bite.
He curled his hand into a fist and slammed it down hard on the arm of the recliner, imagining it was his fist slamming into the young officer’s throat. He should have jumped him when he’d had the chance. Big baby that he’d been, he’d been stricken at the sight of his injured father and had run to his side rather than protecting him from the more serious danger posed by the policeman.
His father had never forgiven him, and he’d never forgiven himself. He’d tried for years to forget his failure, as he’d tried for years to live a quiet life that wouldn’t attract the attention of the authorities. In the end, he was his father’s son. He missed his father, and he missed the hunt. Before six weeks ago, he’d only killed on his own once, and that had been out of necessity. He’d needed a new identity so he took it.
He’d been living on the streets in New Orleans then, and when he met the boy who looked enough like him to be his brother, he’d seen it for the opportunity that it was. He’d befriended the boy and learned that he had a drug problem. He’d already run away numerous times, and it didn’t take much to convince the kid they should go to California. “Bring ID and as much money as you can,” he’d told the kid, “and I’ll get us a car.” The gullible idiot had followed his instructions to the letter. Two hours after they’d left the city, the kid and the stolen car were at the bottom of a swamp in western Louisiana, and Artie was on a bus headed for Illinois with a new name. He’d been proud of himself at the way he’d planned and executed his mission, and he was pretty sure Father would have been proud of him as well.
A few months later, he befriended another kid who introduced him to a group of teenage hackers, and for surprisingly little money and some good weed, they’d accepted the challenge of creating him a new identity, one complete with a high school diploma, a birth certificate, and a driver’s license. He became the new person, established a life for himself, and stayed under the radar. For a while, he was content.
But as the years passed, the desire for the hunt had grown along with his rage. When he finally indulged that desire, he’d known there was no turning back. It was the only way he could prove to himself and to his father’s memory that he wasn’t a coward. That would have been enough, but now he had the opportunity for more. Now he could avenge himself—and his father—against the man who’d ruined their lives. This time he wouldn’t fail.
He glanced back at the newspaper photo, at the woman standing next to his enemy. Detective Jen Dillon had become a part of this. He’d seen the way the FBI agent had looked at her. She meant something to him, and that was his weakness, his Achilles heel. He would make his enemy suffer as he had suffered. He would give Jen Dillon the treatment he had given the others, and after his enemy had suffered the unspeakable loss of someone he cared for, then—and only then—he would kill him.
CHAPTER 20
“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Prince Charming is here, and he’s got waffles.”
Jen forced her eyes open and squinted at Brandon. He was dressed for school and was standing by the bed with a tray in his hands.
“Morning,” she mumbled.
She struggled to prop herself on the
