They never made it to the next course until much later.
***
The man who used to be Arthur Kelty sat in his car in the parking lot for a long time, staring up at the window. He could guess what they were doing, and disgust mingled with his hatred for the FBI agent. It would be a pleasure killing him, but it would add to the pleasure to make him suffer first. The best way to make a person suffer, as Artie well knew, was to kill someone that person loved. That would be a pleasure, too.
But he would do it right. Dillon had signed her death warrant by rutting with the agent, and he would use her to snare the man himself. Then he would force his nemesis to watch while he prepared her for the kill and took his time slaughtering her.
Father had always said that he enjoyed having him along to watch the kills, that an appreciative audience increased the thrill. He smiled. He doubted that Will Anderson would be very appreciative, but that might make the kick that much greater.
CHAPTER 36
Only a hint of daylight showed through the window when Jen woke Saturday morning. Will was still sleeping soundly beside her, snoring lightly. He looked so innocent. She always marveled at the little boy look that men took when they were asleep. But last night, when he was awake, he sure hadn’t looked or acted like a little boy!
Slipping out of bed, she dressed in jogging shorts, a T-shirt, and her socks and running shoes. She didn’t want to wake Will just yet, so she moved quietly. She wanted to be alone for a little while to clear her head and think, and running was the one sure way she knew to do it.
Before leaving, she scribbled a message on the chalkboard that hung on the kitchen wall. The morning was cool but not unpleasantly so, and she slipped into an easy, unhurried pace. For the first half mile or so, she dwelt only on her running and the morning, enjoying the feel of exercise after a week without it.
Well, she silently amended, I have had some exercise. All of it last night. In fact, I think I trained for the sexual Olympics.
A delicious feeling of contentment washed through her. The consummation of the attraction they’d been feeling for one another had ranged from wildly passionate coupling to sexual playfulness filled with laughter to tender and soulful lovemaking, each aspect of their union as satisfying as the next.
She cut through a hedgerow into a park near her apartment. A paved jogging trail circled the two-mile perimeter. Jen seldom ran it, doing most of her mileage on the streets, but she was still a little spooked about street jogging after seeing the hit-and-run.
She would have to call the hospital when she got back to the apartment and check on the condition of the sixteen-year-old girl. She’d been improving the afternoon before, improving while the victim was dying, but she hadn’t been out of the woods yet.
She passed an older couple walking their Pomeranian and exchanged good-morning greetings with them. Their cheeks were rosy with the morning air. They probably resided at the apartment house for seniors at the south edge of the park and walked here every morning. She wondered if they’d ever had to deal with murder or other senseless violence, hoping they hadn’t and never would.
She allowed herself to wonder for a moment if she and Will would be walking a dog together in their golden years. He’d be a handsome old man, she was sure—tall and erect, probably with thick, slate gray hair. She smiled at herself. After last night, the thought didn’t seem farfetched, but she’d never admit having it to anyone. It was just a fantasy that the nineteen-year-old girl who lived in her mind would have.
Her body was fully awake now, her blood flowing fast and her feet beating out a steady rhythm on the blacktop. She had almost completed one lap of the trail and decided to go another before heading home.
She heard a car horn blare on the street outside the park and remembered Trish running across the intersection, forgetting to look both ways, concerned only with the broken man on the sidewalk. Had she been thinking of him when she unlocked her front door that night? Is that why the killer had been able to overcome her so easily?
Jen knew she was often oblivious to her own safety. It was being a cop that did it. If a person was successful in law enforcement, that person didn’t run from anything or anybody but stood and fought and sincerely believed nothing could touch him or her. It was a con job, of course, designed to keep the fear at bay, but it was a necessary con job.
She remembered her own bravado of a few nights before when she had thought it would serve the killer right if he picked on someone like her and met her friend, Mr. Smith and Wesson. Well, Trish had also had a friend named Mr. Smith and Wesson, but it hadn’t done her much good.
It was fully daylight now, and the park had filled with joggers and walkers. It was going to be a clear, sunny day. As she passed the halfway point of her last lap of the trail, her thoughts swung back to Trish and the other victims and the perpetual question—what was the common denominator?
She began going over the facts in her mind. Number one: BodyFit. Carla and Vicki had been regular members. Judy had visited once, but Trish had never been there.
Number two: The Factory. Judy was a regular, Vicki and Trish had gone there occasionally, but they had been unable to confirm that Carla had ever set foot inside the place.
Number three: the mailman. Carter Holiday seemed like a nice guy, but so did a lot
