“I’m in the middle of a murder investigation. I don’t have time for things like movies or girlfriends.”
He closed the distance between them. “Dammit, Kitt, you’re driving me frigging nu-”
He kissed her. For a split second she was too shocked to respond, then she pushed him away, furious. “What the hell was that?”
His face flooded with color. He looked angry. “Nothing. It was nothi-”
He bit the last back, turned and strode toward the door.
“Danny, wait! Let’s talk about this.”
He didn’t stop and a moment later the door slammed shut. She ran after him, through the door and onto the porch. “Danny! Come on, it’s-”
Too late, she saw as he started his car and roared away from the curb. She watched until his taillights disappeared from sight, then turned and went back inside.
She locked the door behind her, then rubbed her arms, chilled from the night air. She would call him tomorrow, after he’d had a chance to cool down. Get over what was undoubtedly anger and embarrassment caused by her rejection.
Dammit. She didn’t want to lose his friendship. She valued it. But she wasn’t attracted to him. That wasn’t going to change.
She felt suddenly drained. Why’d he have to pull this now? She didn’t have the time or energy to deal with this. She had a killer to catch. Make that two killers-one of whom had made her mission personal.
“No, Kitten, it’s the children you care about. The little girls.”
He had turned the tables on her. He knew her, her deepest fears. How had he managed it?
She began to pace, her fatigue falling away. Replaced by a kind of nervous energy. She went over what he’d said.
“How fast and how hard would you run to save another little girl? Another Sadie?” And then, “Aren’t there some little girls in your life right now? Are you strong enough to protect them? Smart enough?”
She stopped pacing. She realized her heart was pounding. Her hands shaking.
Little girls. In her life.
Are you strong enough to save them? Smart enough?
It hit her all at once then. Joe. His fiancee’s ten-year-old daughter, Tami. The Leukemia Society fair. The clown and his balloon.
Dear God. The SAK knew about Tami.
Tami was the little girl at the periphery of her life.
Fear grabbed her in a stranglehold. She pictured Tami, her shy smile and pretty brown eyes. She had to warn Joe. She had to warn his fiancee.
Kitt found her shoes, slipped into them. Her sweatshirt jacket was next, followed by a search for her car keys. She located them, grabbed her purse and headed out into the cold night.
The drive to the Highcrest Road home she and Joe had shared took less time than normal because of the hour. The house was dark; his pickup truck sat in the driveway. She wheeled into the drive, stopped behind the truck, slammed out of her car and ran to his front door.
She rang the bell, then pounded on the door. “Joe!” she called. “It’s me, Kitt! Open up!”
She pounded again, calling out, growing desperate.
Finally, she heard the dead bolt slide back; a moment later the door opened.
He’d thrown a robe on over his boxers. “Kitt?” he said. “What-”
“Tami’s in danger,” she said. “We have to warn Valerie.”
He blinked and she had a sense that he was only waking up now. “Tami,” he repeated. “In danger?”
“Yes. From the SAK. Because of me.”
He gazed at her a moment, then opened the door wider. “It’s cold. Come in.”
She stepped into the foyer; he closed the door behind them. It smelled like him she realized. Not like them, their family, anymore.
She faced him. “You have to call Valerie. Now. Tonight. It’s that important.”
“Slow down, Kitt. You’re talking crazy. How would this madman even know Tami?”
“The Leukemia Society fund-raiser. He was there. Dressed as a clown, selling balloons.”
Joe’s eyebrows shot up. “A clown? Selling balloons?”
“Yes, dammit! He saw our exchange and gave me a pink balloon. He called me later, asked me if I liked it.”
“This is madness.”
“True. But that doesn’t mean I’m crazy. He threatened me.”
“He threatened you?”
“By threatening the little girls. The ones I care about, the ones in my life.”
“Kitt-”
Her hackles rose at the way he said her name. Patiently. As if talking to a headstrong child. Or a nutcase.
“He said ‘little girls at the periphery of my life.’ I just realized tonight that he was talking about Tami. Don’t you get it? Tami’s at the periphery of my life. She’s the only one.”
“Goddammit, Kitt, just stop!”
The words exploded from him and she took a step back, shocked. Joe rarely swore, and certainly not that epithet. She could count on one hand the number of times he had lost his temper and yelled.
“It’s happening again, isn’t it? The same thing that happened to you last time. You’re losing it, falling apart.”
“It’s not like that! Just listen.”
“No. Look at you. You’re not sleeping, are you? Not eating right. You can’t think about anything but the case.”
“No…no…listen. I think he’s been in my house. He’s stalking me. He knows-”
“Are you drinking again? Because if you’re not now, it’s next.”
“I’m different now. That’s not going to happen.” She grabbed his hands. “I know Tami’s in trouble. Because of me, she’s caught the attention of a killer. I couldn’t bear it if-If she was hurt because of me. If something happened to her.”
He curled his fingers around hers. “It’s not your fault that Sadie died. You couldn’t have saved her. Or the girls that monster murdered. None of their deaths are your fault.”
“You don’t understand, Joe.” She shook her head. “You don’t see.”
“You’ve got to let it go.”
“I can’t,” she whispered. “The girls need me.”
“What if I needed you, Kitt? What would you do?”
“This isn’t about you, Joe, it’s about Tami. Her safety.”
He tightened his fingers. “I’d hoped…I’d thought maybe, just maybe, you’d pulled it together. I see now that you haven’t.”
Everyone in her life was telling her the same thing-that she had lost perspective, had become obsessed.
She hadn’t. Why couldn’t they see it? This was real.
She told him so. Begged him to call Valerie.
He said he would, though she didn’t believe him. Maybe it was the pity she saw in his eyes. Or the way he had snapped the door shut behind her. With a kind of finality.
Her car sat in the driveway, just beyond a streetlight. She started around to the driver’s side, then stopped as marks on the passenger-side panel caught her eyes.
Someone had keyed her.
No, she realized. Not just keyed her. They had left her a message. He had left her a message. Scratched into the paint, across the car’s door and front panel.
Don’t blink.
40
