“That’s what DNA testing is for.”
“Is it one of the original Angels’?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know who the Copycat killer is?”
“Yes.”
In the past he had been coy with her. Tonight he seemed bent on taking their “game” to a new level. Or was it their relationship he wanted to take to the next level? she wondered. A step past teasing, toward the intimacy of real sharing.
He thought of this as a relationship, she realized.
She worked to keep her excitement at bay. “Give me a name. I’ll get him-or her-out of the picture. Then it’ll be just you and me.”
“Her?” He sounded pleased.
“Is that what you planted for me to find in the storage locker?”
“No. But you’ve surprised me. Until now I’ve been…less than impressed with your deductive skills.”
There was something else there.
She tucked that away for later. “A name. Then it’ll be just you and me. I’d like that. Wouldn’t you?”
“Things like that aren’t free.”
“What do you want in return?”
“You, Kitt.” She could almost hear his smile. “I want to know you better.”
“I invited you to come out of the shadows. There’s no one here but me.”
“We do not have to see each other for me to know you. I want inside your head. I want to know how you think, what you feel. Your dreams. And your fears.”
“But you already know,” she said softly. “Don’t you?”
“Not enough,” he said simply. “I want more. Tell me about your marriage.”
“My marriage?” she repeated, off balance.
“About Joe. Your love affair.”
She hadn’t expect this. He seemed determined to peel back her self-protective layers and peer beneath. What did he intend to do with her once he had examined each and exposed her soft, inner core?
He meant to kill her.
No, he meant to destroy her.
As if once again reading her thoughts, he laughed. “A name, Kitt. Do it for the children.”
The children. The angels. That he used them as a bargaining chip infuriated her. “Bastard. Ask me a question.”
“How did you meet?”
“We were high school sweethearts,” she said grudgingly. “We met when I was a freshman and he was a sophomore.”
“How?”
His questions, coming so close on the heels of Joe being interrogated, were weird.
“It’s a cliche. He bumped into me, I dropped my books. He helped me pick them up.” She drew a deep breath, realizing that she was trembling. “He had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.”
“And you fell in love with him, just like that?”
“Yes. Just like that.”
“Love at first sight, how sweet.”
She could tell he was laughing at her. That sweet was synonymous with naive and ridiculous. “I didn’t know that’s what it was. Only now, in retrospect.”
“Why him? The blue eyes?”
“Joe’s kind. The kindest, most gentle man I’ve ever known.” She smiled to herself, recalling. “Not just to me. He loves others. Appreciates people. Their differences. Even their flaws.”
“He’s a fucking saint, isn’t he? Saint Joe.”
“We had the same dreams,” she went on, his ugliness rolling off her. This wasn’t about him, she realized. The SAK or Copycat; it wasn’t about the investigation.
It was about her.
And it was healing.
“We had the same beliefs. About life, its beauty and sanctity, about the afterlife. About the things that truly mattered. Love. Family. Faith.”
As she spoke, memories came flooding back. Good ones. Of times she hadn’t thought about in years.
Of laughter. Making love. Sharing their successes. And fears. Celebrating the birth of their daughter. Of Joe’s hand curled around hers as the doctor informed them Sadie had leukemia.
Memories she had locked away, in a strongbox deep inside her. Why was that? How had she allowed the pain to swallow the joy? Bad memories to overshadow good?
Thunder rumbled again, sounding closer this time. The leaves began to rustle. She shivered.
“So what happened?” he asked. “When did your dreams change?”
“What?” she asked, surprised.
“You had the same dreams and beliefs. And you loved him. Why did it all change?”
She’d changed, she realized. Her dreams, her beliefs.
“Because Sadie died,” she said softly. “I lost faith. The ability to dream. To love.”
“Yes,” he said. “Life is cruel. It preys on the weak. The idealistic. Those who love deeply. Better to crush than be crushed.”
“No,” she said, “you’re wrong.”
“Am I, Kitten?”
“And I was wrong. To give up. To turn away from love.”
“I think I’m going to puke.”
Tears filled her eyes. Ones of joy. She had loved Joe from the first.
She loved him still.
She told him so.
He laughed. “You’re a fool. He’s engaged to another woman. He doesn’t love you.”
“Only a fool doesn’t love.” The rain started then, a drop, then sprinkle. The heavens preparing to open up.
“The name,” she said. “I gave you what you wanted. It’s your turn. Who’s the Copycat?”
“Look at the victims again. The victims are talking to you.”
“No! That’s not-”
He hung up. A crack of thunder shook her. She jumped to her feet, grabbed the bag and darted onto her porch just as the sky unleashed a flood.
Shivering, she watched the rain. He’d played her for a fool again. Tricked her into doing what he wanted, giving her what he wanted.
Kitt unlocked her door, stepped into the dark house. She still had the latex gloves on, she realized. She set the paper bag containing the bagged lock of hair and the phone on the top of her console, then removed the gloves.
She curled her fingers around the empty gloves, a laugh bubbling to her lips. He had tricked her, but she had won.
He’d given her something she had been unable to give herself.
Forgiveness. Healing.
Love.
Her thoughts filled with Joe. Her heart filled. She looked at the phone, started toward it. No. She had to apologize. For today. Yesterday. Everything.
She had to beg his forgiveness.
Snatching up her keys, she ran out into the storm.
