Speak No Evil

thought and why wasn’t Andrew home? Hell if I knew, and I told her so. I never liked him, anyway. Still don’t, even if he is a good DA.

“Then I fell asleep.”

Why hadn’t Justin screamed? Had the killer subdued him while he slept? There was no evidence of a struggle. Justin was just…gone. And the window to his bedroom was open. Had she forgotten to check it? Nelia was a stickler for always checking doors and windows. She had been sure she’d checked it…

“I woke up to Nelia screaming.”

Carina! Where’s Justin? Where’s Justin?

“I didn’t know what was going on. I looked at the clock. It was two in the morning.

“But Justin was missing. His bedroom window wide open. No sign of forced entry.” Carina looked at Nick, saw the sympathy and understanding in his eyes. “Nelia blamed me. For not locking the window. I thought I had, but I don’t know anymore.” She took a deep breath. “She hasn’t spoken to me since.”

Nick rubbed her neck. The gesture soothed her even more than their entwined fingers, made her say more than she’d intended. She had never told anyone the whole story, not like that. It was oddly cathartic. Even though she couldn’t forgive herself completely, telling Nick had helped purge something that had been eating her inside.

“I’m sorry to dump all that on you. It’s probably the last thing you wanted to hear.”

“No.” He cleared his throat. “I’m glad you told me. I wish I had answers. The only thing I’ve learned being a cop is that good people get hurt and bad people enjoy it. Our job isn’t to stop the pain, but to prevent it in the future.”

His hand cupped her cheek and this time she let herself relax, just for a minute, and savor the affection.

Suddenly the car started moving violently up and down.

“What the hell?” Carina exclaimed, reaching for her gun. She looked in the rearview mirror and saw her brothers Connor and Patrick pushing up and down on the trunk. “You immature brats!” she yelled, biting back a smile. “I’ll get you back!”

“Oh, we’re so scared,” Patrick laughed.

“Come on, you might as well meet the rest of the clan,” she told Nick, reluctantly letting his hand go.

Maybe it was for the best. She’d been close to kissing him.

Everything had worked exactly like he’d planned.

After Becca died, he watched the webcam he’d planted in Jodi’s apartment and saw Abby making two drinks with the spiked Coke. Then Jodi came in and made two more drinks. That was certainly enough to knock them out.

At midnight he left Becca in the library parking lot. It was fitting, really. He’d first met Angie on the beach, so he’d left her there. He met Becca at the library, so naturally he left her there. It seemed somehow complete, finished. A circle. He couldn’t imagine doing it any other way.

Jodi was going to be more difficult. He didn’t dare leave her where he’d first met her, but he had a couple of ideas that might work.

Getting into her apartment was easy enough-he’d unlocked Jodi’s bedroom window the day before when he’d planted the webcam.

At first he was scared-Jodi wasn’t in her bed. He listened, fearing the drugs hadn’t worked, that Abby and Jodi were awake and would scream as soon as they saw him. He listened carefully. In the apartment upstairs the drone of a late-night talk show. In the far distance, a siren. He listened until the siren stopped.

Nothing in the apartment stirred.

The kitchen light was on, casting an odd glow over the living room, which had only a dim, solitary lamp in the corner. Jodi was sleeping on the couch, her arm hanging over, her hair in her face.

Out cold.

Abby was in the chair, her head back, spittle dribbling out the corner of her open mouth.

He crossed the living room, unhooked the chain on the front door, and carefully opened the deadbolt. Neither girl stirred.

This was the dangerous part, but just like when he took Becca from the library parking lot, he felt an odd, rumbling thrill deep inside. He couldn’t help but think he was smarter than most everyone out there. He’d broken into the apartment yesterday morning and no one had noticed. He’d drugged their drinks and they drank without thinking anything was strange.

There was no doubt in his mind that he could take Jodi and leave the apartment without being seen.

He picked her up and she gave a slight moan. He froze, watched her face, glanced at Abby. No movement. Good. With Jodi in his arms, he left the apartment as quickly as possible.

To his left, he heard a group of young men coming up the the street toward the apartment building. He was parked in the rear, in a vacant carport, and he now quickly turned to the right, going around the building. It was late and a weeknight, but being a building dominated by college students, there were a lot of lights still on.

But most of the blinds were drawn.

It took him forty-two seconds to get from Jodi’s apartment to his car. He popped the trunk and put her in. He wanted to tie her hands, but heard the men laughing, getting closer. Where were they going?

He slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out-slowly, so as not to draw suspicion. While he didn’t see the noisy group, he knew it had been close.

He breathed easier once he got home and saw that Jodi was still unconscious in his trunk. His neighborhood was quieter than Jodi’s, all houses pitch-black except for the old woman who lived on the corner. Her lights were always on; he wondered if she ever slept.

Jodi stirred when he carried her through the back door, down the hall, and into his bedroom.

“Where…” she began, her mouth thick. She didn’t open her eyes and her head rolled back.

He put her on the bed and took off her clothes, then tied her wrists to the headboard. She squirmed again, opened her eyes, confused and disoriented.

“Stop, what are you doing?” She tried to sit up, realized she couldn’t, and opened her mouth wide.

She was going to scream.

He clamped her mouth shut with his hand. Her legs bucked and kicked; he hadn’t tied them down yet.

He gagged her, but she was still too loud. He didn’t think anyone could hear, but he couldn’t be certain. She kicked him in the chest as he tried to grab one of her ankles. He slapped her across the face.

“Don’t,” he commanded.

She didn’t listen, fighting and trying to scream. But he was stronger. After some effort, he was able to restrain her. She fought against the binds, but they didn’t budge. He panted heavily, catching his breath.

He had wanted time alone with just her body, without her pleas, without her lies. Just her beautiful, exquisite body. She’d ruined it by waking up too soon. It wasn’t fair.

His fingers moved down her breast, delicately brushed against her darker nipple. Down her stomach to her cunt. He spread her legs, looked at her, trying to see it all. Pink and moist.

She jerked and moaned out a sob.

“Hi Jodi,” he whispered. “Do you recognize me?”

She shook her head back and forth on the bed. Anger followed the stab of pain in his heart. She didn’t know him. She’d seen him at least once a week for months, had said hello to him, had smiled every time she saw him. But she didn’t really see him. She looked past him, through him, around him, never at him. The phony smile, the phony hello. She didn’t care about him, she never really talked to him. She didn’t know him and didn’t know his name.

Phony bitch. At least Angie had known who he was. She knew who killed her.

He stared into Jodi’s eyes, willed her to remember him. He saw a spark, something…she did know him. Now she was trying to remember where. Where had she seen him…he could practically see her pathetic phony slut mind working, working on the puzzle.

He slid off her body and retrieved the glue from the locked drawer in his desk. He took off the lid. The smell reminded him of last time, and his penis twitched.

He walked over to her, took the large brush from the can. With one hand he removed the gag. She screamed and he slapped her. He painted glue on her mouth. She sputtered, gagged, tried and failed to scream as the glue