He faded back through the trees bordering the parking lot and onto the street. He needed to release some of this energy building inside him. Otherwise, he might just explode.
Besides, his cash supply was rapidly depleting. It wasn’t easy being totally off the grid. Every payment in cash, no handy credit card or emergency savings account—that was the way to be safe. To be anonymous. But it took a lot of creative thinking to keep food in his belly, drugs in his system and the rent paid on the dive where he slept at night.
He worked his way across town to an area frequented by young thirty-somethings looking for a thrill and—in its more “everyday” persona—the domain of hookers and homeless. It was one of his favorite hunting grounds, because most of the indigenous population was nameless and never missed, and anything that happened to one of the visiting thrill-seekers was usually laid at the door of one of the natives.
He had a favorite spot in this preferred hunting ground—a dark alley between a pool hall and a strip club. The traffic was fairly heavy—adding spice to the mix—but most of the patrons to either establishment fell into one of two categories: groups of young men, and therefore off limits for expediency’s sake, or single gentlemen furtively seeking pleasures they couldn’t get at home. These secretive loners were his particular prey—usually on their way out of the buildings, when they were more than likely worse for wear and easily overpowered.
He was becoming quite adept at his favorite kill—the quick knife to the ribs. Then he would strip the body of all cash and stuff it into one of the dumpsters lining the alley. He was careful to kill only on the night before trash pick-up, because this added to the chance the body would be mixed into a load of garbage and not discovered until it was far from its point of origin.
But he mixed it up, so as to confuse the cops. Sometimes he garroted the victim with a length of guitar string he’d picked up outside a bar. Sometimes he clubbed them over the head with a chair leg that fit comfortably inside his coat. Sometimes he improvised with whatever tool he found at hand. And he never killed without his gloves.
So far, the tactic had worked beautifully. Oh, he heard rumors now and then of a maniac loose in the neighborhood, but the cops hadn’t pieced together the random victims as part of a whole—at least not yet. The knifings were far enough apart to diffuse the pattern.
And tonight was a perfect night for his pig-sticker.
He slipped into his alleyway and waited, like a spider in its web. Soon…it would be soon.
Chapter 24
Brenda gasped. She felt her knees begin to buckle.
Phillip steadied her, and she leaned into his strength. He opened the passenger door and settled her into the seat. “Don’t let this get to you, Brenda. Look at it this way…the note escalates things to something the police can take interest in.”
She looked up at him, feeling the tears gathering in her eyes. “Why would anyone do this, Phillip? What can they possibly hope to gain? They’re going to drive me crazy—but what good will it do them?”
“Was there a large insurance settlement?”
“Not too large—and, after I paid off the house, most of it is gone anyway. I’ve been worrying about what to do for money. It’ll become an issue soon. I don’t have any skills an employer will pay for these days.”
“What about your husband’s business…what did he do?”
“Ethan was a programmer. He worked for a software company. But he worked on projects with a team—he used to say he was just a cog in the machine…and an easily replaceable one at that. He never created any programs on his own that I know of…”
“It does sound unlikely anyone would have a motive there. What about you…you have a secret life I don’t know about?”
His tone was teasing, but his eyes were shadowed in the dark parking lot. He hunkered down beside the car, one hand on her knee.
Brenda couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “I’m a housewife. That’s pretty much it. I was going to go for a business degree, but after I met Ethan…I dropped out to be married. I know that’s lame in this day and age, but all I’d ever wanted to be was a wife and mother. I never really worked at anything else…besides waitressing for a summer, but that requires such terrible hours. I can’t do that to Daisy. As far as technology goes, I can boot up the computer and pay bills with it, but that’s not really a marketable skill,” she answered, face heating up.
Thank goodness, the parking lot is so dark.
He patted her knee. “Tell you what—let’s get you somewhere where you can rest. We’ll worry about all this tomorrow.” He rose to his feet and pushed the door closed.
She used the seconds as he rounded the car to take a deep breath and try to get herself under control. Her thoughts were roiling. She felt so good in this man’s company, but everything else was so…messed up right now. She hated the fact that circumstances seemed to be conspiring to destroy any happiness she found in this world.
And she hadn’t been this nervous since before she met Ethan.
There hadn’t been much casual dating in her life—this was her first date with someone besides Ethan since high school. She’d met her future husband the first week of college, and they had been inseparable until the accident.
Not that this felt casual. She’d never been so attracted to a man in her life—not even Ethan, if she was being honest with herself, and she had thought they were soul mates.
Phillip slid behind the driver’s seat and started the car. “No arguments—I’m definitely taking you to my place now. I can protect you best there.”
Brenda nodded. She was too tired to argue anyway. She let her head fall back onto the seat. It had been a very long day, and she just wanted to curl into a ball and sleep until the world made sense again.
Her eyes drifted closed. Who could hate me this much? And why would they be using Robbie against me? Maybe Ethan…I can make some sense of that—but why my precious son? He didn’t live long enough to make any real enemies.
She woke with a start when the car came to a halt and Phillip killed the engine. She sat up in the seat, knuckling her eyes with her good hand. “Are we there?”
Phillip grinned at her. “You were really out of it, Sunshine.”
The use of the nickname surprised her. It was one of her father’s endearments for her. It sent a tingle through her to hear Phillip use it.
“Guess I was more exhausted than I thought,” she mumbled.
“It’s okay. I’m not a great conversationalist anyway.” He winked. “Now, sit tight till I get your door open.”
“I can open my own door,” she protested feebly—but some part of her was thrilled by the attention.
Phillip came around the car and helped her to her feet. “Welcome to my humble home.”
The house was a low-slung Spanish-style bungalow, with decorative iron grillwork covering all the windows. She felt safer already.
Phillip opened the front door and gestured her inside. “I wasn’t expecting company…sorry for the mess.”
Compared to what? she wondered. The house was neater than hers was even when she was expecting company for dinner.
The Spanish theme was carried through the furniture and décor. It made for a warm and inviting package.
“Little over the top on the culture thing, isn’t it?” Phillip asked wryly. “I dunno…ever since I was a kid, heritage has been drummed into my skull. I blame my mother.” He shrugged.
“I think it’s wonderful.” She ran her good hand along the top of an ornately carved sideboard. “I guess my family pedigree is more mutt than anything specific. There was never much talk of heritage around my house growing up. I wish I could give some of this kind of history to Daisy.”
“There’s no law against stealing someone else’s. At least, not yet.” He grinned. “Now sit—can I get you a drink?”
She sank down on the couch with a grateful sigh. Phillip moved around the room, and the sound of soft guitar strings filled the air. S
he heard the clink of ice in glasses, and the gurgle of poured liquid.
He came to stand before her, a drink in each hand. “Now, I still think you should take it easy on the booze while you’re on painkillers, but like you said, a splash of rum won’t hurt.” He handed her a glass.
She took it and gulped a hefty swig of the drink, feeling the welcoming warmth as it hit her stomach. “That’s better.”
Sitting beside her, he took a sip of his own drink. “Can I ask you something?” he asked softly.
“Sure. I owe you that much. Ask me anything.”
“Can you stand to tell me more about Robbie?”
Her heart spasmed. “W-why?”
“He sounds like a great kid. He obviously meant a lot to you. I just thought—talking about him might be good for both of us.”
“He was a great kid. Smart, funny…a natural athlete. He could’ve been anything.” Her voice broke, and the glass shook in her hand, slopping a bit of liquid onto her lap.
He took the glass from her hand and set both drinks down on the coffee table. Gently, he slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Let it out,” he said softly.
Seeing the compassion in his eyes, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She sobbed like a child…for Robbie, for Ethan, for herself. And now, someone was using her memories of them to make her miserable, as if their loss wasn’t painful enough. It was all too much.
But the strength of his arms around her offered a comfort she hadn’t felt in months. She let the pain flow out in heaving waves of sorrow that finally carried her off into darkness.
The shrill of a telephone woke her from a sound sleep. She sat up and stared wildly around the room. She was alone in a full-sized bed, snuggly cocooned in warm blankets.
For a moment, she didn’t know where she was, and then she remembered coming with Phillip to his house, the sobbing, the freely-given comfort.
She relaxed. Phillip must have slept on the couch.
The phone shrilled again.
There was the click of an answering machine picking up, and she could hear Phillip’s voice “You’ve reached Phillip Sanchez. I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and number at the tone, I will return your call at the earliest opportunity.”
There was the sound of ragged breathing, like the call she’d received at home, and then a voice began to mutter in a low growl, “You can’t have her, wetback—Brenny’s mine.”
Icy shivers rushed up and down her back. The voice was familiar…but distorted with such vehemence, such furious coldness that she couldn’t be sure.
“I’ll cut your heart out before I let you have her…but first I’ll feed you your balls.”
It can’t be. It can’t be Ethan. He’s dead.
“Stay away from my wife!” the voice roared.
Brenda screamed.
Chapter 25
The screams ripped from her throat—raw, keening, animal sounds. She cowered in a ball on the unfamiliar bed and the screams kept coming.
A door opened somewhere, banging against an unseen wall, and then Phillip was there beside her—barefoot, bare-chested, hair tousled from sleep. A pair of sweatpants rode low on his hips.
He glanced swiftly around the room. Apparently diagnosing no immediate threat, he sank down onto the bed beside her. Gathering her into his arms, he began to rock back and forth—like she would have comforted Daisy.
“Shh…shh…it’s okay, sweetheart. There’s nothing here. Calma te…shh…”
She clung to him, sobbing in terror.
To hear that voice coming from a phone in a house where she had never stepped foot before…how could the unknown caller have followed her here? Because to concede that it had been Ethan was unthinkable. There was no way that could be true. To believe it would drive her mad. She had been at the funeral.
She just couldn’t take any more of this.
“What’s wrong, baby? What happened? Can you tell me?”
She pointed a shaking finger at the phone.
“There was a call. It was him!”
Phillip shook his head.
“You must’ve been dreaming. That’s all it was. Just a nightmare. I would’ve heard the phone. There’s an extension in the living room.”
“Y-you didn’t h-hear it?” she hiccupped, struggling to get herself under control.
Maybe Phillip is right. Maybe it was just a dream. But it seemed so real…
“Not a peep until you screamed.”
“B-but I heard the answering machine pick up. I heard your message. A-and then, that voice—one of the same voices that’s been calling my house.”
“Let’s see what we’ve got,” he replied, disentangling himself from her death grip. He stepped over to the answering machine.
She could see the red light blinking from where she sat, and she shuddered, not sure if she wanted to hear that message again. She hugged her knees into her chest, making herself as small as possible.
The machine whirred as the tape rewound then Phillip hit the “Play” button.
“You have two new messages,” announced a slightly mechanical female voice, and then “First message.” There was a pause then Penny Castillo’s voice: “Felipe, don’t forget—dinner on Thursday night. You promised to help Mom and me set up the garden for Halloween.”
Phillip made a face for Brenda, and she giggled, already beginning to feel much better.
“Second message,” intoned the machine. Another pause, and then: “Mr. Sanchez, this is a reminder from the library regarding two books you have checked out. They were due on Saturday. Please return them at your earliest convenience. A fine will apply.”
Phillip groaned theatrically. “Darn…I forgot all about those being due in the anticipation of our evening…but see, sweetheart—no—”
Before he could finish the sentence, the machine made an odd whistling sound, and there was a faint hiss as the message that had awoken Brenda began to playback: “…can’t have her, wetback…cut your heart out…feed you your balls. Stay away!”
The words cut in and out, only half of the message actually audible, but definitely there—no matter what the vapid machine’s counter had recorded.
Phillip whistled.
“That is nasty. And you say it sounds like your dead husband?”
“It’s definitely Ethan’s voice. I would swear to it in court.”
“Could someone have recordings of his voice, something that could be used to cobble together these messages? Family movies, sports videos, anything like that?”
“I don’t see how. Even if there were something like that around, Ethan never used language like has been used in some of the messages. And that tone! He was a decent man.”
“I’m sure he was,” Phillip replied soothingly. “Do you think you can get back to sleep?”
Brenda shook her head emphatically.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever sleep again.”
“Tell you what. Let me grab a shirt, and we’ll go get some breakfast.”
She glanced at the alarm clock beside the bed. “It’s 2:30 in the morning.”
“That’s why they have 24-hour restaurants,” he replied with a grin.
“Okay.”
Getting out of the house would make her feel better. Being anywhere besides here would feel good right now. Anywhere she could feel safe again.
She made a trip to the bathroom, running her fingers through her hair and splashing her face with water. She glanced up at the mirror and made a face at her reflection. There were dark circles under her eyes, making her look like she had been in a boxing match. And the hollows in her cheeks would let her pass for one of Daisy’s skellymen if she didn’t watch out.
She sighed. Thinking of Daisy made her remember the upcoming holiday. How am I going to talk her out of trick-or-treating as a skeleton? It just doesn’t seem healthy…
First thing she’d do when she saw her daughter next was try again to steer her toward the princess costume inste
ad…
Phillip knocked on the doorframe, poking his head into the opening.
“You ready?”
Brenda took one last look at her reflection and nodded.
He had slipped into a sweatshirt that matched the low-slung pants.
“I thought we’d go grab some pancakes.”
“Sounds great,” she replied, feeling her heart lighten. There was just something about this man. She smiled up at him.
“Better grab your coat. It’s chilly out there—I sleep with the window open.”
“Adventurous as well as handsome,” she teased.
Phillip shrugged.
“What can I say? I’m just that kind of guy.”
Twenty minutes later, they were sharing a carafe of coffee over heaped plates of steaming pancakes drowned in warm maple syrup. Brenda felt the terror pushed down to a throbbing fear that was easier to deal with. The edges blunted with every bite of the buttery pastries.
Someone was stalking her, which terrified her beyond belief…but she had a witness now that she wasn’t insane. Phillip had heard the proof that there really was someone after her. The thought lifted her heart.
Phillip was regaling her with more stories about his misspent youth—growing up male apparently was much more dangerous than being a girl. She giggled as he described an attempt to sneak into a locked school building that had led to one disaster after another.
“And they let you become a cop?” she gasped in mock dismay.
“That was a long time ago,” he answered solemnly, “I’ve mended my wicked ways.”
The giggles escalated into full-blown laughter. She clamped her hand over her mouth as a bit of hysteria crept into the merriment. She was fraying at the edges, but didn’t know how to stop it.
“So, tell me about your childhood,” Phillip said. “I’ve been divulging my darkest secrets. You saw pictures of me and Penny around the house—but I don’t even know if you have any siblings.”
“Well, we haven’t really had a lot of time for getting to know each other, have we?” She looked down at her plate then peeked up at him through her lashes. “I guess it’s only fair—like you say, I’ve met most of your family.”
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