Tony smiled back. “But, see, Haney knew Kingston had a police scanner. He knew Kingston listened to it all the time, and that he would hear over it that his house was on fire, and come to check it out. All he had to do was wait.”
“I see.” Charlie nodded. “Haney was right about that, too.”
“Haney was right about a lot. Having burned Kingston’s house, if he had found and killed Kingston and made it look like Kingston had killed Hannah, he would have been home free.” Tony’s gaze was steady on her face. “What he didn’t expect to find in that van was you. But ever since he’d learned who you are, that you were the girl who had survived the original Boardwalk Killer murders and had actually seen him, he’d been afraid of you, afraid you’d recognize him. Finding you there, getting the chance to finally silence you, knowing that if you and Hannah were killed he could pin the blame on Kingston and take the credit for stopping the new Boardwalk Killer was just too good an opportunity for him to pass up. And it almost worked.”
Charlie remembered Holly’s claim that Kingston had witnessed her being murdered, and shivered. “Haney really didn’t know that his son had watched him kill?”
“I don’t think so,” Tony replied. “We know that Haney and Kingston were estranged, that apart from maybe a year’s court-ordered visitation they hadn’t really had much interaction at all since Kingston’s mother, Haney’s first wife, divorced him fifteen years ago. You were on the money with that one, too, by the way. Haney and Kingston’s mother met at a dance, and we’re working on the assumption that their divorce was what triggered the original Boardwalk Killer murders. Apparently the mother was afraid of Haney and tried to keep her son away from him. We do know that Kingston—and he’s Terry Kingston instead of Terry Haney because his mother married Ron Kingston, and Terry was later adopted by his stepfather and took his name, which is why the fact that Haney is his biological father never turned up in any of our computer searches—was still visiting his father regularly right after the divorce, which is when the original Boardwalk Killer murders occurred.”
“I’ve always wondered about the nature versus nurture element in the evolution of a serial killer,” Charlie said. Detaching emotionally by reverting to her researcher persona was the best way to keep too-painful emotions at bay, she had learned. “Did Terry Kingston inherit an as-yet-unidentified serial killer gene from his father, or was his urge to kill sparked by watching his father murder those poor girls?”
“Fascinating question, Dr. Stone.” Tony’s face relaxed into a teasing grin as he pulled into her driveway. Except for the porch light, her house was dark, but still she felt like it was welcoming her home. “I’m sure you’ll ponder it endlessly.”
“Yes, I will,” Charlie replied with dignity. “Because I’m a researcher, and that’s what we researchers do.” She took a deep breath as he braked and put the car into park. She was glad to be home, but she was just realizing how much she was going to miss Tony, and Kaminsky and Crane, too. “Let me ask you something: are you sure there’s enough evidence to absolutely convict Haney?”
Tony’s hand was on the ignition, but he didn’t shut off the motor. Charlie got the feeling he was a little reluctant to say good-bye to her, too.
“I’m sure.” Tony looked at her through the dark. “You don’t have to worry that he’ll ever get out and come after you again. We’ve got him dead to rights, even without going back to the original Boardwalk Killer murders.” Tony cocked an eyebrow at her. “So, you ready to tell me about the blond mystery guy yet?”
Charlie shook her head. She absolutely was not. She doubted that she ever would be. “It’s one of those I-see-dead-people things, okay? Sometimes spirits flash in and out.”
To put a period to the subject, she opened the door and slid out into the night.
Tony shut off the engine and got out, too. They walked up the flagstone path together. Close. Their bodies brushing.
It was a beautiful summer’s night. All kinds of stars twinkling in the sky. The moon as white and round as a golf ball. Cicadas whirring. Fireflies twinkling. Nary a neighbor in sight.
If she’d been in the mood for romance, the perfect candidate had his hand curled around her elbow. Charlie looked up at him, at his good-guy smile and dark good looks, and realized that she wasn’t. Not tonight.
Maybe not for a while.
“You sure you won’t change your mind and come to work for us?” Tony asked as they climbed the steps to her small front porch. Charlie already had her keys in her hand. She shook her head as she unlocked the door, then turned to smile at him.
“I’m sure,” she said.
“At least there’s an upside to it,” he said philosophically.
When Charlie looked a question at him, he bent his head and kissed her.
Charlie kissed him back. It was, she considered, a kiss with possibilities. Warm and sweet, with a nice level of heat. Maybe one day it would even be right.
“You could ask me in,” he suggested when he lifted his head. Charlie was already shaking hers at him when a sound caught her attention.
Someone’s TV was playing, very loud. Eyes widening, she realized that it was her TV, the one in her living room.
“Did you leave your TV on?” Tony frowned in the direction of the sound.
Charlie had already recognized the channel: ESPN.
“It’s on a timer,” she lied. Her pulse began to pick up pace. She looked at Tony, smiling at him because she really liked him a lot, even though her insides were curling into anticipatory knots and her heart was starting to flutter with hope. “I’ve got to go in now. Call me if you need something.”
“I will,” he said. “Good-night.”
Charlie was already moving away from him, letting herself into her house, which hadn’t had anybody in it for days, where her TV was blaring angrily.
Just like it might be if, for example, a pissy ghost who had learned to work the remote had just watched her kiss another man.
“See you,” she said to Tony.
Heart hammering, smiling like an idiot, Charlie shut the door on him. Then she turned and walked into the dark.
Want to know what happens next to Dr. Charlotte Stone and the infuriatingly seductive ghost Michael Garland? Look for the next book in the series—coming soon wherever books are sold!
This book is dedicated to Dr. Randal S. Weber.
The words thank you are way too small to express my profound gratitude.
You not only saved Peter’s life, you gave it back to him.
I also want to thank
Dr. Patrick Garvey, Dr. David Rosenthal,
Dr. Merrill Kies, and the entire staff at
M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, Texas.
These wonderful people make miracles every day.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
No author works in a vacuum, and I certainly don’t. Without my husband, Doug, and sons, Peter, Christopher, and Jack, I’d have far fewer things to write about, believe me. Love you guys!
I also want to thank my wonderful editor, Linda Marrow, and the entire staff at Ballantine Books for all your help and support.
BOOKS BY KAREN ROBARDS
Sleepwalker
Justice
Shattered
Shameless
Pursuit
Guilty
Obsession
Vanished
Superstition
Bait
Beachcomber
Whispers at Midnight
Irresistible
To Trust a Stranger
Scandalous
Paradise County
Ghost Moon
The Midnight Hour
The Senator’s Wife
Heartbreaker
Hunter’s Moon
Walking after Midnight
Maggy’s Child
One Summer
Nobody’s Angel
This Side of Heaven
Tiger’s Eye
Dark of the Moon
/> ABOUT THE AUTHOR
KAREN ROBARDS is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of forty books and one novella. The mother of three boys, she lives in her hometown of Louisville, Kentucky.
The Last Victim Page 35