The List

by Velvet Vaughn

  “Great.”

  He tipped her chin with his finger. “Please don’t be embarrassed. You’ve done nothing tonight but charm me.”

  She snorted at his remark and then as if just realizing what sound she made, stiffened. Then she was keening again. “I need to go.” She did manage to pull away this time and scurry inside. She snatched her purse and jacket and practically leapt for the front door.

  “Jac, wait.” He picked up his pace and grabbed her wrist, swinging her around. “I want to talk further about your theory.”

  The keening stopped and her eyes widened with hope. “You believe me?”

  “I’m not saying I’m one hundred percent convinced.” Her shoulders slumped. “But your argument has merit. I’ll contact a buddy who’s a private investigator and run this by him, see what he thinks.”

  She smiled. “That would be great.”

  “Would you be able to come by my office tomorrow?”

  Jac’s hair glided over her shoulders as she nodded. “I’ll make time. Is eleven okay?”

  “Make it noon and I’ll spring for lunch.”

  She waved her hand, “Oh, no, that’s not necessary.”

  “I insist. I’ll order sandwiches or something.”

  Relenting, she nodded and stuck out her hand. Matt almost grinned at her formality but accepted her gesture. “Until tomorrow.”

  She smiled hesitantly and averted her eyes. “Good night.”

  “Good night, Ms. Sera.”

  “One more thing,” she added, still studying the walkway.

  “Yes?”

  “Please don’t judge me by my behavior this evening. I was a little nervous about the possible serial killer and getting you to believe me. I’m normally quite competent.”

  “I have no doubts about that, Ms. Sera.” He waited until she met his gaze. “Again, I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.”

  She broke into a wide, open smile. “Thank you.”

  The cool evening breeze carried her soft scent and he inhaled deeply, feeling the overwhelming need to pull her into his arms and try again to taste her full, pink lips.

  “Oh, and Matt?”

  He shook his head and blinked. “Yes?”

  “Please be careful.” She spun around, tossed her hand over her shoulder and rushed down the stone walkway.

  “You too, Jacqueline.” He waved and then gently closed the door, a grin splitting his face. He had more fun tonight than he’d had with a woman in a long time. She was witty and intelligent and her nervousness only made her more endearing.

  He was accustomed to women acting goofy around him. He wasn’t egotistical, but being a former pro football player, he’d just about seen it all from female admirers. Women had even bared their breasts and asked him to sign them.

  A shame his attraction to Jac could lead nowhere.

  Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. He’d promised himself years ago that he would wait until Lauren left for college before he even considered a serious relationship again. Not that he’d been celibate all these years. Far from it. But he went to great pains to maintain discreet, attachment-free liaisons. They fulfilled a physical need, period.

  He had a feeling an association with Jacqueline Sera would be explosive and ravenous. It would kill him, but he had to nip the attraction in the bud.

  The thought made him remember the reason behind her visit. He was flattered to be included on a list made by a woman as attractive as Jac, but his mind reeled from the discovery that he could be a serial killer’s target. He didn’t believe it, not completely. Yet he couldn’t just dismiss how strange it was that all those men met their end unexpectedly. Coincidence or the work of a crafty killer? He wanted to think it the former but a niggling sense of foreboding told him it could very possibly be the latter.

  * * * *

  Jac pushed the button to lower the garage door and shut off the Jeep. Closing her eyes, she groaned and dropped her forehead to the steering wheel. This night had been a colossal catastrophe, right up there in the all-time hall of shame dating tragedies. Not that this had been a date, which was a good thing since she made a complete and utter fool of herself.

  Meeting Matt for the first time in twenty years while sprawled flat on her back hadn’t been degrading enough. Oh no. She had to confess to the man that she wanted to have wild monkey sex with him. She furthered the cause by insulting him when she insinuated that she could protect him—a former professional football player who faced gargantuan linemen without flinching.

  But the pièce de résistance had to be when she proceeded to hyperventilate when he attempted to kiss her. The icing on her cake of humiliation: she snorted, for goodness sake.

  Jac laughed self-deprecatingly as she trudged in the house. She’d always believed she was together, solid. Tonight shattered her self-image. What was it about that man that reduced her to a bumbling idiot?

  She stripped off her jacket and hooked it on a peg by the door while toeing off her shoes. It was late and she should go to bed but she was wired with restless energy.

  She thought about calling Darlene to tell her all about her evening so they could laugh together at her expense, but then she remembered her friend’s cutting remarks and nixed the idea. Cleaning always made her relax. After a quick trip to her room to change into sweats, she padded to the cabinet under the sink and withdrew furniture spray and a cloth.

  With items in hand, she moved to the living room and tuned in the local pop music station on the stereo. John Mellencamp’s voice crossed the airwaves crooning, “A little ditty about Jack and Diane…” Jac gasped and fumbled for a Dave Matthews CD, jamming the disk into the slot. Her whole body relaxed when Dave’s smoky voice filtered through the speakers.

  Squirting a generous glob of Pledge on the rag, she began to polish. She danced around the room, singing, dusting and swaying to the music. She passed by the large picture window and glanced outside. A scream bubbled up her throat and she opened her mouth and let it out just as the music hit a climactic crescendo.

  A man wearing a long, billowing black cloak stood among the shadows on the sidewalk, staring into her window.

  The polish slipped from her grip as her hand fluttered to her chest. The metal can slammed onto the hardwood floor and she jerked. When her eyes darted back to the window, the silhouette was gone.

  Rushing forward, she gripped the sill and searched up and down the street for movement. A breeze rustled thinning tree limbs dangling above a street light, casting eerily dancing shadows across the lawn, but no sign of human life.

  She must have imagined him. There had to be a reasonable explanation. With two quick jerks, she snatched the drapes together. After checking the deadbolt, she sagged against the door. Thoughts of a serial killer had her seeing things.

  Her heart rate had just hopped off the treadmill and returned to normal when her next door neighbor’s dog began barking frantically. Jac’s stomach clenched and a tight knot closed around her throat. Could Shadowman have crept to the back yard? Was he outside her door? Was it locked?

  A nightlight in the kitchen reflected off the shiny surface of a butcher knife. She snatched it from the block and took one step when a loud bell peeled through the house. She leaped back and choked on a scream as the knife sailed from her grip. The doorbell. Her brows arched. Would a killer use the doorbell? Her breath rasped out in quick, shallow gasps as she scrambled around on the floor groping for the knife. Finally her hand wrapped around the handle and she puffed with relief.

  Tiptoeing quietly through the house, she almost reached the door when she realized the barking wasn’t coming from the back yard, but the front. She retraced her steps and peeped behind the curtain. She could just make out her next door neighbor’s stooped figure. Air left her lungs in a giant rush. She flipped on the porch light, and unlocked the deadbolt. The moon cast a bluish tint to the bun on top of Mrs. Potter’s head.

  “Hello, Mrs. Potter, Chopper. How are you?” She bent to pet the d
og, her hand still shaking. He bared his teeth and she snatched her arm back.

  “Good evening, Jacqueline. We’re just fin…oh dear!”

  “What?” Jac gasped. The older woman’s widened eyes trained on the dagger in Jac’s hand. “Oh, this.” She sheepishly shoved the blade behind an ivy plant on a nearby table. “A woman living alone needs to be careful, you know.”

  “Oh, yes, I understand. That’s why I have my Chopper.”

  Jac lifted a dubious brow at the mutt but wisely withheld comment. Chopper snarled.

  “Is there something I can help you with, Mrs. Potter?”

  “I just got in from bingo and checked my mail. The mailman put this in my box by mistake.” She wiggled a white envelope in Jac’s face.

  Jac lifted the letter from Mrs. Potter’s gnarled hand. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

  Mrs. Potter waggled her fingers. “Now you have a good evening, dear.”

  “You do the same.” She started to close the door when a thought struck. “Mrs. Potter?”

  The old woman stopped and twisted around on her cane. “Yes, dear?”

  “Did you happen to see a man walking down the sidewalk when you came home?”

  Mrs. Potter scrunched up her elfin face in thought. “Why no, I don’t believe I did.”

  Jac’s shoulders slumped. “Well then, goodnight.” She closed the door and slid the deadbolt into place. She was paranoid. After she and Matt talked to the private investigators tomorrow, they would probably agree with the cops and tell her she was imagining things. Maybe she was. After all, why would anyone want to target a silly list three teenage girls compiled for fun almost ten years ago?

  * * * *

  Darlene waited patiently while Hal Freemont’s sweaty body pinned her to the mattress as he pumped away, grunting like a pig. Finally he threw back his head and howled, shuddering with release. He rolled off and threw his arm over his eyes. “That was great, baby.” He smacked her thigh. “You are one hot lay.”

  Darlene winced at his words. Rolling to her side, she curled up in a ball, feeling cheap, ashamed and worthless. She felt this way every time a man took her. It’d been going on a long time, since she was fifteen.

  Growing up poor in a run-down trailer park in Cleveland, it wasn’t until she turned fifteen that her skinny, flat body blossomed. Her once meager chest ballooned to a C cup. For the first time in her life, boys noticed her existence. And did they ever notice.

  At first she was flattered by the attention, but soon found herself labeled ‘trailer trash whore’ and developed a reputation as being the easiest girl in school. Other girls shunned her, but the boys became increasingly, overwhelmingly attentive.

  Once she graduated high school, she left Ohio behind and never looked back. Determined to become an actress, she waited tables at night while attending auditions during the day. It didn’t take long to realize she wasn’t going to land a part without acting classes. Unable to afford the fees, she quit her waitress job and began working at a strip bar. The tips were fabulous, auditions were not and soon she abandoned her acting dreams all together.

  It wasn’t until a man she picked up at a bar invited her to his gym the next morning that her life began to turn around. The upscale club boasted celebrity patrons, a fun workout environment and an opening to fill. A week later, she began her new job as receptionist and met Jac Sera.

  The other trainers and instructors remained cordial but distant. Jac was the only one to introduce herself and didn’t condescend to Darlene. She even bought her a welcome plant, which now sat prominently on the counter in Jumping Jacks.

  Darlene had been overjoyed at Jac’s friendly personality. Having never had girlfriends, she absorbed the attention like a dry sponge in a bathtub full of water.

  Jac was everything she wasn’t, everything she wanted to be. Jac was gorgeous, Darlene passably cute but well endowed. Jac was fit and tone, Darlene skinny. Jac looked as good dressed up as she did after an intense workout. She even appeared glamorous without makeup, dressed in cut-offs and covered in sweat. If Darlene forgot to apply mascara and lipstick, she resembled a zombie. Jac’s long blonde locks looked silky and lustrous; Darlene’s spiky red hair tended to dry out and split at the ends. Jac was confident, respected and assertive; Darlene was insecure, tolerated and tended to let people—especially men—walk all over her.

  When Jac’s parents died in an accident, Darlene consoled her by telling her that hers had been killed as well. Heck, Sid and Dora Moore could be dead for all she knew. Or cared. She hadn’t contacted them since she left Cleveland. They probably never sobered up enough to realize she’d left.

  The women bonded over their shared tragedies and a friendship blossomed. When Jac announced she was quitting her job and purchasing her own club, Darlene offered to move with her. Jac had been genuinely excited and they giggled like schoolgirls making plans.

  Darlene tried to keep her intense jealousy under control, but occasionally—like this afternoon—it popped out before she could temper it. She knew it was wrong but sometimes, she really hated her friend. Jac was already perfect. She shouldn’t get to date a famous, successful, filthy rich hunk.

  One night over nachos and margaritas, Jac told her all about her obsession with Matt Dianetti. By the tone of her voice when she spoke, Darlene knew he was special to Jac. Jac confirmed her suspicions by confessing her undying love. Spurred by curiosity, Darlene surfed the internet and found pictures from when he played football. What a major babe. She couldn’t believe someone that gorgeous lived in the same town and it wasn’t even Hollywood.

  And now Jac was going to dinner at his house. Oh, she knew her friend. She would charm him and he would probably fall head over heels in love.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Hal began snoring loudly beside her, drawing her from her thoughts. His mouth hung open, his lips vibrating when he exhaled. Darlene stared at him with disgust. Right now, Jac could be sharing Matt Dianetti’s bed. He could be kissing her and touching her and making love to her.

  Resentment washed over her in overpowering waves, blurring her vision and causing blood to pound in her ears.

  Jac shouldn’t always get to win.

  Eight

  “Well, well, well.” Marcus Cardinal slammed the paper down on the chipped Formica counter and shoved the lukewarm coffee aside. “Whatta ya know?” Little Jacqueline Sera had grown up and was living right under his freakin’ nose.

  How nice of her to save him the trouble of tracking her down.

  If not for that whiny little bitch, his brother Sean would still be alive. All because the spoiled brat ratted out their innocent prank. They had been kids after all. Tossing someone in the water shouldn’t have sent them away to reform school. The crime didn’t equal the punishment. The stinking cops said something ridiculous like ‘attempted murder.’ Give me a freakin’ break. They didn’t mean no harm, just a little fun between kids.

  It was her fault that he and Sean had been sent away and got mixed up in all kinds of sorry shit. Sure, people might think reform school straightens kids out. Wrong. It made him a criminal and got Sean killed.

  He’d almost had his revenge years ago when he finally got out. He sought out her friends and buddied up to that slut Nicole Southern. His influence helped destroy their friendship. After the lies he fed Nicole, she hated Jacqueline as much as he did. Before he could exact revenge, he got busted on an armed robbery charge and thrown in the slammer.

  This time, he wouldn’t make such a stupid mistake. Plucking a Marlboro from his shirt pocket, he stuck the cigarette between his lips and lit the tip. Inhaling deeply, he savored the sweet taste of nicotine, then blew the smoke through his nose.

  “Hey mister, you can’t smoke in here.”

  Marcus shot the white-haired old lady a contemptuous glare and took another drag, puffing the smoke in her direction. “Yeah? Who’s gonna stop me?”

  “Me,” a low voice growled.

  Marcus snarled and sw
iveled his stool around to face the man who spoke. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, the cigarette miraculously clinging to his bottom lip. The voice belonged to a giant, at least six-five and two fifty. Black eyes glared at him from a chiseled face the color of chocolate. Overhead florescent lighting glinted off the smooth dome of his head and made the badge on his dark blue uniform sparkle.

  “In case you aren’t from around here,” the officer rumbled with enough skepticism to make it clear he did in fact think Marcus was local, “Bloomington passed an ordinance in essence banning smoking in all public areas. If you still don’t understand, what I am telling you is that it’s against the law to smoke in any eating establishment.”

  Despite the carefully controlled climate, sweat trickled down Marcus’s cheek. “I’ll put it out.” He dropped the smoking stick into his coffee mug. It sizzled and a thin blue stream wafted skyward. He didn’t need some hard ass cop breathing down his neck. Not now. Not when he had plans.

  “Yes, do that,” the officer instructed. “I won’t issue you a citation—this time. But I think it’d be best if you settled your bill and vacated the premises.”

  Mumbling under his breath, Marcus whipped bills from his wallet and tossed them on the counter, leaving the waitress a whopping fourteen cent tip.

  “Let’s go,” the cop ordered.

  “I’m coming.” Swiping the front page from the counter, Marcus headed for the door.

  “You forgot the rest.” The cop held up the remaining sections.

  “Don’t need ‘em,” Marcus called over his shoulder. Once outside, he whipped out another cigarette, cupping it in his hand to keep the wind from extinguishing the flame as he lit it. He shook out the match and tossed it to the sidewalk. Smacking the newspaper in his hand, he practically skipped to his beat up Oldsmobile.

  Twisting the ignition, he let out a loud whoop. Little Jacqueline Sera had come home, and he felt like playing welcome wagon.

  * * * *

  October 5

  Marcus slithered lower in the seat and tugged an Indianapolis Colts hat over his forehead as he watched Jacqueline Sera push through the door, slip on sunglasses and stroll to her car. This was the break he’d waited two days for.