“Because you can get in his mind,” he murmured. “Just like you did with The Butcher.” The serial killer who’d dismembered his victims and cooked them on his gas grill in his backyard. She still got nauseous thinking about him. “I don’t want to be in his head, Quinn. It’s too . . . damaging to my own peace of mind. We’re not meant to think stuff like that.”
“Unfortunately, we have to have people like you to catch people like him. That’s why you studied psychology, right?”
“Partly.”
He sighed. “He’s going to do it again.”
“Of course he is. They always do.” The steak now sat like lead in her stomach.
“Unless you help me catch him.”
She was losing her appetite. “Did you get another note or something?”
“Yes.” The notes came to the station with the victims’ names and pictures attached—and then the victims disappeared. And no matter how fast the cops moved, the victims were always already gone.
“And what did it say?”
He drew in a deep breath. “‘Judgment Day is coming.’”
“And whose name and picture were attached to this one?”
“No one’s.”
She frowned. “That’s odd. Out of eight letters, he’s never deviated from his pattern. Are you sure you didn’t miss the name and picture?”
“I’m sure.”
She rubbed her forehead, the idea of helping grabbed hold. He was right. She was good at her job. Correction. Had been good at her job. She’d tell him about her note in a moment. Right now, her thoughts were spinning as to who might be sending the notes. “Could be a copycat,” she said. “I know you released information about the notes to warn the public, but there was nothing about the kind of stationery or if it was handwritten or typed and you never revealed that the victims’ names were on the notes, right?”
“Exactly. I thought the same thing. A copycat.”
“So, it could just be someone getting his kicks by emulating what he learned by watching the news. It wouldn’t take much to figure out who the lead detective on the case was and that’s why you got the notes.”
“Could be.” He shook his head. “But this feels weird.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Thanks, that’s all I ask. Now do you mind if we talk about something else?”
“Actually, I was going to tell you—”
“Seriously, no more work stuff tonight, okay?”
She shrugged. She’d tell him about the note tomorrow. “Okay then, I have something I’d like to discuss.”
“What?”
“Your birthday party tomorrow. You want to come by and pick me up or you want me to meet you there?”
His fork thunked on his plate. She raised a brow and he shook his head. “I don’t need a party. Why would anyone want to throw me a party? Do I look like a party person? When have you ever known me to attend a party? I don’t party.” He picked the fork back up and viciously jabbed his own piece of meat. Then he pointed it at her. “They obviously know nothing about me and are not my friends if they’d do this.”
“Right. Because they want to celebrate your birthday with you and went to all the trouble to set this up. I can see how you would come to that conclusion.” Maddy could no longer find her smile. Her irritation was easy to locate though. And anger.
He lifted a hand. “Now wait a min—”
“No, I won’t wait. Look, Quinn, apparently they see something in you to care about.” She tossed her napkin down. “I’ll tell them to cancel it. In fact, why don’t I just tell them to cancel their friendship? If you want to be alone the rest of your life, then so be it. Enjoy your dinner. Alone.” She stood and gathered her purse.
“Maddy—”
His shocked expression was gratifying, but she’d had enough. More than enough. “I’m getting off the Quinn Holcombe roller coaster. Congratulations. You’ve managed to push me away. In fact, I think you’ve managed to shove me straight over the edge of the cliff. Goodbye and have a nice life.”
She headed for the door and she felt his eyes on her back. Her heart nearly broke in two, but she was done. She loved him, she freely admitted it, but he was too broken, too damaged to ever fully trust her, and she couldn’t live with the stress of loving him anymore. So she’d live with the stress of loving him and losing him.
Because the fact that he let her walk out the door, get in her car, and drive away spoke volumes.
The Chosen One stood about ten feet from the house and, aided by the three-quarters moon, read the directions he’d printed from the internet one more time. How to disable a home alarm system. He’d done his research. He knew the kind of alarm system she had. It was a good one. A pricey one. And a wireless one. And as he’d found out, all wireless alarm systems rely on radio frequency signals. The signals bounce between the door and window sensors. When the system is breached, the alarm sounds and sends a silent alert to the monitoring company.
But what most people didn’t know was that the signals could be jammed using radio noise. Radio noise prevented the signal from getting through the sensors and to the control panel. Easy peasy.
Within seconds, he had the alarm disabled and was through the back door. He smiled. Now that he’d found his calling, everything was falling into place.
From watching the place over the last several days, the Chosen One knew she’d enter through the kitchen. Every time she’d come home, she’d parked in the garage, shutting the door behind her.
Now. He looked around. Where to hide? He would have to act fast. She was very skilled in self-defense. He’d never beat her in a hand-to-hand fight. He hefted the canister in his right hand. But she’d be no match for the friend he’d brought along.
After studying her house plans, he knew she had a small closet off the great room. When she came in through the garage, she would enter the laundry room, pass the small utility room and into the open kitchen and dining area. No place to hide there. Now that he was actually in her house, he could see that the closet was his best option. As long as it wasn’t packed to the brim. He walked over and opened the door.
He smiled. Two coats, two filters that probably fit the ceiling vent in her kitchen, two tennis rackets, and a box of children’s toys. His smile slipped. She didn’t have children, but he knew she catered to the mass of nieces and nephews she had. They would miss her.
For a brief moment remorse flickered. He snuffed it out. He was fulfilling his calling, living out his destiny. Just two more and his work would be done. He could go back to living his quiet simple life and no one would ever know of his greatness. And that was fine.
Because he would know and the raging need for vengeance would be satisfied. His phone pinged and he glanced at the screen.
What do I do about the pit?
What do you mean?
In the design of the pits, should I have them be able to jump over or would it be better to have some driftwood or a tree limb lying around to enable them to use it so they can get over safely?
Have several pits around the perimeter. Space them out so that they have to find the right area to cross. Wrong area = death. Right area = they live.
Good idea. Thanks.
Any time.
He tucked his cell phone into his coat pocket, then slipped inside the closet to wait for Maddy McKay to arrive home.
Acknowledgments
You know, there are so many people who invest themselves in me and my writing, and I can never thank you all enough. I’m so touched, honored, and humbled that you would deem it worth your time to read my manuscript and give me feedback. Two of the most amazing people are Retired FBI Special Agents Wayne Smith and Dru Wells. I could never get the police procedural/FBI facts right if it weren’t for you! Thank you for the time you spend reading and fixing!
I need to give a shout out to Bill Sammons of 88.7 The Bridge in Delaware. I meant to put this in the back of Always Watching, but in my dead-writer-brain state at the
time, I forgot. I know, shocking, isn’t it?? Anyway, Bill Sammons, thank you and Julie for your wonderful friendship to Jack and me, your servant hearts and amazing generosity in sharing your home, many hours of laughter, and your radio knowledge. Always Watching earned a 4.5-star review and a Top Pick by RT Magazine because of your willingness to share your expertise. I appreciate it very much! Note to readers: Any errors in the radio scenes are mine! J Give Mary and Lola a hug from me.
Thank you to Ken Galloway, a friend of mine who is a fabulous pilot for my favorite airline. I appreciate you taking the time correct my aviation lingo and for the wonderful idea on how to cause flight problems without killing off my characters. It was exactly what I needed! And I really need to give a shoutout to Ken’s MD wife, Molly, who is always willing and able to answer all of my medical questions. I love that she’s not even surprised anymore when I say, “I need to poison someone, but I don’t want that person to die.” She just jumps in with all kinds of excellent suggestions! Thank you, Molly, for being my friend and putting up with me and my writerly weirdness.
Thank you to my Facebook peeps who are always willing to offer suggestions and recommendations when I ask for them. I appreciate all of you who participated in my little game of “Name Daniel’s Restaurant.” It was fun seeing your ideas!
Thank you to my editor, Andrea Doering, and my agent, Tamela Hancock Murray of the Steve Laube Agency. As always, I love working with you both!
Thank you to my brainstorming buddies. Edie Melson, DiAnn Mills, Mary Denman, Emme Gannon, Vonda Skelton, Lynn Blackburn, and Alycia Morales. I love our weekly get togethers!
Thank you to my family! Jack, Lauryn, and Will, I love you so much. I couldn’t do what I do without you!
Thank you, Jesus, for choosing me for this amazing journey. I love you so much and only want to make you proud.
Lynette Eason is the bestselling author of the Women of Justice series and the Deadly Reunions series, as well as No One to Trust, Nowhere to Turn, and No Place to Hide in the Hidden Identity series. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and Romance Writers of America. She has a master’s degree in education from Converse College and she lives in South Carolina. Learn more at www.lynetteeason.com.
Books by Lynette Eason
WOMEN OF JUSTICE
Too Close to Home
Don’t Look Back
A Killer Among Us
DEADLY REUNIONS
When the Smoke Clears
When a Heart Stops
When a Secret Kills
HIDDEN IDENTITY
No One to Trust
Nowhere to Turn
Nothing to Lose
ELITE GUARDIANS
Always Watching
Without Warning
www.LynetteEason.com
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