Don't Look Back (22 page)

Yes!

The knob took a little longer, but finally it, too, succumbed to his deft fingers.

Now, if the door wouldn’t squeak or chime, he’d be in.

Slowly, he pushed and without a sound, it opened. His heart thudded in his chest, perspiration beaded under the mask, and he stilled, gathering his thoughts, praying to his god.

The air conditioner hummed, a clock ticked. Sounds seemed amplified, the atmosphere thick as though lying in wait. For a moment he wondered if they knew he’d come. Was it a setup? A trap?

Anxiety slicked his palms. Encased in the black gloves, the fingers of his left hand curled into a fist; his right hand gripped the handle of the knife.

He listened.

Nothing.

Gradually, he relaxed, his confidence creeping back in. No, there was no way they’d know he’d be here. There were no cops ready to descend upon him and halt the work he did – and was here to do.

He crossed the kitchen and slowly pulled the phone plug from the jack.

Then he peered around the corner to see Samantha lying still, her slumber undisturbed by his entrance. He made his way forward, into the den, intending to watch her sleep for a few minutes.

Until her eyes opened.

Jamie loaded her overnight bag with the things she would need for tomorrow. Friday. Maybe she would take the day off. She’d already identified all of the bodies and no new cases had come in as of today. She’d worked almost two straight weeks. It was time for a break.

Throwing the strap over her shoulder, she grabbed her laptop and made a mental note to buy a new cell phone tomorrow. She didn’t want to cancel the one she felt sure
he
had taken on the off chance that they might be able to trace it.

But she needed a phone.

Just the thought that he had been in the lab made nausea slither through her. He’d invaded every aspect of her life and it infuriated her – and made her feel helpless.

However, she raised her chin and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Just because she felt helpless didn’t mean she had to act that way. For the last half a dozen years, she’d been proactive in getting her life back together. No one was going to do it for her – although several had tried. It was up to her.

And she’d be actively involved in finding the man who was terrorizing her. Yes, she was scared, and no, she wasn’t going to do anything dumb. But she wasn’t going to sit by and be a victim again either.

She wondered if Connor or Dakota had a gun she could keep with her.

“You ready?”

Dakota’s voice jerked her from her thoughts and she turned from the mirror to look into his handsome face. “Yes, I think I’m going to take the day off tomorrow.”

“Really? Why?”

“I need a break.”

He took her overnight bag from her. “Well, if anyone deserves one, you do.”

“Thanks.” She followed him back into the den where Connor looked to be deep in conversation with someone.

While they waited for him to finish, Jamie went about the business of locking up her house. It didn’t take long. She looked around and shook her head. “I don’t get it. How did he get in?”

Dakota sighed. “Beats me. And that scares me.”

Connor finished his call and Jamie shut off the lights and set the alarm.

An indrawn breath made her look up. “What is it?”

Dakota pointed. “Look.”

She and Connor looked in the direction indicated by his finger. Nothing looked out of place. Her front door stood open, her table with the small mirror above it on the wall opposite the door seemed innocent enough. “What?”

“The mirror,” Connor breathed, excitement mixed with horror evident on his face.

“What am I missing, guys?” she asked in exasperation.

“He watched you punch in your code.”

Stunned disbelief punched her. “He did? How?”

Dakota moved outside the front door. “Okay, after you shut the door, program the alarm.”

She did as instructed.

A shadow moved outside the side window covered by the sheer white curtain.

Then Dakota opened the door and looked at Connor. A frown drew his brows together. “I couldn’t see it very well. I mean, I could see the mirror perfectly, but Jamie was standing in the way.”

She thought for a moment, going over her daily routine. An idea dawned. “Wait a minute, do it again.”

Connor lifted a brow and Dakota shrugged, stepped outside once more, and shut the door. This time Jamie slipped into the kitchen and approached the alarm box from a different angle. The one she normally used when coming in the back door from her garage.

She punched in the code.

Dakota opened the door. “Bingo. The curtain is too thick to see the numbers, but I saw the motion of your hand on an outline of the pad. It wouldn’t be any big deal to copy it on a real key pad.”

“All he had to do was wait until you came through the garage. He probably stumbled upon that information by accident. Maybe he was trying to see in the window, see what you were doing, and got lucky.”

“And sometimes I open that curtain.”

Dakota raised a brow. “You do?”

“When I wasn’t leaving my home, it’s the only thing I felt comfortable opening to let in a little natural light. I still do it upon occasion.”

“Well, either way, I think we know how he got in without setting your alarm off.”

She took a deep breath. “I want to change the code again. I don’t know how many times I’ve used the new one since we changed it after he made his first appearance. He could have the new code as we speak.”

Jamie moved to the box, punched a few buttons, and then the sharp whine sounded indicating the code had been changed. “There, that ought to do it.”

Dakota nodded. “Let’s go.”

Something occurred to her. “Do you mind if we make one stop on the way?”

“Where?”

“The lab. I need to look over a couple of files on my day off.”

20

The Hero watched her blink. Then the fear ignited behind her pretty blue eyes. She bolted upright and went pasty white. The blanket fell to her lap. He just stood there and waited, watching, ready for whatever move she decided to make.

Somewhat to his surprise, she did nothing. Except swallow hard. And remain silent.

He frowned.

And waited.

Her eyes narrowed, her mouth opened. Then shut.

Why didn’t she say something?

He shifted and her gaze flicked to the knife in his hand. A deep breath lifted her shoulders, then her eyes latched back onto his.

How many minutes had passed?

Uneasiness made him edgy. He’d never had one of his girls act like this. She unnerved him. He didn’t like that.

A step forward.

And still she didn’t move, just watched him.

What?

Why didn’t she scream? Try to run?
Say
something?

He cleared his throat. “Hello, Samantha.”

“You.”

One word. Filled with a loathing that nearly singed him. Again, he was taken aback and hesitated.

And that made him angry.

“Yes, me.”

She sat straighter, one hand clutching the blanket, knotting it into her fist. “You nearly destroyed my sister.”

“No, I almost set her free.”

“You’re sick.”

The disgust on her face just cemented his knowledge that he was the chosen one, the blessed one. The one to end the suffering and pain. “I’m chosen.”

“What do you want?”

“To release Jamie from her pain and show her who her hero is.”

“That makes absolutely no sense. You
cause
the pain.”

She moved. An object clipped the side of his head and he ducked in reflex. She was off the couch and around the side of the den in a flash.

He ducked the other way that led back into the kitchen as she beat a path through the dining room. As she raced for the door he’d entered only moments before, he cut her off, snagged her arm, and threw her against the refrigerator.

A huff of breath and a pained grunt met his ears. She stumbled away, fingers grasping for a weapon. He kept his stance and watched her. There was no way out, he had her backed into a corner.

Her hand grasped her abdomen where it had connected with the handle of the appliance. Pain twisted her face.

He stepped forward. Two tears leaked from her eyes and trickled their way down to drip from her chin.

So, she wasn’t quite as fearless as she appeared.

“It’s all over, Samantha. I’ll be sure to tell Jamie you put up a good fight.”

They heard the sound at the same time.

A key in the lock.

“Connor!”

She moved, the Hero parried. She lifted a leg and her heel caught him in the solar plexus. Gasping, he stumbled away. Then with a roar and a lunge, he caught her.

The knife sliced home.

Jamie heard Samantha scream Connor’s name. A scream that twisted terror through her. Under the light of the porch, Connor’s face went stark white. Shoving the door open, leaving the key in the lock, he burst inside with the order for Jamie to “Stay behind me.”

A light burned in the den. Connor went straight for it. Jamie hit the light in the foyer and headed for the kitchen, disobeying Connor’s command. The scream hadn’t come from the den. And the sweet smell of fresh blood assaulted her nose from the right. “Connor, I think she’s in here!”

He doubled back as Jamie slapped the kitchen light on . . .

. . . only to see Samantha’s lifeless body lying in an ever-widening pool of blood.

“Connor!”

Horror flooded her. She couldn’t move as Connor stepped around her to see what had her frozen to the spot. A swift indrawn breath and his harsh cry jolted her. She moved with trembling steps to the phone where she grabbed it and punched in 911. And realized it was dead.

Her eyes fell on the disconnected plug, and with hands trembling, she grabbed it, pushed it into the jack, and dialed the numbers again even as she watched Connor working on his wife.

“Is she . . . please, Connor, tell me . . .”

“I’ve got a pulse, but she’s bleeding pretty bad.” He muttered to Samantha, “Come on, baby, hold on.” To Jamie. “Her pulse is weak. Take care of her, I’ve got to make sure he’s not still here waiting to ambush us.”

Jamie gave the information to the operator, who ordered her to stay on the line. Carrying the phone with her, she dropped it to her side and knelt by Samantha. She shook so hard, she didn’t know if she’d be any good to her sister.

Control, Jamie. Deep breath. Help Samantha. Control. You have the
training, you can do this.

With that mantra playing in her head, she blocked the fact that Samantha might very well die on her kitchen floor and assessed the wounds. A stab wound to her side. Blood everywhere, including under her legs.

What was that from?

Connor returned in a flash. “The house is clean, he’s gone through the garage, I think. I’ll have to worry about that later. How is she?”

Reaching out, he placed a hand on Samantha’s throat. His hands shook almost as bad as hers as he monitored his wife’s respirations and pulse.

“Connor, get me a towel, a thick one, and some duct tape if you have it. We’ll have to improvise. The wound doesn’t look terribly bad, but I don’t know how long she’s been lying here bleeding – or what the knife nicked inside her . . .” Panic flamed. She whispered, “There’s too much blood. Where’s it all coming from?”

Tortured eyes met her, but he nodded and went to get the items she needed.

The EMS could take over when they got here, but it was up to her to keep Sam alive until they arrived. And that meant controlling the bleeding.

A towel appeared in her hand. “Do you have any sterile gauze and alcohol and scissors?”

Seconds later he opened the packets of gauze and poured alcohol over her hands. She hoped it would kill as many germs as possible. With trembling fingers, she pulled out the gauze and packed it into the wound as best she could, then she took the towel. “I need some scissors.”

He handed them to her and she cut a strip, folded it, and duct taped it over the wound. So far the blood wasn’t seeping through.

Sirens sounded outside, feet pounded up the steps of the porch. She blinked.