Elizabeth played by the rules, and in order for her to locate him, she’d have to break the law.
Her profile said she’d never do that.
Her cop father would disapprove, and there was no doubt that he’d been her idol. Word had it that the man had even helped her on her cases as she was climbing the ladder to the top.
It figured.
A man always did the work, while the woman coasted to adoration. Look at his mother.
She’d been nothing until his father married her.
His saintly father deserved better.
Moving around his place, what Devon needed was a really strong coffee. He’d been up planning and plotting, and this morning was about regrouping.
Or this afternoon.
When she found those remains, on Wednesday, she’d start the next part of this and work her way right into his hands.
Yes, he was such a cruel and sick bastard.
Never let that be doubted.
EVER.
Only, this had been his father’s dying wish. Well, that and to put his name on buildings so he would have his legacy.
As he sat down with his coffee, he picked up the remote to his entertainment system. Turning the TV on, he relaxed to decompress for a few hours.
And that’s when he saw it.
Well, notIT.
HER.
On the screen, on every single news station he flipped to, Elizabeth Blackhawk’s face was there.
Talking.
About.
HIM.
What the fuck?
As he listened to her, talking about his victims, he was proud to have made her go to the media.
She hated them.
It gave him a little giggle and the desire to kick his feet in amusement as she was forced to grovel to the public.
It was when she was asking for help in finding him that he knew it wouldn’t work.
People simply didn’t want to get involved.
She was begging to deaf ears.
Sipping from his cup, when she held up the paper check, he started choking on his coffee.
