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“Saige?”
Alex.
“Saige, what the fuck?” he stated and stood over her. “Shit. What’s wrong?” he added, obviously noticing her tears.
“I didn’t sleep so well so I decided to lie down on the sofa and I had a dream.” She shrugged, but Alex could see through her confession.
“Let me help you up.” He reached out and, with a tug, had her up and back on the sofa. “What did you dream?”
She paused and then admitted, “About Quinten and our time in the boathouse.” She offered him a shy smile. “I want to hold on to him, Alex. There’s this need inside of me to hold on and never let him go. It scares me. Every night I go to bed with another day behind me. I’m so scared that I’m going to remember everything once it’s too late.”
Saige wiped her tears from her face with the sleeve of her sweater when she got a good look at Alex. Her eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
He laughed but there wasn’t any mirth behind it. “That was my line.”
She nudged him. “We’re a sorry pair.” She grinned. “Spit it out.”
“It bothers me about Fern and Tracy. I’m almost afraid of so much as talking to another woman.”
“I’m alive,” Saige added.
“I think you’re safe. It only seems to happen to women I’ve had, um”—he blushed—“you know with.” He cleared his throat.
“You had sex with Jocelyn?” Saige asked, shocked.
His brother’s wife!
“Fuck, no! She was Quinten’s wife for one thing.” Alex stood and ran his hands through his hair. “I never touched that woman.” He shuddered in revulsion. “Don’t get me wrong, she was one hell of a looker, until you got to know her, or got on her bad side, which I was always on.”
“Then maybe there isn’t a connection,” she commented, hopeful that the killer wasn’t targeting women Alex had slept with.
Alex shook his head. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I think there is. I’m connected to Jocelyn through Quinten, and Fern and Tracy through sex. There has to be something, or someone, missing from all of this. It’s driving me crazy.”
Saige grabbed a cushion and wrapped her arms around it for comfort, her knees curled under her while she rested her head on another cushion. “I don’t know what to think anymore. But I do know that Quinten is innocent. He didn’t take me. I know that with every fiber of my being. And even though I don’t relish the thought, I wish that I dreamt more about my time in that shack. Maybe if I did, then I’d remember hearing or seeing something that could be added to Coulter’s report for the governor.”
“I don’t know why your dreams are centered around Quinten rather than the shack, but I think with Coulter’s report, and your new statement, Quinten will get a stay. The governor won’t be able to do anything else because if the execution goes ahead, the public will be in an uproar, and he’s up for reelection.” Alex didn’t look worried, he just looked annoyed more than anything.
“I hope you’re right,” Saige whispered.
* * *
7:30pm
* * *
Alex was angry and worried. There had to be a reason why the killer would take both Fern’s and Tracy’s lives mere hours after he’d been with them.
That was no coincidence. Then why hadn’t he admitted that to Detective Robinson?
You know why.
He didn’t want Coulter’s investigation centering on him. Now that Quinten was close to being free of the crime, they would need to go looking for another murderer. And he was terrified that it would all fall back on him—the brother of a killer, leaving a trail of dead women behind him.
He dropped his ass to the foot of the bed and cradled his head in his hands. Exhaustion seeped through his body and he ached with it. For once, he felt real panic well in his gut for Quinten. Alex had always hated his brother being locked away, but now that time was running out, he had never felt so helpless.
Hearing a tap on his door, Alex froze, and heard it again.
Christina?
