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He loitered in the doorway of a store, pretending to look at the window display, waiting for his next victim to pass him by on their way to lunch.
A man, this time. He’d thought, back when he planned all of this, that it was the right time to vary the pattern. Let them get absolutely sure it was only women who were at risk, and then take a man instead. That would put them all at a loss. He’d thought, back then, that it would be just a random agent keeping track of his misdoings. By the time this one was done, though, they would surely have made the connection and sent for her.
How lucky that she had been the one to come right away. That he had been able to savor every moment of her failure to catch him.
He had spent weeks preparing for this, and now he knew every moment of these people’s schedules. He even had reminders on his phone. It was noon, and that meant that his next target was heading to the same bakery that he always stopped at, picking up one of his favorite sandwiches for lunch before moving on to the park.
Did he vary his routine when winter came? The watcher could only wonder. He hadn’t been following them for that long. And it wouldn’t matter now, anyway. After tonight, this man would be dead, and he would never be going anywhere for lunch again.
The reminders on his phone were thinning out rather nicely now. It was so rewarding to delete them all one by one, to think about that FBI agent tearing her hair out as she tried to find the link between all of it. He liked to think of her, despairing, no idea who was going to be next. It was all rather fun.
The only unfortunate thing was that he couldn’t see her reaction in person. He had no idea whether Frost had yet worked out that it was all linked to her. He would have loved to have seen the fear on her face when she made the realization. Maybe she already had. Maybe it wouldn’t happen until much later. Until the number of dead bodies piled up in her name made her collapse with despair.
Yes, that would be sweet. How he would love to see her life ruined, the way his had been. How he would love to get his revenge.
The watcher caught a glimpse of a reflection passing by him, and he turned casually as if he was done with looking into the window. He stepped out into the street, shielding his eyes against the midday sun for a moment, and then strolled along behind his target, keeping easy pace a good distance from him. Just enough to keep him in sight, to be sure that there was no deviation from the norm.
Tonight, of all nights, it was important that everything went as normal. Because tonight was the night that this man was going to drive another nail into the coffin of Agent Frost’s career. Not just her career, but everything else. He was going to take this one last victim, and then she was the last. Number five.
Was she quaking with fear already? he wondered. Did she realize she was in danger? Even if she did, it wouldn’t matter. That was why he’d brought her out here. Somewhere she wasn’t familiar. Doing it in her home would have been so much harder, but here, she came into contact with new people all the time. Deputies, room service, servers, members of the public.
And, of course, when she did go back to the motel, she would be totally on her own.
He took a deep breath of the city air, tilting his head up to enjoy the late summer sun on his face. Yes, today was a good day.
But tomorrow was going to be even better.
&
nbsp; CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
“Aren’t you going to say anything at all?” Laura asked. “You’re not even going to defend yourself?”
Dockhand stared back at her mutinously. His arms were folded across his chest, and he quickly returned his gaze to the table, returning to the status quo. Not a single word.
Laura shoved her chair back with a frustrated scrape. Nate looked up at her, and though no one else would have been able to interpret it, his expression gave her permission: Go take a break. Get a bite to eat. Come back when you’ve got your second wind. I’ll handle this.
Laura stormed out through the door, and Nate announced her departure for the tape.
Laura sipped at her coffee as she stared at the recording on the computer in their makeshift office. An hour ago, Dockhand had finally lost his cool and stopped being so reasonable and calm. But that didn’t mean that he had snapped and confessed to anything. Quite the opposite. He had started refusing to say anything at all. She had fast-forwarded through most of it, playing back a few moments that she’d wanted to analyze deeper, but he was giving nothing away.
Laura blew out a deep breath and rolled the greasy packaging of her lunch sandwich up into a ball, then threw it into the trash can on the other side of the room. It hit the inside with a satisfying slap, then rattled down on top of the other trash. If only this case would be such an easy slam dunk.
Laura cast around for the small evidence bag she’d requisitioned. It contained the contents of Dockhand’s pockets when he came in. She reached in and touched the loose change he’d had, wishing it would trigger some kind of vision. Anything, really. It didn’t have to be his next intended murder. It could have been a sight of him inside a cell. Anything to tell her that she had the right guy, that his future was behind bars.
Nothing.
She sighed and put the bag to one side, rubbing her hands over her face. There was no evidence either way. The hard fact of the matter was that if they couldn’t get him to talk, they were going to have to let him go anyway. They had nothing on him. Only circumstance and the lack of an alibi.
That was what was so annoying about this case. If there was one shred of forensic evidence that they could use, they might be able to get somewhere. But the killer seemed always to wear gloves, and that meant that there was no evidence they could use to compare to Dockhand’s DNA. They had him right where they needed him to be, but they couldn’t prove a damn thing.
Not unless Nate managed to get him to admit everything, but given their progress over the last few hours, Laura wasn’t hopeful.
She needed an outside perspective, someone who could tell her what they thought of the case without any bias. Not that she was allowed to reveal the whole details of the case, but she could say enough to get a second opinion. Someone who wasn’t in law enforcement. Who didn’t have the trained perspectives that she and Nate did. Someone who could see things differently.
She picked up her phone and dialed, hoping that twice in twenty-four hours wasn’t too much to ask.
“Hello, Laura? Are you all right?”
