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“I’m working from home today. You mind coming over here? It’s private. Ravinia’s out trying to re-up her minutes.”
“What’s your address?” Realizing she might be overstepping her bounds, she added, “I mean, if you have time.”
“I’ll make it.” He rattled off an address in Costa Mesa. “You okay?”
“I think so. Yes.”
“You want me to come to you?”
“No, no, I’m fine.”
“Where are you?”
“At the office. Chloe’s at preschool.”
“You want to drive over now?”
“Yes.” With that she grabbed up her purse again and hurried back to her car.
Rex met Elizabeth at the door and was reminded once again how beautiful she was, but he ignored it as he led her to the kitchen. She spread the letters on the table. He avoided touching the missives, all written in a clean, sharp hand, and all with messages of a twisted, one-sided, obsessive love. Dangerous love. Possessive love. One even going so far as to explain the “dark side” of love.
Whoever wrote them was one sick fuck.
And obviously involved in the recent killings.
He read the words over again.
I watched you tonight. Are you receiving my mental messages. . . we will both be transcended . . . soon the unveiling will happen . . . It’s just us against the world.
Rex’s guts clenched. Whoever wrote these was stalker-esque and obsessive. “You have no idea who sent these or dropped them off?” he asked and noticed how pale she was, how worried.
“None.” She took a seat at the table, her back to the sliding glass door. She glanced outside and said dully, “You have a nice house. I like the backyard.”
“I’m thinking of selling. Know any good real estate agents?”
She blinked at him, clearly deep inside her own head, processing. She could scarcely get past her fear and he didn’t blame her.
“Anyone you know who could have written them?” he asked, spreading his hands above the scattered pile.
“No,” but after a moment she reluctantly named two possible candidates. Gil Dyne and Peter Bellhard. “The tone of the letters doesn’t really sound like either one of them.”
Rex made a note to check them out. “What about people you meet who aren’t friends, in other social or professional settings?”
“I have my Moms Group of friends and their husbands. That’s where I met Gil. I have some clients, none of whom come to mind. Oh, and I recently went to a grief group, but that’s all women.”
“What about someone from your past? Old boyfriends? Lovers?”
“There really wasn’t anyone but Court,” she said, shaking her head.
Rex tried to explore that angle some more, but Elizabeth had nothing much to add. He was scheduled for surveillance again today, and going into the office later, but he’d cleared his schedule after she called. Nothing he was doing trumped her safety, and from the looks of these notes, she wasn’t safe. “You’ll have to hand these over to the police.”
“You think that’s a good idea?” she asked anxiously.
“It shows there’s another player, and maybe that player left some of his DNA around.”
“What if there is no DNA? What if the police think I sent them to myself?” Her voice was rising.
Rex said soothingly, “Let’s not borrow trouble.”
