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“Don’t you think that’s odd?” Damon asked.
“Obviously. It’s sick and twisted.”
“That isn’t what I mean. They live together. Couldn’t he have trapped her at home? It would’ve been easier than leaving behind all the evidence.”
“She was avoiding him, going out of her way not to see him. Accosting her behind the restaurant makes perfect sense, if you think about it.”
“I don’t know. It makes me wonder if someone else isn’t behind her disappearance.”
“He’s acting too suspicious,” she said. “I don’t buy that for a second.”
“I’m not saying he didn’t do anything. Just that there’s room for question.”
“Anything’s possible, but not probable.”
They continued discussing it until they got home.
She got in the shower, and Damon stared at the house across the street.
Boone’s car wasn’t there. Was he out searching, or had he returned to his girlfriend?
The bigger question was, could Rita be inside the house? It seemed unlikely given that the police had searched it, but at the same time, Boone was adamant that nobody else enter.
There was no legal way to find out. Not considering Boone wouldn’t let them anywhere near the front door.
His actions did make him look guilty, but he couldn’t drop the idea that if she’d been taken from the parking lot, someone else had to be behind the crime. It would be too risky for Boone. He would have access to Rita without worrying about being seen, without having to chase her through a park.
With any luck, someone saw something. That person just needed to come forward.
Damon needed to get ready for bed, especially considering they had a televised interview in the morning. But he couldn’t pull himself away from the window.
A few minutes later, the neighbor pulled into his driveway. Stepped out and sauntered to the front door.
Heat and pressure built in Damon’s chest. His legs twitched, eager to run outside and confront the man again.
But he wasn’t going to repeat his earlier mistake.
If he confronted Boone, it would be far away from any camera, doorbell or otherwise. Then he would punch the arrogance right out of him. Just the thought of hitting him released the pressure in Damon’s chest. In his mind, he kept going until his neighbor admitted what he’d done.
Damon shook his head and stepped away from the window. Went to the kitchen and drank a glass of cold water. Then another.
He couldn’t allow himself to think those thoughts.
No matter how good they felt. And that was the problem — they brought too much satisfaction.
As the son of a notorious serial killer, he couldn’t even give into thoughts like those. That was dangerously close to committing the actions.
To becoming like his father.
What if there was no escape? The urges were growing stronger. He wanted to hurt the other man. To make him suffer. Sure, he was a cheating weasel who had threatened Ariana, and it was only natural for Damon to want to protect his wife — unlike Boone who didn’t care about his missing wife — but the rush of adrenaline that pumped through him at the thought of knocking Boone out was too much.
It wasn’t normal.
Only for the child of a criminal mastermind.
Violence was in his blood.
But he was also the son of his mom. That beautiful woman hadn’t had a destructive bone in her body. She’d been the complete opposite of her husband.
