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Maisie nodded. "That could be. If so, let’s be good citizens. I'll call him back as soon as I’m home. But let's get home first."
She didn't want to speak to the FBI while in a car, driving. It could be dangerous. It would be much better to have this conversation when she was safely in her own home. Which, now, was just a minute away. They could get inside, settle down, pour a drink, and then she would call the man back.
Not now. Seeing he was trying yet again, she cut the call.
"Unbelievable how people can badger you this way, if it even really is the FBI," she complained to Dylan. "It's not like we know a thing about these crimes."
Maisie parked outside. Home, at last. She climbed out of the car and walked into the house.
"I'm going to get changed, get into something comfortable," she said, heading upstairs.
"I'll pour us a drink," Dylan said.
Maisie remembered about that champagne as she headed upstairs. She needed to get it out of the car's trunk and into the freezer to chill as soon as she could.
But, as she reached the top of the stairs, a crackle sounded, seeming to emanate from all around her. She stopped, feeling a pang of pure, intense fear go through her as a loud voice began resounding through the home.
"This is the FBI speaking. Maisie Abson, you are in danger.”
It was the same man who’d called her just now. Her mind reeled as he continued. “We have received information that the serial killer who is active in this area may be hiding in your home."
A cry escaped Maisie's lips as she took in this shocking, impossible truth.
A killer, in their home? Surely that was impossible?
But even as she thought that, the truth hit her. The alarm had been turned off when they'd arrived. She'd turned it on when she'd left. And the bedroom door, ahead of her, was closed. She never, ever closed that door. She always left it open.
Now, she felt horrified. This had been a warning. And she’d just been in the completely wrong mind space to acknowledge it. It had been legitimate in every way. She’d failed to understand it.
"Please leave your home immediately. Leave your home and wait outside. We are on the way."
"Dylan!" Maisie shouted. Was he okay? Were they trapped in here with a killer? Now, this seemed horribly likely, and she felt terrified. They needed to get out, now! They should never have come in.
"Let's go outside!" she shouted.
She wasn't going near that closed bedroom door. Now, Maisie felt sure that he was hiding behind it, waiting for them. He was going to jump out and stab her if she opened the door, and that would be the end.
"We need to go!" That was Dylan, shouting out. She could hear his footsteps, hurrying back from the kitchen.
With adrenaline boiling inside her, Maisie rushed down the stairs. Just a few more steps, and she'd be out. She hadn't opened the bedroom door. If he was hiding there, at least they’d see him. They’d have warning. Maybe they could hide in the car. It would be okay, she reassured herself, trying to calm her own terror. It would all be okay.
And then, as she passed the linen closet at the foot of the stairs, the door flew open.
A man—tall, wild-eyed, impossibly strong—burst out of it. Before Maisie could react, before she could get away, he grabbed her by the arm.
"Mama Bear!" he shouted in a cracked, erratic voice. "This is our story! Want to hear how it ends?"
The knife was in his other hand, long, sharp, and lethal.
As he raised his arm, Maisie began to scream.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Cami disconnected from the Abson home’s broadcast system, feeling consumed by worry as Connor sped to the house.
"Do you think they heard?" she asked. "Do you think that it was too late?"
"We must be calm and hope that they were warned in time," Connor said, in a restrained voice. It was only after Maisie had hung up on him that he'd briefly lost control and had uttered a short, heartfelt series of curses. But almost immediately he'd calmed down again.
