She’d also left a message for Dale, this time begging him, tears in her voice and all, not to print the story. He hadn’t called back, either.
The knock at her door propelled her off the couch. Adrian had come! She and Berta rarely got visitors, so it had to be him. She yanked open the door and blinked in shock at the sight of Owen standing there.
He walked right in, nudging her out of the way. Her throat tightened in fear. She remained near the door. Would anyone come or call the police if she screamed? Probably not.
He spun around, his mouth in a hard line, his gray eyes finally filled with something other than that blankness.
I could kill her…squeeze that pretty throat of hers.
Her eyes widened, and her heart leapt at that thought. “Owen, I’m sorry about what happened, truly I am. I never meant—”
He advanced on her. “You thought I was Kiss and Kill Cupid!”
“I…I wasn’t sure, but yes, you were a suspect.”
“A suspect. So, how many suspects did you have?”
“Just…you,” she squeaked out. “I got a weird feeling about you, and you kind of fit the profile, and I was like a bulldog, wanting to find the bone. I wanted to fit you into that profile. Adrian wouldn’t hear of it, you should know that. He didn’t believe it for a minute. And that’s why I went to Dale Soza. I figured he could find out more about you, about your past, since he’s got research resources.”
His face contorted into a snarl. “And he did, didn’t he?”
“Adrian told you everything, right? About why I suspected you?”
“Yeah. You’re both freaks. Supposedly you can hear thoughts.”
“Yes, you just thought you could squeeze my pretty throat.”
His mouth dropped open. “What the—?”
“I’m hoping you meant that in a nonliteral sense. You did, didn’t you?”
He didn’t answer and, as usual, his expression gave away nothing.
Her cell phone rang. “Hold on.” She was relieved to have a distraction and to be able to tell someone Owen was there. Dale’s number filled the screen.
“Dale, tell me you’ve changed your mind about printing that story,” she said without preamble. “Owen is here now, and he’s pretty upset.”
“Owen is there? Kristy, you’ve got to get out of there. The police just pinned down time of death. It happened very early this morning. Before I started watching Owen. That’s why I’m calling. He could still be the killer.”
She felt the blood leave her face. “O-o-okay, so you won’t print the story,” she said, as though confirming.
“Get out of there. I’m on my way over.”
Chapter Nine
After Dale disconnected, Kristy turned to find Owen standing way too close. “Is that what he said, that he wouldn’t print my story?”
Had he heard Dale’s frantic voice? “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, he promised not to print it.”
She smelled liquor on his breath. “I have to get going now. I’ve got an appointment…down-town.”
“What about your dinner? I can smell it cooking.”
No, he could smell her fear. And he was keeping his thoughts silent, now. She took a step back, and he stepped forward.
“I watched my stepfather beat the hell out of my mother almost every night. She cowered like a beaten dog, begging him to stop. But he wouldn’t stop.” His voice was low and menacing. “And when he was finished with her, he turned his rage on me. I didn’t understand he was a coward who only felt powerful when he could beat up those smaller and weaker than himself. I only knew I couldn’t do a thing to stop him from hurting me and my mother. And that no one would protect us. And that he would keep beating us until he killed us one day. Do you know what it’s like to live in that kind of fear every damned day of your life?”
She shook her head, though she had lived in fear the last few days, and it was excruciating.
“And when I took that gun from his hiding place in their closet, for the first time I felt like I could finally stop the terror. Nothing prepared me for what it felt like to pull that trigger, to see his blood splatter on my mother and the walls and furniture.” He gripped her shoulders so hard it hurt. “Do you know what I felt? Satisfied? Triumphant?”
“I…don’t know.” Her body trembled, and her voice had come out a whisper.
His chin quivered. “I felt shame. Guilt. Horror. Because I had become just like him. I had used violence for my own purposes. I was no better than that monster I had killed. I’ve lived with that demon on my shoulder ever since. And I will for the rest of my life. It whispers in my ear.”