The FBI Thrillers Collection(205)
She finally stepped out of the shower some ten minutes later and into the fog-heavy bathroom. She wrapped a thick Egyptian-cotton towel around her head, then used the corner of her other towel to wipe the mirror.
She stared into the masked face right behind her.
A yell clogged in her throat. She froze. She realized she wasn’t breathing, couldn’t breathe, until air whooshed out of her mouth.
The man said in a soft, low voice that feathered warm air on the back of her neck, “Don’t move now, little girl. I expected you to come home a bit later. You seemed well ensconced at that pizza place with that big guy. What’s the matter, didn’t the guy push hard enough to sleep with you? I could tell he wanted to, just the way he was looking at you. You told him no, didn’t you? Yeah, you’re here a little earlier than I expected, but no matter. I had a chance to settle in, get to know you a bit.”
His mask was black. His breathing was quiet, his voice so very soft, unalarming. She felt the gun pressing lightly against the small of her back. She was naked, no weapon, nothing except a ridiculous towel wrapped around her head.
“That’s right. You’re holding perfectly still. Are you afraid I’ll rape you?”
“I don’t know. Will you?”
“I hadn’t thought to, but seeing you all buck naked, well, you’re good-looking, you know? It turned me on to hear you singing that country-western song in the shower. What was it?”
“ ‘King of the Road.’”
“I like those words—but they fit me, not you. You’re just a little girl playing cop. The king of the road goes to Maine when he’s all done, right? That’s just where I might go once I’m through with you.”
Slowly, very slowly, she brought the towel down in front of her. “May I please wrap the towel around me?”
“No, I like looking at you. Drop it on the floor. Leave the one wrapped around your head. I like that too. It makes you look exotic. It turns me on.”
She dropped the towel. She felt the gun pressing cold and hard against her spine. She’d had training, but what could she do? She was naked, without a weapon, in her bathroom. What could she possibly do? Talk to him; that was her best chance, for the moment. “What do you want?”
“I want to talk you into going back to him, all the way back to San Francisco.”
“Did you try to run me down?”
He laughed, actually laughed. “Do you think I could have done something like that, little girl? Though you ain’t all that little, are you?” The hand holding the gun came around and stroked the dull silver barrel over her right breast.
She flinched, leaning back, only to feel him against her back, his groin against her hips.
“Now that’s nice, isn’t it?” He continued to press the cold metal against her breast, then downward to her belly. She was quivering, she couldn’t stop it, her flesh trying to flinch from him. Fear was full-blown now, and she didn’t know if she could hold herself together. She gasped out, “Why do you want me to leave Washington?”
The gun stopped. He drew his hand away. “Your mama and daddy need you at home. It’s time you went back there and took care of your responsibilities. They don’t want you here, involved in conspiracies and shooting people, the way the FBI does. Yeah, they want you home. I’m here to encourage you to go.”
“I’ll tell you why I can’t go back just yet. You see, there’s this murderer, his name is Marlin Jones, and he just killed this woman in Boston. He’s a serial killer. I can’t leave just yet. I’ll tell you more but it could take a while. Can’t I put on some clothes? We can go in the kitchen, and I’ll make some coffee?”
“Hard-nosed little girl, aren’t you? It doesn’t bother you at all with my dick pressing against your butt.”
“It bothers me.”
He stepped back. He waved the gun toward the bedroom. “Go put yourself in a bathrobe. I can always take it off you if I want.”
He followed at a distance, not getting close enough for her to kick out at him. She didn’t look at him again until she had the terry-cloth robe belted tightly around her waist.
“Take the turban off your head and comb out your hair. I want to see it.”
She pulled off the towel and began combing her fingers through her hair. Had he moved closer? Could she get him with her foot? It would require speed, and she’d have to be accurate or he’d kill her.
“Use that brush.”
She shook her head, picked up the brush, and brushed her hair until he finally said, “That’s enough.” He reached out his hand and touched the damp hair. He grunted.