Chapter 24

Sara

"Do you know what I adore about you?"my mother had asked a long time ago. "Even though someone is completely evil, you do your best to find something good about them, a redeeming quality. I admire you for being able to do that. I only hope and pray you won't be disappointed in life. There are truly some bad people out there, evil lurking in the shadows. I know what I'm talking about."

It was something she'd told me right before the shit had hit the fan about my uncle. I'd taken it as a beautiful compliment, before Mother and Father had sat me and my brothers and sister down, telling us the godawful news just hours before the world that we'd known had exploded and it no longer seemed fair or a good trait.

I'd forgotten all about it until now. Maybe because as I'd read over the last twenty pages we'd pounded out after our seductive foray into intimacy, the words and colorful phrases reminded me of a playbook used by a serial killer.

Of course, that was the drama queen talking but I'd gotten an even better understanding of the horrors Easton must have gone through.

I felt so close to the man, almost as if we were one. Sharing one heart, one blood supply, and a series of interconnected veins. It might sound ridiculous to some, and I certainly wasn't going to acknowledge just how close I'd gotten to the man to anyone who knew me.

Least of all the girls I'd thought I could be friends with for years to come. I'd gotten a message late the night before from Taylor, the girl slurring her words. It was obvious she was celebrating our departure from college early. She'd dared admonish me for ignoring Josie.

I hadn't returned her calls either.

After typing a few additional paragraphs, I sat back, uncertain I was heading in the right direction with the book at this point. Easton had left mid-morning after a phone call, his peaceful mood turning into something much darker. While he hadn't told me where he was going, he'd taken a few seconds to remind me not to leave the premises. I'd had far too much work to do to even consider it.

But I had to admit a tiny part of me had wanted to follow him.

Boom!

"Shit." Where the hell had that come from? I threw my head over my shoulder, groaning seeing the blackening sky.

The sound sent the fear of God into me. It was silly to be frightened of a storm but as I studied the ominous-looking clouds, a single bolt of lightning also made me jump. Maybe I just didn't like being alone.

Or the subject matter I was currently embroiled in. The killer was currently describing the methods he'd just used in ending a life, including how he was cleaning up his mess. It was all too… perfectly normal to the man.

I had to wonder if it was to me as well.

He'd studied me during coffee that morning, neither one of us able to concentrate on anything. The hum in the air had been another wave of jet fuel, stealing my breath and keeping me heated and flustered. So much so when I'd taken a bite of my strawberry jam-covered English muffin, I'd managed to smear half my right cheek with the chilled goo.

With another extremely passionate and intimate move, he'd leaned forward at the table, licking the jam from my face. I'd shivered the entire time.

That was seconds before he'd received the call. I'd heard little more than him telling someone he'd be there in thirty minutes.

I'd known better than to ask what was going on, even if I'd been forced to bite my tongue to keep from doing so.

Now I felt very much alone, more unnerved by the storm than I should be.

The graduation ceremony was only hours away and I still wasn't certain I wanted to attend. Why bother? I'd just be hassled by Josie.

She'd left me two more messages, her voice sounding terrified as she'd begged me to come early to graduation and talk with her. I couldn't do it. I wasn't going to form a conclusion about the man just because someone insisted that I do. That wasn't me.

Yes, I did enjoy seeing the best in people. There was good in everyone. Right?

I stared at the computer screen, which I'd been doing on and off for hours, certainly not as productive as I'd hoped. I'd also allowed myself to walk the grounds for exercise, marveling in the beautiful flowers and intense-smelling shrubs. Sadly, thirty minutes in I'd had the creepy crawlies like someone was watching me. I'd almost called Easton, the phone in my hand, but realized how silly I would seem.

Why had he been gone for so long?

My thoughts drifted back to my insistence someone was in the trees. I'd even found the courage to walk closer, finding nothing but a few broken twigs. I certainly knew by the various crime books that couldn't be considered damning or telling information. I'd stopped shy of doing anything else at that point.

Instead, I'd gone into the house, locking every door as if that could protect me. I'd felt so alone, the house huge. If someone wanted to break in, they had ample space to do so.

After pacing the floor, continuously looking out one window then another for almost a full hour, I'd finally kicked myself in the butt and walked upstairs to try to work. At least I'd managed a couple thousand words. Not spectacular but something.

Even now, I'd remained preoccupied. It wasn't just that I'd had the feeling of being watched. There was more to it than that. As if I was being sized up. If that made any sense.

"Damn it."

I continuously fingered my ponytail as I always did when I was deep in thought. My mind was lost in everything else, including the passion that had been ignited in both of us. The electricity and the connection had been so unexpected the night before that it felt as if I was floating on some cloud.

A laugh bubbled to the surface. I'd even insisted on saving the melted ice cream, shoving it into the freezer as he'd stood staring at me like I was nuts. He couldn't understand what going out of his way had meant to me.

God, the passion we'd shared had been incredible. My body ached from the strenuous activity as well as continued need. My mind was a delicious blur. I was lost in a beautiful haze that seemed silly since we were both adults and I'd been hired to do a job. Another clap of thunder and I jerked up from my desk, heading toward the set of windows. Only a half hour before it had been a beautiful afternoon, the sun casting a powerful shimmer across the bright green landscaping.

Now the approaching storm seemed turbulent. Maybe it was a sign.

"Get a grip," I huffed.

Maybe the truth was that our time both working and indulging had left me with more questions than answers. Yes, he'd been forthcoming, but he had the ability to be a masterful storyteller. Was it possible he was adding some crazy creative fuel to the fire, allowing me to believe what I wanted to believe?

I grabbed my bottle of water from the desk, returning to my perch and leaning against the window. Maybe I just needed noise.

My stomach was in knots as I scanned the perimeter. The clouds were thick and dark, rolling quickly. Seconds later, it seemed as if Mother Nature had lit up the entire horizon with neon. I pressed my hand to the glass, wishing Easton would return. It was silly. He was my employer, not my boyfriend, but I was locked in the fantasy of my own creation.

When I heard my phone ring, a moment of happiness swept in and I lunged for it, hoping to see Easton's number. The unknown caller instantly shoved a lump in my throat. Some scammers still used them, including purchasing burner phones to do so, but mostly they spoofed existing numbers.

I had a very bad feeling I was about to slide into quicksand, but the call needed to be answered. "Hello?"

The deep and even breathing was the thing horror movies were made of. I took a deep breath, slowly moving to the door to my office. "Who is this?" I opened it slowly, almost certain a demon would come rushing at me.

Other than the music I had on in my room, the house was as silent as it had been before. I took a step into the hallway, moving to where I could peer over the railing.

"If you don't talk to me, I'm going to hang up."

Before I had a chance to, I heard a deep laugh, some asshole filled with amusement. Why did I have the distinct feeling the person was outside watching me? I was so convinced I returned to the window, ignoring the storm as I searched. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Let's just say I'm a concerned citizen."

The disguised voice was tinny in nature and reverberated in my ears, adding to the layer of terror. I couldn't see anything outside, but the shadows were horrific, so ominous that I was certain there were demons in them. My imagination was getting the better of me.

"What are you, some psycho? Well, I'll have you know I eat them for breakfast."

"Or you fuck them."

"What are you talking about?" I moved to the top of the stairs, trying to continue acting like I thought the caller was nothing but a crackpot. Unfortunately, I couldn't stop shaking. I moved slowly down the stairs as he laughed maniacally again, which only added another knot to my stomach.

"Don't play coy, bitch. I know you're sleeping with that psychopath."

"And what are you exactly?" I went back to Josie's comment that I hadn't watched enough horror movies. Maybe not. "Too terrified to identify the real you? My guess is you're nothing but a pervert with a tiny dick." The words had flown from my mouth before I could stop them. I groaned inwardly when the caller's breath hitched. I had a strong feeling I'd pay for that.

He laughed again as if nothing in the world bothered him. "Suggestion. Bitch. Turn on the television to channel nine in five minutes."

"Why?"

"Because you need to see what your employer is truly made of. I'd check on the death of Dylan Roxford as well."

Dylan Roxford. Why did the name sound familiar? "Why are you doing this? Why?"

"Because the Angel of Death will strike again. Be careful or you'll become his next victim. Your horror novel could become real."

The Angel of Death? How did the jerk know we were writing a book? My mind was swimming. It was obvious he was trying to scare me, to turn my mind against Easton. Suddenly, it dawned on me where I'd heard Dylan's first name. From days before.

The news report I'd seen that morning before class. Shit. There was no way it was the same person. None. The city of Chicago was filled with millions of people, hundreds of deaths a day, more assaults. Or was it possible?

"Look, you son of a bitch," I hissed. By the time the words left my mouth, he'd hung up. I tried to call back but a recording that the phone number had been disconnected greeted me. I was ready to toss it out of frustration, but I also had the desire to find out what the asshole had been alluding to.

I chewed on my bottom lip before glancing out one of the front door's stained-glass sidelights. After taking a deep breath, I dared open it up, determined to see if the jerk was there. I stood on the front porch for a few seconds, searching the entire front yard while I continued shaking. While the storm was picking up in intensity, the skies even darker, I couldn't see anyone lurking around.

Great. The jerk could be hiding anywhere in the surrounding woods with an assault rifle in his hand and I was outside being the perfect victim. A slight crack forced a strangled scream from my throat. I backed away quickly, almost stumbling in my effort to return to the foyer, slamming and locking the door. "Fuck."

My heart was palpitating as I headed into the kitchen, searching for the smaller flatscreen's remote. Once I found it, I hesitated before snatching it off the counter. Every inch of me was shaking and as I turned on the television, I held my breath.

Commercials were on, one rolling after another. Groaning, I headed for the open bottle of wine, determined to calm my nerves. By the time I grabbed a wineglass, the news had returned. There was nothing blasting at first, allowing me to pour the wine. But when I heard the name Zane Griffen, I stiffened, tilting my head. The guy from the diner? Everything was starting to play out like one of the horror books I'd read over the years.

I was in a fog until the news broadcast changed the photos from the crime scene inside a park to the victim himself.

I knew the reporter was talking, but I was too busy staring at the photograph of the horrible bully who'd been in the diner. The red bulletin on the bottom indicated he'd been killed in a local park, the crime considered a drug deal gone bad, indicating the incident had occurred at night. Lovely park by day, drug-selling capital by night. Swallowing hard, I took my wine closer, staring at the screen. I wouldn't put the use of drugs past the guy. It could explain his asinine behavior from all those nights before.

Wait. My encounter had been days before. I'd been with Easton every night.

Right?

There was no way he could have snuck out.

I was about to lift my middle finger for my own personal action of defiance when the reporter added that given the state of rigor mortis, Zane had been dead for several days.

Oh, shit.

The unknown caller had drawn my attention to the report for a particular reason. Mystery man had been trying to convince me that Easton had killed both men? I found it hard to believe although a cold chill shifted down my spine. After another, I couldn't stand it any longer, turning off the report and holding the remote against my forehead. What was I supposed to say to Easton?

A flash of lightning caught my attention and I groaned all over again.

This was like living in my own personal nightmare. I was a rational girl. Even without Easton telling me he and his family had enemies. Still, I was sick inside, worried the caller was trying to lead me on a scavenger hunt of some kind.

I took another sip of wine and the hard knock on the front door almost made me drop my glass. At first, I wasn't going to open it but perhaps there was a delivery. Cringing, I hated the fact I was suddenly terrified of my own shadow. Why? Because some jerk had dared interrupt my working day with false accusations?

Fuck it. I would ask Easton later but at this point, I wasn't going to be terrorized by anyone. I moved to the same sidelight, peering out. A man stood on the front porch, his back turned to the door. In his hands were books. Books? Sighing, I unlocked the door, slowly opening it.

The guy standing on the other side had a huge grin on his face but seconds later, his eyes registered surprise. "Whoa, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to catch you off guard."

"Professor Shelton?" I was confused, glancing over his shoulder at the vehicle he was driving. A big red truck.

"Sara Adams. Oh, my goodness. Of course. You're in my English class. Wait a minute. You're working with Easton. Aren't you? I think he said you were his intern. Is that right?"

"Yes, I am. How do you know him?"

He gave me a funny look. "Because we're colleagues."

"Well, duh. He's not here right now. He had a meeting of some kind."

His smile was genuine. "That's fine. I was just going to drop these off at the door when I didn't see his car, which he usually parks outside that big garage of his. I know he's excited to write a bestseller. I'm sorry to just drop by. He left these in my car the other night when we grabbed a beer. I kept forgetting about them."

I glanced at the two books as he handed them to me and laughed. "How to write a horror bestseller in sixty days?"

He laughed with me. "It was always his dream to pen a bestseller. You should read some of his earlier stories. Hopefully, you can keep him on track. The man is always busy. Anyway, I need to run. My girl is expecting me. Are you coming to graduation?"

"I think so. Thanks for dropping them by."

"Of course. Good luck. He can be a tough guy but a good egg all the way around. I'll see you tonight if you decide to come."

"I know. I'm excited to continue working with him."

"Just don't let him bite." His grin remaining, he raced down the stairs and I waited until he'd slipped in his vehicle before closing the front door.

At least I felt a bit better after the phone call. I glanced at the books, deciding to keep them for myself at this point. I took them upstairs, remembering my wine was still in the kitchen. Another rumble of thunder kept the anxiety high. I moved to the computer, googling Dylan Roxford.

It took only a couple of seconds to find an article on his death. It was the one Josie had mentioned as well. Shit. He'd gone to the university. Was it possible? I couldn't stand the thought.

Backing away, I refused to fall into the quagmire of being led down a stray path. I'd ask the question about where he'd gone after the diner the night of Zane's death and if he had a logical response, then I was going to put it behind me.

No. I refused to buy into either warning. At least completely. It was silly to think he was some random killer. Why would he do that? I'd known he'd been furious with Zane, but Easton had managed to put all three jerks in their places. Why risk all he had to kill the man after being seen with him? Nope. I did not buy the story in the least. I shoved it aside, glancing at my phone before pressing print on what little I'd been working on. As the papers emptied into the holder, I stared at my phone.

When I heard another noise, I moved toward the office door, holding my breath. As I noticed Easton coming in through the front door, packages in his arms, I felt so much relief that without thinking, I flew down the stairs. He'd barely placed the packages onto the hardwood floor before I flung myself at him.

"Whoa," he huffed, immediately tensing. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Nothing. You're home. You're really home."

He pushed me away, shaking his head slowly. "Not good enough, baby. Talk to me. I know something happened."

"Just a call."

"What do you mean a call?"

"A guy. At least I think it was a man. He said things."

"What things?"

I was exasperated, beads of perspiration trickling down my face. "I could swear I was being watched. Then this guy called. He said I should watch the news."

"You have no idea who it was?"

"No, the voice was disguised. It could have been a man or a woman for all I knew. But he told me to watch the news. I did…" I was still haunted by what I'd seen, the images of seeing Zane in the diner then knowing he was dead was… horrible.

Even worse, a part of me was glad he was gone. What in God's name did that make me?

Easton rose to his full height, finally closing the door behind him. "Tell me what you saw on television."

I was so sick inside, so nervous that I was ready to vomit. I looked away, fighting all the fear inside of me, the what-ifs about whether the man I was falling hard for was capable of doing heinous things. What would I do if that was the truth?

I had no idea.

None.

Maybe love could conquer all.

He became exasperated after a few seconds, clamping his fingers around my jaw, forcing me to look at him. "Tell me what the asshole was insinuating. I need to hear everything."

The look in his eyes was more intoxicating than the night before.

It was also far more dangerous.

I felt myself gasping for air, trying desperately to keep my mind from going to all the wretched, dark places.

Maybe that's why the answer followed by a question was spewed so easily.

"That you killed both Dylan Roxford and Zane Griffen. I need to know. Are you the Angel of Death?"