Page 44 of Scorched

A lump choked her throat. She struggled to swallow past it.

She’d thought moving this far south, where no one knew her and her sons, would safeguard them from the torment of the press. Never in a million years had she imagined that her husband might still be alive and want revenge on her for hiding his sons.

Elise scrubbed at the tears now streaming down her cheeks.

Would this nightmare ever end?

She trudged into the living room and stared around at the scattered toys, shoes and books, with no desire to clean. The familiar creaking sound the house made occasionally made her jump. A cat squalled outside the window, sending shivers up and down Elise’s arms. Despite her desire for independence, she found herselfclock-watching, waiting for Paul’s return. In the meantime, she couldn’t sit around twitching at every noise.

Elise switched on the television to mask the noises of the encroaching night. No sooner had she tuned into a favorite sitcom and settled into her lounge chair, than she got a shock during the first commercial break.

A San Antonio anchorman looked into the camera, but Elise felt as if he were talking directly to her. “Another young woman was found murdered in the Guadalupe River this afternoon. Stay tuned to the news at ten for more on this breaking story.”

Elise’s heart fisted in her gut, churning the mac and cheese she’d eaten for dinner into bile. The sick bastard had killed Mary Alice. She doubled over and moaned. No. This couldn’t be happening.

A soft knock sounded from the front door, jerking her out of her anguish and back into stark terror.

Her heart hammering in her chest, Elise leaped to her feet and ran for the door. Her hand paused on the knob. She didn’t have a peephole to identify the person on the other side. “Who is it?” she said, inwardly cursing how much her voice shook.

“Elise, it’s me, Melissa Bradley.”

Elise crossed to the window and parted the vinyl blinds.

Agent Bradley stood in her faded blue jeans, crisp white blouse, navy-blue wool blazer and mock-ostrich-skin cowboy boots. Behind her stood an older man insweatpants and a sweatshirt with Kendall Country Sheriff written in bold black letters over his right breast.

Darkness crept in on the quiet street, edging out the last rays of sun. Wind buffeted the gnarled live oak in the front yard. For all her neighbors knew, two normal people had shown up to pay Elise Johnson a visit. Not that it mattered. Elise couldn’t keep her identity a secret much longer. Not when the lives of more women were at stake.

She sighed and unlocked the deadbolt, relieved and apprehensive at the same time. “Please, come in.”

Melissa entered with a camera around her neck, carrying what looked like a toolbox. She turned to the man behind her. “Elise Johnson, this is Kendall County Sheriff Thomas Engel.”

The sheriff held out a meaty hand and nodded. “Ms. Johnson. I understand you’ve had some trouble. I’m here to help.”

Elise shook hands with the sheriff dreading the questioning to come, yet knowing it had to be addressed. “If you’ll follow me. Please try to keep it down, the boys are sleeping.”

“We’ll make this as painless as possible. Unfortunately, some of this stuff can be messy.” Agent Bradley nodded. “Lead the way.”

When Elise opened the door to her bedroom, a cold wave of dread swept her all over again. The lettering hadn’t changed since Brandon found it earlier that day,yet it hung over her bed, taunting her with an oppressive threat.

Melissa set the toolbox on the floor, then started snapping pictures. “Has anything been disturbed since you found it?”

“No.” She hadn’t even gone into her room since Alex and Kendall had been there.

“Good.” Melissa covered the room’s every angle and closed in on the writing on the wall.

Elise tried to imagine what the room looked like from Mel’s viewpoint. A full-sized bed in the middle of the room. Only one pillow, fluffy yellow bedding and a child’s action figure lying on the nightstand. Lonely, female, single parent without a sex life.

On her limited budget, Elise had gone for soft and feminine decor. The exact opposite of what Stan had insisted she buy for their bedroom. She hadn’t wanted to be reminded of her former husband in any way whatsoever, preferring to completely erase him from her existence. So much for erasing him. “Sheriff, the news said another woman was found this afternoon.”

“Good news travels fast.” The lines around his eyes deepened. “Bad news even faster.”

“Was she a blonde, Sheriff Engel?” Elise asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as her gaze traveled over the writing on the wall and her mind rolled over the words the killer had spoken on the phone only a few short hours ago.

The sheriff stared at the message on the wall and nodded, his lips set in a grim line. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And the woman from the other day?” Elise knew the answer before she asked.

“Blondes on both counts.” The sheriff flipped open a notepad and jotted something down. “Seems we might have us a serial killer with a penchant for blondes on our hands.”

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