Page 41 of Run for Her Life
Knock.
Knock.
Zoe’s eyes refocused. Her lungs burned like twin hives of fire. She realized she wasn’t breathing. Simon’s hand clasped around her arm and she drew a breath and then another, until her muscles began to relax.
A click and the door swung open. Aiden appeared in the doorway, shirtless and without his thick glasses.
“Doesn’t he own a shirt?” Simon mumbled under his breath.
“What’s going on?” Aiden squinted, sleep clouding his dark eyes.
“We got another letter from the killer. It’s about Jackie.” Zoe spoke through the unease tingling in her bones.
“Shit.” Aiden let them inside his motel room. “When did you get it?”
“A few hours ago. It wasn’t addressed to Zoe. It was sent to the Seattle office,” Simon replied.
That was odd. But her thoughts were too faint. Idly, she inspected Aiden’s room and the immaculateness of it. While Zoe hadn’t bothered to unpack her suitcase, Aiden had his shirtsironed and hanging in neat rows. He pulled on a hoodie, while Simon lingered at the doorway.
“What do you think?” Zoe handed Aiden the evidence bag with the letter in it.
He read the letter. “It’s different from the last one. Much less poetic and flowery. More direct. Short sentences. I don’t see any hints like with the previous one. Maybe it’s more concealed. I’ll need more time.” He stifled a yawn and then looked at Simon. “Why did you come all the way here?”
Simon suddenly appeared awkward. “I-I had to be in the area for work anyway. Thought I’d hand this over personally.”
“I’m sure you did.” Aiden bristled slightly. It didn’t take a profiler with a doctorate to know that Simon was lying. But Zoe didn’t care, not at this moment, not at this ungodly hour in a town held hostage by the six young people who died almost thirty years ago.
“It says final and last. Final round. Last step,” she recited quietly. “Is Jackie the last victim?”
“That’s what it looks like,” he agreed. “And if we are going by what happened with Annabelle, Jackie might be dead already.”
Lisa couldn’t sleep. There was a slimy feeling under her collarbone. She gave up on counting sheep and climbed out of bed, fastening a robe around herself. Next to her, the bed was empty. It was one in the morning. Where was Jim?
And where was Jackie?
She slid out of the room and heard the faint sound of gunfire. She tiptoed to the guestroom and found the door slightly ajar. A soft, blue glow emanated from inside. Jim was playing a video game, his face enthralled and his thumbs moving with dexterity.
A sharp focus that he lacked in every other sphere of his life.
She ground her teeth and marched away, deciding to do some chores instead to distract herself. Her phone rang.
It was Ethan.
“Why are you up so late?” she asked as she began rifling through the laundry hamper.
“I just can’t sleep with everything going on…” he said. “How’s it going on your end?”
“Fine.” She felt stupid. Always cleaning up after Jim. He stayed home all day. Couldn’t he do the laundry? “You got anything?”
“Remember the break-in at Annabelle Stevens’s house?”
“Yeah…”
“CSU picked up DNA on the window that didn’t match Annabelle or Trevor. We’ll run it through CODIS to see if there’s a match.”
Lisa’s brain fired in all directions. “Why would anyone break into Annabelle’s house? Some crazy person following this story?”
“Or the killer trying to get rid of evidence.”
