Page 24 of Nothing Hiding

"Was it better than the peanut butter?" he asked.

She hesitated, her round, pleasant face wrinkling with the effort of the decision.

"Now, that's a difficult one," she said. "I'd think it's neck and neck, actually." She let out a rich, loud chortle, and he smiled widely, sharing the joke.

"If only they weren't so darned pricey," she confided. "Probably just as well, though, or I'd be here every day and weigh twenty pounds more."

"Yes, it is a temptation. And a luxury," he empathized.

The conversation was starting to pull him down, even though he was managing it.

With those people who were not his targets, who were not destined to be the pillars of power, he was pleased he could still behave in a normal way that attracted no attention. He was finding it increasingly difficult though, because with each pillar that he placed, he could feel the power throbbing through him, feel himself becoming so much more than he was.

Already, with only two down, he was feeling so different. Exultant. Empowered. More than he had been. And yet, there was so much more to come still. What would he be like by the end?

It was going to be a long and difficult job.

Eighty was his ultimate goal, but he was a realistic man and knew that this number might be a life's work and not a season's. But this summer, he wanted to get the first fifteen in place. Then he knew which would be next.

Each one needed significance and meaning, and each would need to be perfectly placed.

He had been patient, waiting for the right moment to strike. Waiting for the darkness to envelop him and shield him from prying eyes. He'd need to do the same this time.

Her shift ended at seven p.m., and by then, it would still be light. Darkness, this time of the year, fell at about eight. But on a Saturday night, he had seen her habits. She didn't walk straight to the Underground station to ride the long journey far out of London to the little house in the remote suburb where she lived—it was one of the Zone Six stops, one of those not just in outer London but just outside of London itself. He couldn't take her from there, it was too far. The energy lines would dissipate even if he brought her back, and he needed them to be strong. He had it plotted out—where he'd take her, where he'd prepare her, and finally, where he'd place her.

Tonight was his best chance, because tonight, she wouldn't go straight home. She'd walk down the road to the pub and spend an hour or two there with her friends. The journey from the pub to the Underground, after dark on a Saturday, was a ten-minute walk, and it was surprisingly deserted.

With luck, he could take her tonight.

As he reached the front of the line, he could see her through the glass door, moving about inside the cookie shop, her long hair tied back in a ponytail as she served customers. He could feel the thrill of anticipation, knowing that he would soon have her in his grasp. What a pleasure it would be. Her neck was long and elegant. He knew already how he would clothe her and how he would paint her.

She didn't serve him when he reached the front of the line, though, which was just as well, because he would have been wordless with admiration in the power of her gaze, looking at that beautiful face, the Grecian perfection of her features.

But she was serving the other line, and he'd intentionally placed himself out of her path. Just in case. One couldn't be too careful. He was aware that even though this shop served thousands of customers a day, the wrong move might get him noticed. He needed to lay low to complete his task.

"I'll have two, double chocolate," he said, picking randomly when the plump, smiling brunette took his order, because truth be told, he didn't care.

All he cared about was looking again at that stern, classic profile of the young woman he sought, seeing her face, feeling her power, the energy like a force.

It scared and humbled him.

Soon, that energy and that force would be placed where it was needed, and it would become a part of him.

He paid for the cookie and turned away, feeling short of breath at how close he'd come to her, already taking pleasure in what he'd feel when the job was done.

As soon as he was out of sight of the store, he threw the cookie into a trash can. It wasn't important; it had been only a means to an end.

He didn't need it.

He needed her.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

He looked guilty. That was Juliette’s first thought when she walked into the interview room of the police station where they’d done their research earlier.

Markus Griggs had been searched and processed, and the tall, lanky man was now face to face with them for the first time, so Juliette could see his features, rather than his retreating back view as he fled.

His gaze was darting every which way around the small, warm room. She wondered what Sierra, watching from the observation room next door, thought of that body language.

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