“Who’s mad at you? The sexy detective or the stranger behind the keyboard?”
“I guess both, really. I only care about Blake, though.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how bad?”
“Possibly an eleven and a half.”
“Shit, Spence, did you cheat on the detective with the author?”
“What?” I shouted, realizing she’d gone down the wrong path. “Christ, no! I just reached out and made a connection with someone I shouldn’t have.”
“I’m not loving this cryptic shit, but you always need time before you share, so this time, I will let it go.” She huffed out a loud sigh. “Look, girl, do you like this guy?”
“I do.”
“Love him?”
“Yes.”
“Then pick your pussy up off the ground, stop window shopping, and go make it right.”
I rolled my eyes but knew she was right.
“Okay, fine. Thanks, J.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m awesome.” The line went dead.
Ugh.
“Morning, you!” Benny grinned from the receptionist desk as I stepped into the station.
“Die.”
“Oh,” he laughed and followed behind me, “I forgot you’re not a morning person.”
“Nope.”
“I have something that might cheer you up.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
I waved my hand for him to go on.
“Guess who showed up dead in a ditch last night.”
My face fell, curious as to who I could possibly be happy about being dead.
“You brother’s dealer, Jim.”
“What?” I pulled off my sunglasses as a sense of relief washed over me. “How?”
“Looks like he ODed. There’s been talk he skimmed off his supplier, so, you know. But whatever, one less piece of trash in the world.”
“Amen to that.” We moved up the stairs together. “G in yet?” I stuck my ID into the machine and waited for the door to open.
“I think so.” He smiled. “Well, you sure are up early.”
“Don’t remind me.” I opened G’s office and dropped to his couch with a heavy thud.
My uncle held up a finger with his cell tucked under his chin, but he eyed me carefully while he wrapped up his call. I studied his whiteboard on the Whiskey Lake case.
My heart twisted as I stared into Krysta’s eyes and wondered, if she hadn’t been killed, where she might be right now. Would she be dating? Would there be a boyfriend out there hoping for a kiss? Would they both be thinking of each other at the same time? I hoped so. They all deserved moments like that. Moments to be remembered.
The strength I felt last night after my words with the author had drained away in the early morning light.
“One sec. I got another call.” G’s voice. “Yeah, she’s here.”
“Spencer?” Bri knocked on my uncle’s door as she entered. “Can I see you for a moment?”
I peeled myself off the leather couch and trudged toward her into the conference room.
She waited for the door to shut then placed a printed page on the projector and switched it on.
“Do you have any idea who this might be?”
I squinted to absorb the words.
To my red-heeled beauty.
“He uses it in every book,” she went on when I didn’t offer any information.
“That’s been bothering me too,” I admitted. “Never once were red heels mentioned, just that he takes their high heels.”
Bri eased herself up onto the counter that ran under the windows. “Do you think he was dedicating the stories to his victims? Or to you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know for sure, but my gut tells me no. It’s no secret I live in my Chucks.” I pointed the pair of blue sneakers I wore.
“Okay.” She rubbed her head and looked beyond beat.
I pulled out my laptop and set it up and got out my wireless mouse when we both heard it.
“Spencer.” Bri’s chilled voice went through me.
He was online.
“What’s all that above?” She moved to see better.
“My mistake,” I muttered and felt the rock that settled in my stomach whenever I had to look at that damn chat page.
A: You up and out of your mood?
“Spencer, does Blake know what you said to him?”
“Yes.”
She laughed a little, and I glanced over, confused.
“I’m just a little impressed.” She shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong, it was risky what you did, but I get it.”
“Thanks.” I appreciated that she saw why I did it.
“Are you going to answer him?” She signaled for G to come in.
I sat back and strummed my fingernails on the wooden table. I’d wanted to make a point, wanted to make him see he didn’t control my words or my world. I did. He could send me off in any direction, but I controlled what I wrote, not him.
“Spencer, it’s only another half a book, then you’re done.” She was making an effort to convince me to go on. I had no doubt I would see this through, but I led her on a bit.
“Will I be done?” I kept my eyes glued to the screen. “What if he continues?”
She thought for a moment, and I blocked her out. There was a storm brewing inside my soul that sent me into waves of emotion. A roller coaster ride through hell.
“Only you can get that answer.”
I swallowed a large sip of coffee then flexed my fingers and leaned into the keyboard.
GW: You have the notes for the rest of the book?
A: I do.
I waited, annoyed when he didn’t send it right away. I knew he waited for me to ask. I leaned back and folded my arms. He had no idea how stubborn I could be.
Seconds, minutes ticked by, and the little icon that blinked at me to answer remained steady as both of us held out.
Control. I needed some kind of control.
Bri didn’t push, she just watched, kept herself tucked in the corner. I knew she could handle the quiet just as much as I could. I didn’t really mind her being there.
A: Last victim.
He started to write, and we both inched toward to the screen.
A: Brunette, 5’6”, small frame, walks in on a blonde who is holding the killer’s weapon. Both confused. It takes the victim a moment of hesitation before someone behind her stabs her straight through the back to the front. Victim locks eyes with the blonde, and terror courses through both of them. They will not be saved.
GW: Brunette is the last victim? Can you offer more information? I feel she has some connection to the killer. Am I wrong on that?
There’s another long wait. We heard voices outside, but both Bri and I refused to move as we stared at the screen. Yet another new direction had been taken by the author.
A: Yes, connected.
I felt Bri turn to look at me, but I couldn’t peel my eyes away. Something was coming, possibly a hint to who he was.
“Keep baiting him, Spencer,” she encouraged.
GW: I’m listening. Who is it?
Again, the seconds ticked by, then the minutes, and soon we had rounded the hour. I was pissed. I hated games. I hated the power he had over me and everyone else. He was sick and twisted, and, frankly, I was over it.
“Screw this.” I closed my computer and rubbed my throbbing head. “Honestly, Bri, if he wants to play the waiting game, so be it.”