"I understand."
"Good. First, let’s talk facts. The most important fact is that this wasn’t random. You were specifically chosen."
"Do you know why?"
"We know he chose you because he’s… dedicated… to you," he said, searching for the right word.
"What does that mean?" she asked impatiently.
"It means you’ve got a fan. It’s what we call them… fans."
"That doesn’t make any sense. I’m not a movie star or a celebrity. I’m just an average person."
"Look in the mirror, Laurant. There isn’t anything average about you. You’re beautiful. He thinks you’re beautiful." He hurried on before she could interrupt. "And most victims these guys select aren’t high profile."
She took a breath and then said, "Go on. I need to know exactly what I’m up against. You aren’t scaring me," she added so he wouldn’t continue to choose his words so carefully. "I want to know everything so I can fight back, and by God, I am going to fight back."
"Okay, here’s what he’s telling us. He’s been stalking you for a long time now. He knows everything about you. Everything. He knows what kind of perfume you wear, what your favorite foods are, what kind of detergent you use in your laundry, what books you read, what your sex life is like, what you do every minute of every day. He wants us to know that he’s been inside your house at least a couple of times, but probably more. He sat in your chairs, he ate your food, and he went through your drawers. It’s his way of getting to know you," he explained. "He’s probably taken something from your underwear drawer to keep, something you wouldn’t miss right away. Think about it, and you’ll remember some old nightgown or T-shirt that you haven’t been able to find lately. The garment has to be something you wear close to your skin."
"Why?" she asked, shaken by Nick’s description of the man he called a fan. She didn’t want to believe that anyone had gone through her house uninvited and searched through her things, and the thought that she was being watched made her skin crawl.
"It has to have your scent on it," he explained. "It makes him feel closer to you. Whatever it is, he’s sleeping with it," he added, remembering the man’s words about wrapping himself in her fragrance.
"Anything else?" she asked, surprised at how normal she sounded.
"Yeah," he said. "He’s watched you sleep."
"No, I would have known," she cried out.
He tapped the cassette player. "It’s all there."
"What if I had opened my eyes… what if I woke up and saw him?"
"That’s what he wants you to do," he said. "But not yet. He’d be upset if you forced him to hurt you now."
"Why?"
"You’d be speeding up his agenda."
"Go on. I’m not scared," she reiterated.
"What I just told you… that’s what he wants us to know. Here’s what we’re theorizing at this point. He lives in Holy Oaks, and he’s someone you come into contact with all the time, maybe even on a daily basis. You’re friendly with him, but like I said before, he’s reading all sorts of other messages. Pete says he’s in the adoration stage. That means he thinks you’re pretty damned perfect, and he wants to protect you. The guy’s obsessing now, and he’s clearly at war with himself. He wants us to believe he is anyway. He might genuinely like you, Laurant, and in that case he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he knows he’s going to because no matter what you do, you’re going to disappoint him. In his mind, there’s no way you can live up to his expectations-he’ll make sure of that-and there’s no way you can win."
"You said he’s in the adoration stage but that’s going to change. When do you think it will happen?"
"Are you asking me how soon? I don’t know," he admitted. "But I don’t think we’ll have to wait long. You could already be… tarnishing… in his mind. Look, he’s got to find something wrong with you so he can feel betrayed. Maybe it will be the way you smile. All of a sudden, he’s going to think you’re mocking him, or maybe he’ll believe you’re coming on to some other man. That would definitely enrage him. He’d like us to think he’s tormented. Remember, he promised Tommy that if you ran away from him, he might not follow you. But he also boasted that he is brilliant and that he wants more of a challenge."
"Maybe he’ll get tired of this… obsession."
"He isn’t going to go away." Nick’s voice had a sharp edge now. "The fantasy’s controlling him. He can’t stop. It’s a cat-and-mouse game to him, and you’re the mouse. He likes the hunt. The more challenging it is, the more fun. The game won’t be over until you have begged for mercy."
He leaned forward and studied her closely. "Well, Laurant? Are you scared yet?"
Chapter 7
What a delightful time he’d had toying with the priest. Delightful indeed. He really hadn’t expected that he would have so much fun, because he’d learned from past experiences that sometimes the buildup-the planning stage in his schedule, as he liked to call it-turned out to be far more rewarding than the actual event-like when he was a boy and he was building his fort in the backyard. The joy was in the anticipation for what he was going to do inside his isolated cocoon where no one could spy on him. Oh, he’d spend hours and hours getting ready, a busy little beaver sharpening the kitchen knives and scissors he’d stolen from his mother’s drawer, and meticulously preparing the burial sites for the animals he’d trapped and caged. The killings always turned out to be anticlimactic though. The animals never squealed enough to satisfy him. But in this instance, good old Tommy boy hadn’t let him down. No, no, he hadn’t been disappointed in the priest at all.
As he was driving down the highway, he replayed the conversation in his head over and over again until he was laughing out loud and tears were streaming down his face. There wasn’t anyone around, and so he could be as loud and raucous as he wanted to be, but then, come to think of it, he could pretty much do whatever he wanted to do these days, anytime, anywhere, as long as he was carefull. Just ask pretty little Millicent. Oh, nope, you couldn’t do that. No, sirree.
Father Tom’s tortured cry when he realized the next victim was none other than his precious sister kept echoing in his mind. "My Laurant?" the priest had shouted.
"My Laurant?" he mockingly imitated. Priceless. Really priceless.
It was a pity he had had to leave so abruptly. He would have enjoyed tormenting Tommy a bit longer, but there simply hadn’t been time, what with all those wasted minutes spent on that nonsense about not being able to tell anyone what had been said inside the confessional, even after he’d given him permission. By God, he’d ordered him to tell. It hadn’t made any difference to the priest though. No, sirree. It hadn’t. Oh, he’d known about the church’s precious regulations guarding their sacraments-he always did his homework-but he’d misjudged Tommy because he hadn’t counted on him being such a stickler for the rules. Who would have thought the priest would be so stubborn, when spilling the beans would save his own sister’s hide? Who would have thought? A priest who wasn’t morally bankrupt. My, oh my, what a dilemma that turned out to be. Had he been an ordinary man, his plans would have been ruined, and he would have had to start over again. But he wasn’t ordinary. No, no, of course not. He was brilliant, and he had, therefore, anticipated every possibility. He’d almost blurted out, right there in the confessional, that he was taping the conversation, but he’d decided to let Tommy be surprised. He had hoped he wouldn’t have to share the tape though, not yet anyway. It would be added to his impressive and certainly eclectic collection. Millie’s tape was getting plumb worn out. Some insomniacs listened to the soothing sounds of the ocean or gentle rainfall when they went to bed; he listened to Millie’s sweet voice.