"But--"
"Marli, you asked for my help. And here's my advice--let the police do their investigation."
She hated controlling, domineering men. At that moment, however, her body a quivery mass of stressed-out, stretched-thin nerves, she wanted to listen to this man, lean on him and let him tell her to forget about trying to find a murderer.
She was terrified. Terrified for what Krista must have endured the last moments of her life. Terrified for herself. Afraid of life without her best friend. Afraid of finding the guy and what she would do then. More afraid of not finding him.
"You don't understand," she whispered. She looked up at him, his sexy, gorgeous dark face full of concern, wavering in the tears that filled her eyes.
"What don't I understand?"
"I have to find him. I just have to."
He stared at her, their eyes connecting in a way she'd never experienced, like a link between them joined them, drawing them closer.
"We'll...they'll find him," he assured her urgently. "You have to believe it. But you can't do it yourself. You just can't."
"Fine." Disappointment weighed her down, her body heavy as she slid off the stool and reached for her purse. "Thanks for nothing."
He didn't even try to persuade her to stay. She looked at him for about three heartbeats, then leaned over and brushed her mouth over his.
"'Bye, Trey."
A sound downstairs caught her attention. Marli could barely hear over the noise of the water filling the tub in her bathroom. It was probably nothing. Just her stupid nerves acting up again.
But again she heard it, a grinding, grating noise coming from the lower level. Her heart stuttered to a stop, then started pounding painfully hard in her chest. She turned off the water and listened again for it. Her breath stuck in her lungs and she started slowly out of the bathroom toward the stairs, dressed in only her panties and a T-shirt. She heard it again.
"Jesus, no, no," she whimpered to herself, frozen in place at the top of the stairs, holding the chrome banister. Her fingers clenched it as her eyes darted around. Call the police, call the police, her inner voice chanted, but she was so paralyzed with fear she couldn't even remember where her phone was.
The noise stopped. She could hardly hear over the banging of her heart as she waited. A car engine roared outside, tires squealed, and then there was a pounding at her door. She jumped again, eyes in danger of popping out her sockets.
"Marli!" The voice outside called to her, but it was familiar. It was her next door neighbor, Jeff.
Her legs shook as she stumbled dangerously down the stairs and over to her front door. She pulled open the narrow blinds on the sidelight and peered out. Jeff stood there, his brows knit together, his mouth turned down. He pounded again.
"Jeff! What is it? What are you doing?"
He saw her face in the window. "Are you okay? Jesus, Marli, some guy was trying to break in your front door!"
Chapter 4
Marli leaned her forehead against the cold glass and gulped. Her whole body was a quivering mass of jumping nerves. With trembling hands, she unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door to let Jeff in.
He grabbed her upper arms. "Are you okay?" he demanded.
She nodded mutely, not sure if she could speak. Her knees so weak she thought she might fall, she turned out of Jeff's grasp and staggered into her living room, then collapsed on the edge of her couch.
Jeff followed her, after forcefully shutting and locking the door behind him.
"You've got to call the cops." He went into the kitchen and grabbed the cordless handset from the base, then handed it to her.
She took the phone, but did nothing. She didn't even look at Jeff, but closed her eyes.
"Marli. Call the police."
She looked at the phone and, with a curse, Jeff snatched it from her limp hand and dialed 911. She vaguely heard him report the attempted breakin through a fog of confused fear.
"Shit," he said with disgust as he hung up. "They won't come until tomorrow. You're safe, the guy's gone, it's not an emergency. Jesus."
Marli shakily pushed her hair back from her face, aware she was wearing a T-shirt and panties. Not that Jeff would notice. He was completely, openly gay. But he was a great friend and neighbor.
"Did you hear him?" she asked, finally finding her voice. "How did you..."
"I was just getting home," he said. "I guess he didn't notice me. I saw him at your door. I could tell he was trying to break in, so I yelled at him and ran over here. He took off."
"Thank you, Jeff," she said in a choked voice. "Oh, my God."
"Who was it? Any idea?"
Trey's image flashed into her head. He could have followed her home from the bar. Sure, he'd said he was a cop, but how did she know that for sure?
No. It didn't feel right. He'd been so sweetly understanding, backing off when she wanted him to, his aura of safekeeping wrapping around her.
But who else? Was it just a coincidence? A murderer was out there on the loose. "I don't know," she mumbled. "I have no idea, but I've never been so terrified. I'm a basket case as it is, then this happens." She looked up at Jeff, still standing there with the phone in his hands, looking concerned and anxious.
"You want me to stay here tonight?"
She considered that. She hated to seem weak and helpless, but damn, she was scared. "Yes," she whispered. "Would you mind?"
"Of course not. I'll sleep on your couch."
"Thank you. Do... Would you like some coffee or something?"
"Yeah. Sure."
He stayed with her while she made some tea for them, both of them knowing sleep was going to be impossible.
"Tomorrow I'm going to get an alarm system installed," she told him. "I've been so nervous ever since..."
He nodded. "That's a great idea. A single woman living alone should have an alarm system. You should've done that when you moved in here."
"Yeah. I should have." Shehated feeling like this. She was a strong, independent, fun-loving woman reduced to a teeth-chattering, stuttering child.
The Super Seven Motel was cheap, but he barely had enough money for one more night, despite his new job.
He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark.
Rage simmered in him, building and bubbling. He was not used to things being so tough for him. Marli was being difficult. It was pissing him off.
Some guy had come racing to her rescue! Jesus, after she'd been cock-teasing in the bar all night, she had another man at home. What a slut she was.
He'd been so sure she'd lived alone, didn't have a boyfriend. He narrowed his eyes.
She'd been at Cactus Jack's the last two nights in a row. Chances were good she'd be there again tonight. And so would he. He'd find a way to get her on her own.
She had to pay for what she'd done.
He imagined again how it would be. He imagined first bringing her here, to his motel room. Then he played the whole scenario through again, this time in her home. He imagined what it looked like...classy, expensive. Like her. He imagined her laughter and sneering turning to fear and disbelief. The fear in her eyes would get him going, incite him. Excitement rose in him even as he imagined it.
He'd take her first, thrust hard into her while she writhed beneath him, trying to fight him off. He knew she would try to fight, and he could already feel the adrenaline rush of controlling her. He'd hurt her...slap her, punch her...his imagination roamed for different ways to inflict pain on her. He'd enjoy every minute of her luscious terror, her screaming and begging him to stop. She would be one he'd need to tie up. He smiled.