Jake nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
She leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. “You won’t be sorry.” Her breath was soft against his ear, and he began to feel a stir of arousal. “We’ll be great together. I promise.”
Jake swallowed a lump in his throat and shifted in his seat. “Yeah. I think so, too.”
He didn’t believe it. Not really. But maybe if he said it and thought it enough times, it would come true.
Kristen’s cell phone buzzed in her purse. She sighed and nipped lightly at his earlobe. “Let me see who this is.”
She retrieved her purse from the floor, fished out her slim little phone, and looked at the number on the screen. “It’s my uncle. What the hell does he want?”
She flipped open the phone and said, “What’s up?”
There was a long moment of silence as she listened, but there was a dramatic change in her demeanor at once. Jake looked at her and frowned. Her eyes were bright with sudden tears. Her mouth hung open and her jaw quivered. She slapped her free hand over her mouth in shock. Jake dimly heard the caller’s voice, but couldn’t make out what was being said. It was obvious, though, that it was something very, very bad. His stomach clenched as he waited to hear the bad news, whatever it was.
Her voice quavered as she said, “Yes, I heard you. Yes, I understand. I know, I know. I’m sorry. I love you, too.”
She snapped the cell phone shut.
And then she screamed.
She smashed the cell phone against the dashboard. The broken phone slipped from her hand and she bashed the dashboard with her fists. She screamed again, a sound that shifted to an anguished wail. Then she was crying and hugging herself, rocking on the edge of the seat. She shook her head and plaintively said the word “no” over and over.
They were out of the Zone now. Jake spied a convenience store and pulled into its parking lot. Kristen gave no sign of realizing they’d stopped. She buried her face in her hands, tucked her head between her legs, and wailed. Jake watched her and said nothing. He was afraid to ask her what was wrong. He tried to think of what might be horrendous enough to affect her this way. He still didn’t know her very well at all. It could be anything. Thinking this, he again felt a stab of doubt. He had to be out of his mind to get in so deep with her so soon. But the doubt gave way to guilt as he heard her sobs.
Stop being an asshole, he thought.
He laid a gentle hand between her shoulder blades and for a moment the strength of her sobs only increased. Her whole body quivered. Then she came to him and he took her in his arms, stroking her hair and whispering reassuring nonsense into her ear as she cried against his neck. After maybe ten minutes of this, she eased out of the embrace and looked at him through red-rimmed eyes.
She wiped moisture from her flushed cheeks and sniffed. “Stu’s dead.”
The news hit him like a hard blow to the gut. His chest felt tight. He couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. He thought about Stu’s kindness in offering him a place to stay. Christ. Stu dead. It made no sense. And then it hit him that he’d scarcely known Stu any better than he knew Kristen. It was a shock, yes, but the anguish he felt was more intense than it should have been. Part of it was the guy’s giving, generous personality. He’d just been an all-around good guy. You didn’t have to know the man in and out to see that. The world became a darker place every time someone like that died. And Kristen had known and loved him over the course of a lifetime.
He at last found his voice and somehow managed to keep it steady. “I’m so sorry, Kristen. What happened?”
Her face crumpled at the question and fresh tears streamed down her face. She swiped at them furiously and said, “Some piece of fucking shit murdered him. My poor brother. Oh, Jake…”
Then the sobs came again and again he held her.
In a while she was able to tell what she knew of the story. Someone had invaded the mountain cabin during the night. Stu had been tortured and murdered. Lorelei was missing and presumed dead or abducted. A massive search was underway for two suspects fingered by an anonymous caller. The same tipster had alerted authorities to the crime. Police were urging the caller to come forward again, but so far it hadn’t happened.
Jake comforted her there in the car for a long time.
He never noticed the black Oldsmobile parked next to the Dumpster at the side of the convenience store.
It was there the whole time.
And when Jake drove away from the convenience store to take Kristen home, it followed them.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Raymond Slater did the only thing he could think of after stuffing Cindy’s mangled body in the trunk of his Lexus.
He went home.
The journey back through the familiar streets was hellish. He kept to a few careful miles over the posted speed limit the whole way, but he spent every moment convinced some bored Rockville cop would pull him over to fill his ticket quota. One big problem was the shattered passenger-side window. There was a spray of glittering safety glass on the leather seat and floorboard. Some of it was tinged crimson with Cindy’s blood. A fragile wedge of glass remained at the bottom of the window frame. Raymond had been sure some busybody cop would see that as a red flag and use it as an excuse to stick his nose in his business. So he stopped at a little strip mall for a quick clean-up job. He knocked the remaining glass out of the frame. Then he used a rolled-up newspaper to sweep the safety glass to the floor and under the seat. The biggest bloodstain was on the floorboard. He unfolded the newspaper and placed it over the stain. He surveyed his work and judged it passable. Not perfect by any means, but good enough not to arouse any immediate suspicion.
So he got back in the car and resumed the journey home. The next half mile passed without incident and he began to relax. In another few minutes he would be home and safe. He would be able to decompress and take some time to consider his next move.
Then he heard it.
A noise in the trunk.
He might have missed it had the radio been on, it was so soft. But he’d turned off the radio after leaving the alley, finding the sound of music grating under these circumstances. When he heard the noise, he wished he’d left the radio on. His ears perked up and he listened intently while his heart raced. A few moments of silence allowed him the brief illusion that he’d been hearing things.
Then he heard it again.
And there could be no mistake.
The bitch is alive!
The whimper coming from the trunk was low and weak, but it was clearly the sound of a person in unbearable agony. Raymond gripped the steering wheel tighter and let out a whimper of his own.
“Fuck me running.”
Then there was the sound of something shifting in the trunk, followed by a louder whimper.
“Jesus Christ!” Raymond punched the steering wheel. “Die already!”
Raymond replayed the words in his head. He had never felt lower in his life. He felt like a monster. A badly injured young girl was trapped in the trunk of his car. It wasn’t her fault she’d fallen under the spell of Lamia. She was just a child. This was the truth. And yet it didn’t matter. He couldn’t change what had happened. He couldn’t take her to a hospital. So he was left with a grim reality-if she didn’t die on her own soon, he would have to speed the inevitable along.
By the time he arrived at last at his large estate in the wealthiest part of town, he was a trembling, mewling wreck. He pulled up to one of the garage doors, fumbled with the automatic opener clipped to the visor above him for a moment, then watched through a veil of tears as the maroon door rolled up on its tracks. He pulled the Lexus into the open space, fumbled with the opener again, and rested his forehead against the steering wheel for several minutes in the gloom of the garage. His sobs only masked the intermittent cries still emanating from the trunk.