Sam heaved a heavy sigh of hopelessness. All of a sudden, the whole yearbook angle seemed like a dead-end street-for more reasons than just one. It had dawned on him before that even if the murderer were pictured here, why would he allow such an obvious slip-up to occur? It didn’t fit into his modus operandi at all.
Sam gathered up all the papers, piled them into a haphazard stack and shoved them off to the side. Maybe he was giving this bastard more credit than he deserved. Maybe he really was pictured in the yearbook and had actually fucked up. Maybe Sara Hunt had managed to mark the pages while the prick wasn’t looking and now he was gonna get nailed. Maybe, maybe, maybe…
He took a final drag off his cigarette, coughed, and stubbed it out with a vengeance. Running his hands through his long hair, he listened to the rain pelting down outside and began wondering why he was so caught up in all of this. Granted, he was personally involved and wanted nothing more than to see this asshole caught and fried, but how much was he really contributing? He wasn’t a cop, had no capacity as a cop, so why didn’t he simply just let the police do their jobs instead of sitting here pretending that he was Colombo? Was it because he had nothing else to do in life? Because it helped take his mind off Ann and Amy and how miserable his life had become since he’d lost them?
The answer to all of the above was yes, but there was more to it than that. He didn’t like the uneasy feeling that Ann might somehow be in danger-that she could possibly be involved in this in some way. He had first gotten that feeling when Marsha had been found murdered, but he simply refused to allow himself to get paranoid at the time. But now that Sara Hunt’s murder had cropped up, the feeling had resurfaced. And now that it was confirmed that both women had been killed by the same man, the feeling had suddenly become substantiated. And the fact that several hundred miles didn’t seem to stop this lunatic from killing wasn’t helping much either. Columbus was only ninety miles away…
Sam started to pick up the phone to call Ann but stopped himself. He wanted to hear her voice, to be assured that everything was okay. Then he recalled their conversation earlier-how distant she had sounded at first, as if she were annoyed at him for even calling her in the first place. Her mood had changed somewhat after he had told her about Sara Hunt, but he could still sense more than a trace of detachment in her voice throughout the rest of the conversation. It was as if she would really prefer that he back off and let her live her own life-that his services were no longer needed…
Fuck it, he thought to himself. She’s on her own now, buddy. You’ve lost her forever. And your kid. And as much as you want to pretend that you still have a role in their lives, it just ain’t so. You fucked everything up a while back and now you’re history.
Suddenly the idea of getting sloshed came to mind and it appealed to him in a big way. There really wasn’t anything else to do; his drinking buddy was in New York City doing his thing, his ex-wife and child were in Columbus doing their thing, and here he was in the sticks of southern Ohio with the rain pouring down on a dreary Friday night and a twelve pack of Rock in the fridge.
So it seemed only fitting that he tie one on…
CHAPTER 9
Ann stared at herself in the mirror, straightened up her hair for what seemed like the hundredth time and glanced over nervously at the clock on her nightstand. It was 7:55. In a last minute panic she brushed her shoulder-length auburn locks for the last time then carefully examined her makeup before stepping back and eying the rest of herself in the full-length mirror. She was wearing a plain gray skirt with a navy blue silk blouse. She realized that the outfit was a bit on the conservative side, but that had been her intention. She didn’t want to look flashy on her first date with Jerry Rankin. She was nervous enough as it was, and the last thing she needed was to feel like she was being gawked at all evening.
Just as she had expected, Amy hadn’t bothered to ask her who she was going out to dinner with when she’d come home after school to get ready for the football game. Oddly, Ann had been a little disappointed-she would like to think that her daughter might at least be a little curious about her life once in a while. But this was typical Amy behavior nowadays-so wrapped up in herself and her own plans that her mother may just as well not exist.
The doorbell suddenly rang and Ann’s heart skipped a beat. She took one last look at herself and realized in horror that she looked like a middle-aged schoolteacher. Shrugging her shoulders in exasperation, she turned and headed down the stairs. She paused at the living room window and peaked through the curtains long enough to spot Jerry Rankin’s BMW parked behind her car in the driveway. She went over to the door and opened it.
“Good evening, Ann,” Jerry greeted. He was dressed casually, she noted in relief, wearing a tweed sport jacket, sweater, and a pair of khaki Dockers.
“Hi, Jerry,” she said nervously. “Come in.”
“Thank you,” he smiled. He stepped inside and glanced quickly around the room before looking her over approvingly. “You look wonderful, Ann.”
Ann blushed. “Thanks. I wasn’t quite sure how to dress-you never mentioned where you were taking me.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I wasn’t sure what kind of food you liked, so I decided to wait and see if maybe there was somewhere in particular you’d like to go.”
“I like all kinds of food. And as far as restaurants go, I must confess that I haven’t been to all that many since moving here.”
“In that case, how does Italian sound to you? I know of a marvelous Italian restaurant in Dublin,” he offered.
“I adore Italian food.”
“Then it’s settled,” he smiled. “Your house is charming, by the way.”
Ann strode over to the hall closet to get her coat. “Thanks. I’m still not quite done furnishing it yet.”
“I love these older homes. I live in a relatively new house and it doesn’t have half the character of this one. My neighborhood also leaves a bit to be desired. Hardly any trees, no sidewalks, and everything is so bloody new-too new.”
Ann returned, carrying her coat. “I’m only renting, unfortunately. I have an option to buy, though.”
“Here, let me help you on with that,” Jerry offered.
He took her coat and Ann slipped into it. “Is that your daughter?” he asked, glancing over at Amy’s school picture on the mantle.
“That’s my little girl,” Ann replied.
He went over for a closer look. “She’s lovely. Why, she looks just like her mother!”
Ann blushed again. “Maybe after you’ve tacked on a few decades or so.”
“You certainly don’t look old enough to be mother to a teenager, Ann. It’s quite remarkable.”
“Your flattery is a little overwhelming, Jerry,” Ann replied cynically.
He turned and stared into her eyes, his handsome face wearing an expression of sincerity. “I’m being quite honest, Ann; I’m not trying to embarrass you. I tend to be very straight-forward at times and say what I feel when I feel it. I hope that doesn’t put you off.”
His tone of voice almost made it sound like an apology-he apparently sensed that she regarded his compliments as so much bullshit. Ann said, “I appreciate honesty and frankness, Jerry. It’s been a long time since I’ve been complimented so much. I guess I’m just not used to it.”
“You’d better start getting used to it, then. Otherwise, I’ll find myself biting my tongue an awfully lot,” he declared with a grin.