Page 26 of The Killer You Know

They share a quick chuckle because of it.

“Laughing about Derek?” I say to Jack just above a whisper and he shrugs as if he didn’t blame them for that one.

“They mentioned someone named Alicia, too,” Connie says with furrowed brows. “Something about her being a snitch,” she whispers that last word as if it were salacious. “Alicia Adams, I believe. They both said her name.”

I jot it down before making eye contact with Jack, subliminally asking if he knew her, too.

He nods my way, affirming the fact. Or maybe he’s admitting to dating her? At this point, it’s the same difference.

I’m really lucky I didn’t go to that school.

“Did you hear the getaway vehicle?” I ask and they both shake their heads.

“We were screaming our heads off,” Connie says. “We were deaf to everything else.”

We ask a few more routine questions before a candy striper delivers Stella’s lunch. A mystery meal contained in small mauve plastic dishes, the smell of which is making my stomach churn.

We thank them both and give them our cards, encouraging them to call us if they can think of anything else.

At least we got a couple of names. Whether or not we can use them, that’s another story. Let’s hope the pieces of this puzzle are finally coming together.

Jack and I bolt from the building as if it were about to blow up, and we both take in a lungful of fresh mountain air once we step outside.

“I guess I owe you a sandwich,” I say.

“And I owe you some answers I gleaned last night.”

“Why didn’t you tell me on the ride over?”

“I didn’t want you to get lost in your own head. It’s not about the case,” he says just as I unlock my truck. “It’s about your sister.”

18

Evil

The thrill of the hunt and the sweet taste of justice—my adrenaline surges just thinking about them. There’s nothing quite like it. All these years I’ve dreamed of doing this, and now that it’s here, a reality of my own making, it’s so much sweeter than I could have ever imagined.

Those women with their smug smiles and their deceitful ways, they thought they could ruin my life and simply move on.

They were so very wrong.

They were dead wrong.

The satisfaction of making them pay, of finally balancing the scales is a balm to the wounds they inflicted upon people—the wounds they inflicted upon me.

Those wounds destroyed my future and they knew it. They knew what they were doing then. They weren’t sorry. It was just as thrilling for them to cut me down as it is for me to end them.

The scene of chasing Robin through her immaculate house comes back to me and elicits a smile like no other. That model home was the very symbol of the life she built on her lies.

Her panic was palpable.

Hearing her scream was exhilarating.

Just witnessing the fear taking hold of her, and seeing the realization in her eyes that her actions had consequences, it was so deeply satisfying. It’s something I’ve needed for so very long and I will treasure those moments forever.

Then to end her life with my own two hands, to extinguish that spark of treachery once and for all—it was poetry in motion. It left me with a satisfaction that resonated down to my very core.

Of course, I have something other than satisfaction.

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