Page 131 of I'm Watching You

‘Ms Shaw?’

The raspy voice had Kendall turning toward a pleasant looking man dressed in khakis and a white collared polo shirt. His graying hair was brushed off his face. Deep lines around his eyes made him looked distinguished more than old.

‘Yes?’

‘I saw your news report today. It was something else.’

She opened her car door, aware she had no time to spare if she was going to get her hair done and be back at the station in forty-five minutes. ‘Thank you for noticing.’

A smile tipped the edge of his mouth. ‘You’re one great reporter. Not many would have the spine to call this killer out.’

She was accustomed to being recognized. It was part of the job. She’d learned long ago to be nice to viewers while not getting pulled into lengthy conversations. Still, the clock was ticking. ‘Thanks. I’d chat but I’m really late for an appointment.’

He held up calloused hands. ‘Oh, no problem.’

She tossed her purse in the car, grateful that this guy, whoever he was, wasn’t going to ask a thousand questions. ‘You have a good afternoon.’

‘You too.’

Kendall had all but put the man out of her mind when she felt the first sharp electric bolt rip through her body. Every one of her muscles convulsed and gave way. Herknees buckled. She’d have hit the ground hard if the guy hadn’t grabbed her.

He smiled down at her, no hint of surprise in his warm brown eyes. ‘You all right there, Ms Shaw?’

She couldn’t speak.

‘Cat got your tongue?’ He pulled her up and half walked, half carried her toward a van parked next to her car.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

‘I wasn’t real happy about your report today. You baited Lindsay and made her say things she wouldn’t normally have said. You called me a coward. I didn’t like that either.’

Her blurred senses started to scream. This man was the Guardian.

A deep moan formed in her chest. She wanted to scream, to run, but her body refused to work. As if he read her thoughts, the Guardian touched her with the Taser again. Her knees buckled and he now supported her weight completely. He had surprising strength.

The Guardian opened the back door to the van. He laid her on the metal bed of the van, climbing in, and closed the doors behind them. He clicked on a dome light, whose light was contained by the blackened windows.

Kendall knew the grim statistics. Once a victim was trapped in a vehicle her chances of survival drastically diminished.

Her left hand twitched. If her body would start working, she could ball her fingers into a fist and punch him. She could still get away.

The Guardian put his lips close to her ear. ‘I know what you’re thinking. But you’re not going anywhere.’ He raised the Taser close to her face. The electrical current snapped and popped just inches from her eye.

He jabbed the Taser into her side. Her head jerked back as she convulsed and a silent scream clogged her throat. ‘You’re not going anywhere. Not until you’ve paid like all the other abusers.’

He grabbed a length of rope and tied her wrists together and then her ankles. Her fingers tingled as her too tight bindings constricted the blood flow. She forced herself to meet his gaze. She wanted to memorize every detail so that she could tell the police what this bastard looked like.

He wadded up a cloth, shoved it in her mouth, and secured it with a piece of duct tape.

She struggled to breathe and her bravado waned. Tears welled in her eyes and she hated her weakness. She needed to stay calm. If she was going to get out of this alive, she needed to think. Her cell was in her purse in her car. She had a meeting with Mike soon. Would he see her car in the side street and launch a search for her?

The Guardian stroked her hair back off her face. ‘So soft and so pretty. But you have a heart of stone.’ He sighed. ‘You know what I do to my victims, don’t you?’

She winced as he jabbed a needle into her arm and emptied the syringe.

‘I cut their left hands off,’ he said quietly. He ran his hand lightly down the length of her arm to the hands tied behind her back. His fingers encircled her wrists. ‘Whatyou may not know is that they’re alive when I take my trophy.’

The matter-of-fact tone made the statement all the more frightening. Panic could easily have tipped to hysteria, but the drugs he’d put into her system had started to take effect. Her mind grew foggy.

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