Page 40 of Killer Knows Best

The heels of my shoes click against the sidewalk, echoing through the quiet street. The fancy restaurants in this part of town are enormous, bathed in soft, amber light from streetlamps, and some are already decorated for fall—pumpkins on doorsteps, wreaths filled with autumn leaves hanging from massive front entries.

A thin layer of ground fog swirls across the pavement, giving this evening an eerie glow. It’s beautiful, really, in a cold, detached kind of way.

It’s more or less perfect here in this ritzy downtown area, but let’s face it, the parking situation leaves much to be desired.

I’m still a full city block away from my destination. No valet and parking in the rear of the restaurant is filled to capacity, which left me feeling lucky to find a spot next to a liquor store down the street.

I’ll have to tell Kiki no more parties. I want to cut to thechase next time. I don’t like mixing business with pleasure these days.

I reach into my bag to check my lipstick in my compact mirror, but instead, I see headlights approaching from behind me.

The car rolls up slowly with the engine hardly making a sound.

I’m not stupid. I’ve been in this business long enough to know when something’s off. But I don’t let on. I keep walking despite the fact the car is keeping pace beside me until finally the window rolls down.

I can’t see who’s inside, but I hear a voice. It’s soft and almost too polite.

“Need directions?” they ask and something in their tone calms me.

But I don’t stop. “Nope. I know where I’m going.”

There’s a pause. “Well, can I give you a lift?”

I pause for a second before glancing their way and considering the offer. My feet are already killing me. They look nice enough even though I’m already prickly about tonight.

I’ve had a bad feeling ever since I woke up this morning. It’s that same feeling I get right before something goes sideways. It almost feels as if the whole world is holding its breath.

But again, my feet are so very tired, and to be honest so am I. Walking another ten minutes in this frozen night air is the last thing I want to do.

A smile curls on my lips as I walk toward the car. “You know what? Sure. Why not? I’m just headed down the street. But this will help out a lot.”

I walk around to the passenger’s side and slide in as the leather seat sends another icy shiver through me. The car pulls away smoothly, and soon the city lights are blurring past the window.

I know I should feel relaxed, but I don’t. There’s something off about this. I glance at the driver once again. My instincts scream at me to run, but I ignore them.

I’m just being silly. Aren’t I?

I take a breath and lean back against the seat, trying to shake the unease. Maybe this is the night I finally take that trip to hell. A little sooner than I intended.

“You can drop me off here.” I point to the white boxy building. “That’s the place I’m headed.” But the car speeds up. “Excuse me, that was my stop,” I say. “I probably shouldn’t have accepted the ride seeing that I was so close. But you’ll have to stop the car now.”

The car speeds up instead and we take an insane hairpin left turn.

“What the heck is going on?” My hand fumbles for the door handle, but I can’t get it to open. The lock won’t budge either.

I glance over to the driver as they speed up with a glazed look in their eyes as they bring a hammer between mine.

Next stop, hell.

28

SPECIAL AGENT FALLON BAXTER

The drive back to Pine Ridge Falls is a much-needed respite after the so-called interrogation with Karen Holt.

None of it went well from start to finish. But then, we weren’t really shaking her down as hard as we would have liked to. But that, too, shall come, rather than pass.

The crisp, cool fall night greets Jack and me as the two of us pass the sign marking the town’s border.

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