Page 28 of The Murder Between Us
Katie’s window rolled down as he turned away. “Thank you, Cole!” He saw Noah whip around and glare at her. Katie sighed. “Thank you, Dr. Kennedy.”
“No problem.” He waved to both Katie and Noah. “See you tomorrow, Noah.”
“Good night, Dr. Kennedy.”
* * *
Two hours later,Cole’s cell phone buzzed. He was buried in the case file, teasing out the patterns beneath the patterns in the first six murders. He didn’t hear the first text come in, or the second. The third finally registered. He grabbed his cell from the nightstand and swiped on the screen.
A new number had texted him. 515. Des Moines.
Katie has been talking nonstop for over an hour about forensic criminal psychology. She wants to switch her elective to the psych class now. Anything that gets her excited about school is good, I suppose. So… thanks.
That was very kind of you to talk to her. I appreciate that.
I’m sorry about what happened today. I’m sorry you were stuck in the hospital for so long. I should have given you the keys right away and told you to head out. You didn’t need to stay.
Cole exhaled. There were so many things he could say in response.I was happy to talk to Katie. I liked making her smile. She’s so much like you I couldn’t breathe.
I wasn’t going to leave you at the hospital with your injured daughter. I wasn’t going to leave you… like you left me.
I wish I could help you somehow. I wish you didn’t feel so alone and so broken. I wish you were as happy as that night—
You might be exactly what I need.
Instead, he typed,So you do have my number. I figured you threw it away on your way out the door.
He didn’t get another text message.
9
He grippedthe edges of the sink. Water dripped from his nose, his chin. A droplet quivered as he exhaled, then fell into the sink’s blood-tinged water. Red swirls lazed in wide spirals, working slowly toward the drain.
Damn it. Fucking damn it.
They were faster this time. Last time, there were six dead before the FBI and the task force even knew which way was up. And if it weren’t for that fucking couple after the ISU one…
Fucking FBI. Fucking feds. Fucking police.
His arms trembled, a wave of rage thundering through him. His hands squeezed the edge of the sink again.
They were useless before, and they were useless now. All they were doing was getting in the way.
Rage—vicious, snarling, cutting fury—tore into him like a beast from the wild. It was the same wrath that had lived inside him for years. A dark craving as deep as his bones, the feel of it so liquid hot he burned from its power, felt his muscles and skin ignite.
He would show them. The fucking girls—
He would make them see. He would show them all.
They would all fucking know.
The need thundered through him, rising inside him like a tsunami, hatred and wrath and blood, waves and waves that nearly drowned him. The need was driving him, pushing him, coursing through him until there was only one voice inside his head, screamingDo itkilldo itkilldo itkill—
The fucking girls. He would fucking show them.
The picture was starting to tear after so long and being handled so many times. He unfolded it, snarling, baring his teeth at the image. She was the reason. She was the why. The why that had the feds running around and around and around themselves, chasing their own shadows.
The whole world was full of girls just like her. Girls whose smiles radiated up from the newspapers, from the articles that bragged their little achievements to the world. Girls with ribbons in their hair and ribbons on their bedroom walls, but it didn’t fucking matter who those girls were under all those ribbons. It didn’t fucking matter at all.
