Page 48 of The Survivor
“Um…brown hair, I think. I don’t remember what color his eyes were. And he was kinda tall. Not as tall ashim—” Jacob gave Officer Daniels a dirty look “—but I guess maybe your height?” He gestured to Blake.
“Where did this man approach you?” Blake asked.
“It’s a snow day so I didn’t have to go to school today, so I was at the end of the street, where there’s this, like, monstrous snow-covered hill and I was sliding down it on my sneakers, and the dude just walked up holding that box.”
“And told you to deliver it tothishouse specifically?”
“Yeah. He said he couldn’t do it himself because his daughter lived there and she wouldn’t see him ’ cuz he ran out on her when she was a kid, but it’s her birthday so he wanted to give her something.”
“Did he have a car? A van?”
Young Jacob looked annoyed. “No, I already told you, he just walked up.”
The interrogation continued for a few more minutes. Jacob stuck by his story, and it became clear to Blake that the kid was telling the truth. The Rose Killer had simply strolled up to him and given him ten bucks in exchange for making a delivery.
The sheer nerve of it was astounding. The maniac had obviously been very sure of himself, certain of the fact that he could come into this neighborhood and leave it, unnoticed. And he had.
That he now knew where Blake lived was far too unsettling. Rick told him their names had been in the paper, but his address and phone number were unlisted, which meant the Rose Killer had somehow tracked him here.
He furrowed his brows, trying to figure out when it could’ve happened. He hadn’t seen a tail any of the times he’d driven home. More so, he hadn’tfelta tail. He’d worked in the field long enough to have developed instincts about that sort of thing, and for the life of him he couldn’t fathom how someone could’ve have been following him without him noticing.
Something nagged at the back of his head, a thought even more unsettling than the rest. It was something the profilers and detectives working the case had discarded, but Blake suddenly had to wonder…was this killer a cop?
It seemed unlikely, considering the disarray of the crime scenes, but if the guy wasn’t in law enforcement, then at the very least he had tools most civilians lacked. The military termevade and escapesuddenly came to mind. Had this madman been skilled in evasion techniques? Was his ability to escape into the shadows more than just a case of good luck?
“Uh, dude, can I go now?”
Jacob Thomson’s voice jerked him back from his thoughts. He glanced at Jacob, then at Daniels, who still looked pissed off that he’d had to chase the kid through the snow.
“Not just yet,” Blake said with a shake of his head. “Right now Officer Daniels here is going to escort you home—are your parents there?”
“My mom is.” Jacob paled. “You gotta tell her I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“You didn’t,” Blake assured the kid. “But you’re going to need to repeat your statement to Officer Daniels, who will write it all down. And then Officer Daniels will need to speak to your mother.”
And warn her to keep you locked up tight, because apparently this street isn’t safe anymore,he wanted to add, but quickly tamped down the urge. He didn’t want to raise a public panic just yet, not until he spoke to the police super-intendant about the entire situation.
As it was, when he talked to the police chief a few minutes later, Fantana decided not to alert Blake’s neighbors and keep it quiet for the meantime, but he’d agreed to up the patrols in the area. After speaking to Rick, and then his supervisor, Blake finally climbed back onto the porch. He left the gold box and dead flowers exactly where they were; the forensics team was on their way to collect the evidence and examine the scene, but Blake knew they wouldn’t find anything. The Rose Killer was too smart to leave any incriminating evidence behind, except, of course, for the woman currently inside the house.
The killer had left Sam behind, and as grateful as Blake was that she was alive, he wanted to strangle the bastard who’d once again sparked terror in Samantha Dawson.
CHAPTER 11
Blake stepped inside and kicked off his boots, then drifted into the living room. Sam was on the couch, her knees lifted up to her chest with her slender arms wrapped around them. Her face was still ashen, and she barely glanced up as he came in.
He hated seeing her like this. She’d gone from being serene and laid-back from an afternoon in the snow, to sad and scared, thanks to a psychopath who was apparently determined to terrorize her.
He watched as she shifted on the sofa. She reached for the red afghan resting on the arm of the couch, gathered the blanket around her legs and met his gaze at last.
Silence stretched between them.
“I’m going to catch him, Sam,” he finally said. He didn’t know why, but he felt he needed to make things right. To bring the light back into her gorgeous eyes.
She fixed him with a heartbreakingly grim look. “I know you will,” she murmured.
After a moment of hesitation, he joined her on the couch. “I know the flowers upset you.”
She replied with a humorless laugh. The reaction was so unexpected he didn’t know how to respond. Fortunately, he didn’t have to, because her next words clarified it all.
