Page 52 of Nothing Watching

Then she realized that the man, despite his hunched appearance, was moving deceptively fast.

Feeling her instincts prickling, Juliette moved after them, quickening her pace as the woman turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Juliette felt breathless with tension as she followed cautiously, wondering if this was nothing at all, or whether this hunched, yet fast-moving man in the fedora was the killer.

He was gaining on the woman as Juliette watched, trying to keep them in sight without being observed, because if he knew that he was being tailed, he might abandon his prey and they would have no proof.

This was now a balancing act. Without a doubt, this man was alert. Under that fedora hat, his head was in motion, taking stock of his surroundings, rather than simply fixing his eyes on the road ahead as a tired, elderly man might do, as the stoop of his shoulders was conveying.

But those shoulders were deceptively broad, even though he was hunching them. This was a strong man and his stride was long. She knew that he must be tracking the woman ahead. All she had to do was keep them in sight and then, when the moment came, act as quickly as she could.

Now the woman was turning down one of the quiet side streets that Juliette had walked earlier. She took in a deep breath. If she was the killer, this was where she would close in. This street was almost empty.

She saw him speed up.

And then, disaster.

The woman’s phone rang, and she answered it. “Ja? Ah, ja, wir treffen uns dort.” That meant she was meeting someone. At any rate, those were the words Juliette thought she’d picked up, as she closed in.

Now the woman was retracing her steps along the side road, still talking in loud, cheerful tones, and Juliette shrank back, pressing herself back into the shelter of a doorway, turning away as the woman passed by. If the killer followed, this was the riskiest moment, the one where her cover might be blown. As long as he passed without noticing her, then she could track him, and be in a much better position.

She waited as long as she dared—a few heartbeats of time—and then she looked again. Still talking cheerfully, the woman was now heading out of the side street, waving to someone on the main road that she was clearly arranging to meet.

Juliette risked looking back, and her heart plummeted. The man in the fedora hat was gone. Disappeared, as if he’d never been there at all.

He was the killer, she knew it. He’d been tracking his next victim. He’d abandoned the pursuit when the woman’s phone rang and now Juliette had lost him; she had no idea where he’d come from or who he was now. His body language had convinced her that it was him, that predatory air to him that she’d sensed for a moment or two. But instead of coming back this way, he must have gone on ahead.

“Great,” she muttered. “Now what?”

An idea came to her—reckless and impromptu, but perhaps the only answer in the time that she had.

He was now on the hunt; he’d lost his prey and would be looking for another. He hadn’t seen her yet. To attract him, to lure him out of wherever he’d gone, now that he was on the lookout for someone—perhaps she could now do that herself? Yes, she was older than the other victims, but he was also more desperate to kill, and he’d already broken his rules by trying to take a victim in the daytime.

She removed her baseball cap, shook out her tawny blond hair. It wasn’t as long or as thick as the other victims’ had been. It might not check all his boxes, but if it could attract his eye, this truly seemed like her last chance. She took off her jacket and knotted it around her waist. Under it, she wore a more colorful top, in royal blue. Her arms were bare, and already prickling with the chilly evening breeze, but she was sure now that she didn’t look like police. Not at all.

“I saw a suspect,” she murmured into her mike. “Corner Dittmer and Nord streets. Fedora hat, black jacket. He was following a woman, but she met up with someone. I’m going to try and lure him out myself. I’m going to take off my headpiece.”

Close up, he’d see it. Having delivered the message to Sierra, she ripped her earpiece out and stuffed it into her jacket pocket.

Juliette began walking down the alleyway, holding her head high, looking proud and tall like the woman he’d been following. With the jacket knotted around her waist, she knew she didn’t look in the least like law enforcement. However, it also meant that she couldn’t easily reach her gun.

Where was he? Had he abandoned his hunt and gone home? Had he moved to fresh hunting grounds? Did she dare risk another walk back again along the same route, or would that give him a clue that she was waiting, and not a legitimate citizen going home?

Better to continue.

She carried on, crossing a main road and then continuing along the narrow street. And behind her, even though she didn’t turn around, she now heard footsteps. Her mouth grew dry and her heart raced as the footsteps grew closer and closer. She had to remain calm, to keep walking as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

He was getting closer, and she could feel his presence behind her. Come closer to me, she willed him. Come to me. Take me, show yourself, prove your killing urge.

As she approached the end of the alleyway, she saw a shadow move at the edge of her vision. She turned to face it, her heart pounding in her chest.

It was him. The man in the fedora hat. He was staring at her with an expression so evil in its intensity that it chilled her.

“Iseult?” he said. She stared back, wordlessly, and then his face changed, twisting into fury.

“You don’t love me, I can see! You don’t, you never have!” The words spilled out of him, in babbling incoherence. And then, with abrupt suddenness, so fast she didn’t even have time to think, he leaped toward her.

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