Page 55 of The Perfect People

“Okay, I’ll let them know we’re coming,” Chris said, beginning to text back as they stepped onto the wooden boardwalk and were bathed in artificial light.

Hannah immediately felt more secure, though she knew that the sensation was an illusion. Danger could come in the light as often as in the dark. Still, she could feel the tension in her neck ease slightly.

“Actually,” she said, “why don’t you go ahead? I’m going to run back to the beach house really quick to stop by the bathroom. I’ll catch up.”

“You sure?” he asked. “I can come with you.”

“No, it’s cool. I’ll only be a minute.”

“Okay,” he said, leaning over and giving her an awkward kiss that got teeth as much as lips. “I’ll work on that.”

“You better,” she teased.

He darted off toward the gelato shop and she headed in the direction of the beach house, making sure to stay in the lighted areas as she went. She did in fact need to use the restroom, but that wasn’t the main reason she was heading back. Her pepper gel and Taser were in the backpack in her bedroom and right about now, she was feeling pretty naked without them. It was dumb to have left them behind in the first place, but she’d let herself slip into complacency as the weekend had worn on. Plus, it was hard to find a place to put them when half the time she was only wearing a bikini.

She switched from a brisk walk to a jog, not wanting to be without her little fighting friends any longer than necessary. By the time she rounded the corner and saw the beach house, she had a little sweat on her brow. She considered slowing down but then thought better of it. She could throw some cold water on her face at the beach house.

Besides, she didn’t get the sense that Chris would complain about a little perspiration. The thought made her smile to herself.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

By the time Mark Haddonfield got back to the beach house, he was both breathing and sweating heavily.

Part of it was because he had to rush to make sure he was there first. But he knew that a bigger part of it was because he was trying to foolishly outrun the idiocy that had put the entire Strategy at risk.

He was sure that Hannah had seen him at the edge of the dunes. It was his own fault. Instead of staying focused on the task of the evening, prepping the beach house, he’d gotten cocky. Because his prey wouldn’t be back at the house for a while, he figured he could keep tabs on Hannah from afar, then leave with more than enough time to do the deed.

He watched her and her friends at dinner and imagined himself at the table with them, laughing, sharing stories. He’d been doing a lot of imagining lately. Ever since yesterday, when he’d locked eyes with her at the beach, he’d allowed himself to picture what life might be like if he could parlay that moment of connection into something deeper and more lasting.

Originally, he’d intended to spy on Hannah Dorsey with one primary goal in mind: to learn how he could use the younger sister to hurt the older one. First, he would discover more about Jessie’s weaknesses through someone she loved. And eventually, once he’d learned all he could, he would simply destroy the person she loved. But now, he was starting to have doubts.

Mark wondered if there might be another way. Hannah was only three years younger than him. She was clearly smart as a whip, sharing Jessie’s intellect, although hopefully not her corrupt self-righteousness. With her blonde hair, flashing green eyes, and statuesque figure, she would be stunning by his side.

What if he asked her out on a date? And if she said yes, what if he could win her over? What if they became a couple? It seemed crazy, but was it really? The more he thought about it, the more plausible it became in his mind.

He hadn’t been caught. Jessie Hunt had no idea who was committing these “Clone Killer” crimes. If he stopped now, they would remain unsolved. He and Hannah could fall deeply in love, perhaps get married, and Jessie Hunt would stand there at their wedding, having no idea that she was happily beaming at the man who had murdered multiple people she had tried to save.

Maybe he and Jessie could end up working together after all, once she saw how intelligent he was; how talented he was at profiling too. Perhaps his original dream of having her mentor him could work out after all. It didn’t seem so far-fetched.

And then Hannah had kissed that pretty boy by the beach and all his fantasies were blown to smithereens. That’s when, like an idiot, he stood straight up by the dune, spotlighted by the moonlight, and she’d seen him. After that, he’d had to change course. No more casual observation.

It was straight back to the beach house to prepare for the job at hand. The silly notions of marriages and reconciliations had interfered with the important work before him and now he was rushing, rather than being methodical. That was how mistakes were made. That was how unintended clues were left.

As he moved quickly around the house, preparing everything for his victim’s imminent arrival, he tried to stay focused. All that mattered now was The Strategy. All that mattered was punishing Jessie Hunt.

“That boy isn’t right for her,” he muttered to himself, as he moved into the bedroom where he intended to snuff out a guiltless life just minutes from now. “You know it and I know it, Jessie. After the first romantic rush has passed, he’ll bore her to tears with his easel and his watercolors. He might as well wear a beret and smoke a clove cigarette. She’d be better off dead than trapped in a lifeless relationship like that, don’t you think?”

There was no response, but he knew that she agreed with him.

He snapped on the gloves and pulled out the long shard of broken glass that would be his murder weapon for this evening. Then he slid into the bedroom closet and waited. His prey would be here soon.

He didn’t want to do this. With all the prior victims, he had managed to find a way to justify eliminating them. Admittedly, sometimes those justifications were dubious, but he could cling to them at the final moment, when he had to snuff out their existence.

But this one felt different, like he was crossing a line into arbitrary cruelty, like he was no longer just using the knife, but twisting it too. There was no way around the truth: tonight’s victim was just a means to an end. Despite any poor romantic judgment in the past, tonight’s victim didn’t deserve what was coming.

Then he heard the side door of the beach house creak open. A moment later it slammed shut, and along with it, so did the doubts Mark had been feeling. He had an obligation to do this, not just for himself, or for The Strategy, but for history.

It would hurt, but true growth required pain and sacrifice. And in this case, it also required blood.

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