Page 14 of Crossing Lines

Ahhh, that red hair. Yes, he definitely wanted another one with red hair.

He didn’t know how long it would take for the need to grow until he could no longer control it. Weeks? Days? Hours? It had been years since the last time, but he didn’t think it would be that long again. For now, he’d pretend that everything was normal while he looked for the next one. No one would suspect a thing.

And, of course, he would send an email to Menda. Back in the day, the emails had been the best part of the whole process, bragging about his recent conquests to his mentor, the notorious serial killer Joseph Menda. Menda was the one the killer modeled himself after. Menda had gotten away with so many before he was caught. The killer hoped to do the same. He’d follow in Menda’s footsteps.

Would anyone ever follow in the killer’s footsteps? During his last spree, he’d thought that someone was following him, studying him as he’d studied Menda, but then he’d gone dormant. Maybe that person was still out there, watching and waiting.

That wasn’t his concern right now. He needed to keep up appearances while moving along with his little project. The teenagers in this small town were easy pickings, all looking for some fun and excitement to relieve the boredom of small-town life.

Well, if they needed excitement, he was going to give it to them.

Chapter Ten

Jo felt nervous as she pulled into the cottage with her sister. It was good to have Bridget with her but also scary. They hadn’t found much to talk about on the ride home, but Jo was tired from a long day. She didn’t know her sister at all, and that made it awkward.

The headlights illuminated the small orange cat on the steps, and Bridget brightened. “You have a cat?”

Jo coasted to a stop so as not to scare the cat. The cat blinked. “Sort of. It’s a stray, but I’m trying to get him used to the porch so he can stay there for winter.”

Bridget’s eyes were riveted on the little cat. A childlike smile played on her lips and tugged at Jo’s heart. Her sister had seen so much that a woman should never see at a young age. Jo would do anything to try to make up for that.

“Remember we had a cat when we were little?” Bridget opened the door slowly so as not to scare the cat.

“Vaguely.” Jo hadn’t thought about the little gray cat in years. All her thoughts of her childhood had been overshadowed by memories of the aftermath of Tammy being taken. She hadn’t mentioned Tammy to Bridget yet, but she supposed they’d eventually have to talk about it.

Bridget stepped out of the car and approached the cat cautiously, bending down when she got about ten feet away. The cat craned its neck out, whiskers twitching and tail flicking. Bridget leaned closer, and he gave one last flick of the tail and ran off toward the woods.

“Guess it will take some time to earn his trust,” Bridget said.

“I’ve been trying. Come on, I’ll show you around. It’s not big, but it’s all I’ve got.”

As Jo passed her sister, Bridget grabbed her arm. Jo turned, and their eyes locked. Jo could see years of hurt and mistakes in Bridget’s green eyes and something else… a small glimmer of hope. “I really want to thank you for letting me stay here and for sticking with me all these years.”

Jo wanted to hug her but sensed that Bridget was still hesitant about people in her space, so she touched her shoulder instead. “No thanks necessary. I’m happy to do it. After all, we’re all each other’s got.”

Jo led her onto the small porch.

“This porch is great.” Bridget pushed the back of one of the wooden rockers, making it rock slowly as Jo unlocked the door. “I see the cat has been eating.”

Jo glanced at the food bowl. “Guess I better fill it up.”

Jo pushed the door open and gestured for Bridget to go inside. She stood in the living room, and Jo was suddenly nervous. Would her sister like it or think it was a mishmash of castoffs? Being nervous about what Bridget thought of her decor was silly—her sister had lived on the street—but for some reason, what she thought mattered. This was a new beginning for them, and she wanted it to start off right.

“It’s beautiful.” Bridget walked slowly around the small cottage. She wound around the back of the overstuffed sofa with its floral slipcover, ran her finger along the knotty pine mantel of the river-rock fireplace, and continued to the kitchen with its cheery painted cabinets and vintage Formica table. “It looks like a magazine.”

“Thanks. I picked most of it up at flea markets and yard sales.” Jo shrugged, trying to make light of it, but inside, she was pleased her sister liked it.

She nudged open the door to the small back room. She’d given it a fresh coat of crisp white paint and hung some artwork she’d picked up at a local festival. The red-and-white quilt and matching pillows gave it a cheery vintage look. “This is your room. I hope it’s not too small.”

Bridget sat on the bed, picked up a pillow, then looked at Jo, her eyes moist. “It’s perfect. My own bed and privacy? It’s like a dream.”

Jo sat next to her and took her hand. It shook slightly, and she wondered if Bridget was as nervous as she was. “I’m glad you like it. You can stay as long as you want. I hope this will be a chance for us to get to know each other again as sisters.”

Bridget smiled. “Me too.”

The words sounded positive, but Bridget didn’t look Jo in the eye as she said them. Her smile faded, and she looked away. Maybe it was Jo’s suspicious cop instincts, but she got the impression Bridget had something on her mind. Of course she did; she was starting a new life and probably worried she would revert to drugs as she had so many times in the past. But this time something was different. She had Jo right beside her, and Jo was determined not to let her sister backslide.

Chapter Eleven

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