He’d gotten lucky; he knew it.
Now things were about to change.
Now that his work would be nearby.
The police here could possibly put two and two together.
Smiling, he thought of that answer: it was far more than four. He glanced at his stack of photos, proof that the Unknowings had died, and felt a buzz of excitement sizzle through his veins. He was about to add another.
Closer and closer to his ultimate goal.
Grabbing a clean towel from the neatly folded stack that he kept on the same shelves as his boots, he patted off the sweat that still sheened his body, then slid into a thick robe. Calmer now, in complete control again, he sat at his desk, where his computer screen was already glowing. He dragged up all the information he had on Elle, then stared at her photo. He’d have to follow her, but that wasn’t a problem. She was a ditzy, scattered woman who could be dealt with fairly easily.
He’d make her a priority.
He was certain, with a little patience, the perfect opportunity would present itself.
He’d be ready.
All of Kacey’s worries about adopting a dog had melted the second Kacey had picked up Bonzi on Saturday and driven him home. Calm by nature, he’d sniffed around the perimeter of the house, decided a near-dead rosebush near the garage was his favorite spot to relieve himself, and accepted the dog bed she’d purchased as his own. He followed after her everywhere she went, toenails clicking, ears cocked, eyes bright with curiosity, but she found out on Sunday that if she walked him for half a mile twice a day, he was content to sleep away most of the rest of the hours.
“Oh, right, a fine guard dog you turned out to be,” she chastised as she made herself dinner and he yawned in response. She thought about calling Trace O’Halleran and checking on Eli and Sarge, but she realized it would sound too much like the excuse it was.
To her surprise she’d enjoyed herself on Friday night at Dino’s. Since then, she’d found herself thinking, no, make that fantasizing, about him and his son. She had even picked up the phone a couple of times to call and ask about Sarge, then had thought better of it. But she hadn’t put him out of her mind. At least not easily. And there were questions she had about him, and about his boy, about Eli’s absent mother. Though it didn’t seem as if Trace had a current girlfriend, he’d been recently involved, at some level, with Jocelyn Wallis, even ID’ing her when she lay in the hospital, clinging hopelessly to life.
How close had they been? she wondered now.
“None of your business,” she told herself, but it didn’t stop her thoughts from turning to him. She hadn’t dated much since her marriage had crumbled, and after JC she’d sworn off men for a while. But, she sensed, Trace O’Halleran could change all that.
In a heartbeat.
Elle stepped on the gas. Her minivan was zooming along the dark road, but she wasn’t worried, even though night had fallen hours earlier. She’d driven “hazardous” mountain roads since she was sixteen; they were no big deal. So, despite the crystals of ice that glittered on the asphalt in the beams of her headlights, and the light from a crescent moon rising high in the inky sky, she was confident.
She pushed the speed limit and stared straight ahead through the windshield at the landscape, truly a winter wonderland. The road was a black ribbon cutting through acres of snow-covered fields, then through thickets of aspen and pine, where heavy-laden branches glistened with snow.
Glancing at the dashboard clock, she realized it was nearly ten thirty, which meant she was a good two hours later than she’d expected to be. She’d spent longer than she’d planned in Spokane, at the mall, then even longer after stopping in Coeur d’Alene for a quick dinner on her way home for old time’s sake. Big mistake. No doubt Tom would be starting to worry. She’d have to give him a call.
Before she could hit auto dial, a coughing attack erupted in her throat, and she gave up on the phone and quickly unwrapped a cherry-flavored lozenge, sucking on it with vigor. She was feeling a little feverish, too, but she wouldn’t admit it to Tom and the kids.
Things just had to get done, and if she didn’t do them, who would?
The holiday season was always super busy, and this year, with a new house and neighborhood, the pressure was on. She intended that her house on Aspen Circle would have the best Christmas display in the entire cul-de-sac.
Squinting against the sudden glare of headlights, she exhaled heavily. She’d met a few cars traveling the opposite direction, and though no one had sped fast enough to pass her, there were distant beams that occasionally reflected in the rearview mirror, from a vehicle far behind her. At least she wasn’t totally alone on this lonely stretch of highway.
She needed to get back to Tom and the kids. He’d agreed to watch them while she made her hasty trip to Spokane for some maj
or Christmas shopping. While at the mall, she’d found the cutest new addition to her grapevine reindeer herd, a new Rudolph that would knock the fading nose off her original once he was set up near the little fir tree in the front yard and plugged in.
Yep. Rudolph II was phenomenal, and he’d been on sale. Twenty percent off with the coupon she’d clipped from the local paper. She couldn’t wait to display him in the frozen, snow-crusted grass, but she hoped the neighborhood would respect her display. Last year a couple of kids in the old neighborhood thought it would be funny to see Rudolph I mounting one of the female deer.
Elle hadn’t found any humor in the situation. Not at all. Talk about bad taste. Then again, some of those hoodlums had been cretins. So maybe, in some ways, the move to Grizzly Falls was a godsend.
She coughed again and wished the damned antibiotics would kick in. Yeah, it had been only one day, but she’d been fighting this crud forever. And no bug was going to keep her from this weekend’s price-busting sales. She’d missed Black Friday and Black Saturday, but damn, she’d scored big on Black Sunday, or whatever it was called.
Without slowing, she hooked up her iPhone to the console, then found her iTunes list and selected a special holiday mix she’d created herself. The music started to play, and within seconds she was singing along with Faith Hill as the wheels of her Dodge ate up the miles.
Her only problem, other than the nasty flu—pneumonia, really?—was that she wasn’t all that familiar with the roads around these parts. As she’d told the doctor, she’d been an Idaho girl all of her thirty-five years, well, except for that one summer when she’d driven to L.A. and thought she’d bleach her hair blond, live near the beach, Venice or Malibu or somewhere that sounded exotic, and learn how to roller-skate in a bikini.