CHAPTER NINETEEN
Adam waited and watched in the dark, barely moving as he stared out, trying to pick his moment. He had all night, if he needed it. He could see lights on in the house ahead of him, letting him watch the figure of a woman through the window, letting him trace every step she took, every movement she made. She moved between the kitchen and the front room, with Adam's eyes tracking her all the way.
He was patient, waiting out of sight, letting the darkness hide him. He would act once it was time to act, and not a moment before. He would wait all night if he had to. He would leave his hiding place among a couple of trees only once he was sure that he was safe to move forward.
If being caught once had taught him anything, and it had, then it was to be cautious even when he’d planned out every step of what he was going to do. He’d seen firsthand how easily unexpected factors could throw off even his most carefully considered efforts, so now he was working to make sure that none would interfere.
The woman was eating now, some kind of takeout, probably Chinese, judging by the cartons set on the counter. Adam waited for her to eat, still watching, still trying to find the perfect moment. Adam had been almost ready to move when the delivery driver had arrived, but now he was back to waiting and watching. He wasn’t going to let there be any interruptions. They both had time, he and his prey.
He wondered where Paige was now. Was she in bed, or at home eating takeout of her own? Was she sitting there, working on her thesis?
It was more likely, Adam suspected, that she was out chasing after another lead that she thought might find him. Adam didn’t know whether to be pleased or annoyed that she was putting so much effort into trying to find him. It was almost flattering in a way that she would give him her full attention; it made her feel all the more special to him, but at the same time, Adam had no love for being hunted.
Still, it was all a part of his plan. All a part of the steps they both needed to go through.
He’d seen her on the news, arriving at the places he’d been, just a step behind. He’d been pleased for her as she did so, knowing that Paige would be one of the few people in a position to truly appreciate the depths of his art. After all she’d been through, Adam knew that she had to understand.
He’d seen the FBI agent she’d been with, too. Adam had felt something else then, a flash of something surprisingly close to jealousy at the sight of Paige there with someone who wasn’t him. He’d seen how close she’d looked to the man who’d escorted her into the crime scenes, and that… irritated Adam more than he had imagined that it might. Strange.
Adam had to remind himself that if she was going to follow him and try to find him, then of course she would find herself working with someone. Of course she would find herself partnered with someone from the FBI. It wasn’t something that Paige could do alone, however much Adam might wish her to. The FBI weren’t just going to let a psychologist wander around after him on her own, and after the things he’d said back at the institution, he was sure that they all thought he was coming for Paige.
He wondered how long it would be before Paige realized that he'd chosen everything he said in their sessions very carefully. Perhaps she had already but was still insisting on following the breadcrumbs he’d laid down. Adam remembered every session, every word that he and Paige had said. Of course he could remember, given the special connection that existed between the two of them. Adam had felt that connection every time they were together in their sessions. He had dreamed about her sometimes at night. In about half of those dreams, he’d been killing her, stringing her up as helplessly as any of his other victims. In the other half, they’d been sitting there together somewhere on a beach or in a cabin, happy together, content in a way that Adam was never truly content.
That contentment never lasted past the dawn. Adam certainly wasn’t content now. Instead, he felt the need to act, to kill. That restlessness sat deep inside of him, refusing to go away.
Maybe killing the woman in front of him would be one step closer to that contentment. Adam wondered if she thought about everything that she’d done. Every wrong that she had committed, the wound that she had inflicted that had brought them to this point. He would have to ask her, although since the house had close neighbors, he might have to gag her before he got many answers. Certainly, once he started his work.
First, though, Adam had to find a way in that wouldn’t raise the alarm. Because of the neighbors close by, because one of them had a dog, and because of how much this woman moved around the house, it wouldn’t be safe to do what he usually did and creep forward to pick a lock. The locks on his target’s door were solid enough that they would take a minute or two of his time, and there was too much of a chance to be spotted.
That left two approaches. Option one was to wait until the dead of night before he acted, when she was likely to be asleep, and so were her neighbors. If it came to it, Adam would do that, but right now he itched with the need to do something, to feel the kind of satisfaction that could only come from killing someone. Waiting would be a kind of slow torture for him, although he supposed that was only fair. That was why he was keeping such a close eye on the building, trying to find something that would work as option two.
While he waited, Adam considered what he knew of the woman within. He made it his business to know. Angelique Philips, twenty-three, worked as a web administrator for a company here in D.C. Went on vacation to Thailand and Goa when she could afford it. Pretty, of course, given what she’d done, with long blonde hair and the kind of figure that made men stare. One look at her social media had shown Adam that she knew it. Vanity, all was vanity.
This wasn’t about her vanity, though. This was about what she’d done. This was about making things right.
Adam saw a potential opportunity when he saw her cat: some huge fluffy Maine Coon, which clearly wanted to go outside, and Adam couldn’t see a cat flap. Adam crept forward. He would be in view for a brief time, but he believed that it was worth the risk. Even if he were spotted, he could leave and come back in the night, without it being a problem.
It was worth taking a chance to do this for Paige.
He timed his approach beautifully, carrying his bag of ropes with him, reaching the door just as it started to swing open to let the cat out. The creature ran past Adam, and he ignored it as he wrenched the door wide open, so that Angelique was looking him square in the face, a look of stunned shock on her features.
Adam spun her and had a drug-soaked cloth over her mouth before she could cry out, dragging her back into the house. Angelique seemed to come back to herself as Adam did that, trying to claw at his eyes, but Adam kept his head tucked, ignoring her attempts. Slowly, her struggles started to weaken. Finally, she went limp, and Adam let her slump to the floor, unconscious, but not yet dead. Adam was careful about that part.
Good. They could get started.
He dragged Angelique through to her living room, moving her almost gently, shutting the back door to her house behind him. The living room was an elegant picture of grays and greens, the kind of thing that an interior designer might have picked out, without any real hint of her personality. There were no personal pictures, just prints that looked as if they might hang on walls across the country, while the furniture was modern and bland.
Adam got out his ropes, trying to consider the aesthetics of what he was doing. He had at least as much taste in some matters as Angelique’s interior designer. He guessed that Paige would see the resulting tableaux, so Adam wanted to make it as perfect as he could.
He started to tie Angelique, twisting her, contorting her so that her body was bent back impossibly. As much as he would have liked to hear her attempts to justify herself, Adam couldn’t risk her neighbors hearing her scream for help, so he gagged her instead.
Somewhere in it all, she woke, starting to struggle. Not that it made any difference at this point.
Adam took a seat opposite her, in one of those oh so modern chairs that she’d chosen to furnish her house with, observing her carefully. It was far from comfortable, but compared to Angelique’s current position, he suspected it wasn’t so bad.
“Hello, Angelique,” he said, in a cold tone. “Do you know who I am? Have you been watching the news?”
Her attempt to scream and fight free suggested that she had been watching, and that she knew perfectly well who Adam was. That was good. He wanted her to be afraid. She deserved it. He wanted her to feel every moment of pain and fear that he could bring her.