Hide My Thoughts: A Romantic Suspense Thriller Book (Hide Me Series 2) (8 page)

West drove Katerina’s small car, speeding towards his house. They had decided that Katerina’s apartment was no longer a sanctuary, and they would be better off, at least for a night, at West’s place.

Katerina held her arms in close to her chest. Things just kept getting worse and worse. Right before they left, she’d asked Blaise if she could touch the body. She wanted to know if she had any ability to discover who this killer was. She
needed
to know. After a short, intense argument with his boss, Blaise had come back and said she had two minutes. He had cleared all the technicians away and led her and West to the area. Katerina imagined she could hear people behind her talking about her, calling her a freak behind cupped hands. She shook her head and focused on the body. The woman was young, with brown hair and an exotically beautiful face. There was not a mark on her, and Katerina almost cried, seeing her. Boy was she sick of crying.

“I’m sorry,” she had whispered, and then grasped the woman’s upper arm. Nothing had happened. It had been like touching a piece of wood. She concentrated, and asked the cells to speak with her. A few cells jumped weakly, almost like a reflex, and an image like a cramp went through her mind. But they didn’t tell her anything. She tried again, and again got nothing. She’d shaken her head and plodded away from the body, West at her side, holding her in a one-armed hug as they walked. The technicians had swarmed back over the body like mother hens, clucking away their indignation.

“I did see something when I touched the woman,” she told West. “But it didn’t make any sense.”

“What?” West asked, stealing a glance at her as he shot between two cars.

“I saw cold and dark and damp, like a tomb. And I heard crying.”

“But no faces?”

“No faces.”

“Could you tell what she had died from?”

Katerina thought about it. She rubbed her fingers together and asked the cold, dark, dampness what the woman had died from. “I want to say from fear, but that doesn’t make any sense either.”

“What about the paralytic?”

“I don’t know. I just… don’t know.” Katerina punched herself on the thigh in irritation. West reached over and covered her fist with his hand. He massaged her lightly with this thumb and she took a deep breath, relieved that he was still with her. But she hadn’t told him the truth yet.

She tried to think of a soft way to say it and she couldn’t. So she blurted it out. “West, I almost tried to push you down the stairs.” She felt hot blood flood her cheeks and guilt surge into her system.

“I figured.”

His blunt statement threw her off guard and her mouth dropped open. “You knew?”

“I heard you coming, yeah. I thought there was a good chance you were trying to hurt either me or yourself.”

“But how?”

“Agnes says you’ve got residual energy from Frank Phillips in your mind and his thoughts are driving you crazy. She says he’s sick and twisted and his thoughts are sick and twisted and you don’t have any way to deal with them because you are sweet and normal.”

And even though had she sworn she wouldn’t do it again that day, Katerina dissolved into tears one more time.

***

West pulled into his driveway, still holding Katerina’s hand. He had shared everything Agnes had said and he felt hopeful that the news that Agnes thought she could help Katerina was making her feel a little bit better. Now if only they could find the psycho who kept killing people, maybe they could try to get past all of this.

“This is your house?” Katerina said. “It’s really nice.”

West looked at it with fresh eyes. He did like his house, a medium-sized rancher in a nice neighborhood. It had a view of the city, a forest that butted up to the back, and a large backyard. When Stephanie had been alive, he had imagined three or four kids running around in the backyard, maybe with a dog or two. But for now, all he had was his cat, Nina.

Katerina pulled her hand away and climbed out of the car. West did the same and immediately started looking for Nina. She had a cat door so she could come and go as she pleased, and of course she had the neighbor, Mrs. Lowell, who took care of her as her own when West wasn’t around. West just hoped that Nina didn’t decide she preferred Mrs. Lowell to him. A small, dark shape sauntered across the yard and then Nina was there, winding herself around West’s legs, purring madly. He picked her up and rubbed his face against hers. “Hi kitty, did you miss me? I missed you.” The cat licked his face with a rough tongue and meowed once, sharply.

Katerina rushed over, a simple, beautiful smile on her face. West was happy to see it. “Oh what a gorgeous cat!” She scratched Nina behind the ears and Nina stretched her neck, asking for more. Then Nina twisted in West’s arms like a baby and tried to get to Katerina. Katerina took the cat and cuddled it and West turned to his door to unlock it. Just before he did, he saw a slight frown appear on Katerina’s face as she looked down at the long-haired tabby cat.

Before West could ask what was wrong, the front door pushed open at his touch. It hadn’t been locked or latched.

“Katerina,” he said quietly. “Someone’s been in my house.”

Katerina didn’t respond, but he heard her take two steps backwards behind him. He pushed the door open slowly and looked inside. Nothing in the living room seemed out of order. Explore the house? Or call the cops? He hated this indecision, but he needed to make sure Katerina was okay. He would be exploring the house in an instant, ready to throw down with anyone who dared violate his sanctuary, but that would mean leaving Katerina alone in the yard. Even though it was broad daylight, he couldn’t be sure that that wasn’t what this psycho wanted. The monster who was doing this seemed to think he was beyond the reach of the police.

Katerina spoke from behind him. “West, your neighbor…”

West looked around and saw Mrs. Lowell, a widowed woman about sixty years old, with salt-and-pepper hair and an affinity for cats, coming through the yard from her house. He took two steps backwards, his eyes still crawling over his living room through the open door, alert and ready for anything.

Mrs. Lowell called out a greeting and West held up a hand to interrupt her, his eyes still on his house. “Mrs. Lowell, someone has been in my house. Can you stay out here with Katerina? Katerina, can you call the police? Stay on the line with the dispatcher until I come back out.”

Without waiting for a reply from either of the women, he entered his front door quickly and quietly, his nerves on high alert. Something was very wrong here and he wanted to know what. He did a short circle through his living room, checking behind all the largest furniture, and then he headed into the kitchen. Everything was in order – there was no sign of anything being disturbed. He opened the walk-in pantry door and looked out the sliding glass door to the backyard: quiet and empty. He crept back to the living room and saw Katerina, still in the yard, talking on her phone. Good. A quick glance into his office showed that it was empty as well, so he headed up the stairs to the bedrooms. The guest bedroom, the bathroom, and the weight room were quiet and still. Pausing just outside his own bedroom door, he listened hard, trying to hear any betraying noises. If someone were in the house, this is where they would be. He didn’t believe someone was still in the house, but whatever had been done, had been done in here. Where it would hit him the hardest. That’s how this guy operated.

Standing well away from the door, he pushed it open and waited for a moment. When nothing came out at him, he walked in slowly, every sense on high alert.

The smell hit him first. The metallic, strong smell of blood. A woman in his bed. A dead woman, her blood soaking the blankets. She had not been killed and then placed here, someone had killed a woman in his bed. Strong surges of anger flushed through West. How dare this man? … this beast? This … non-human. No one human could kill people so indiscriminately. If only he could have five minutes alone with this guy, face-to-face. If only he could stop this somehow.

***

West searched his house a bit more thoroughly, making sure not to touch anything, then retreated back out to the yard, trying to swallow his intense anger for now. There was no note, no mask, and no indication that this had anything to do with what was going on with Katerina. But of course it did. West didn’t know exactly what the point was of this most recent murder, but he knew it was awful.

Katerina eyed him warily, the question in her eyes, but she didn’t ask it. Good, he didn’t want to tell her, although he knew he would have to eventually.

“I called police dispatch, and they didn’t seem too impressed, so I called Blaise. He’s on his way over.”

West took her hand, wanting to touch her, wanting suddenly to run away with her to a desert island and stay there forever. Somewhere where it could be just the two of them, and no one would ever find them. Somewhere where they could pretend crazy, murdering bastards didn’t exist.

Mrs. Lowell stood next to Katerina, her eyes wide. “West, what is going on? Did someone break in your house?”

West nodded, not sure how much he should say. “Mrs. Lowell, did you see anyone at my house in the last few days?”

Mrs. Lowell shook her head. “No one. The neighborhood has been as quiet as usual, and your house has been empty as far as I could tell.”

West nodded and looked distractedly off in the distance. He hoped that Blaise showed up before any uniformed police officer. He had to imagine how horrible this looked for him right now. He would be the first suspect, no matter what. A terrifying thought wormed its way into his consciousness. What if there were some evidence planted that made it look like he was indeed the killer? What if the plan was to get him thrown in jail, and Katerina left completely on her own? A sudden urge to flee, to leave his house and let the cops sort things out without him overtook him. He shook his head. That would be a sure way to make them think he was guilty. But if he did have to spend a night or two in jail, who could he trust to stay with Katerina? Blaise? No, he was working every spare second. What about his brother, Brody? He could fly him up from Los Angeles. That was a last resort though. His mind ran through his friends at the fire department, but he didn’t feel right involving any of them in this.

As he was thinking, a cop car pulled onto his street and then turned into his driveway. He didn’t recognize the young, female police officer. He hoped Blaise got here quickly, before he found himself in handcuffs.

Lance drove slowly home, the morning sun in his face and exhaustion weighing down his eyelids. He’d had a busy night, first stealing the delivery truck, driving Svetlana’s body to Katerina Holloway’s apartment building, then returning the delivery truck and heading back to the old farm to get Irena. Irena had fought, knowing what was in store for her, but she had been weak and no match for Lance. He had injected her with ketamine, enough to keep her motionless on the trip into Westwood Harbor, but not enough to kill her. It had all been emotionally exhausting for him.

But it had been necessary to make this killing look nothing like the earlier ones. And if not necessary, then just another piece of the unsolvable puzzle he was building. He could imagine what would happen when the body was found. Maybe Shepherd would be arrested. Maybe the woman would think Shepherd had been involved and abandon him. He would’ve loved to have stayed in the neighborhood to watch the aftermath, but that would’ve been sloppy and dangerous. He was never sloppy or dangerous, besides, he could read it all in the computerized police reports within a few hours of it happening.

From now on, he would check the death reports and suicide reports from Westwood Harbor every few hours. He had no doubt he was pushing Katerina Holloway very close to her own personal edge. And if she took that step to the other side, he needed to know immediately. Because from that moment on, his plans would change. There was a slim chance that his life was redeemable, that he could slip back into it and no one would ever know, and he wanted to be poised to take that chance. He could lay low for a year or so before pursuing his goal again. What was a year when you were eternal?

Of course, he’d have to figure out what to do about his brother. He kept putting off that decision, because he didn’t like the smart answer.

Once he reached home, a small gentleman’s ranch ten miles away from the old farm, he cleaned up and fell into bed exhausted, sleeping on his right side for eight hours straight. He came awake with a jerk and sat up quickly in the bed, raising his hands straight out from the sides and throwing his head back. It took him a few minutes to realize that he had been dreaming, and that the dream was over.

He scrambled off the bed and stumbled through his house, looking at everything with new eyes. Understanding filled him. Katerina Holloway was the woman who sat before him in his dream when he finally realized his true form. She was the way, the path, the conduit. This was why she had come into his life! He had sent her to himself as a tool. This was it, the lifetime where he had finally gained enough knowledge and skill to not only become completely self-aware, but to finally realize his eons-long goal. He would become immortal in this current body, and it could happen as soon as a day or two!

He no longer cared about his status or job in this life. It would all be burned away anyway, as he rose to ultimate power, or destroyed every living thing and then the planet, whatever whim he decided to fulfill after his transformation. All he needed at this point was to get Katerina Holloway into the bomb shelter.

That was the final test. The final challenge. The final hurdle. He knew exactly what to do. How to get Holloway away from the firefighter, and throw him off of her trail long enough to ensure he would have time to use her up. After that, the firefighter could come. The cops could come. They could all come. It wouldn’t matter anymore.

Suddenly Lance was sure he had outsmarted himself. That she had killed herself while he slept, a direct result of his latest message.

No, he finally decided, it wasn’t meant to happen like that, and so it wouldn’t. He was sure of it. He’d be seeing her very soon, and she would come to him.