We found him by the merry-go-round, which Tommy insisted on riding.
Mr. Beaumont stood a little too close to me as we watched his son balance on the horse. His dark blue three-piece suit, nice tan, and fit physique hid the monster lurking beneath the pretty veneer. From his perfectly highlighted caramel hair to his glow-in-the-dark teeth, he screamed "fake." I imagined his skin peeling off to reveal a slimy troll, complete with red beady eyes and swollen pink lips oozing something green.
What did the little girls see when he first walked in to greet them? Did they see a respectable man in his early 40s, someone safe and nice? Or could they sense the impending danger?
He smiled at me as if he knew what I was thinking. "Sam, have you enjoyed the fair?"
"Yes, but I'm not feeling well. I think I ate something that didn't agree with me."
He checked his phone. "We'll be leaving after this ride. I have to get to work."
The whole ride home, I fought an internal war. Should I listen to his thoughts or not? I couldn't stomach hearing more of his vile intentions, but if Dollinger wasn't satisfied, more information would help.
I slipped back in, but he had put aside his perversions for worry over work.
I would have to find another way to catch this bastard.
Chapter 7 – Sam
For a man who'd hardly been home the last two days, Mr. Beaumont sure broke his pattern that afternoon. He locked himself in his home office, the one place I needed to be to get Dollinger what he wanted.
Nothing revolted me more than spending time in his mind, but I had to maintain mental contact to complete this mission.
After a long evening and a sleepless night tossing and turning in the guest room, I finally got my chance to snoop the next morning when my target left for work.
While Tommy spent some time with his mother, I snuck into Mr. Beaumont's office and locked it behind me. Gar joined me, as I didn't want him standing guard outside—might as well put up flashing neon lights announcing my intentions, in that case.
Gar stood by the door and watched as I turned on Mr. Beaumont's desktop computer. I'd seen him use his phone and iPad to check appointments, and he probably had a backup calendar on his computer. I'd already captured his password from my long—and torturous—evening of mental spying.
Lucy could have just hacked into his system without the mind probes, but I had to rely on old-fashioned methods.
A few clicks of the keys and up popped his calendar.
My heart raced as I scanned his daily appointments, looking for anything that might incriminate him, while simultaneously scanning the house mentally to make sure I wouldn't get caught.
Work. Work. Business appointment. Work.
Nothing jumped out at me. I looked for anything that evening, as his thoughts had indicated some kind of rendezvous with a young girl.
He'd listed a phone number next to 7 p.m. I jotted it down in a notebook, then pulled open his browser history and looked through his desktop files. I'd need more than a random number to get him.
My hands shook and my stomach heaved at the images I found. The idiot had even photographed himself with young girls. I copied it all onto my USB drive and shut down the computer as quickly as possible. I needed to get out of this house and back to school.
My sweaty palm slipped on the doorknob just as my mind latched onto Mr. Beaumont's. He was home and heading my way. Panic scissored through me. I hid the USB and looked to Gar for guidance, but what could he do? I'd gotten us into this and I'd have to get us out.
Mr. Beaumont would see me leaving his office, but I had to risk it. With a fake smile so big it hurt my cheeks, I walked out and ran straight into his chest. My skin crawled at the contact with this psycho.
"Sam, what are you doing in my office?"
"Looking for you, of course. But you weren't there. I was wondering if you wanted to try another afternoon at the fair? I'm feeling better and thought it might be fun."
Please say no. Please say no.
"I'm sorry, Sam, but I've got some work to do, and I'll be gone this evening for meetings." He pulled out another $300 from his wallet. "If you want to take Tommy, you two have fun. It's on me."
I pocketed the money and slunk away, fighting the vomit that rose in my throat.
I walked into the family room and found Tommy, wearing pressed jeans and a salmon-colored polo shirt, playing on the floor with his yellow truck.
"Vroom, vroom. Watch this, Sam." He crashed the truck into the leg of a handmade rosewood table. Probably not something Tommy should bang against. The whole room could have been modeled after a magazine spread. Not exactly kid friendly with the $3,000 knickknacks. Who spent that much on a decorative egg?