CHAPTER 20
The moment Jenny Pickett opened the door, regret slithered up her spine. She should have stayed in the kitchen until whoever was at the door went away.
The man standing on her front porch looked familiar. Under the glow of the outside light, she guessed him to be in his thirties. He wore khaki pants and a newly ironed buttoned-up dress shirt. His dark hair was thinning, but there was something glimmering within his blue eyes that told her he’d been a charmer in his day. Grasped in his hands was a letter-sized envelope.
He looked at her with sorrowful eyes. “Sorry to bother you. I was told that Jenny Pickett lived here.”
“I’m Jenny Pickett.”
He looked hopeful and doubtful all at once. “Jenny?”
“Who gave you my address?”
“Your mother.”
“Should I know you?”
“I’m not surprised you don’t recognize me. It seems like a lifetime ago that we graduated high school. I’m Dean Newman.”
The name rattled something deep within, something foul. Dean Newman. Quarterback.
The boy who raped her and then held her down for his friends to take turns.
Her instincts screamed for her to slam the door on him, but the voice in her head demanded otherwise.
Let him in. Now!
“I came to tell you how sorry I am, Jenny,” he said, his voice hoarse, “and to ask for your forgiveness.”
Dean Newman, on her doorstep. It was dizzying. He wasn’t just on her kill list; he was one of its unquestioned stars. Close to the bottom of the list because she’d been saving the worst for last. As she peered into his eyes, she had a difficult time swallowing. Memories of her time with Dean Newman had been buried deeper than most.
“Can I come in? Just for a moment?”
She glanced past him and saw his black SUV parked in front of her house. It was past nine and already dark.
She didn’t want to hear one word of what he had to say to her. What would she do? Listen to his bullshit and then forgive him?
Don’t even think about it. You’ve got him right where you want him. Let him in and then take care of business.
How? What will I use? I can’t keep him here and—
What about the muscle relaxant in the refrigerator? Use that.
Not a bad idea. It would only last for another five days. She’d planned on using it on the next victim on her list . . . but she just wasn’t prepared for Dean Newman. Was she? She needed to think for a minute.
“Are you all right?” Dean asked.
“Um, no, not really. I’m a bit stunned to see you, actually.”
“I understand. I can’t believe I expected you to invite me into your home. If I could leave this envelope with you, though, it would mean a lot. If you—”
Get him in the house now!
“I was just about to eat dinner,” Jenny blurted. “If you agree to come inside and have some chicken and rice, I’ll listen to what you have to say.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. It’s cold out. Come on in.”
As soon as he stepped inside, she shut the door behind him and then led him into the kitchen nook, insisting he take a seat in one of the four chairs surrounding the glass table.
He slid the envelope back into his pocket and did as she said.
Jenny quickly set the table for two. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to grab my sweater from the other room.”
In her office, she unlocked her desk drawer and looked through the different bottles of pills she’d been collecting over the past few weeks. She needed something strong. Something that would knock him out fast so she could figure out what to do next. The muscle relaxant would be used later.
The Rohypnol caught her eye.
That should do it.
Then what? This is crazy. I need more time.
Feed him to the eight-hundred-pound boar.
No. Jenny took in a breath. And then it came to her. “I’ll slip him the Rohypnol,” she muttered, “then pull his car into the garage and lead him out to it. Get him into the passenger side and then inject him with halothane. That should give me about forty minutes to get to the canal. I’ll make it looked like he drove into the water on purpose. I’ve got a bottle of whiskey that I’ll leave with him. Everyone will think he fell off the wagon and just couldn’t live with himself.”
I still like the boar.
“The pig’s not happening. Mom or Dad sees me, then what?”
No reply.
With the pills she needed in her possession, Jenny was halfway down the hall before she remembered what she’d gone to the back of the house to get in the first place. Her sweater.
“Sorry about that,” she said when she finally returned. She went to the kitchen to prepare dinner.
“Not a problem,” Dean said. He came to his feet. “Can I help you with anything?”
“No,” she snapped.
He looked taken aback.
She smiled. “I want to do this. You’re my guest.”
He took his seat again and seemed to relax. “I can’t thank you enough for allowing me inside your home. It’s beautiful. From the look of things, you’ve done well for yourself.”
“I can’t complain,” she said as she crushed the pills and mixed them into a small portion of rice. “How about you? What are you up to these days?”
“The truth is I’m doing better now. I’ve been sober for a few years now.”
She brought him a cup of hot tea and set it in front of him. “Well, good for you.” Back in the kitchen, she pulled out two plates, used the tongs to grab a chicken breast from the pan in the oven. Next came the rice, topped off with a mushroom sauce. “Here you go—chicken and rice with my famous mushroom sauce.” She set the plate in front of him.
“I really can’t let you feed me. It doesn’t seem right.”
“If you don’t eat every bite on your plate,” she stated firmly, “I’ll never forgive you. Ever.”
Convinced, once she joined him at the table he didn’t waste any time devouring everything on his plate. When he finished, he said, “That was the best meal I’ve had in a very long time.”
“You’re being too kind.”
“I’m serious. And you look amazing, Jenny. You really do.”
She didn’t care what he thought, but she said playfully, “Stop it now. You’re just trying to make me blush.”
He put his napkin on the table. “I hate to ruin this wonderful evening, but I need to tell you, Jenny, that a day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t thought about what I did to you.”
“It’s in the past,” she said, praying the pills would soon take effect so she wouldn’t have to listen to his half-assed apologies.
He used his napkin to wipe perspiration from his brow.
He looked flushed. Thank God.
“Are you all right?”
“Just a little dizzy. I must have eaten too quickly. And sitting here with you . . . I don’t think you understand how much I appreciate you inviting me inside and then feeding me. I’m overwhelmed by your generosity.”
She stood. “Why don’t we have a seat in the living room where you’ll be more comfortable?”
“I should probably go.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Not before you have a seat in the living room and tell me what you came here to say. It’s important that I hear it.”
He made it to the other room without trouble, but then all but toppled into a seat on one end of the couch. His body sank into the cushions. He wasn’t going to last five minutes. If she couldn’t lead him into the car, maybe she could at least find a way to get him closer to the garage.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said cheerfully. She held out her hand. “Give me the keys to your car.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to pull your car into the garage, and then I’m going to drive you home. You don’t look well.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
He could hardly move. She just hoped she hadn’t put too many pills in his rice. He couldn’t die yet. She had bigger plans for him, and they had a lot to talk about. She reached into his jacket pocket, retrieved his keys, and held them up for him to see. “I insist.”