“Oh?”
“Will’s been keeping an eye on Roger since he left the tavern this afternoon. He didn’t stay here long, had a quick drink, then took off.” He shook his head. “I believe his emotion is real. If it turns out he’s our killer, I’m losing my touch. But, for now, don’t worry. Lie down. We have officers out there watching and searching. On the riverfront. Cruising around city hall...down the east and the west sides of the city. There are people out there, Abby. Let them do their jobs.”
Nodding, she lay back down beside him.
Music. Helen had heard music. She’d been thrown into the water not long before Abby saw her.
That meant the killer had been out on the water. He’d been within their grasp.
Tap, tap, tap.
She felt Malachi stir and moved deeper into his arms.
She dreamed of making love again.
They fell asleep.
*
Malachi lay awake, smiling when he heard Abby’s easy breathing. She was exhausted. There was an emotional toll in all of this, especially since it came right after her grandfather’s death. She hadn’t really had time to mourn his passing before a connection between his death and that of the recent victims had become plausible and apparent to her—and now the body count was adding up. He rolled onto his side and turned to watch her sleep, studying the contours of her face. He found himself wondering why certain people fell into such a profound attraction, why the physical act could mean something so different, depending on how you felt about that person. He reached out, just to touch her hair, but started when he heard his phone ringing.
He scrambled from the bed and searched for the jeans he’d discarded somewhere. He hurried down the hall until he found them and dug into his pocket.
The caller was Will Chan.
“Roger English is on the move,” Will said. “I’m following him now. He left his house and he’s headed toward Bay Street if you want to join me.”
“Has he seen you?” Malachi asked.
“Hasn’t made me yet. He was walking fast but then he stopped, pulled out his phone, looked at it—muttered to himself—and then began walking again.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes!” Malachi said.
He started to slide back into his clothing. Hopping into his jeans, he turned and nearly crashed into Abby. Her hair was a tangle; her eyes were wide. “Where are we going?” she asked.
“After Roger.”
She frowned but said no more. He had to hand it to her; she could dress fast. She was dressed—slipping her Glock into her waistband—while he was still tying his shoes.
The Dragonslayer was silent as they crept down the stairs. It was after the night crew had left, before the morning crew came in. They hurried out and he waited to make sure Abby locked the front door.
He took her hand as they ran across the parking lot and toward Bay Street. He saw no one there, and Malachi quickly drew his phone from his pocket and called Will back.
“Where are you?”
“In front of city hall, on the river,” Will replied. “He’s pacing by the water. Keeps looking out at it. Pulls his phone in and out of his pocket.”
“Come on,” he told Abby, catching her hand again.
They ran up onto the embankment to reach the river walk and crossed by closed stores, restaurants and taverns, staying close to the shop fronts to meld with the shadows. As they moved silently closer, someone stepped out from the buildings.
Will. He beckoned to them and they joined him behind a pillar.
The three stood there silently as they observed Roger English.
Roger paced and then stood still and stared out at the river. Malachi looked down the length of shops. There were other people in the shadows, he realized.
True to his word, David Caswell had officers on surveillance. Watching the river.
And now, watching Roger.
Was he about to call someone—someone out on the river who had a captive?
They waited what seemed to be a very long time while Roger walked up and down, continuing to stare out at the water.
He clutched the cell phone and pulled something from his pocket, then stuffed it back. He began to dial.
Who was he calling?
Malachi jumped as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Stepping back, he looked at it.
Roger was calling him.
He glanced at the others and hurried a distance away, then answered his phone.
“Roger?” he whispered.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Roger said. As Malachi watched, Roger glanced at his phone, as if trying to figure out how Malachi had known it was him.
“I haven’t given this number to many people,” Malachi explained.