Meg smiled, then escaped into her room; Killer apparently made up his mind and followed her.
She had to shower. All she could remember for a moment was the horror of the dried-out tongue, still bearing dried-out blood, and the muck and blood of the ethereal soldiers as they trooped back across the war-torn fields.
She showered quickly. She was so tired and yet, everything, all her emotions, felt...so new. She’d never experienced this intense need to be held.
She was so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t expect to see anything, and yet when she came out of the shower, with the mist steaming from the bathroom, she did.
Genie Gonzales was back...seated on the foot of her bed, Killer curled up beside her, gazing up at her adoringly.
“Genie, please try... Can you tell me what happened to you?”
The apparition faded and flared—like a bad hologram. And then grew more solid again.
“It was a man,” she said finally. “I never saw his face. He was in a black sedan. He had a map in his hands and he called out...asking for help. I bent down to the driver’s door...and then...nothing. I could see around me, but I knew I was dead. And I saw Killer coming to the morgue...and I saw your kindness to my dog.”
“A map? So he asked you for directions? He lured you to the car?” Meg asked.
Genie stared at her, eyes huge and luminous, as if they were about to shed ghostly tears.
“Stop him, please, stop him...”
Then she was gone, and that time, when the image wavered, it didn’t return.
Meg was in a towel, so she couldn’t go rushing into the hallway. Then she remembered that she was on the ground floor and the rooms connected. She hurried to the door and twisted both locks on her side, and flung open the first door to pound on Matt’s.
He opened it, wearing a towel, as well. For once, she hardly noticed.
“She was here again. I think she can break through because of Killer,” Meg said breathlessly. “She doesn’t know who killed her, but it was definitely a man, and he lured her to the car. He had a map, and he was pretending to be lost. A black sedan—he was driving a black sedan. They need to do more than just search Congressman Walker’s cars—they need to tear them apart. They should be looking for hairs and fibers and anything else that could possibly be in there.”
Matt nodded. Then he drew her into his arms. “We’ll get them going on that in the morning,” he promised. “But I believe the killer was very careful. No struggle. He knocked his victims out. He didn’t kill them in the cars—he killed them somewhere he couldn’t be seen, and always by a body of water.” He pulled back and said, “We have to find Lara.”
“Yes.”
He took her in his arms again then and held her. But a minute later, she became aware that all he was wearing was that towel. She eased far enough away to hold his face in her hands and kiss him.
And that let her forget the rigors of the day.
Later, as they lay together, she said, “You really do have a way with words, Agent Bosworth.”
“I like to think I’m good with my hands, too,” he said with a laugh. “Sometimes words aren’t necessary. But... I can come up with a few good ones, if you wish,” he said. And with his lips against her bare skin, he began to whisper a few of them, until she was laughing, too, and in his arms again...
Finally, she started to drift off. He was right; they needed sleep.
She was going to find Lara—and she was going to find the monster who had killed Genie Gonzales and the other women. They deserved justice.
And she was going to see that they received it.
*
She had some distance to go as an agent, Meg decided when she opened her eyes the next morning. Matt woke at the slightest sound, but when she fell into a deep sleep, he could shower, dress and be out of the room—without her noticing a thing. Maybe his ability to wake up so quickly had to do with his military experience. Or maybe it was just another talent that some people had and some didn’t—and she was a “didn’t.”
She rose and slipped back through the connecting door to her own room. She expected to find Killer waiting for her, jumping around with joy at her arrival. But he wasn’t there and she knew that Matt must’ve taken him out for a walk.
Dressed and ready in ten minutes, she held still for a moment and closed her eyes, then opened them again. No ghosts appeared before her. Soon after, she went into the breakfast room. Both Peter and Charlene were there; breakfast was ready in chafing dishes, and Matt was carrying on a conversation with their hosts and the other guests, Mr. and Mrs. Avery.
Peter introduced her to the pair—Jordan and Sylvia. They were in costume, Jordan in his butternut-and-gray uniform and Sylvia in a Victorian day dress.