“When I told him about it, he seemed as shocked as I was.”
“Of course he did. Because he’d probably come to his senses in the meantime and realized he’d look like an idiot admitting it. So he lied. He’s a good liar. A lot of men are.”
Not just men.
Some women are expert liars, too.
If someone asked Jake whether it was within the realm of possibility that his wife had spent part of Saturday having lunch with another man instead of at the outlet mall, what would he say?
He’d say that was impossible.
Because I went out of my way to make sure he wouldn’t doubt me. I bought all those presents so that I could come home loaded down with bags.
But I did it because I love him. Because I’d rather die than hurt him.
At last, Rowan makes her left turn into the parking lot, snaking her way along behind a string of cars as if she’s on autopilot, trying to convince herself that Noreen’s theory makes perfect sense.
“Look, this guy started to stalk you and then he changed his mind and he lied about it,” her sister told her. “Stuff like this happens all the time. It’s tame in the grand scheme of things, believe me.”
Rowan believes her. Noreen should know.
So should I.
Of course Rick sent the cookies. Of course he regrets it now. And of course he wouldn’t pick up the phone this afternoon when Rowan called to confront him about it.
Well, good. That means the tables have turned.
All she said when she left her message in Rick’s voice mail was “Call me. I need to talk to you.”
Too bad she hadn’t called her sister first. If she had, she probably wouldn’t have bothered calling Rick at all.
Oh well. If he was embarrassed enough to avoid her call, he’s sure as hell not going to return it.
As she pulls into a parking space near Price Chopper, she can almost see her way out of this mess. With any luck, it’ll just fade away.
For the first time in a week, she’s going to focus on what matters most: taking care of her family.
According to the forensics team, Sullivan Leary’s latest Jane Doe wasn’t your run--of--the--mill stabbing victim.
She was slashed to death. Her wounds were long and deep, had clean edges and neatly severed vascular structures, and lacked tissue bridges. They were consistent with a straight--edged razor, the kind you might find in a barbershop or your grandfather’s medicine cabinet.
Not only that, but judging by the streaks of the victim’s own blood found on her scalp—-which was free of slash wounds—-the killer appeared to have used the same razor to shave her head post--mortem.
The same was true of Heather Pazanno, who had lived just outside Erie, Pennsylvania. She went out one night last March to pick up a prescription for her sick mother and never came home. Her car was left in the parking lot. The store security cameras had captured a hooded figure on crutches trailing her out of the store, but the footage was grainy and the outdoor range didn’t extend far enough beyond the front entrance to see what had happened next.
Having spent the last few hours painstakingly combing the online databases, Sully and Stockton have discovered two more slashing murders that bear similar details. One was in Rhode Island over the summer; another in Virginia back in January. Like Heather Pazanno and the West Side Jane Doe, both of the other victims were relatively young and attractive, and shared a striking physical characteristic: long red hair.