“I saw the fear in my sisters’ eyes. They started locking their doors at night. I just wanted to watch them sleep. Do you know how much it hurt me when I discovered they were locking me out?”
“I spoke to your sister Carol to tell her about your father’s death. She said your mother saw you eight years ago. Did you try to go home?”
“I wanted to see Mom. But when she looked at me, she was terrified. It broke my heart.”
“That’s when you killed the woman in Denver, right?”
He pressed his fingers to his temples. “Questions, questions. You sound like a doctor. A know-it-all.”
“I don’t know it all, but I want to. I want to understand you.” She forced a smile that she prayed looked friendly. “I just want to be there for the real you. I mean, we are going to spend more time together.”
He studied her, his gaze narrowing as he slowly shook his head. “No, you’re trying to get into my head.” He set aside the scissors and reached for a straight razor. “It’s what women do. They twist your thoughts, and they confuse you. Say one thing. Do another. Dolls don’t do that. They are what they are.”
“I’m not like that.” She feared that desperation was creeping into her tone.
“No, you are lying. My father used to say all the time how my mother would get in his head. She drove him crazy with her complaints about me: ‘Robbie is staring at the girls again. Robbie stole more matches. There was a fire today.’ But my father wouldn’t listen to her. He was kind to me despite all her complaining. I loved her, and all she could do was talk about the bad things. I thought things had changed while I was away, but I saw for myself eight years ago she still hated me. A mother shouldn’t hate her son.”
“What were some of the good things you remember about your mother? There must be happy memories.” She needed to keep him calm and talking.
Absently he studied the light gleaming on the scissors. “I loved my mother. I loved my sisters. I just wanted to be close to them. They didn’t understand.”
“Your mother loved you. You were her flesh and blood.”
“She didn’t. I know it. That’s why I set the fires. I wanted to burn away the pain.”
“The fires weren’t your fault.”
“Dad didn’t like what I did, but he tried to understand. He kept telling me the anger would go away, so he was always covering up for me.”
She hesitated before she said his real name. “It’s okay, Robbie.”
He tensed at the sound of his name. “No one’s called me that in a long time.”
“Did your father help you change your name?”
“He knew how it was done. He had a new name for me. He brought me to Virginia. Got me the job at the funeral home. It was all fine for a long time.”
“Until Kara.”
His grip tightened around the scissors. “She was an accident. I told you that.”
And Knox had covered it up. “He figured out you killed Terrance.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Stupid and sloppy on my part. I didn’t mean to hurt the boy. It was never part of the plan. Knox came by the funeral home early, and he saw my van. He looked in the back. He never really trusted me and was always checking up on me. He saw the boy.”
“But he didn’t tell.”
“I begged him not to. I told him it wasn’t my fault. He just stood there staring at me, and I thought he would. I thought that was it for me.
“But he just shook his head and left. When he showed up at Roger Benson’s funeral, I thought he’d tell then. But he never did. He was too afraid.”
“He must have loved you very much.”
“I thought so.”
But Knox sent his files to Agent Sharp. He knew Sharp would figure out the trail to the DNA evidence hidden in the old arson case.
“Why kill Terrance?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper.
“He saw my face. He said he wouldn’t tell, but I couldn’t take that risk. I had Destiny to think about.” His eyes darkened. “I was truly sorry about his death.” He looked at her, his eyes filled with anguish. “I tried to make his death quick. Painless.”
The overhead lamp glinted off the blade. Fear twisted inside her. “Are you going to kill me?”
“Oh, no, Serenity,” he rushed to say. “You aren’t going to die. You’ll be my masterpiece, and we’ll be together for a very long time. Now that we know each other, you can keep calling me Robbie. I like the sound of my name when you say it.”
He reached for a fistful of her hair and sheared it off with the scissors. He stood back for a moment holding the thick clump of hair like a trophy. “It must feel freeing to have all that gone.”
The jagged edges of her hair brushed her cheeks. “Please don’t do this, Robbie. You don’t have to change me to make me love you.”
A distant thud stopped his approach. Frowning, he paused for a moment and listened. She glanced toward the ceiling, praying it hadn’t been the wind. Please, Dakota, save me.
Seconds passed, and when they heard no other sound, he gripped the scissors and cut another chunk of her hair.
She winced, knowing the loss of hair paled compared to what she was about to lose. Her face, her dignity, her life with Dakota. It was the idea of never seeing him again that made her most sad and angry.
He’d grabbed a third handful of hair and raised the scissors when a loud thump echoed from above. He fisted her hair tighter. Another bang crashed, followed by the sound of wood splintering.
“Robbie, they’ve found you,” she said. “Robbie, please, you still have time to escape. Run while you can.”
He clung to her hair an extra beat before he released it and glared at the door. “They have not found me. I made sure we were well hidden.”
“Please, Robbie, run.”
“Stop telling me what to do. Get out of my head.” He was clearly agitated. “No one is going to take you away from me. No one.” DeLuca patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
“To take care of any trespassers.”
When he vanished through the door, she focused on the loose wristband. She twisted her hand, pulling and straining against the strap, feeling her skin bruise and scrape. The leather creaked and stretched, wanting to give way. She yanked harder as tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks.
She would not die in this room.
When the door splintered, Sharp stumbled inside but quickly steadied himself. He stared inside the dark warehouse space. The main level was vacant except for scattered boxes and trash that still remained from the last tenant. The windows were covered with white shades that had yellowed over time. In the center of the room were several pillars, and in the back, a door. Sharp reached for the light switch, but when he flipped it, nothing happened. He moved toward the door and found it locked with a dead bolt.
Sharp started to move when McLean laid his hand on his shoulder. “What?”
“Listen,” McLean said.
They both stilled a beat, and somewhere below them the stairs creaked.