*
The woman had no idea why it was her, why she was here in this cold place that smelled of dirt and death. Angela had known. She’d known the moment she’d opened those pretty eyes and seen where she was.
Angela had cried.
She’d begged.
Like they all did, and there was nothing wrong with that. If they hadn’t pleaded for their lives, then what life did they have?
Angela had known who to blame. She’d known whose fault all of this was as the blade cut deep into her finger, severing it. She’d known when she took her last wheezing breath that she’d still be alive if she hadn’t come back.
But this woman, in her plain white blouse and one-size-too-big black pants, had no fucking clue. It was perfect, really. Angela would be bad enough, but this one . . . oh yeah, this one was the icing on the fucking cake. This woman was someone who simply had the poor luck of crossing paths with her.
This one would prove no one was safe.
Chapter 23
Snow fell, dotting the night sky and blanketing the ground below. From where I stood in my living room, looking out below, I couldn’t tell how much was out there, and I had no idea when it would stop, but there was nothing more beautiful than freshly fallen snow. It was one of the things I’d missed most when I lived in the South.
When Cole and I got back from the police station, Mom had returned, and I told her and Jason what had happened.
It had been horrible.
Because I recognized the look in my mom’s eyes as the news of Angela’s fate processed, as she worked through the details of what had happened to the poor girl and what that meant. She had stared at me like she had when she said she almost wished I hadn’t come home. Now I don’t think she “almost” wanted that.
It was a definite.
Jason had sat down, his gaze far off, and he remained at the kitchen table; the only thing he’d said for about an hour was, “She was just eating cookies.”
Here one moment, gone in the worst way the next.
Miranda had come over in the evening, and by that point, what happened to Angela had hit the evening news, and it was all the newscaster spoke about. We’d sat quietly, and then we’d tried to change the subject. Miranda talked about Coach Currie and the rumors flying around about him.
When we lapsed into silence again, I immediately jumped on another subject, wanting to hold back other darker, more troubling thoughts. “Can I ask you something?”
Her brows rose. “Uh. Yeah.”
“Is there something going on between you and Jason?”
“What?” Her head whipped toward mine so fast I was surprised she didn’t hurt herself. “Why would you ask that?”
“Well, you two seem really close.” I nudged her arm. “Like I get you guys have stayed friends this whole time, but . . .”
“But what?”
“But there’s just something there,” I said, grinning when she sighed heavily. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I—”
“We hooked up,” she interrupted me, and when my eyes widened, she smacked her hands over her face. “It was a couple of months ago. We went out. Both of us were drinking. We weren’t super drunk, but one thing led to another, and yeah, we hooked up.”
I twisted toward her. “Wow. Okay. I suspected something, but wasn’t a hundred percent sure.”
She lowered her hands. “We haven’t really talked about it. He’s still technically married even though he’s separated, but . . . yeah, it hasn’t been weird or anything. And I don’t think he’s getting back with Cameron.”
I processed all of that. “Do you like him, as in you want more than just that one random, not entirely drunk hookup?”
“I don’t know,” she said, untypically unsure. “I mean, I like him. I really do. We’ve been friends for a long time, and I don’t know, there’s just something cute about his nerdiness. And that man’s got a body under those dress shirts and slacks.”
Holding my hands, I warded all the info off. “I really don’t want to think about Jason’s body, because that would be weird for me.”
Miranda laughed.
“Why don’t you talk to him, be up front about wanting to see how things go?” I asked.
Her lips curved up on the corner as she tucked a braid back behind her ear. “Maybe I will, but I just don’t want to ruin our friendship. I couldn’t deal with that, you know?”
“Yeah.” I pressed my lips together. “But I think you should think about it. He seems to really be into you and you seem to really like him more than just a friend.”
She nodded slowly, but I had a feeling that she wasn’t ready to broach that conversation with Jason. I didn’t blame her for that.
Miranda had left before it got too late, and I made her text me when she got home. She hadn’t balked at the idea, and I’d relaxed when I got the message from her saying her “ass was in bed.”
Tugging the ends of my heavy cardigan together, I shifted my weight to my other foot. It was late, well past two in the morning, and I’d long since given up on trying to sleep. The respite from the restless nights hadn’t lasted long, because even with Cole slumbering next to me, I couldn’t sleep. Not wanting to disturb him, I’d slipped out of the bed and made my way out to the living room. I watched the snow fall, my mind caught up in the twisted memories of the past and the horror of what was happening now.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Angela and her family. This shouldn’t have happened to her. This shouldn’t happen to anyone, but it had to her, and I knew deep down it had also happened to the poor woman from Frederick.
Should’ve known better than to believe in coincidences.
Now a nightmare from the past was back, and I had to believe this was happening. Someone was out there and they’d already killed one woman, most likely two, and I knew that if the person was following the behaviors of the Groom, he already had someone else.
Stomach churning, I closed my eyes. It could be anyone. Not necessarily even someone who’d lived here ten years ago. You could find anything on the Internet, including sites dedicated to serial killers, where they were talked about as if they were celebrities. Their sick predilections discussed with enough information that you could recreate every murder down to the last detail. Someone from anywhere in the world could’ve decided they were going to introduce the world to the Groom, round two.
But why—why the Groom out of all the serial killers with higher body counts and who were more well known? Why did it start when I returned? Actually, it had started right before I returned with the woman from Frederick. Did it—
So caught up in my thoughts, I gasped when I felt strong arms circle my waist from behind.
“Sasha.” Cole’s deep voice rumbled in my ear. “How long have you been out here?”