“What did you fight about?”
She pulled at a white towel tucked in her apron string and wiped her eyes. “Lately, we argued about money.” She muttered an oath. “I asked her for a loan and she said she’d have to do a cost analysis on the bakery. I was pissed but I needed the money so I went along.”
“What happened?”
“Diane said the bakery was a losing investment. I tried to tell her it was my dream but she’d said numbers were numbers. I hadn’t spoken to her in a month. Monday’s dinner was supposed to be my chance to apologize. She was right. The bakery is losing money.”
“Why did you try to file a report? Why didn’t you just assume she just didn’t want dinner with you?”
“When I had a chance to think I realized she’s never missed an appointment in her life. She just doesn’t blow people off, even sisters who’re too emotional.”
“When was the last time you two spoke?”
“Like I said, nearly a month ago.” She swiped tears with the back of her hand. “We communicated about dinner via text.”
“What did you do after she didn’t show for dinner?”
“I called her cell. No answer. Then I called her office. They said she was taking a day off. That didn’t sound like Diane. I’ve seen her work through a raging case of the flu and another time after hip replacement surgery. Vacation days are spent working on her house. She never rests. And if she did take a day off, she’d have told me.”
Would he know if something had happened to Alex? Rick could fix just about anything but he’d been unable to push past his own anger to fix his broken relationship with his younger brother. “So you sensed trouble.”
“I went to her house. No lights. No sign of her. This isn’t Diane. We’ve our differences but I know trouble, so I went to the cops. And like I said, they weren’t convinced she was missing.” She rubbed her eyes. “Shit. To think she might’ve needed my help and I couldn’t do anything.”
Family, friends, or acquaintances committed most murders. A year ago, he’d been mad enough to strike out hard against Alex. He would’ve regretted the act later but in that hot moment his combination had been dialed. “She was last seen at her office on midday Saturday. The fire was set late Sunday night.”
Lorrie’s eyes widened as she considered the statement. “That’s a thirty-six-hour gap. What happened to her during that time?”
“We don’t know. Her ATM card wasn’t used, nor were her credit cards. Somewhere between her office and her home, she went off the grid.”
She sobbed. “You mean she was taken to a house that burned to the ground.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Fresh tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “Who would do this to her? It doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
The recording tape played on a small computer screen, glowing bright in the darkened room. On screen, the woman, Diane, was tied to the bed, spread-eagle. She stared past the man holding the gun toward the camera and the one she knew really directed this dark scene.
Reason sat back, disgusted at the display. Such unnecessary damage. “That should satisfy you. That should fill your belly so you can take a long slumber.”
Madness growled. “I’m still hungry and restless for more.”
Trembling fingertips reached out to the computer monitor and circled the image of the woman’s terrified face. “That moment required months of planning.”
“Yes, and it paid off with a rush so delicious, didn’t it.” Madness had howled in satisfaction.
“We need to lie low for a while. Take a break. Let the cops move onto a new murder.”
Madness stared at the computer screen. In the next picture frame, pawn looked at master, waited for permission, and when it was finally given, shot the woman. And like the snap of fingers, the moment was over. The energy deflated from the room as if they’d burst a balloon.
Pop.
Gone.
Madness had shivered in the wake of the orgasmic rush. It closed its eyes and lay back, searching for satisfaction. “I’m still hungry. I need more.”
“That’s why we made the recording. So you could watch whenever you wanted. Be content with that.”
This little scene had stirred Madness’s cravings, much like bread stimulated the taste buds of a starving man. The taste was just enough to remind it of what it had been missing.
“It’s not enough. I want another taste.” Raising a frustrated gaze from the computer, Madness, no longer willing to be a silent partner, studied a Peg-Board with neatly arranged images of several women. The shots were candid. One woman was leaving a gym, another was waiting for a cab, and the third was in a bar.
Extending from each woman’s image was a red string and that string extended across the board to the images of different men.
Three women. Three men. The two sets were puppets in plays yet to be staged. The players in these productions had been chosen months ago. They had been the understudies in case the Diane performance had failed.
“I want to do it again.”
“No. I won’t allow it. Sister is already worried about us.”
Sister. Worried. Allow. Madness smiled. “Do you really think Sister or you can stop me?”
“We stopped you before.”
“It had suited me to be stopped. I saw the danger around us.”
“It’s around us again!”
“We’re older. More clever. We can get away with more.”
Madness zeroed in on the image of a woman with pale white skin and long, dark hair. It had been watching her for weeks and planned to wait several months before it put her into play. Usually, just the planning, the knowing a kill was within reach, was enough. But not now. The restless energy burned with a roaring vengeance.
“Sit back and study the board. Give the game time to settle. Give the cops time to forget about the last play. Let the drama die down.”
“No.”