“Edwin!”
“I have a right to know.”
“We were just friends.”
“Oh, I don’t know where it’s written friends don’t ever fuck. Do you know where that’s written?”
So, the sanitized language from earlier—in conversation and emails—had been phony, just another part of the innocent image he created. And she now knew that he hadn’t been simply tapping his leg in time to the music the other day.
They were at the trailer door now. He calmed and smiled again. “Sorry. I get my hackles up, thinking about him.”
“Edwin, look—”
“I should carry you over the threshold. The wedding night thing, you know.”
“Don’t touch me!”
He gazed at her with some pity, it seemed, then pushed the door open and swept her up into his arms like she weighed nothing at all. He carried her inside. Kayleigh didn’t resist; one of his massive hands firmly cradled her throat.
Chapter 74
“WE’RE ON OUR way,” Kathryn Dance said into her phone, speaking to Michael O’Neil.
She then gasped as Dennis Harutyun nearly demirrored his cruiser as the passenger side of the car came within inches of the truck he was passing. He skidded back into the lane and sped up.
“Are you okay?” O’Neil asked. “Are you there?”
“Yes. I’m … yes.” She closed her eyes as Harutyun took on another tractor-trailer.
O’Neil was at his desk in his own sheriff’s office. Dance opened her eyes briefly and asked, “What’s in place?”
“Two helicopters around Point Lobos—that’s where Edwin first saw Kayleigh at the concert two years ago. And another chopper’s covering the area from Moss Landing up to Santa Cruz. Concentrating on the deserted areas. CHP’s setting up roadblocks around Pacific Grove, Pebble Beach and Carmel. We’ve got about forty Monterey county and city uniforms involved.”
“Good.”
“And your boss is doing his thing.”
The head of the Monterey branch of the California Bureau of Investigation, Charles Overby, the consummate artist at press conferences, was enlisting the aid of the public to be on the lookout for Edwin Sharp and Kayleigh Towne.
The many fan sites too were abuzz and included pictures of the suspect and his victim, though Dance supposed that anyone with a TV or iTunes subscription knew what Kayleigh Towne looked like.
“How’re you doing?” O’Neil asked, echoing his earlier question.
A curious inquiry.
But not so curious in the context of where they’d left their personal lives just before he returned to Monterey.
But now was not the time for those considerations.
“Fine,” she said. Which didn’t mean fine at all but was like a fencer’s parry. She hoped O’Neil got it.
He seemed to. He asked. “What’s your ETA?”
She glanced at Harutyun and posed the question.
“Half hour,” he said.
Dance relayed this to O’Neil and added, “Better go, Michael. We’re doing about two hundred miles an hour here.”
Drawing a rare smile from the mustachioed deputy.
They disconnected. She leaned back against the headrest.
“You want me to slow down?” Harutyun asked.
“No, I want you to go faster,” Dance said.
He did and she closed her eyes once more.
“WHAT DO YOU think?” Edwin asked cheerfully. He waved his arm around the trailer, which was perfectly neat and scrubbed. It was also stifflingly hot.
Standing in the kitchenette, still cuffed, Kayleigh didn’t answer.
“Look, a high-def TV and I’ve got about a hundred DVDs. And plenty of your favorite foods.” He opened cabinets to show her. “Whole Foods. Organic, of course. And your favorite soap too.”
Yes, it was, she noted. Her heart sank at this foresight on his part.
She also noticed several lengths of chain in the trailer, fixed to the walls, ending in shackles. Apparently Edwin’s idea of thoughtfulness was to glue lamb’s wool to the metal clamps that would fit around her ankles and wrists.
Mr. Today …
Then, once again, his smile faded. “If you’d gone out with me, like I asked,” Edwin said, “we wouldn’t’ve had to go through all of this. Just dinner. And stayed in my rental for a few days, while they fixed your house. What was the big deal?”
Kayleigh sensed he was shivering with anger.
Edwin has a reality problem. All stalkers do.
His voice grew cold again. “I know you’re not a virgin…. I’m sure you didn’t want to fuck anybody, it just sort of happened. You did fuck Bobby, didn’t you? … No, I don’t want to know.” He reflected for a moment. “And I’m sure you didn’t do anything weird—you know, disgusting. Sometimes the good girls—the ones in glasses and buttoned-up blouses—they can do really sick things. But you wouldn’t.” He looked at her closely. But then like a light switch clicking on, his face warmed and he was smiling. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re mine now. It’s going to be okay.”
He showed her the trailer more closely. The place was a shrine to her, of course. Posters and memorabilia, clothing and photos.
Kayleigh Towne everywhere.
But no weapons.
No sharp knives in the kitchen—the first thing she looked for. Also, no glass or ceramic. It was all metal and plastic. She noticed a pack of cigarettes and looked for a lighter. But there was none.
He followed her gaze. Edwin said quickly, “Don’t worry. I don’t smoke, not anymore. Just needed a few of those to point the finger at that bitchy Alicia. For you, Kayleigh, no cigarettes and no liquor. I’m clean. And I never did drugs—like that friend of yours Mr. Bobby Prescott.”
Sweat poured, her skin crawled. “This is hopeless, Edwin. You don’t think ten thousand people are going to be looking for me?”
“Maybe not. They might think you ran off with somebody you realized loved you and cared for you. They’ll still be thinking Alicia was behind it all, killed Bobby and tried to kill you.”