Last Girls Alive (Detective Katie Scott #4) - Jennifer Chase Page 0,98

Italian?”

“Detective, you never know where your inspiration will come from. His words consumed me, it was like he knew me. He looked right into my damaged soul and healed it with the romance of the Italian language…” He readjusted his grip on the gun. “You think you know me? You know nothing.”

“Oh, I know more than you think. What? You were kicked into a foster home? You somehow relate to these kids? At least you thought you did, but guess what, they didn’t relate to you,” said Katie watching him closely.

“I know what you’re doing. And it’s not going to work.”

“I must be getting warmer… foster kid… maybe you fell for a girl who didn’t return your affections… but she had your heart and then stomped on it… Am I getting warmer?” She taunted him, throwing out wild theories, but they could be very effective.

Jerry used his free hand to rub the side of his head vigorously in a strange, almost mechanical manner.

“I am getting warmer, huh?” she said. Knowing she only had one chance, she was waiting for the perfect, almost imperceptible moment to attack. Her training had taught her that there was always one… To be patient was key…

“Why did you have to kill them? What did any of them do to you?”

“They’re all…”

“The same, Jerry? How can that be?”

“They are all the same… they can’t… don’t understand…” His speech became inconsistent and jerky.

“They don’t understand you? Is that it, Jerry?”

“I took care of them when they were dead, not mocking me anymore, no more laughter. I bathed them, washed their hair. I left them just as they came into the world—naked and pure.”

“You killed the wrong girl,” she said loudly.

“I know… I didn’t know for a while… it’s just… it was my first mistake.”

“No, Jerry your first mistake was feeling sorry for yourself.” Thinking quickly, she continued, “You made quite a few mistakes. The fingernail?”

He took a step back, confused. “No, that wasn’t a mistake. It was… I didn’t…”

Katie thought she might be able to disarm him and that he was going to admit defeat.

Jerry changed mood again, his personality suddenly forceful and condescending. “You think you’re special, Detective. But none of you are—just teases.”

“All this turmoil and killing because of a bad relationship? You can do better than that. Grow up… We all have problems, Jerry.”

“The constant beat-down… constant neglect… all of it was my fault… My fault!”

Katie could tell from his fragmenting speech that his mind was rolling back to the beginning of it all.

He lifted a hand to regain his composure and quickly wipe the sweat from his eyes.

At that exact moment, Katie launched herself at him. He dropped his gun on impact and it skittered across the room and through a doorway opening.

Fifty

When Katie hit the floor, Jerry took most of the impact beneath her. He didn’t move, so she thought he was knocked out and lessened her grip on him. A mistake. That’s when he struck, flipping her over on her back and punching her stomach. The oxygen left her body and she heard herself gurgle, trying to catch her breath after it was knocked out of her.

Jerry pinned her down and wrapped his fingers around her throat. She watched his pupils dilate, turning his eyes to almost black like a demon. His glee was evident in his effort to strangle her to death. Katie fought to stay conscious, lights flashed in her peripheral vision, and the sheer pain from him trying to crush her windpipe—feeling her throat compress against her spine—was overwhelming. Her hands couldn’t overpower his around her throat.

Fighting to bring up her left leg, she finally managed to do so, kneeing him in the groin and stomach areas. He lessened his grip. She clasped her hands in a tight clenched prayer position and broke his arms away from her before managing to wiggle her body free. Jerry fell to the side, moaning and swearing. Without her gun or even her cell phone, she had no other choice but to run.

Staggering to get to a standing position, her head spinning, Katie fought the urge to fall down and sleep. Her exhaustion and lack of proper oxygen made her feel disconnected and weak. Her vision blurred.

Making it to the stairwell, she grabbed the railing for dear life. It was the only thing that held her upright so she squeezed her fingers tight, melding them onto the wrought iron.

A loud wild-animal snarl came from behind her and a moment later Jerry grabbed