recliner adjacent to the sofa. He had his feet propped up and a grin on his face.
“Always the comedian,” Julie mumbled. Her lids felt like bricks and the sofa offered her a delicious respite.
“You two are boring,” Drew said. But he leaned back in the recliner, linked his fingers and rested his head in his hands. “Hey, Julie, do you think we can have our lunch next week? We can make it an early birthday celebration.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot your birthday is coming up,” Cal mumbled, her eyes closed.
“Some best friend you are,” Julie teased. “Lunch sounds good,” she murmured, happy to be off her feet and the three-inch heels she’d worn most of the day.
“Just think,” Drew said, “If you hadn’t spun away from that bullet, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”
“Mmm.” Julie agreed. “True.” Her eyes drifted shut. Good thing Cal had passed out first. Drew’s smile was the last thing Julie saw before she conked out.
* * *
The guns were lined up in order of size on the table. Three rifles, three handguns. It was a nice collection. All had been well used over the years, mostly for target practice, but most recently not. Several lethal knives gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the window.
Shooting Julie Fraser on the red carpet provided an unbelievable feeling of satisfaction. But it hadn’t kept her down. Missing her at the party in the hills had been a real shame. If she hadn’t spun around at the last second, that bullet would’ve landed right in her cold-blooded heart. Watching the other bullets hit her on the red carpet had been massively exhilarating. Where the hell that stupid bodyguard came from was still a mystery. He wasn’t on the payroll, which meant they were getting it on.
Little Miss America’s Sweetheart was doing the nasty after prolonged abstinence. At least that’s what it looked like. Why else would this guy be hanging around all of sudden? It wasn’t for the homemade chocolate chip cookies.
Fingering the cold steel of the Colt felt good. It felt solid and strong, just like its owner.
It felt good to always have the guns and knives close, though chances were good they wouldn’t be necessary after tomorrow.
Research had shown that there were other, more fun ways for Julie to die. Bullets were nice, but sometimes overrated. Experimenting with explosives had been new, fun and challenging. Discovering poisons had been educational as well. Buying lethal drugs had also been much easier than anticipated. So many interesting ways to kill. It was amazing how much a person could learn from the Internet and from making connections in all the right places.
Julie could run, but she couldn’t hide.
* * *
Sitting in his car, in the dark, on Julie’s deserted street, Troy leaned his head against the headrest. Not one streetlight lit this small canyon road, which maximized the potential for security issues. He’d been here for almost an hour already, had the realtor’s phone number on the for-sale sign memorized. He should go home. Yeah, he’d been telling himself that for about forty minutes now. “Go home.” But he glanced at the house and didn’t budge.
What did he think was going to happen? Today’s freak accident had weirded him out something fierce. That Julie might have died in front of him a third time had his palms sweating. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he looked at the house again. The same lights lit the back of the house where she spent most of her time in the large comfortable den.
Troy shifted in the seat, his muscles sore from the fall earlier. He couldn’t get the vision of Julie out of his head, would remember until the day he died how her arms and legs flailed before he’d snagged her against him just before she’d hit the stairs.
He shook his head. Sitting here another minute wasn’t going to change anything. She was fine. Today had been an accident, not some stalker situation.
Shifting again, he’d put his hand on the keys to start the car when his phone rang. He checked the screen.
Julie Fraser.
Troy shot a glance to the house, expecting to see her staring at him through the side window of the front door, but all looked quiet. Not a curtain or blind out of place. He punched the screen on his phone.
“Mills here,” he said.
“Very businesslike of you.” The amusement in Julie’s voice came through clear as shiny crystal.
“I’m nothing if not a businessman,” he replied evenly. “Everything okay?”