Midnight Caller - By Diane Burke Page 0,31

there.” Erin snatched up the sandwich. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told him not to leave food lying around, especially in Florida, but does he listen? No.”

Tony placed his hands on her shoulders and eased her to the side. “What have we here?” He took out a handkerchief, bent down and gingerly lifted a small pile of photographs. He brought them out into the light of the foyer and laid them on the hall table. The grim expression on his face and furious glint in his eyes made a chill race up her spine.

“Tony? What is it?”

Tony turned to one of the police officers. “Call it in. This is a crime scene. We need forensics here stat.”

“Tony?” Erin stepped closer for a look at the photographs splayed across the table top. Her stomach twisted in knots and her legs threatened to collapse. They were photographs of her. At the grocery store. Coming out of work. Sitting on the porch. Playing with Jack in the yard. There were even pictures of her at the Easter picnic fundraiser. And every picture had a black X over her face.

Crouching behind the bushes, he ignored the ache in his legs and stared through the high-powered camera lens at the house. He knew it wasn’t safe to be here. The cops were still crawling all over the place. But he was far enough away. They weren’t looking for him. They probably thought he’d be long gone by now. And he knew he should be. But he had to see. Had to know if they found the gift he’d left for them in the hall closet. A giggle escaped his lips.

He peered through the lens and brought the scene into focus. There she was. Pacing back and forth on her porch. He’d guessed the commotion had woken the old lady. She was sitting in one of the porch rockers. Her neighbor sat in the other one. He didn’t quite know if the man was being neighborly or just plain nosy. Didn’t matter. None of them mattered but her.

He moaned in frustration. He didn’t have a satisfactory view from here but he didn’t dare draw closer.

A smile twisted his lips. He was right. She didn’t deserve to be a mother. She locked her boy in the hall closet with comic books and a flashlight. Rage raced through him until he couldn’t hold it in anymore and he whined like a hurt, wild animal. He’d make her pay. She’d pay.

He thought about the other women. The store clerk. The secretary. The nurse. He’d punished each of them. He’d made them suffer until they cried for mercy. Until they begged him for death.

He knew he was a hero. Better than any of the plastic super heroes the kids played with. He rescued children from the clutches of evil women. When he had needed a rescuer, waited for a rescuer, begged for a rescuer—no one had come for him. He knew then what he had to do. He had to become the rescuer he had dreamed about. And he did.

He lifted the camera again. Focusing the lens on her face, his breath caught in his throat. He had to remind himself he wasn’t on the porch with her. He wasn’t close enough to stroke the light touch of rose on her cheeks.

He took deep, calming breaths. Be patient. His fingers adjusted the lens. Her eyes drew him into their green depths. Eyes darkened with questions and fear.

She was beautiful, more so than any of the others.

He’d make sure she remained conscious for every second of the exquisite, endless pain he’d bestow upon her.

“Beauty is only skin deep,” he whispered into the darkness. No one else could see the black, evil heart within her. The selfishness. The cruelty. But he could. And she’d pay.

He blinked hard. Had the words escaped his lips or were they only within his mind? Had anybody heard? He looked around. No faces coming to neighboring windows to investigate. No porch lights suddenly turned on. His heart stopped hammering. He was safe.

She stepped inside the house. The detective blocked his view. As the minutes passed, his annoyance at not being able to see her grew. He chewed on his lip until he tasted his own blood and fought the urge to venture out of the shadows to pace. Seconds passed. Minutes.

Be patient. It’s not time. There’s no hurry. No hurry at all.

When she came back into view, she glanced out the window and seemed to