Midnight Caller - By Diane Burke Page 0,70

his office cleaning service?” He held his breath while he waited for the answer.

Winters stared down at his tablet. “He doesn’t have a service. He uses a private individual.”

Tony’s stomach clenched and cold fear twisted his insides so hard he couldn’t move.

“The guy’s worked for him for years. Works over at the hospital, too.” Winters looked up from his pad. “The name is Peters. Jim Peters.”

Tony bolted from the booth and dialed his cell phone before Winters finished uttering the man’s last name. “Call for backup. The killer’s heading for Erin’s,” he yelled over his shoulder and ran for the door. Erin. Please, God, save Erin.

The phone rang at the same time as the doorbell chimed. Erin frowned, decided the caller could call back, and hurried down the hall to the front door. She wasn’t expecting anyone this early. The party didn’t start for another two hours. She peeked through the curtains and unfastened the locks.

“Mr. Peters.” Erin smiled at the man standing on her porch. “I’m sorry. Did I tell you the wrong time? The party’s not supposed to start until two.”

“No, ma’am. You told me two.”

“I don’t understand. You’re early.”

“Nobody’s ever asked me to do my clown act in their home.” He gestured with the small bag he carried. “So I thought I’d show up and help you get ready, ma’am. My way of saying thanks.”

“That’s so sweet,” Erin said. “But everything’s under control. My aunt took the children to pick up the cake and everything else is pretty much ready.”

Peters shifted his weight side to side. “There must be something I can do to help, ma’am. By the time I get home I’ll just have to turn around and come back again.”

“Of course, where are my manners?” Erin opened the door wide and gestured him inside. “I was just getting ready to blow up some balloons. Would you like to help?”

“I’d like that.” Jim Peters stepped into the foyer.

Erin closed and dead-bolted the door. She felt his eyes boring into her back and it unnerved her. She turned her head and the intensity of his gaze caused a shiver to run up her spine. She shifted uncomfortably. Something felt off. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. She opened her mouth, intending to call the whole thing off and ask him to leave, when the phone rang again. Both of them jumped at the sound. She hurried toward the phone, but the ringing stopped before she reached it. Feeling foolish for her uneasiness around the shy man, she mentally chastised herself. “Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr. Peters?” she called over her shoulder as she crossed the kitchen and reached up into the kitchen cabinet. She placed two mugs on the counter and turned. “Mr. Peters?”

TWENTY

The stealth of his movements set off an internal alarm. Fear slithered through her body. What was the matter with her? This was Mr. Peters, the clown from the hospital, the shy janitor, the man who graciously agreed to spend his Saturday afternoon entertaining her children. Why was her imagination running wild?

He placed his bag between them on the kitchen island and then he grinned. It wasn’t a friendly grin. It was feral. Malicious. Her uneasiness escalated. Slowly, he eased his hand out of the bag. The reflective glint of metal drew her eye. Oh, God, help me. He has a knife.

“You fooled them,” Peters said as he circled around the counter. “Everyone thinks you’re Mother of the Year. Taking in another woman’s handicapped child. But I know the truth. It isn’t enough to ruin one child’s life. You have to destroy two.” His lips curled into a sneer. “You pretend to care about these children, but it’s an act. I know the evil in your heart.”

Erin’s gaze flew around the kitchen, assessing both her situation and her closest means of escape. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The man laughed. “This is the part I love. Where the fly understands it just entered the spider’s web.” He sobered. “Let me introduce myself. My name is Death and I am right in front of you.”

Terror seized Erin’s chest. She had to force every breath she took.

This is the day I die. This man killed Carol. He’s going to kill me and no one will know who it was.

Panic overcame her and her body began to shake.

Help me, Jesus.

The twenty-third psalm popped into her mind. She began to silently pray. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the