for exorcising my demons, not for getting rid of the trash. I’ve chosen my victims with exquisite care. I’ve spent years anticipating their punishment. I couldn’t defile what has become my temple, could I?
No.
Rita King wasn’t my enemy. She was a problem that needed to be solved. And that’s what I did.
I stomped my foot on the gas and rammed directly into her. It was shocking how high she flew before she landed on the icy street. She looked dead, but I had to make sure, so I ran over her like she was roadkill.
It seemed appropriate since she tried to do the same thing to her husband.
Then I scooped up her broken body and left her in a spot you know all too well, my friend.
I’m safe again and my attention has returned to my next quarry.
Crimson blood stains the pure white snow. Life spills from warm to frozen. Don’t look. The pain is gone.
Chapter 23
Kir struggled to contain the impatience that sizzled through him as Lynne drove at a snail’s pace to the cemetery. It wasn’t her fault. The street was not only layered with ice, but the turnoff wasn’t marked. It was dark enough that it would be easy to drive past the gate. Besides, his impatience had nothing to do with their careful pace.
He was still fuming from their recent trip to the sheriff’s office.
It wasn’t like he expected Kathy Hancock to be on duty 24/7. Even with a serial killer on the loose, she deserved a few hours to sleep. But when he’d handed over the answering machine, he’d hoped for more than a bored deputy telling him they’d eventually get around to listening to it.
It wasn’t like they were overrun with clues on who was killing the good citizens of Pike. And even if they didn’t believe Rita’s death was more than an accident, they would surely want to discover what she’d found when she’d been at Rudolf’s grave.
At last Lynne pulled through the open gate and weaved through the graveyard. After parking in the middle of the narrow path, she left the truck running with the headlights directed toward Rudolf’s headstone as they climbed out and walked the short distance.
Kir’s lungs burned as he breathed in the frigid night air. People who lived in warm places had no idea that cold had a smell. It was sharp and steely, like a blade. And just as deadly.
Approaching his father’s grave from the side, Kir pointed toward the footprints that were visible in the snow. “Someone was here.”
“Yes.” Lynne halted next to the marble headstone. Bending down she touched the dead flowers that had spilled out of the heavy stone urn. “It looks like they took whatever was here.”
Kir studied the grave. The mound of loose dirt was covered by layers of undisturbed snow. In fact, the only sign of anyone having been nearby was the one set of footprints that he was assuming belonged to Rita. So how had the killer known she had found the letters?
Lifting his head, he glanced around. Although it was dark, it was easy to make out the nearby road. “It would be easy to see the grave from the street,” he murmured his thoughts out loud.
Lynne pointed behind him. “Both streets.”
Kir glanced over his shoulder. She was right. The graveyard seemed isolated because there were no nearby buildings and the front was blocked by a thick line of cedar trees. But if it was daylight, he would be easily visible to anyone passing the cemetery from the south or east.
“The killer must have been driving by and happened to see Rita here,” he said. “He might even have seen her pulling the letters from this urn.”
She frowned at him. “Kir.”
“I know.” He held up his hands. “I’m just speculating.”
She offered a grudging nod. “Okay. Let’s say the killer did see her. Rita left you a message after she’d found something at the grave. So he didn’t try to stop her from taking them.”
Kir gave a slow nod. “It’s possible he parked down the street to wait for her to leave the cemetery.”
“Then he followed her to the café?”
Kir hesitated, trying to recall the exact layout of Pike. It wasn’t a big town, but it’d been a long time since he’d lived there. “Rita said in the message she was going home,” he muttered. “She lives in the opposite direction.”
Lynne shrugged. “She could have decided she was hungry.”
“I suppose.” Kir wasn’t satisfied. He didn’t know much about Rita King,