looked surprised, and mad. He also looked strong, too strong for her to take him down. He was wearing the same clothes he’d worn when she’d first seen him earlier—a black T-shirt that showed off his pecs, tight worn jeans, scuffed boots. His hair was the color of a wheat field, his eyes, oddly, a dark brown beneath thick brows.
He looked from the jagged-edged pipe in her hands to her face. To her shock and fury, he grinned at her. “Now, isn’t this a surprise? If I’d been a minute later, you would have managed to walk right out of the front door. And here I thought I had you all tied up, ready to send out in a big FedEx box. Where’d you get that pipe? And how did you get free of the duct tape?”
His surprise had morphed into a sneer, into dismissal of her as any kind of threat to him. She waved the pipe in front of her to keep him back, matched his smirk, laced her voice with derision. “You didn’t do a very good job of it, did you? I’ll even teach you about duct tape later, if you’re not too stupid to understand.”
Anger pulsed hot in his eyes, then died, and he shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? So you managed to get free, but you still weren’t fast enough. Or maybe you were planning to wait for me behind the front door? Catch me with that pipe when I came through? Doesn’t matter, but I really do want to know how you got free of the duct tape.”
Keep him off-balance, keep talking until you figure something out. She gave him back a shrug. “Call me Houdini. You want to try to take me again? Come on, give it your best shot. This time you can’t get me from behind, this time you have to face me.” She waved the pipe at him. “Did you hit Heather, Amy, and Latisha on the back of the head like you did me, you puking coward? Did you tie them up in your basement with your almighty duct tape? Did you rape them, torture them before you killed them? You know what you are? A pathetic monster who needs to be put down.”
She saw disbelieving panic score his face, felt waves of shock pouring off him. “Shut up or I’ll wring your skinny neck. I’m not a monster! I’m not a coward.”
She managed a full-bodied sneer. “I said ‘puking coward.’ ”
He was breathing hard now, shaking his head back and forth. “How do you know about Heather, Latisha, and Amy?”
“I’m psychic.”
WHERE ARE YOU? TALK TO ME!
A man’s voice blasted in her head. Carson froze. She couldn’t believe it, was it happening again? Was it possible someone had heard her thoughts as she’d heard this man’s? No, impossible, she was losing it. No one could have heard her yelling at herself in her head. Still, she focused inward and screamed again in her mind.
I’M IN A HOUSE. I HAVE TO BE CLOSE! HELP! HE’S HERE!
He stared at her, mouth open, and she saw stark fear in his eyes. Had she looked different somehow? Had it frightened him?
His hands balled into fists. He shouted at her, “What you’re doing—stop it! You’re not psychic, you stupid woman. Only my— Never mind. No, it’s all make-believe, like zombies and vampires. What you are is a liar—you’ve got to be.” He stared at the waving, jagged pipe she was tossing back and forth, and looked suddenly uncertain. He said slowly, “Your face when you saw me—it was like you were looking into me. How do you know the girls’ names? You heard someone say something, didn’t you? Some gossip about them? But when you looked at me—how did you know?” His voice had climbed an octave. She felt roiling waves of fear and confusion pouring off him, and rage. There was no doubt in her mind, he wanted her gone, he wanted her never to have seen his face. He wanted her dead.
HE’S LOSING IT—HELP ME!
She waited, praying, but she heard nothing. Had she really heard a man’s voice? Or had she dreamed it up because she was so scared? She had to face it, there was no one to help her. It was up to her and her pipe. She couldn’t get past him to the front door. He’d be on her in an instant.
He whirled around to the front door, then jerked back. “Why are you looking like that?