taking the boy.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Missoula, Montana
Friday, August 27
2:00 a.m.
Ann used her words every day to teach her students and now needed to find the right ones that did not stoke Maura’s temper or challenge her.
“If you’re going to become me, then you should let me teach you a few things,” Ann said.
Maura dragged the blade along Ann’s jawline with enough pressure to incite fear but not draw blood. “What could you teach me? You aren’t that hard to mimic. You’re like everyone else. It’s easy to be anyone.”
“But I am different to Nate and Elijah. They don’t see me as the rest of the world does. And if you want to win them over and become me, you’ll need to know a few things.”
Maura pulled the blade from Ann’s skin, holding the bloodied tip close. “What kind of things?”
“Nate is very smart,” she said.
“Duh. I know that.”
“He has to be kept busy not only physically, but intellectually. He’s already auditing classes at the university.”
“I know that. Do you think I’ve not been paying attention?” Anger and impatience hummed under the words.
“What are his favorite classes?” Ann asked.
“Does it matter? Learning is learning.”
“He has favorites.”
“Like?”
Ann glanced toward the knife but subdued the instinct to flinch. Control over the situation mattered. She needed to buy time.
“Tell me,” Maura insisted as she again pressed the sharp edge into her skin.
“Pull the blade away,” Ann said carefully.
“Why?” Maura demanded.
“It’s hard to think. And if you want my help, I need to think.”
The pressure eased a fraction. “He loves math. And . . .”
“And what?”
“Geology. Nate likes nothing better than to go rock hunting. His dad used to bring him rocks home after his travels.”
Maura snorted. “Clarke was not his real dad.”
“Nate loved Clarke as his father.”
“But anyone can see that his real father is Elijah. Elijah loves that kid. He would do anything for him.”
Maura’s words emphasized the situation’s stark reality. Even if Maura and Elijah were working together, if Ann died here today and Maura took Nate away with Elijah, it would be up to Elijah to protect the boy. She had never thought she would ever trust Elijah with her child, but she now had to.
“It’s what Nate feels that matters. And Elijah understands this. Like me, he doesn’t want to hurt Nate.”
“This is stupid,” Maura growled as she grabbed a handful of Ann’s hair and pulled her head back. “You talk too much.”
Ann’s muscles were regaining mobility. Soon, she would have full use of her arms, and she could strike. What she needed was a distraction to grab Maura’s attention. The element of surprise could capture critical seconds so she could overtake Maura. “Nate likes Cheerios for breakfast. Just a little milk. He’s fussy when it’s too wet or dry.”
Maura dropped the knife blade another fraction. “What about Elijah? What does he like?”
“He’s just as smart as Nate. And he once told me he had a similar quirk about his morning cereal.”
“Like father like son,” Maura said, smiling. “I can’t believe you thought you could keep this secret.”
The truth of Nate’s paternity had terrified Ann. Now she realized it might save his life. “You’re smart, too. You could not have made it this far if you weren’t intelligent.”
“No one really sees that, but I’m pretty damn brilliant.” Maura raised a brow as if amused. “You know, I’ve killed five people. Not everyone can say that.”
“Five.” A heaviness snarled in Ann’s chest as she thought about the victims. “I know about Sarah, Dana, Nena, and Edith. Who else?”
Maura shrugged. “That first one was back in West Virginia. I really didn’t plan that one.”
“What happened?”
“I felt all this rage. I was ignored, and she was getting all the attention. I got tired of it. So, I lured her away to the woods, and when she wasn’t looking, I jabbed a knife in her back. See, if you can get the knife into the liver in the lower back, the person bleeds out. It’s quick enough.”
“Who was she?”
Maura sighed. “A girl in my town.” She rolled her head from side to side. “But now she’s gone. No more favorite girl in town.”
“What happened between you two?” Ann maintained an even tone, as if she were sitting in her office counseling a student.
“It was a long time ago. We were kids.” Her gaze turned distant.
“She was a friend? A sister?”
“Everyone in town loved her. I was no different. She was perfect.”
“She disappointed you. Hurt you?”
“She broke my heart.” The sadness was dismissed with a slight smile