lid, and her predator’s eyes stared at the metaphorical deer with disappointment. “There’s pineapple on the pizza.”
This puma was quite picky. “So?”
“Who orders pineapple on their pizza?”
“I do,” Tatum said defensively.
“And here I was starting to like you.” She picked up a slice and bit it, chewing morosely. “And it’s cold. Ice-cold pizza with pineapple. This is what my life has become.”
“I like that whole self-pity thing you’ve got going there.” Tatum grinned at her. “Want to go grab something else?”
She shrugged. “I guess both my daughter and my husband are asleep by now, so I might as well go eat with you.”
“Thank you for making me feel so special.”
His phone rang. It was Zoe. He motioned O’Donnell to wait for a second and answered the call.
“Tatum?” Zoe’s voice sounded strange, fragmented.
“What’s up?”
“I’m in the motel room . . . ?” The sentence stretched, almost as if she wasn’t sure she really was in the room.
“I’m here with O’Donnell. Is it important?”
“Oh.” A long pause. “No, it isn’t important. It can wait. It’s nothing, really.”
“Zoe, is something wrong?”
No answer. Just breathing.
“Zoe?”
“What?” She sounded startled. Then, a second later she said, “No. Nothing’s wrong. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She hung up.
Tatum frowned at the phone.
“So,” O’Donnell said. “Are we going to grab that bite?”
CHAPTER 34
The man in control spent the entire day away from home, feeling like a bad theater actor acting out a script of his own life. It was as if he kept forgetting his next line or what his mood was supposed to be. All of his movements felt mechanical and exaggerated. His entire body was a cumbersome suit that he was desperate to remove. He wanted to give it all up and storm off the stage. But there was no stage and no script. And he knew Daniel would be aghast if he did anything to draw more attention to himself. So he held it together.
But by the time he got home, his jaw was clenched so tightly that his head began to pound. And when he closed the door behind him, he could already sense that Daniel was having a bad day. When you lived with a sick person, you developed a sensitivity to his pain. Maybe it was something in the odors produced by his breath and his sweat. Or maybe he heard Daniel groan faintly through the guest room’s closed door. It didn’t matter. Sickness lingered in the house.
He stumbled to the fridge and yanked the door open. He still had five vials remaining. Perhaps the blood was somehow diluted. He needed to consume more. Grabbing three vials, he went over to the cupboard and removed a large coffee mug. He emptied all the vials one by one into the mug, filling it almost to the top. A bubble materialized on the thick crimson surface and then popped.
He put the mug to his lips and drank greedily, feeling the viscous liquid sliding down his throat, coating his tongue, and gums, and teeth, salty and metallic.
It worked. Sudden tranquility flooded his body. This was what he’d needed all along. How could he forget—
A sudden lurch in his gut, and he scrambled to the bathroom, bile rising at the back of his throat. He made it just in time, grasping the toilet with both hands as he heaved and vomited. He coughed and gagged, his eyes tearing up. Wiping his face, he watched the toilet, the water bubbling with red vomit, the previously white porcelain spattered with pink and brown stains.
The blood of that woman was tainted. That was why it hardly helped, and that was why he couldn’t stomach it.
He moved to the sink and turned on the water, splashing it on his face. He gargled some of it and spat reddish leftovers in the sink, watched them circling and disappearing into the drain.
Putting his coat back on, he stepped outside, still coughing and spitting, trying to get rid of the taste and smell of his own vomit. The street tilted, or maybe he did, as he lurched, one step at a time, following the noise of traffic.
He wasn’t sure what he was looking for; he just wanted to get away. But after walking for a while, hugging himself, trembling, he saw her.
The woman with the baby. It was the same one he’d seen a few days before.
This time, he wouldn’t lose his nerve. He needed something pure.
Everyone kept giving Joanne advice about raising her son. She’d expected it from her mother, who assumed she