Three Times a Lady - By Jon Osborne Page 0,93

smiled. Eleven-thirty a.m. Right on time. Some masterful investigator she was. She didn’t even know enough to vary her daily routine. Another rookie mistake on her part for which she’d soon pay dearly.

Nicholas’s stomach flipped over inside his gut as he ran his gaze admiringly over the woman’s well-toned body. Her vacation had been treating her well, that much seemed clear. Very well. Her milky white skin had glazed into a warm golden brown, and her silky blonde hair looked longer and fairer than it ever had before. Nicholas shivered. Had he still been a man possessing all the requisite equipment, his khaki shorts would have strained against his zipper as she stretched her elegant calf muscles against the stairs and rolled her slender neck on her soft shoulders. And why not? She looked absolutely delicious.

Thirty seconds later, the former FBI agent began her run, waving to a young couple who was pushing a baby stroller in front of them before disappearing around a bend in the street. The most popular kid in class; that was Dana Whitestone all right. The prettiest girl in town. The queen of the fucking prom.

And he had a date with her.

Nicholas turned away from the window and put on his game-face. The end was finally upon them now; the third act finally at hand. And this last act would be an absolute doozy.

Heart slamming in his chest, Nicholas exited his own house precisely three minutes after Dana Whitestone had left hers. Glancing up and down the street to make sure that no one was watching him, he shuffled across the street with his head down. Being a stranger in this neighbourhood was of no real concern – hell, everyone was a stranger here – but there was no point in pushing his luck any more than he absolutely needed to.

Slipping around the back of Dana Whitestone’s vacation house several moments later, he ascended the rickety wooden staircase that was shielded by the high landscaping rising up on both sides of her vacation residence before pulling back the unlocked sliding glass door to the lanai and stepping inside.

He was inside the cunt’s lair!

CHAPTER 36

Inside the former FBI agent’s bedroom thirty seconds later, Nicholas fished out a pair of Dana Whitestone’s lacy, boy-cut panties from the dirty laundry hamper and pressed the crotch to his nose. They were still moist. Inhaling deeply, he swooned, the scent sweeter to him than that of a dozen fragrant roses.

The sweet smell of success.

There was nothing sexual about this action, of course. Not in any technical sense, at least. Still, Nicholas knew that if he could get this close to the vaunted man-hunter in the middle of the day he could get this close to her anytime he damn well pleased. And he would be this close to her again very soon.

Just as close as two human beings could possibly get.

Dana Whitestone’s vacation house felt light and airy, featuring hardwood floors that were covered with a light dusting of sand and very little furniture. An homage to the minimalist movement, perhaps, or maybe just easier for the landlord to maintain the place that way. Either way, it seemed like a nice place to just kick back and relax. A place where you could let all your earthly worries slip off your shoulders and just fade away. A safe place.

Or so Dana Whitestone had probably thought when she’d rented it.

How painfully wrong she’d been.

There were no large windows in the front of the structure, so no one on the street could see Nicholas as he snooped around. Good thing for them, too. Because if someone had found themselves with a wandering eye, he’d have happily plucked it out for them with his trusty knife. The steel had been tempered in blood now, and with each passing murder Nicholas was finding progressively easier to take another person’s life. Hell, it had even begun to seem fun to him now.

And he was just getting warmed up.

Whistling REO Speedwagon’s Keep on Lovin’ You softly beneath his breath, Nicholas opened up Dana Whitestone’s dresser drawers and touched her things, rubbing his fingertips over her personal belonging and soaking in her energy. Ten feet away, her clothes stared out at him from an open closet door – superhero costumes waiting patiently for her to slip them back on and get back to work.

The queen-sized bed in the middle of the room had been neatly made, just as Nicholas had known it would be. Dana Whitestone had

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