Closer Than You Think Read Online Free Page B

her the meaning of respect. ‘When you’re done with my dinner, I want everything washed down with bleach. Every wall, every inch of the floor. If I see one dry surface . . .’
    He’d beat the tar out of her. He was in the mood to do some major violence. God help the child if she got in his way. It was handy that he had Arianna Escobar. She would take the full brunt of his frustration tonight. Arianna thought she was so tough. She thought she’d had the worst of him. She hadn’t seen anything yet.
    He hadn’t been able to find Faith. He’d looked everywhere that she’d ever gone while visiting the old bag who’d left this place to her, but he hadn’t seen her red Jeep in any of the places he’d looked. I should have followed her. I should have shot her tires out and stopped her from leaving. He was a damn good shot. If only he’d had his rifle loaded.
    But he hadn’t. And had he stopped her, she might have called 911 before he could get to her. That was all he needed.
    As long as she was alive, that she’d enter the house was a given. She’d explore it and then she’d sell it. He’d have realtors underfoot all day long, poking around. Touching my things . He had to find her before she got the opportunity to enter. He wanted her dead, but on his own terms, because once she was gone, he’d buy the house himself.
    He’d already set the plan in motion, goddammit, so she needed to be gone soon .
    He went to his office, closed the door, pulled the desk away from the wall, and pried off the cover to his hidey-hole. He had dozens of these hiding places. Some he’d built, but most had come with the house. These old Victorian houses had nooks and crannies galore and he had made good use of them.
    He pulled a lockbox from the wall and set it carefully on his desk. It had grown heavy over the years. It held his most treasured collection. This would be the one thing he’d take if he had to make a quick escape.
    It was the one thing that could bury him were it found. He unlocked the box and lifted the lid. It was filled with memories – cell phones and wallets and driver’s licenses. Hair bows and earrings, necklaces and rings. Photographs, car keys, and cans of pepper spray never used by their owners because he’d been far too quick. He even had a deputy sheriff’s badge.
    Deputy Susan Simpson had been her name. She’d been a feisty one. Tall and buxom and much stronger than she’d looked. But she’d bent to his will eventually, just like the rest. She’d been a real treat, had lasted weeks before she’d finally given up and died. He’d been able to work out an amazing amount of rage and stress on that one.
    He was under a far greater strain now than he’d been when he took Deputy Simpson. It had been worse when he’d targeted Corinne Longstreet on Friday night. He’d been watching her for weeks, waiting for just the right time. Friday had been that time. All because of Faith.
    On Friday night, he’d been completely wound up. He’d driven straight to King’s College. He’d been tired and hadn’t been thinking properly and had nearly made a mistake that might have cost him everything.
    He’d waited for the two women to separate at the fork in the path. Arianna had gone off to her dorm, leaving Corinne alone and vulnerable. Nabbing her had been a piece of cake. But he hadn’t been expecting Arianna to return, to leap to Corinne’s defense. That he’d managed to take Arianna before she’d had a chance to call 911 had been a bit of cosmic good fortune.
    He didn’t want to have to kill either of them now. He wasn’t done with them, not by a long shot. He wanted to stay put. Wanted to have his fun. To work out his frustration. He needed to vent somehow. He was on edge.
    All because of Faith Frye. Why hadn’t she died like a normal person any of the times he’d tried to kill her? He could feel the agitation growing inside him, spreading into his brain. If he let it go too far, he’d do