Paula Graves - Forbidden Temptation

She really did see death veils.

His head ached. He’d been awake for twenty-four hours, much of that time spent wound like a spring. The last thing he needed to do right now was to try to make sense of the senseless.

He parked behind Rose’s house. When they reached the house, he took the keys from her trembling hands and unlocked the door. “Get some sleep. It’s going to be a long day.”

She lifted shadowed eyes to his. “For you, too.”

“I have a few calls I need to make, but I’ll catch a quick nap on your sofa when I’m through, if that’s okay.”

As Rose headed upstairs, Daniel called his research assistant, Steve, whose groggy voice reminded Daniel that it was only 7:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning. “Sorry to wake you, Steve, but I have a new murder to add to the running tally.”

That woke Steve up a bit. “Number four?”

Daniel outlined the facts in the Melissa Bannerman murder. “I’ve never been this close.”

“You’ve never made it to a place while Orion’s still active there,” Steve pointed out.

“He got sloppy this time, killing them all in one area.”

“Except the last one.”

There was that, Daniel had to admit. While the killer had dumped Melissa in the same general area as the others, he’d picked her up well across town. “We’ve figured all along that these weren’t murders of opportunity.”

“He stalks them,” Steve agreed.

Still, he had gone outside his comfort zone last night when he’d targeted Melissa. Maybe he’d made a mistake. All the more reason to join the investigation in an official capacity.

He rang off with Steve and dialed the number for the Birmingham Police Department Homicide Bureau. The captain was out of her office, no doubt still front and center at the crime scene, but he left her a voice mail to get the ball rolling.

Finished with his calls, Daniel headed upstairs to check on Rose. The next few days were going to be hell for her, dealing with the aftermath of Melissa’s murder, and he didn’t know how much time he could spend with her if he managed to convince the police to bring him into the investigation on a more official basis. He’d probably be putting in long hours studying the case files and catching himself up on all the details.

Rose’s bedroom door was open just enough for him to see her slim figure stretched out atop the covers of her bed. Through the window beyond, dawn painted the Birmingham skyline in shades of saffron and coral.

He’d kissed Rose in front of that window, he thought, the memory vivid enough to send his heart racing. He felt the pull of her, even now, a tidal pulse of need.

He crossed quietly to her bedside. She’d taken a shower and changed into a long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. Her hair was damp, and the air around her smelled like a fresh sea breeze, tangy-sweet. He breathed deeply, memorizing the scent.

He eased a nearby armchair next to the bed and sat, studying her sleep-softened features. The morning light bathed her face with warmth, burnishing the smooth apples of her cheeks. His fingers ached to touch her, but he resisted, reminding himself that she was still a puzzle that needed solving, a key piece of the mystery he’d spent the last years of his life trying to unravel.

Letting her mean anything more to him than that was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make.

HE FOLDED THE NOTE carefully, the latex gloves a minor nuisance. Part of him longed to touch the paper, to know his flesh had touched something Rose would touch, but he wasn’t insane. She’d take the note to the police for testing. So he took care; used bottled water to seal the envelope. He ran a hand vac over both note and envelope before sealing the first inside the second. The envelope immediately went into a resealable plastic bag for the trip.

He felt flush, still sated by what he had done. He wasn’t delusional like some who did what he did; he didn’t imagine himself ridding the earth of harlots or releasing tortured souls from hell on earth into eternal paradise. He killed because he liked to watch the aftermath. Like a stone hitting the surface of a placid lake, what he did sent out circles of reaction, and he liked to see just how far those circles could travel. It started small-the victim, her loved ones, her friends. With a single act, he’d changed the course of their lives forever.

But the effects of his handiwork didn’t stop with those closest to her. They spread across the full spectrum of his victim’s life, touching acquaintances, her neighborhood, even her city. Killing wasn’t a solitary crime with a single victim. When he killed, his actions affected thousands of people in ways big and small.

It wasn’t about sex. It wasn’t about hate.

It was about power.

He had always been an arbitrary, greedy god over his chosen domain, striking when and where he pleased for reasons that made sense to no one but him.

But now he had Rose.

She would tell him who came next.

Unrelenting darkness swallowed Rose, as cold as death. Goose bumps scattered along her arms and legs, the skin at the back of her neck prickling with unease.

She wasn’t alone in the darkness. She could hear him breathing, a slow, soft whisper of sound close by.

She turned in a slow circle, her eyes darting back and forth but finding nothing but blackness. But she still heard him breathing, so close that she imagined she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin.

Terror trapped her own breath deep in her burning chest. Her head began to swim, specks of color sparkling in the blackness. She forced herself to breathe, trembling as sweet air rushed into her lungs.

A chuffing sound filled her ears. He was laughing at her.

“Who are you?” she rasped.

He didn’t answer, but she felt his breath hot on her neck.

She whirled, flailing out and hitting only air. Her arm swung around and hit her side with a thud, making her gasp.

Twin circles of blinding light pierced the darkness. Rose squinted, her pupils contracting as the lights grew. A rumbling sound filled her ears, growing louder as the featureless darkness faded into recognizable shapes. She stood on the side of a dark highway, surrounded by trees and brush. The lights were car headlights moving toward her on the deserted road.

A narrow strip of grassy shoulder separated the highway from twin stands of young pines rising on either side of the road. Down the highway about a mile, the trees thinned out to make room for houses set well back from the road. Light from inside the homes dotted the darkness with specks of warm gold.

But they were too far away to hear her if she screamed.

The headlights filled her vision, driving out the darkness. She squinted, her eyes aching.

Suddenly the lights flickered out. The car came to a stop beside her, the engine noise idling down to a low growl.

She wanted to run, but her legs wouldn’t move.

The driver’s door opened. A dome light blinked on, backlighting the figure emerging from the car. She peered at him, trying to make out features, but he was only a silhouette.

“Who are you?” she asked again.

He didn’t answer, moving with deliberate strides. One hand lifted, gripped around the shaft of a large hunting knife, its shiny steel blade reflecting the dome light’s pale white glow.

Rose screamed.

The darkness exploded with light. Rose’s legs came to life, thrashing to free themselves of the strange paralysis that had gripped her in the darkness.

It took a moment to realize she was in her own bed, her legs tangled in a chenille throw. She fell back against her pillows, her pulse hammering in her throat. The events of the night before flooded her mind in a sickening rush.