Patricia Rosemoor: Skin

Tires squealed nearby, making her jump.

A couple of teenagers out front were laughing.

In the distance, a siren howled.

Then, all grew quiet.

Her stomach was in a knot, but she had to get inside.

Heart hammering, she took one last, furtive look around before popping a glass pane in the door panel. Then she reached inside the opening and unlocked the door. She hesitated a second, listening hard for any sign of life inside.

Silence.

Hardly able to swallow the tension thickening in her throat, she slipped into the rear vestibule. Clicked on her flashlight. Prowled on silent feet. She’d made a quick run home to change into dark workout clothes, a jacket with a hoodie and rubber-soled running shoes. Though certain she was alone in the house, she tried not to make a noise. Just in case.

Half-entering a bedroom, she flashed her beam around. Empty. Down the hall, another bedroom. Equally empty. Across the hall, a bathroom.

Now what?

Seeing an open door and stairs on the other side, she descended into the basement and swung her flashlight in a big arc.

The beam caught the glow of glass eyes, making Lilith start. A stuffed animal head loomed over her, and next to it were others. Below them, a case held weapons — rifles and shotguns and knives. Gabe had said he was a hunter. She’d never seen such a collection, though her stepfather had been a hunter, as well.

As a teenager living in a small southern Illinois town, she’d learned all about guns. She used to fantasize about using one on Marlon, but the only things she’d ever shot had been pop bottles and cans. She would never use one on another human being.

Then she spotted the framed black and white photographs.

“My God! You son-of-a-bitch!”

Lilith flashed her beam to find the light switch on the wall, flipped it on so she could better see the five framed photographs. The first was Gabe’s wife… next, the two murdered women… then Hannah… and finally, the other ripped half of her photo taken from the club.

She was next on his list.

The realization made her go cold inside.

She’d known the killer was dangerous, that he might strike out if she got too close.

This was worse. She had become part of his plan.

She thought of everyone who’d warned her not to do this. Elena. Caresse. Pucinski. Michael. Even Gabe himself. And she hadn’t listened, not to any of them. Now she had a bull’s-eye on her back.

Not that she could stop.

She was thinking that, if only she could find where Gabe was holding Hannah and Carmen, she could leave the rest to the police, when she spotted a mahogany and glass case snugged against the wall. There on the middle shelf was the mate to the heart-half she wore — Hannah’s half.

Absolute proof that he had her sister.

Her gaze moved up to the souvenirs of the two women he’d killed. Disbelieving, she tasted bile for the second time that night.

The papers hadn’t said anything about this. The police must have held back information. She wondered if Gabe’s father would be proud of the way his son had taken to those hunting skills.

Detective Gabriel O’Malley had skinned his victims.

Chunks of long dark hair still attached to their scalps told her exactly what he planned to do to Hannah. And what about Carmen?

Neither was here, so where had he stashed them?

Hand shaking, she pulled out her cell to alert Pucinski. The call went straight to voice mail. Before the greeting was finished so that she could leave a message, she heard a real-life noise.

Above her, a door slammed.

“Gabe,” she whispered, suddenly terrified that he might catch her.

She dropped the call and turned down the ringer volume. Stuck the cell back into her pocket.

Floorboards overhead creaked.

Trying not to panic, she snapped off the light just as she heard the first footsteps on the stairs.

Her legs shook as she slid into the basement’s interior and plastered herself in the shadows surrounding the boiler. Hiding from him gave her time to think. To plot. She could jump him, maybe knock him out, but then she might never be able to find Hannah and Carmen. She hadn’t found anything to indicate where Gabe had stashed them.

When he got to basement level, Gabe switched the light back on.

Certain that he would be able to see her if he looked this way, Lilith hugged the shadows. Her senses went off-kilter — she couldn’t hear beyond her own breath, and her mouth went dry and vision telescoped.

From her vantage point, she could see him through a collection of pipes that split off and ran in different directions to take hot water heat to various parts of the house. Gabe’s back was to her. He was bent over, picking up a case. Careful not to make a sudden movement that might alert him, she strained to see as he set it on a small table next to a leather chair. He started removing items from the weapons cabinet, checking over each item as if he were taking inventory before setting it in the case.

And then he closed the case, picked it up and snapped off the light. His footsteps on the stairs told her when he got to the top. She was already leaving her hiding place. By the time she heard a door open, she was up the stairs and heading for the back. Thankfully, he’d used the front door and hadn’t seen the broken glass.

As much as she wanted to try Pucinski again, she couldn’t take the chance of losing Gabe, who seemed to be off on a hunt. She had no doubt Hannah would be his prey. She would call Pucinski the first chance she got.

Lilith exited the house and slid along the darkened pathway alongside the building and stopped in the shelter of a big bush for cover. She got ready to run. Gabe was just closing the trunk of his black sedan — she recognized it as the car that had followed her the other night. He’d parked several lengths behind Hannah’s Jaguar.

How was she going to get to the Jag without alerting Gabe? Apparently he hadn’t seen Hannah’s car or hadn’t recognized it.

Just then, a truck pulled up behind Gabe and a man exited, saying, “Hey, O’Malley, how’s it hanging?”

“Randy. Not bad. Did you find the source of that leak?”

Apparently a neighbor. He had Gabe’s attention at least for the moment. No time to consider. Like a flash, she raced across the open ground in front of the house and into the shelter of a parkway tree. Heart pumping like mad, she slid into the Jaguar and slipped the keys into the ignition.

Through the rearview mirror, she could see Gabe shaking the neighbor’s hand and punching him in the arm. Just one of the boys.

Then he got in the sedan. The moment she heard him start his car, she started the Jaguar. She waited for him to drive past her, to get to the corner and make a turn, before she turned on her lights, pulled away from the parking space and followed.

Certain he was headed for Hannah and Carmen, she was going to be right behind him.

Oddly enough, Gabe didn’t get onto the expressway but circled around to North Avenue and drove west a few miles, then turned south, heading into a questionable neighborhood of too many overgrown lots and boarded up buildings.

Where was Gabe keeping Hannah and Carmen? The graffiti on buildings told her he was leading her deep into gang territory.

He turned onto a side street. Not wanting to alert him, she pulled over to the curb where she could see him, but he wouldn’t notice her. She waited until he got to the end of the block and crossed the intersection before following. Luckily, when he got halfway down the block, she spotted his headlights turning into a drive that went to the back of a building.

She parked on the street one building down from where he’d turned in. Before following, she tried Pucinski again.