“Yeah. So are a few others that may have been involved.”
“Again, it’s not the most specific clue. And sloppy, too, of the perp to leave it. Could be the wife’s, after all.”
“Right, thanks. Well, keep me posted. I’ll let the sheriff know, too.”
“Sounds good. Have a good day.”
John hung up and immediately called Sheriff Forbes to update her that they’d found the body. He told her his suspicions as well.
“Whoever’s been stalking Patrick and Anita hasn’t always been the wiliest criminal, either,” Sheriff Forbes remarked after John had given her the rundown. “Leaving hair at a murder scene isn’t their first strike. I’ll bet there’s a lot more DNA in that car, too. Sounds like someone likely to make mistakes, be emotional, impetuous. Stalkers escalate, especially if they’re provoked.”
“That sounds like a dangerous combination.”
“Yes,” she replied crisply. “Maybe warn your friends if you haven’t already.”
****
Patrick left the hotel gym an hour later, drenched in sweat, his bruised body aching terribly. He downed the rest of the bottle of water in the hallway while waiting for the elevator, while trying to convince himself it did not make the lift come any sooner if he pressed the button repeatedly. It was just so tempting, though.
“Oh, hey, Patrick,” a soft voice purred beside him.
Startled, he lost his laser focus on the elevator buttons. “Kim?” he asked, confused.
Kim stood before him in a thin white cardigan and dark-purple leggings. She had her dyed-blonde hair pulled back from her face in a high ponytail. Similar to Anita’s. How long had she been standing there?
“Hi,” she replied quietly.
Where was the damn elevator? His phone buzzed in his pocket. It might be Anita. Fuck if it was Anita.
He ignored it.
She pointed at the buzzing sound in his pocket. “Important call?”
“Nope.” Yeah, he could do this. Life without Anita. Life with a massive hole in his heart. “Not right now, I guess.”
She turned to face the elevator with him, standing just a hair’s breadth too close. Patrick felt suddenly ashamed that he wasn’t being politer. “I’m sorry, you startled me.” He flashed a quick smile. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“Oh!” She seemed to open up, a smile broadening across her face. She did have pleasant features, he supposed. A bit sharp around the eyes, but overall she could be quite pretty if she hadn’t tried to copy Melanie Templeton to a T. The style just didn’t suit her. “Well, you know, there were posters for thisall over the studio, and I’ve never been to a ballroom dance competition before. It sounded so exciting!”
“Yeah, it’s a lot of fun.” What was Anita doing? Maybe he should try talking to her again. A lot of people said things they might not necessarily mean when they were tired or stressed out. God knew they had been through a lot the last few weeks.
His phone buzzed again.
“Are you competing today?” Kim was asking, staring at him.
She had somehow unbuttoned the top three buttons of her cardigan when he wasn’t paying attention. “Tonight, yes. Actually, that’s where I’m headed. Have to meet Anita for practice.”
A shade fell over her features but just as quickly disappeared. “That’s great. You two dance really well together. I saw the showcase last night.”
He smiled back at her. “Thanks.” He paused, still wondering where the goddamn elevator was. Oh, Kim was still there, too. “So, what about you?”
“I was going to get something to eat and then watch the show, but then I tried to open my suitcase, and the zipper is broken! Can you imagine? So I was going to go find a locksmith or something—”
His phone buzzed again while she was talking, and he tried to remove it from his pocket as incognito as he could. A text from John Flaherty.
—call me ASAP. —
Patrick shoved the phone back in his pocket, as now Kim was gesticulating. He had already been so rude.
