Had he gone to Shannon’s house that morning and overpowered her? He would have been at a disadvantage on her home turf, however—and there probably would have been signs of a struggle when she realized what he was doing. Perhaps, instead, he’d waited until she was jogging and pulled his car up alongside her, frantically announcing that, let’s say, her mother had been rushed to the hospital. He might have offered to drive her back to the house so she could pick up her own car.
If hehadmurdered Shannon, and the campers as well, it meant he was a psychopathic serial killer, one posing as a Ken doll–like chiropractor with a wife and kid.
I decided that tomorrow I would give the spineless Doug a call. Maybe I’d even try a game of hardball with him, hinting that I’d keep his infidelity under wraps in exchange for a full explanation of his whereabouts the morning Shannon vanished.
I tossed the wet towel back in the bathroom, slipped into a T-shirt, and peeled back the covers. It was a relief to be at the Courtyard, to know that there were other guests on the floor, and a desk clerk downstairs.
After turning off the light, I burrowed under the covers.A brisk autumn wind was blowing tonight, surprising after such a mellow day, and it rattled the window, as if someone was tapping his fingers against the glass. I needed sleep, and I needed it badly. Despite how disturbed I felt over Alice’s death, Beau’s incommunicado state, and the endless questions churning in my head, I was banking on sheer exhaustion to send me quickly into a state of oblivion.
I’d barely closed my eyes when my phone rang on the nightstand. Please, I thought, let this finally be Beau.
I was already saying hello by the time my mind processed the words on the screen. It read, “Caller unknown.” My heart lurched.
“Good evening.” It washim. Using the adapter again so that his words quivered.
“Hello,” I managed, hearing my voice catch in my throat.
“You’ve been busy. Bravo.”
“Have you been reading my posts?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
Silence. I needed to engage him, bait him even.
“Why did you kill Alice Hatfield? Did she figure out who you were?”
“Now, now. Let’s not get into that.”
“You told me about Sunset Bay. I’d love to hear more.”
“I really only called to say good night.”
“But—”
“Enjoy your new digs at the Courtyard.... And don’t forget to say your prayers tonight.”
Chapter 21
THE CALLER DISCONNECTED, ANDIEXHALED A CHOPPYbreath into the darkness.
After struggling to find the switch for the lamp, I leaped out of bed, grabbed a pen, and quickly transcribed the brief exchange. Then I phoned Killian. To my dismay the call went to voice mail, but he rang back two minutes later. I read him my notes, pointing out that I’d changed hotels and the killer was aware of that fact.
“Christ, what’s his game?” Killian asked. “Why’s he toying with you this way?”
“I wish I knew.”
“And he gave nothing more away? No hints this time?”
“No, though I think the prayer comment is significant. Another indication of a religious fixation.”
As far as Killian was concerned, I didn’t know anything about the stigmata marks, only the weird references to Shannon’s Catholicism the killer had made, and though I brieflyconsidered telling him that I’d been clued in, I decided that protecting Alice’s confidence was still important.
“I’ll have the call checked out right away, but I’m sure it was from a burner phone, like the last one,” Killian said. “Would you consider changing hotels again?”
I sighed, conflicted.
“I hate that he knows my whereabouts, but I doubt it would do any good to switch. If he has me under surveillance, he’ll know as soon as I relocate again.”
