“So he was already released?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m sorry; I’ve got to go file this report so we can put out an APB. Stay at your house and inside with the doors locked until we catch him.”
“Sure…” She let her voice trail off and clicked the button on her phone.
She turned to find Ian already in the kitchen, pouring them both a glass of wine.
“What’s wrong? You’ve got that look,” he said as he handed her one of the wine glasses.
“Danny told me that he was in the hospital parking lot that day I saw him because he was picking up release papers for Michael, but now he’s saying that Michael was already released and theysaw him in the parking lot. That’s why they think he’s the killer.”
Ian rested his palms on the counter, never touching the wine he’d poured himself. “When was the first dream that a killing had occurred?”
“Two weeks before the wedding,” she announced.
“Assuming Michael was released the day of the wedding, or even the day before, he wouldn’t have been free to kill those two weeks prior. Did you ask the shrink when he was released?”
She shook her head.
“Okay.” Ian straightened and rounded the kitchen island. He kissed her forehead in passing. “I’ll go talk to the shrink at the green door and get a definitive answer. You stay put and lock up behind me.”
“She’s not going to tell you,” Becca called out.
Ian glanced over his shoulder and winked. “Yes, she will.”
Chapter Twelve
Becca triedto piece the dates together in her head. Ian had gotten the good doctor to give him the date. She wasn’t sure how he’d convinced her, and she didn’t care. He’d gotten the answer that proved Michael wasn’t the killer of the first three girls. She was back to square one in trying to figure out who the killer might be. She fought her tired eyes as she stared up at the ceiling trying to calm her mind. Ian’s snoring could be heard from the living room all the way to her room. His presence did make her feel safe, not that she’d admit it to him.
She closed her eyes, and the hazy gray of her dreams pulled her in.
Becca satup with a jolt in the pitch-black room. Her heart thumped wildly as she pulled the sweat-soaked fabric from her body. She knew where Michael was hiding, thanks to her latest premonition, and he was scared.
Becca slid off the bed and threw on some clothes, doing her best to keep quiet as she did. Ian would scare the crap out of Michael. What Becca couldn’t figure out was how she was getting these premonitions of the killings and how Michael was connected. She slipped the gun from her bedside drawer and slid it into the waistband of her jeans, beneath her shirt. She tiptoed out of her room, cringing at the squeak of her door, and through the house until she was near the security pad. She grabbed her keys and phone and punched in the security number to disable the alarm before slipping outside into the cool night air.
Michael was smart to hide at the one place no one would ever find him. If she was lucky, it wouldn’t be either of their final resting places. She started the car, keeping the lights off until she was backed out of the driveway and on the street. She flicked them on and headed toward the wishing well in the woods between their mothers’ houses.
It might not have been the smartest idea she’d ever had as she stepped into the overgrown greenery, but she’d be getting her answers one way or another tonight, if he didn’t kill her first.
Becca peered around the big oak tree to the brick wishing well. Michael had his hands on the well, leaning over. It was the exact same pose that she’d seen in her premonition. That was how she knew it was Michael she’d tapped into and where he’d been hiding.
His words broke through the silence. “I knew you’d come.”
Ian woketo pounding on Becca’s door and his phone vibrating from the table to fall on the ground.
“Wake up,” a female screamed from the other side of the door. He recognized the voice instantly. Betty.
Ian swiped his phone off the ground and glanced at the missed calls as he headed for the door. Haze quickly turned into panic when he recognized the voice. “I’m coming.”
“You’ve got to hurry,” she yelled, loud enough to wake up the neighbors.
Ian flicked the lock and threw the door open while glancing at the messages that Ryker had sent him. Fifteen to be exact,about how the alarm was turned off and how Becca had left.
Ian ran his hand over his head. Betty had her gun drawn and was headed toward Becca’s room.
“Get dressed, Highlander. Becca slipped out while you were sleeping, and she’s in trouble. We’ve got to go.”
“Where the hell did she go?”
