Jerri Lynn ran from the room. Lynda stared after her. When the clomp of her boots on the stairs had faded, his wife walked quickly to where Jerald stood.
“Jerald, I don’t know what she’s up to, but something very strange is going on around here.” She glanced toward the hall to ensure their daughter was still out of hearing range. “We should have sent her away to school. There’s ...” Lynda shook her head, fell silent.
He refused to admit that she was all too correct. That would be pointless now. There were more pressing problems. “What’s wrong now, Lynda?”
Her troubled gaze lit with a hint of anger. “You always take her side. She’s done nothing but widen the gap between us.” Lynda clutched his sweater sleeve. “We need time for us, Jerald. Just the two of us. I can’t live like this any longer.” Desperation replaced the fury. “I want things to be the way they used to be when we shared everything. Before any of the things that went wrong.”
He tensed, reclaimed the calm that he rarely allowed to slip. He knew all too well exactly what she meant. But that was in the past. There was no need to go back there. The pressing matter now was their daughter. “What is it you feel is so strange?”
Again Lynda glanced in the direction of the stairs. “Some of my medication is missing.”
His tension escalated. “Your heart medication?” Of course that was what she meant. His wife took no other medication.
She nodded. “And this afternoon I was looking for my other snow boots and I found a knife hidden beneath my Louis Vuitton bag. It was wrapped in one of my scarves.” Lynda leaned closer to him and whispered. “Jerald, it was covered in blood. I don’t know what’s going on ... but I’m very frightened.”
Careful. Don’t react. “What did you do with this knife?”
She swallowed hard, the effort visible along the slender column of her throat. “I hid it in the mudroom.”
“Show me.”
As they moved down the hall toward the kitchen, Lynda paused to ensure Jerri Lynn was nowhere in sight. Music abruptly blared. Her music. She was in her room. Clearly relieved, Lynda took his hand and led the way as if he was unsure of the route. In the mudroom, she lifted the lid to the wood box and reached inside. She handed him the item wrapped in the silk scarf.
He cautiously unwrapped the knife. Scarlet smeared its shiny blade.
Fear tinged his blood.
There was only one thing he could do now.
He wrapped the scarf around the stained knife once more and tucked it into a canvas bag he used for trips to the market. Setting the bag aside, he reached for his coat. “I’ll be back soon.”
Lynda’s eyes searched his, but she did not ask the question he saw burning in hers.
There was nothing to say. He knew what he had to do.
The drive to Bangor took forty-five minutes. Jerald stopped at the gate and entered the necessary code. When the gate slid out of the way, he rolled through the entrance.
River City Storage. The most secure storage facility in all of Bangor. State-of-the-art climate control. Twenty-four-hour monitoring with full-service maintenance.
He parked in his reserved slot and entered the building, which required yet another code. Three layers of security, including biometrics.
Inside, he took the elevator to the sixth floor.
Both sides of the corridor were lined with double-entry doors. Each set of doors marked with a number.
Jerald stopped in front of the double doors marked with the number 6.
He entered the code he’d personally selected, 666, then pressed the pad of his thumb to the scanner. The door released, allowing him access to the unit he leased.
Closing the door, he ensured the internal lock was set; then he turned to face his demons.
The clothes he’d worn, from the shoes to the masks, for each encounter were carefully stored in sealed garment bags. The instruments he had used in each of those encounters were packed in their special case, locked and stored on the shelf above the hanging garment bags.
Across the width of the back of the unit was the vault that was absolutely essential to his needs.
Slowly, one determined step at a time, he crossed to that vault. Stored inside were twenty items, each item carefully preserved and labeled.
He had promised himself that when his daughter was born, he would stop. No matter how much the weakness haunted him. No matter how intensely he missed the incredible pleasure. He would stop. There was no choice.
