Blake studied the frozen image of the blonde on his TV and a cold chill ran through him. It looked like that girl he met this morning in the red bikini. Her hair was down in the video and pulled back in a ponytail today, but it sure looked like the same girl who washed up on his beach.
Then with a jolt the implications rocked him. She’d killed Adam and Colin and now she wanted to kill him.
Kill him!
But who the hell was she? He studied her face. He didn’t recognize her, though he remembered thinking there was something familiar about her when they first talked.
Then he thought about her victims; Colin, Adam and an Orange County attorney… and then it hit him. Zachary Stone was the lawyer who handled the payoff to that girl from high school, Annie, Angie, no wait, Alice. Alice Waterman.
He studied the picture again. That woman looked nothing like Alice Waterman. Well, not that he really remembered what that slut looked like. But wasn’t she brunette and chunky? He could quickly check the video he made that night. He kept it, of course; he kept everything he shot.
But if she dyed her hair and lost weight… He studied the surveillance shot one more time, it could be her.
Could be, hell, it must be her, otherwise why would she be killing everyone who was there that night?
And what was with the damsel in distress act this morning? She must have been researching him. Knew where he lived, knew he liked to run in the mornings. She had to have been waiting for him in that kayak, waiting for him to take his run on the beach so he’d be able to rescue her.
But then why didn’t she kill him this morning? And then he remembered standing with her in the kitchen making her some more coffee and getting her an apple. She was standing behind him; he pictured the kitchen, the counter…the spice rack…the jar of utensils…and the knives. She was standing in front of the fucking knives!
He vaguely remembered sensing movement behind him when he bent over to get her that apple, but then Joel and the guys suddenly walked in.
Was she going to kill him then? Had the guys interrupted her, saving his life?
Now Blake was starting to get mad.
That bitch. She tried to kill him this morning, failed, so she was coming back tonight to finish the job. He picked up his phone, started punching in the number on the bottom of the TV screen, then stopped as an idea struck him. A brainstorm, actually.
There may be an incredible opportunity here.
It would be risky; she was a killer, after all. But she didn’t know that he knew who she was. And that should buy him both time and opportunity.
The doorbell rang. She was here. Decision time. The more he thought about his plan, the more he liked it. He hung up the phone.
Alice drove her Prius to Malibu. It was a gift from her parents when she got out of the Institute a month ago. She hated taking gifts from them since they were all bought with the blood money.
She’d driven by Blake’s house twice, looking for any sign of police. She saw none. Relieved she was still a couple of steps ahead of the cops, she pulled into Blake’s driveway.
She’d chosen a red skirt that was just a little too short and a white tank top that was a little too tight. She’d had sex with Adam and given head to Colin but she wanted nothing to do with this sleazebag. She didn’t mind tempting him, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to sleep with him.
She’d come prepared. The scalpel was washed. Her .25 Colt was cleaned and loaded. And she had a grocery bag filled with the makings for dinner. Pasta, sauce, bread, premixed salad from Whole Foods and a low calorie Italian dressing.
She almost made a mistake this morning. She was just going to kill him and be done with it. But it occurred to her that Blake was the one shooting the video on that terrible night. She’d really like to finally see that video. Find out once and for all what really happened to her. So she was going to flirt, and cook and pry and hopefully find out where he kept his old videos. And then finally, with her gun pressed to his forehead, as he was begging for his life, she might even get an apology.
She walked to his door filled with hope. Hope that she’d finally learn what those boys did to her and hope that her bloody revenge would finally come to an end. Fixing a smile firmly in place, Alice rang the bell.
Blake opened the door. “Right on time,” Blake said, motioning her inside.
“My mother taught me to never keep a man waiting,” she said walking in.
Blake eyed the grocery bag. “What’s for dinner?”
“My specialty,” Alice said heading for the kitchen. “Pasta.” She dropped her purse on a chair in the living room and giggled. “To be honest, it’s about the only thing I know how to cook. But it’ll be good, I promise.”
“I love pasta.” Blake said as he watched her unpack the food. He studied her face, tried to see Alice in there. Couldn’t. This woman has the most dazzling green eyes, did Alice have green eyes? He didn’t think so. Contacts?
“So,” he said, joining her in the kitchen. “Before you start cooking,” he said looking deeply into her eyes, “I insist we have a drink on the deck. The sun sets in a few minutes and, with that mountain of cumulous clouds on the horizon, it should be spectacular.”
God, he’s intense, Alice thought as Blake stared into her eyes. And a little bit creepy. But she had a job to do so she raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow, tilted her head and said, “Sounds wonderful.”
Yep, contacts, Blake thought as he finally discerned a bit of the edge. “You go out on the deck and I’ll make us a drink. What’ll you have?”
“Wine, white if you have it.”
“I’ve got a Chardonnay with your name on it.”
“Thank you,” Alice said, sliding open the French doors and stepping outside. It was like stepping into a postcard. The sea was calm and the sun hung like a huge crimson sphere just above the surface. Alice breathed in the air, allowed herself to enjoy the smell of the sea, the sound of the surf, the visual splendor of nature’s charismatic swan song.
There was this one doctor at the Institute who was experimenting with aural psychology and would make her lie on a waterbed listening to sounds of the surf, waves breaking and seagulls singing and watch her brainwaves. He showed her the results and they were amazing. Her alpha wave went from a network of huge hills and valleys to an almost smooth line. She was revved up now and could do with a little modulating, so Alice breathed deeply, closed her eyes and let her ears take over.
Blake watched the blonde from kitchen. As soon as her back was to him, he inched toward her purse. He opened it and looked inside. He moved a wallet aside and saw a handgun. It was small, easy to conceal. Good.
With a quick glance to make sure she still wasn’t looking, he snatched the gun, slipped it into his pocket. Then he put the wallet back in place, closed the purse and walked to the Sub Zero. The blonde’s eyes were closed. She looked peaceful, he thought.
Enjoy it while you can, baby.
He took out a bottle of Cakebread chardonnay and set it on the counter. Then he took the gun and surreptitiously slipped it into the dishtowel drawer, shoving it well back and out of sight. He closed the drawer.
His eyes went back to the blonde on the deck, still in her trance. He had to admit she was beautiful. Hard to believe she’s killed three people. He didn’t want to become number four and thought briefly about calling 911. But, hell, he had her gun, what could she do to him?
He picked up his Nikon D90 and started taking pictures of her. She was in profile, and looked spectacular silhouetted against the setting sun. Her eyes were closed and she had just a hint of a smile on her lips.
Candid shots of the notorious Lady in Red. They would be worth a fortune in worldwide sales. But the stills were just the appetizer in Blake’s plan. He had something much more spectacular in mind. He had the actual video of the Lady in Red having sex with the men she would kill eleven years later!