She looked at herself in the mirror. Her white tube top was drenched in blood. Some of it his, most of it hers. And blood was splattered on her face and skin.
In fact, her blood was everywhere. In the living room, dripped on the floor all the way into the bathroom and now all over the sink, floor, and soaked into the washcloth.
There would be no way to clean up this crime scene. The cops were sure to get her DNA this time. But hell, they’ve got her picture, and once they connect Blake, Colin, Adam and Zachary Stone, they’ll know who she is. And until an hour ago she wouldn’t have cared. She wanted to kill four men and she’d done it. The police can pick her up, big deal. Thanks to the Big C she wouldn’t live long enough to stand trial.
But now everything had changed. One more man had to die.
She peeled off the tube top, dropped it to the floor. She grabbed a fresh washcloth, ran it under warm water and started cleaning herself up.
She’d had weeks to prepare for her attack on Blake, Colin, Adam and Stone. She’d researched each one, knew where they lived, worked, ate, drank. She planned their executions down to the tiniest detail.
She wouldn’t have that luxury with her next victim. The cops would be on her tail. The one advantage she had is they would have no idea who she was after.
Alice grabbed a shirt out of Blake’s closet, a tan Tommy Bahama luau shirt that was too big for her, but the shirt tails covered her bloodstained skirt.
Time was the issue now. She had very little of it. Once the cops talked to her parents, they’d find out about her car and apartment and it wouldn’t take too much digging to find out where she lives. So Alice had to move. Fast.
And she’d need more money, enough for a cheap hotel and food for a week or two. She had about twenty two hundred, which would be cutting things close. She needed more.
She searched Blake’s bureau looking for cash or his wallet. Found nothing. It must be on him. So she went back into the living room. She had a horror movie fantasy for an instant that she’d walk into the living room and he’d be gone, and then suddenly appear behind her.
But he lay dead on the floor.
Alice knelt down, patted his pants pockets, felt the wallet in back and fished it out.
Nine hundred and twenty-three dollars. Not bad. She took the money, dropped the wallet onto his chest.
Next she went back into the office. She wanted the video of her rape.
At some point she’d make sure the cops got a copy. She wanted the world to know exactly what happened to her. She wanted the world to know that those scumbags got just what was coming to them.
But not yet. If the cops saw the tape, they’d see the fourth man and figure out what she was up to. But once he was dead, she’d make sure Blake’s masterpiece got a worldwide release.
While Alice watched the video, Blake controlled it with a remote so she didn’t know where the tape itself was. She searched the bookcases found a stack of components: receiver, DVD player, cable box. No VHS player. The recording was made on a video camera so there should have been a tape — unless he burned it to a DVD. She hit open on the DVD player and a disk slid out. It had a white paper label with the title High School Pool Party scrawled on it.
Alice grabbed it, found an empty plastic DVD case and stuck it inside. Then she noticed the video camera in the corner of the room. The one Blake used to record her reactions as she watched the rape.
The red light was still on. It was still recording.
She walked to the camera, looked at the small LCD monitor on the back. The camera was aimed at the middle of the room where the Lady in Red had been sitting, but it also saw through the door into the living room and Blake’s dead body was on the right hand side of the frame.
The camera had recorded their fight, her attacking him in the office, his shooting her in the living room and their final battle.
Alice laughed. It would have been incredible footage for his documentary. Not the ending Blake had in mind, though. Thank God.
She hit the button to stop recording. Found the button to open the camera and reached for the tape — then hesitated.
The tape showed her bound hand and foot, held captive by Blake Hunter. It showed her fighting to free herself, getting shot by Blake before finally overpowering him.
She was clearly the victim here simply defending herself. The police should see that. Realize she wasn’t just a cold-blooded killer. She cued it to the beginning of her tripping Blake in the office and struggling to get out of the handcuffs.
Then she remembered it also showed her shooting Blake in the face after he’d begged for mercy. Maybe she better take it after all. Alice grabbed the tape.
She was moving quickly now. She grabbed her purse and dropped in the DVD and tape. She did a final look around the room to see if she’d forgotten anything. Her eyes alighted on Blake’s still camera.
He’d taken those shots of her in the sunset.
She considered taking the camera then decided the cops already had those crappy surveillance photos of her; might as well let them have a couple of glamour shots.
She stepped over Blake’s body and then stopped. If there was going to be a fifth victim, she needed to finish this crime scene. After all, she had her legacy to think about.
Let’s see, he was victim number four, so… Alice spotted a deck of cards on the kitchen pass through. She picked them up, fished out the four of hearts and dropped it on Blake’s chest.
She definitely wasn’t looking forward to the next part. The thought of touching Blake again repulsed her. Alice crouched down next to Blake, unzipped his fly. He wore boxers. She reached in and pulled out his flaccid penis.
Not much now, are you, hot shot?
She grabbed the tip and pulled, stretching it out so she could lop off as much as she could — because as every woman knows, size does matter.
Slash, slice, cut, cut. And that was that. Then she opened Blake’s mouth, and jammed in the penis.
One final detail left; Alice picked up Blake’s wallet, checked inside and yes, there it was, a Platinum American Express. She took it and dropped the wallet.
Okay, time to go. Alice crossed the room, threw open the front door and let out a startled scream.
Syd stood in the doorway, her Glock pointed at the Lady in Red’s heart. “Hello, Alice,” Syd said. “I’ve been looking for you.”
FORTY-SIX
Syd’s going to totally freak out.
That’s what Ryan was thinking as he showered in Anne’s hotel room. Syd had been worried about Ryan spending so much time with his ex-wife and Ryan had assured Syd and re-assured her she had nothing to worry about.
Yeah, right.
Ryan knew firsthand the emotional devastation of being dumped and wanted to find a way to spare Syd. He cared deeply about her, loved her even, he did. But not in the same way as he loved Anne. Would she understand that if he tried to explain it?
No, of course not. How could she?
And Syd was a fabulous partner. Would there be any way she would want to remain his partner?
No, of course not. How could she?
The big question then became when and how to tell Syd about Anne? Ryan thought of something his father told him. When Joseph Magee got tired of one of his wives, he’d start doing things he knew she hated. He’d drive her crazy so that she’d be the one who wanted to end the relationship. Now that took a lot of time and patience. And it certainly wasn’t a very honest way to solve a problem. But it did put the women in the control position, saved them the humiliation of being dumped and the subsequent heartache. Ryan’s dad was also convinced it saved him a little alimony since the women filed first and felt guilty about it.