“May I help you find something?” The clerk was young, blonde, and petite.
“Where’s Crime of Jeopardy?”
“Pardon me?”
He let out his breath. Stupid bitch. “The book. Rowan Smith. It was supposed to be released today.”
“Uh, I’ll ask my manager. I haven’t seen it.” She scurried off.
Couldn’t deviate from the plan. The bodyguard was special, to show Lily how close he was, that he could get to anyone. But now he had to play by the book.
He chuckled at his pun. As soon as his sister was taken care of, he’d be free. What a heady thought! Everyone in his stupid family would be dead where they belonged and he could finally start living without their mightier-than-thou faces haunting him in his dreams.
He could hardly wait to watch Lily Pad die. The last of the line. And because he’d been so successful, he might just take care of dear old Dad as well.
But where’s the fun in killing someone who doesn’t know who the fuck you are?
It had been mind-blowing to him that his father was a catatonic zombie sitting in the loony bin. When he’d first seen him from the back-sitting in an outdoor chair watching the garden-he’d thought, what a scam. His dad had beat the system and just had to pretend he was a basketcase. He’d planned on helping him escape.
Then he saw his eyes. His father wasn’t even there in that skinny body.
His father had always been weak. It figured he couldn’t handle payback. Still, Bobby had hoped that they would work together, that he could share with his father how incredible it felt to take Lily’s mind and bend it. To take her characters and make them real. To see her suffer.
They’d worked together before, hadn’t they? His father had started it, and Bobby had finished it.
But his father would never have finished it, Bobby realized, a hot pit of anger rising to his throat. His father was a fool. Always apologizing. Always getting down on his knees and asking forgiveness.
Fucking asshole.
When he was fourteen, Bobby remembered seeing his father do just that-get on his knees in front of his mother. They’d been in the backyard and the bitch did something stupid. Forgot something. His father belted her across the face good; blood trickled out the side of her mouth.
Her look of fear made Bobby’s heart race. To have that much power, to be looked at with such intense fear, must be awesome. He longed for the day his mother would cower at his feet and realize who really ran the house.
Then his father did the unforgivable. He took her hands, got down on his knees, and said he was sorry.
Sorry!
He’d kissed her hands, begged her forgiveness, tears streaming down his face. He was crying. The rage Bobby felt then was nothing like anything he’d ever experienced. Seeing his father cowering in front of a stupid female, on his knees no less, turned something in his gut from anger to raw rage.
He’d gone into the house, unable to watch the spectacle, as his mother got on her knees and kissed him. I know, honey, I know. I’m sorry, too.
They both deserved to die.
Something rubbed against his feet and he looked down to see the puppy his father had brought home for the family two weeks before. It looked at him with such pathetic brown eyes Bobby wanted to kick it across the room.
Instead, he picked the mutt up and left the house.
No one ever saw that stupid dog again.
Bobby shook his head, looked around. He wasn’t fourteen and at home. He was in the middle of a stupid bookstore, waiting. Where was the blonde?
He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes! He fidgeted.
He crossed over to one of the counters and cut in front of the line. “I was waiting to find out about Crime of Jeopardy. It was supposed to be here today. Do I have to find another store to buy it?”
The skinny boy behind the counter looked at him oddly, and the little blonde girl hurried up to him. Why did everyone have to be so young?
“I’m sorry, sir, but the shipment hasn’t come in. My manager says that it was postponed and won’t be here for at least a week, maybe longer. Can I help you find anything else?”
Postponed? Why? Was it accidental-or on purpose? Did the cops think that if he didn’t have the book he wouldn’t complete his mission?
Fools. He’d show them he was smarter than all of them.
He stormed out of the store without another word. Maybe this was meant to be. Yeah. Leave her own copy of the stupid book on the whore’s body. He’d already targeted the prostitute.
Sadie.
If they thought they could beat him, they were sorely mistaken. As soon as the whore was dead, he’d confront Rowan. Lily.
Almost sad that the game was ending, he went back to his hotel room to finish the preparations.
CHAPTER 19
Boston was unseasonably cold. Instead of a light breeze, blooming trees, and clear skies, everything had a gray pallor; a frosty wetness quickly penetrated layers of clothing, sinking deep into the bones.
Neither John nor Rowan was dressed for Boston. They’d left sunny Los Angeles with the clothes on their back and bought only essentials in the hotel gift shop when they arrived in Dallas. But they both forked over money for overpriced clothes at Logan Airport, including sweaters and windbreakers.
Rowan hadn’t spoken much on the flight or the car ride to Bellevue. John gave her the space she needed. But not too much. He kept an eye on her, staying close so she knew she wasn’t alone. He was her bodyguard, after all. And more.
But he didn’t dwell on that right now.
He didn’t know if he was helping, though every once in a while he caught her looking at him, an odd expression on her face.
He’d never had problems reading people before, but Rowan wasn’t just any person. She’d spent years shielding her emotions to protect herself. He saw that now. There was something in her eyes that called to him. Her eyes showed him her pain, her anger, her fear, her uncertainty. He also saw intelligence, hope, and strength-a vitality that kept her from giving in to despair, turning a ten-year-old trauma victim into an unrelenting FBI agent and an agent into an author. Even though Rowan believed she was weak, hammered with nightmares that caused her to quit the Bureau, he saw a woman who was smart enough to know when she needed a break. Before the job broke her.
She was stronger than him. John was still tilting at windmills, knowing that the biggest windmill-the so-called War on Drugs-was a losing battle. Every time they stopped a shipment, another twice as big came to shore.
But it was what he did. He couldn’t give up, at least while Reginald Pomera still drew breath.
Bellevue Hospital for the Criminally Insane looked serene against the misty gray sky. Roger drove, and Rowan sat next to him. Agent Peterson had taken a flight back to Los Angeles to coordinate the search for Bobby MacIntosh.
Even though John couldn’t see her face, he watched Rowan’s jaw clench and felt tension radiating from her entire body. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her she didn’t have to do this, that he would take her away from the pain.
But she wouldn’t appreciate it. Not now. Maybe later, when it was done, she’d want someone to lean on. He planned on being there for her.
“Rowan,” Roger said as he turned off the ignition, “are you sure?”
She didn’t respond, but shot him a cold look. As she moved to open the passenger door, John quickly jumped out the back and opened it for her. She seemed surprised, then sighed and allowed him to escort her to the main door.
Roger scrambled to follow them. He’d called ahead, and Dr. Christopher met them in the lobby.
“Collins,” the doctor said with a curt nod. Then, “You must be Rowan Smith.”
“I am.”
“I can only allow two visitors with Mr. MacIntosh. I need to be in the room to observe.”
“I’m her bodyguard,” John said as he stared pointedly at Collins.