“I’m okay,” she said, but the flesh around her eyes was dark with fatigue, and her face was drawn.
Dane didn’t argue. “I’ll call later tonight,” he said, putting his arm around Marlie and urging her toward the door. Once they were in the car, she tried to stay awake, but her eyes drifted shut before they had reached the second traffic light.
As he had the night before, Dane carried her inside, put her on the bed, and efficiently stripped her. “Good night, honey,” he whispered, bending over to kiss her.
She put her arms around his neck and clung. “Hold me tonight.” she said.
“I will. Go to sleep now. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
She was in his arms when she awoke the next morning. Seeing her eyes open, Dane turned her to her back and moved on top of her, pushing her thighs apart and settling himself between them. Gently he penetrated, and rocked them both to climax.
His lovemaking made her feel alive again, pushed the ugliness into the background. They lay together for a long time, each finding comfort in the other’s embrace. Finally she said, “Tell me about her.”
Dane kissed her temple, and held her closer as if his nearness would keep the horror at bay. “Her name was Marilyn Elrod,” he said. “Recently separated from her husband, but he was concerned enough to check on her, and went to the house when he couldn’t get her on the phone. He seems pretty broken up about it now, when it’s too late.”
“Marilyn,” she said, making the connection. “Not Maryland, then. Marilyn.”
“The storm had knocked out the electricity in the neighborhood. She lit candles on her dressing table. Everything else was the way you saw it.”
“She fought him?”
“Looks like it. Her knuckles were bruised. Pity she didn’t manage to scratch his face; that would have given us an identifying mark.” Though it probably would have gotten her fingers cut off like Nadine Vinick’s, but he had never told Marlie that little detail. If she didn’t see it in the vision, he certainly wasn’t going to add to her burden of knowledge.
“Won’t his face be marked? Maybe she cut his lip. Was there any blood other than hers?”
“Not that we’ve been able to identify,” he said carefully. He tried not to think about the savage butchery, the vast amount of blood that soaked the room. Finding a few alien drops of blood wouldn’t have been feasible; it would have taken pure dumb, blind luck, and luck hadn’t been their best friend so far. If it hadn’t been for Marlie, they wouldn’t have a clue even now.
“But there should be a bruise, or a fat lip.”
“That was Friday night. A cut lip heals quickly, and isn’t all that noticeable anyway. A bruise can be minimized with ice, and covered with makeup. This is a smart guy. He’ll know all the tricks.”
“But you’ll catch him anyway.”
“Yes,” Dane said grimly. “I will.”
Carroll Janes stared at the Sunday morning newspaper in infuriated disbelief. The police sketch was eerily accurate, though of course, it showed him completely bald rather than with thick blond curls. He crushed the paper and threw it aside. For the first time, he felt a twinge of alarm, and that made him even angrier. The police weren’t supposed to get this close to him! Oh, they wouldn’t catch him, but they shouldn’t even know this much. Who had seen him? He would have sworn he had been unobserved. Had that stupid bitch had a security camera somewhere? He couldn’t believe it, for if she had, it would have shown him the first two times he had entered the house, unless, of course, she had been so stupid that she never checked the tape. The police would have, even if she hadn’t. No, there hadn’t been a camera. He would have discovered it, had there been.
How had this happened? What had gone wrong?
He took comfort in the fact that, as usual, he hadn’t left any forensic evidence behind. No hair, no skin, no fingerprints, no footprints. The knife belonged to the victim, and had been left at the scene. He had taken no trophies, nothing that could link him to the scene. He was safe.
But someone had seen him. He had slipped up—totally unacceptable—and someone had seen him. To atone for his error, he would have to correct it. He would have to find this person, and eliminate him—or her.
“Will you go with me over to the Elrod house?” Dane asked.
Marlie stared at him, so stunned for a moment that she couldn’t believe what he’d asked. To actually go into the house… Her mind reeled away from the idea. It was bad enough to see it in her mind; to walk into that blood-soaked room was more than she thought she could bear.
Dane’s mouth set in a hard line as he saw her sudden loss of color. He clasped her shoulders so she couldn’t turn away. “I know what I’m asking,” he said harshly. “I know how much it will cost you. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need your help. We’re all stumbling around in the dark here, and you’re the only light we have. It’s a long shot, but maybe, if you were at the actual scene, you’d be able to pick up more about him.”
The last scene she’d been at had been when Dusty had been murdered, when she had lain helplessly and watched as Gleen butchered a terrified, equally helpless little boy. She had lived with the memories ever since; it wasn’t fair of Dane to ask her to add to those memories. He knew what she’d been through, but he hadn’t lived it, so he didn’t know the torment as intimately as she did.
She stared up into those fiercely determined hazel eyes, feeling the force of his will batter at her. She could withstand him, she thought dimly. It was much more difficult to withstand the silent entreaties of Nadine Vinick, of Jackie Sheets, of Marilyn Elrod. She could see all of them, their shades crying out for justice.