Killer Blonde

by Allan Evans

  “Wait, what? Who is it?”

  “The thing is, it’s not a cop. It’s actually the killer. It was the same exact voice as my call from this morning.”

  “That makes sense. What did he tell her?”

  “He said the killer had picked his next victim and was stalking her right now. He went on to say how the killer’s IQ was off the charts and the only way the police would catch him would be through dumb luck.”

  “What an egotistical douchebag.” Rob folded his arms, clearly taking the remarks personally.

  “He said we’re the mice in the killer’s game of cat and mouse—and we needed to respect the killer and not underestimate his cunning. Otherwise, we’ll end up as dead as the Chicago detective.”

  “What an arrogant prick,” Haily said. “I didn’t think I could possibly hate him more.”

  “No way am I letting him get the best of us. I don’t care what it takes,” Cade said through clenched teeth.

  “That’s what I’m worried about.” Rob stared intently at Cade. “Let me ask you a question. Is there a line you won’t cross to stop this guy?” Rob held his eye.

  Cade locked eyes with Rob for a long moment before finally shaking his head.

  Reynolds absolutely shined in front of the camera. Cade stood alongside the officer charged with providing Reynold’s security. When he’d arrived, Cade told the Saint Paul cop he was free to leave, as Cade was there to watch her. “No way am I missing out on this,” were the officer’s exact words. The pair of law enforcement officers sat side by side enjoying the spectacle of television news. Every time a pretty reporter made her way onto the set, the St. Paul officer nudged Cade. “Check her out,” he whispered. Cops were the same no matter where you went.

  It was crazy pandemonium leading up to the moment they went live. Somehow, some way, everything came together at the last possible second as the news team slid into place and Reynolds calmly introduced the evening’s 10 p.m. news.

  Reynolds was clearly the star. In front of the lights and cameras, her smile, laugh, and eyes captivated as her presence radiated. Dressed in a muted violet blouse with a snug black skirt and purple high heels, she looked amazing. And the parts hidden below the set were equally enthralling. Her legs were without question the best he’d ever enjoyed looking at.

  “You have a bit of drool there at the corner of your mouth,” the cop whispered. Cade felt like he was back in high school as he tried not to laugh. A production assistant shot them a nasty look, causing Cade to pretend he was sneezing into the crook of his arm.

  “How’d you like it?” Reynolds asked after the broadcast was over. “Most people would never imagine the chaos happening behind the scenes.”

  “It was amazing to see all the commotion with you so calm in the middle of it all.” Cade paused and smiled. “I have to say, I was completely entranced watching you. No wonder your ratings are so high. You light up the entire studio.”

  Smiling shyly, Reynolds said, “It’s nice to hear you liked it. Your cop friend seemed to be enjoying himself.”

  Shaking his head, Cade grinned. “Men can be such pigs.”

  Reynolds laughed. “Pot. Calling the kettle black.” She playfully poked him in the chest. “You were enjoying it too.”

  “Well, aesthetically speaking, there was a lot to enjoy. The set was decorated quite tastefully.” Cade gave her his best grin. She gave him her elbow.

  She leaned in close enough for Cade to catch her scent. It was fresh with a hint of lavender. “Take me home.”

  “You don’t have to ask me twice,” Cade whispered.

  “I hadn’t planned to,” she said huskily as she nuzzled into his neck.

  The moment he joined Reynolds in his truck and locked eyes with her, Cade wondered if they would make it out of the station’s parking lot. His pulse raced as he held her close. Pushing aside her hair, he ran his lips down her neck, feeling her shiver. Her scent was intoxicating. Reynolds moaned softly as his lips parted, his tongue on her tender neck. She pushed him back as her lips found his.

  “Why don’t you put it in?” she asked in a voice just south of a whisper.

  “Pardon?” His brain foggy, not entirely sure he’d heard her correctly. “What was that?”

  “Why don’t you put it in gear and bring me home? It may not be the best career move to have the station’s top anchor caught making out with the top cop in our parking lot.”

  “Time to leave,” he announced and started the truck, heading the FJ Cruiser out onto University Avenue as fast as he dared. He hoped there wasn’t a cop around.

  The killer looked for signs of police presence as he drove down her street. A car with occupants, maybe a flash of light or reflection from a window, possibly someone walking a dog or out for a late-night run. However, the street was quiet.

  He drove up several blocks and turned into an alley. Behind the last house, a fence with an overgrown hedge blocked the home’s view of Sweetwater’s car. He left it there because he could return to it from several directions and within moments be out of the neighborhood and onto the interstate. It wasn’t actually his car; he’d borrowed it from an old woman he’d come across. No way she’d miss it after 10 p.m. And if everything went according to plan, he’d have it back at her house, and she’d never know.

  Out of the car, a baseball cap pulled down and his collar turned up, Sweetwater moved down the alley. He crossed the street and continued down the pavement. He started his reconnaissance behind her house, looking for movement. Seeing none, he moved to the front which was equally quiet. He knew where she was and didn’t expect her to be home anytime soon.

  Back in the alley, he walked as casually as he dared. He hopped the low chain-link fence separating her small yard from the alley. A dog barked nearby and Sweetwater crouched low as he listened. After several minutes of nothing, he cautiously rose and moved across her back yard. Before approaching her door, he paused again to listen. Caution was hard-wired into Sweetwater, and he mentally counted to one hundred as he waited.

  Sweetwater once read that serial killers were among the most alert and cautious of all human beings. He had to agree. In his case, such caution could be explained by Sweetwater’s foremost concern, his personal security. As long as he wasn’t caught, he would be able to continue enjoying his specialized pursuits.

  Time to continue. He pulled a chisel from his jacket pocket and crept up her back steps.

  Listening at her door for several long moments, he deemed it safe to enter. Pulling on the knob to created space between the door and the latch plate, he pushed the chisel into the gap. Using his shoulder, Sweetwater shoved the door open. He paused once again as he listened intently for signs his forced entry had been detected. All was quiet. With a glance over his shoulder, the killer stepped into her home.

  The drive over had been a tense affair as he sped through the dark streets, need pushing caution out of the equation. Little was said as they drove, and Cade didn’t trust himself beyond an occasional glance in Reynolds’ direction. The smoldering glance he received in return promised more than words ever could.

  Inside Reynold’s home, Cade pushed the door shut and pulled Reynolds close.

  “You are so sexy,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He kissed her passionately, tangling his fingers in her hair. It wasn’t the safe, trim cut many professional women had. It was long, blonde and flowing, barely contained, offering a hint of her untamed inner self. It was the look of a woman supremely confident in her appearance, secure in her sexuality. Reynolds uttered a soft moan as he tenderly kissed her neck, making a monumental effort to slow down, wanting to savor the moment. Her scent was intoxicating, as he opened his mouth and tasted her smooth skin. He couldn’t help himself as his right hand slid down the back of her silky blouse, enjoying the firmness of her body.

  This moment had played through Cade’s imagination from the day he’d first met her. The way she’d used her physical presence to calm him, to draw him in. To seduce
him.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked in a low voice that had him wanting her even more, if that was possible. The ability to form words and a cohesive sentence were beyond him as his blood pounded. He ran his tongue slowly, ever so slowly, along the delicate skin of her neck, blowing a light breath over the moist spot. She shivered and said, “I’m getting a clearer idea of what’s on your mind.”

  They stood inside the entrance, the glow of the overhead light the sole source of illumination in the otherwise dark house. Cade pushed her gently back to the stairs leading to the second level, the shadows merging into darkness as he glanced up the stairwell. “We are alone here, aren’t we?” Reynolds nodded, as she sat back on a step looking expectantly at Cade.

  “We are. Don’t be worried about making a little noise.” She leaned back and placed one of her heels on Cade’s thigh. “This is an older neighborhood and my neighbors all go to bed right after the ten o’clock news. Most right after the weather. We could make a lot of noise if we wanted.” She slid her purple stiletto up a little higher.

  “Are you telling me your neighbors miss out on the clever ad-libs you guys make at the end of the news? A shame.” Reynolds narrowed her eyes and pushed a bit harder. Cade smiled and lifted her foot. He was about to say something and paused, listening. A creak came from upstairs. They both looked up the dark stairwell.

  “Are you sure we’re alone?” he asked, his hand sliding down to his hip.

  “Just Toby,” she replied and called up the stairs, “Toby.”

  Cade heard the creak again and a medium-sized brown and white dog moved into the light. Toby was an older cocker spaniel who appeared to have some difficulty with the stairs. He came down and sat beside Reynolds, nuzzling her. She gently stroked his head, “This is Toby. He’s my rescue shelter dog. We go back a lot of years.”

  Cade reached his hand out, allowing Toby to sniff him. Cade must have passed Toby’s muster, as the cocker pushed his ear against Cade’s hand. “You like to have your ears rubbed, do you?” he asked the dog. Apparently, the answer was yes, as the dog turned his head, pushing against Cade’s hand again.

  Reynolds laughed. “All cockers love to have their ears rubbed. It’s just their nature.” She stood up, excusing herself to let Toby out and feed him his dinner. Clearly, the dog was not a master of timing. Cade took a seat on the stairs and waited.

  After Kim fell out of his life, he’d thrown himself into his work and tried to forget her, looking to move on. His track record with relationships, which was far from inspiring, made him much more tentative while looking for a new one. In fact, Cade wasn’t looking when Reynolds DeVries came into his life. He was taken by surprise as much as she was. And now, here they were, mostly alone in her home. Cade took a deep breath.

  Reynolds came around the corner, leaning against the wall. She folded her arms and appeared to be sizing him up. Her playful smile looked to be a good sign. “Sorry about the interruption. I believe we were talking about making some noise.” The corner of her mouth turned up, her eyes twinkling.

  Cade held out his hands, and when Reynolds reached out, he pulled her into him. He was well aware of how high her skirt rode as she straddled him on the stairs. She put a warm hand on his cheek and he pulled her in, his lips finding hers. Her lips warm and soft as he not-so-gently kissed her, their passion building.

  Reynolds broke the kiss, leaning back, her breathing heavy.

  “Would you like to see the upstairs?” she asked.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Cade answered.

  Candan Spring pushed open the seventy-something year old door and stepped into her quiet house. She dropped her keys into the basket and slipped off her coat. Her feet were sore from the heels, but the pain was worth it. The governor’s fitness gala was a huge success and she’d had the opportunity to meet several potential clients. Two were high profile, one an elected official and the other a newspaper columnist for the Minneapolis paper. Both could benefit from her training regimen. As her business was built on referrals, having such visible clients would attract even more business. The bottom line was Candan knew she could have a profound impact on the quality of their lives, and that was important to her.

  Candan paused. One of the picture frames on her “table of history,” as her friends called it, had fallen over. She picked it up and studied it. The picture showed a much younger Candan in her basketball jersey standing next to her father. Both had the same we-won-the-championship grin. She set it back in place next to the one with her and her mother wearing their Twin Cities Marathon race numbers.

  Growing up, her father was her basketball coach and her mother was a runner, entering a dozen races each year. Candan played school sports and summer leagues, which transitioned into cycling and running her own races after college. Her degree was in sports medicine and she found a position soon after at the Minneapolis Athletic Club. The life of a certified personal trainer was exactly what she needed. Being such an extrovert, it gave her the opportunity to meet a variety of people and make a difference in their lives.

  She slipped out of her heels, rubbed her feet and padded into the kitchen. Candan grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and headed upstairs. Knowing it would be a late night, she’d rearranged the schedule so her first client, Greg Anderson, wouldn’t be until the afternoon. Often, her first appointment of the day was at 5:30 in the morning. It was a rare luxury to be able to sleep in, and she looked forward to it.

  Slipping out of her blouse and skirt, Candan tossed them onto the hamper with plans to hang them up in the morning. She stood in her small upstairs bathroom as she brushed her teeth. Tightening her abs, Candan appreciated the definition she saw. She worked diligently at her fitness and kept to a strict dietary regimen, avoiding most sugars and carbs. It worked, she thought, as she turned and looked at her rear. So firm you could crack an egg on it—if you were into that sort of thing. She smiled at her humor.

  Her eye caught movement in the mirror and she looked up. A man stood behind her.

  Marlin Sweetwater lived for this moment. That delicious moment when his chosen one realized her life was going to change—and not in a good way. Each of them reacted uniquely. Some cried and pleaded, others fought back, while some panicked and screamed, and others quietly accepted their fate. Most were a combination of these behaviors and emotions. Sweetwater loved them all. After all, these women were his.

  Screaming, the woman spun around and went to slam the bathroom door shut. Sweetwater slipped his hand into the door before she could get it shut. The woman slammed into it, desperate in her attempt to get the door closed and locked. However, Sweetwater had muscles for days, and the door didn’t move at all. Her struggles didn’t dampen Sweetwater’s mood, in fact, he welcomed her efforts at survival. This was a rare moment for him these days. Unlike his recent kills on the state highways, he actually had the time to play with her. Just the thought of being able to take his time and enjoy his thoroughness made him excited. Spring would be so…tasty.

  He gave the door a little push, wanting to toy with her. He felt her pushing back, as he enjoyed the moment until a sharp pain sliced across his fingers. Caught by surprise, Sweetwater yanked his hand from the door. The door slammed shut and he heard the lock being set. The bitch must have used a razor on him. He looked at his fingers to see how bad they were sliced, but the heavy blood flow obscured the wounds. He needed to stop the bleeding before he left a blood trail. It could be the end of his fun if crime scene techs got his DNA.

  Sweetwater stepped across the hall into Spring’s bedroom and spotted her laundry hamper. Wrapping a pair of her panties around his fingers, he cursed himself for being so incredibly careless. He would make the woman pay. Squeezing his hand into a fist, Sweetwater was relieved the cuts hadn’t sliced into his muscle or caused nerve damage. He’d finish what he started. Time to get her out of the bathroom.

  Candan Spring fell back against the door and stared at the bloody razor. She knew the cut wou
ld only slow the man down. He was much too large to let a small thing like a bathroom door keep him out for long. Her mind raced, desperate to find an escape. The window on her second-floor bathroom was too small for her to get out, and besides, she didn’t have much time. Her eyes scanned the room for anything to use. Unbelievably, she’d carried in her cell phone and there it was, sitting on the back of the toilet. She lunged for it.

  Sweetwater stepped up to the door. A smear of blood on the frame marked his struggle as well as his presence. He’d have to do a cleanup after he finished with the woman to make sure the crime scene techs wouldn’t find blood traces. He didn’t want his DNA to become a threat to his survival. However, the sound of her voice made clear a real threat was imminent.

  Spring frantically unlocked her phone and pushed the three numbers that could save her life. A voice answered, “911. What is your emergency?”

  “There’s a man in my house. I’m locked in the bathroom and he’s right outside.”

  Sweetwater heard her words and knew his window was fast closing. He backed up and launched himself at her door.

  Reynolds lay across Cade’s chest as he brushed her hair back, wanting to see her eyes. Even sweaty and spent, Reynolds was gorgeous. She studied him for a moment. “What’s it like being a cop?”

  He laughed. “That’s a tough question. Sometimes it’s challenging, sometimes rewarding, sometimes terrifying, sometimes boring, and usually unpredictable. Cops are out on the front lines, bringing gray to a black-and-white world.”

  “Not sure what you mean.”

  “Black and white means following the letter of the law. Gray means following the spirit. By following the letter of the law, I am treating everyone by the same standard without a lot of room for pity or common sense. Sometimes you need to focus on the greater good and ignore the little things—which can be especially difficult for anyone new to law enforcement. It’s a crisis of faith every new cop goes through as they adjust to their new environment.”