by J. E. Taylor
All the humor of his previous statement fizzled at his angry stare. She was batting a thousand today with the men in her life. “Jim is happily married.”
“Are you really that naïve?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’ve been in here a while waiting for you. He didn’t see me sitting on the couch and he picked up our picture and traced it with his finger. It was creepy.”
Surprise nestled under her skin like a bad rash and she glanced at her desk and back. “Are you sure it was Jim and not Trent?”
“I know the difference between your boss and that letch, Carolyn. Is Jim the reason you won’t make a commitment to me?”
The question caught Carolyn like a prizefighter’s knockout punch and she sighed, recognizing both jealousy and insecurity in Randy’s questions. It wasn’t his fault, she’d led them to this point, and she needed to rectify her mistake. “No, Randy,” she said and crossed to him, putting her hand to his cheek, the muscles underneath contracted as he ground his teeth. “There’s no one else.” Tilting her head, she tiptoed and kissed him, relishing the hint of peppermint on his lips. “I know you want to blame it on someone, or something else, but it’s my beast to contend with and I’ll get over it eventually.”
“I might not be here when you finally do.” His eyes were as hard as his comeback.
“I hope you are, because you’re the only one I’ve ever remotely considered anything serious with.”
Another concession. His eyes softened and he nodded.
Carolyn turned and grabbed her coat and headed out of City Hall on Randy’s arm. As they crossed the road, Carolyn stopped. “Shit, I left my pocketbook in my office. I’ll be right back.” She left Randy standing on the corner and trotted up the steps.
With her purse on her shoulder, she opened the front doors and stepped into the night floodlights shining on the steps to City Hall. The world tilted, changing to a street view, and she stared at herself through someone else’s eyes. A wave of hostility overtook her and her breath caught in her throat.
Blinking, the view shifted back with a wave of dizziness and she reached for the railing, steadying herself before she tumbled down the stairs. When the spin stopped, she scanned the busy street below. Randy was the only one blatantly staring at her, until a bus rolled by, blocking her view. No one else’s gaze caught her attention and Carolyn bit her lip.
Could that have been Randy?
The thought was ludicrous, yet it was there, screaming inside her as Randy trotted up the steps.
“Are you okay?” He reached out to steady her. “You went deathly pale there for a second.”
Carolyn stared at him and then her gaze traversed the thinning crowd. Someone out there hated her and when she brought her gaze back to Randy, a small noise escaped.
Was it Randy?
“Are you okay?” he asked again, concern flooding into his eyes as he reached down and picked up the pocket book that had fallen out of her grasp, handing it to her as he straightened.
Chapter 19
The shock was like a lightning bolt sent from Zeus. There she stood, alive, and intact, her hand miraculously attached and the tender flesh of her throat unbroken.
I wanted to scream, rush the steps, and hack her to a million pieces so she couldn’t come back, but there were too many people around. I swallowed the scream, a burning ball scalding the path to my stomach.
“Why, in God’s name, won’t you just die?” The words were barely a whisper drowned by the rattling sigh of the bus as it passed, blocking my view.
Chapter 20
“Carolyn?” Randy raised his voice.
Carolyn jerked and clutched the purse he’d handed her. His gray eyes sparkled in the spotlights, taking on a malicious glint as doubt filled her.
“Are you okay?” he asked, this time softer, with more concern. The shadow created by the lights lifted, revealing nothing close to malice in his intense gaze.
“Yeah, I’m okay.” But she wasn’t, she was terrified, second guessing the man standing before her as the catalog of deaths swam in her head. She trotted down the stairs without further prompting. His coat. The thought stopped her short.
She had washed his trench coat. Her gaze darted to Randy. What did he say was all over it? Bloody Mary? She shivered.
It couldn’t be Randy! The tiny voice in her head, the one she followed religiously, spoke up; but this time, she wasn’t so sure her instincts were right.
She felt like a puppet, stiff and unsteady as she walked beside him, letting him lead her down a busy Fulton Street, dodging construction and groups of people heading to catch the subway home to their families. The hot stench of the subway lines filtered up through the grates, creating small bursts of steamy air that billowed her coat behind her.
Taxis honked in frustration as the last minute pedestrians shot into the road trying to make it across before the do not walk signs turned solid. Downtown was still alive and pulsing, and would be for another couple of hours before it rolled up and went to sleep, a sharp contrast to mid-town Manhattan where the action never slowed.
When they settled into their table at the Harbor Lights Restaurant, overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge, Carolyn closed her eyes and took a deep breath, analyzing the facts again. She opened her eyes when Randy’s hand gently settled over her own.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, just had a moment there.”
“What happened?”
Carolyn studied his expression. The worry crease between his soft eyes and the slightly pursed lips, all signs of concern, all signs that the eyes she looked through couldn’t be his. “I saw through the killer’s eyes again.”
Randy pulled his hand away sitting back in the chair. “What did you see this time?”
“Me, on the steps of City Hall.”
The flesh of his exposed arms broke out in a rash of goose bumps. “You?” His voice went hoarse and he glanced around the restaurant, guarded and tense before he met her gaze.
Carolyn nodded.
Randy scanned the room again. “I won’t let anything happen to you.” A fierceness akin to earlier this evening reflected in his eyes when they locked on hers. “No way, no how.”
She inhaled, tried a smile, and took a sip of her water. The words on the menu blended together and she bit her lip, trying to concentrate on her dinner choice. Instead, the visions dangled in front of her field of view, distracting her and completely obliterating her appetite. She folded the menu and closed her eyes, exhaling. If it is Randy…
“Do you want to just go to my place and I’ll whip us up something for dinner?”
Carolyn nodded, opening her eyes. “Yeah. It’s been a long day.”
Randy made excuses to the waitress and escorted her out to catch a cab. They rode in silence to his apartment on the opposite shore of the downtown peninsula. When he closed the apartment door, he flipped the lock and turned toward Carolyn.
“I’m not really hungry.”
“How about something light then?” Randy asked as he took her coat, hanging it up in the closet. “I could make grilled cheese with some soup.”
“That actually sounds good,” Carolyn said and pulled out her phone. “I’m going to call Livi so she doesn’t worry when I don’t come home tonight.”
He nodded and headed into the kitchen.
Carolyn dialed. “Hey, Olivia, I’m staying with Randy tonight but I’ll be home in the morning before nine. If you need me there earlier, let me know.” She disconnected the call and closed her phone.
“You don’t want to sleep in tomorrow?” Randy asked from the kitchen entry.
“I promised Olivia that I’d go with her to the studio tomorrow.”
“Oh.” Randy turned and headed into the small kitchenette.
His exit was immediately followed by the clanging of pans and Carolyn propped herself against the doorjamb watching him prepare dinner. The muscles in his neck and shoulders knotted under his shirt
, revealing the extent of his tension and he banged the fry pan onto the stove.
“Did you have something planned for us tomorrow?”
Randy glanced over his shoulder and took a deep breath. “No, nothing specific. I just thought…” He let the sentence go unfinished, but the disappointment radiated from him as loudly as the ringing of the pans earlier. He dumped a can of clam chowder into the pot, turning the stove on. “I’ll be right back.” He slipped past her and disappeared. A few minutes later, he stepped back in the living room wearing an old pair of jeans, the cuffs frayed and the fabric faded and soft. The light blue V-neck sweater brought out the natural blue flecks in his grey eyes.
Carolyn scanned him as he walked by. The jeans and sweater accentuated his muscular six-foot frame. His dark, slightly askew hair made her smile. He must have messed it up when he pulled the sweater over his head and hadn’t bothered to put it back in order. She audibly sighed. Randy looked hotter than hell in the tattered jeans and her appetite kicked into high gear. Food was the farthest thing from her mind. Randy shot her his boyish grin.
“You’ve got that look.” He turned toward her, flipping the grilled cheese over in the pan.
“What look is that?” She allowed a slow grin to form.
Randy laughed and turned off the burners, sliding the sandwiches onto a plate. “The kind of look that makes me want to carry you into the bedroom and forget about dinner.”
“Hmmm. Maybe you’re the one that can read minds,” Carolyn said, taking a seat at the dinner table.
Randy hesitated with the soup pan in his hand, the ladle poised above the hot steam. He glanced between the pan and her, debating for a fraction of a second. His growling stomach made the choice for him. They had all night and he was hungry. He dipped the ladle, filling both bowls with the hot soup and took a seat opposite her.
Carolyn chuckled, taking one of the sandwiches and tearing off a piece. She dipped it in the soup and took a bite as he dug in. Her smile faded as she studied him. Could he really be capable of the type of violence I suspect him of?
He caught her stare. “What’s on your mind?”
“You.”
The edge of his lips curved into a smile. “Why so serious?”
“Just thinking.”
Before he could speak, his cell phone rang, interrupting their dinner. Randy looked at the number and closed his eyes. “I gotta take this,” he said and stepped out of the kitchen.
Thunder rumbled in the distance drowning out the conversation but she did hear the last thing he said before she heard the phone snap closed.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a little bit.” His muttering curses filtered from the living room and he stuck his head into the kitchen. “I have to go out for a little while.” Randy disappeared again.
When he came back in the kitchen, he had a pair of socks and his sneakers in his hands. He sat at the table, slipping them on and shook his head in disgust. “I’m sorry, Carolyn. I have to take care of something. I should be back in an hour or so.”
Carolyn nodded, watching as he pulled a football slicker out of the closet and pulled it over his head. He didn’t meet her gaze and after the door closed, the flip of the lock echoed in the empty apartment. She looked down at her bowl of soup and slowly finished her meal with his half empty bowl as her only company.
His complete lack of an explanation irked her. She glanced at her surroundings, the dark themes of his apartment screamed bachelor, but the adornments in the kitchen, including a rack of hanging pans shattered the bachelor pad illusion. She looked at the door again and sighed, resolved to a night alone in his abode.
Clearing the dishes, she set them in the sink and reached for the pan. The room shifted, disappearing, replaced by the dark, wet city street.
* * * *
I approached her in the empty alley, the claw dangling by my side, and got within a few paces when she glanced over her shoulder.
Her dark hair swung in wet strings, dripping with rain, obstructing her view for a moment. When the strands fell away, her eyes widened. Shock transitioned into something I hadn’t encountered yet—anger—and it took me by surprise.
She swung around and her pocketbook hit me on the side of the face, making me stumble a step, but it wasn’t enough to save her sorry ass.
My blade shot through the air, slicing through her vocal chords, shutting the beginning of a scream off before it could begin. I swung the edge back, leaving only the bones in her spine holding her head on her shoulders, relishing the spray of blood covering everything in sight, including me.
“Hey!” A voice interrupted.
I froze with the blade ready for another strike and my heart thundered in my chest. In the span of a heartbeat, I spun and took flight down the same path I came, away from the voice and the footfalls. The footsteps faded long before the sirens began.
* * * *
The ringing of the pan hitting the hard tile brought Carolyn back. Her hand flew to her mouth and she took a shaky step forward. She spun, vomiting her dinner in the sink; the stench of curdled clam chowder made her heave again. She turned on the disposal and splashed water on her face, rinsing the vile taste from her mouth. Shivers took hold, starting at the nape of her neck and encompassing every cell until her entire body shook with fear.
Chapter 21
Carolyn knelt on the floor with the paper towels, swiping up the spilled soup. Her breath rasped out of her mouth as she struggled to control her stomach. When she finished she dug her phone out of her pocket, flipped it open, and collapsed onto the couch.
“Randy, where are you?” she asked after his breathless greeting.
“I’ll be home in a little while.”
Carolyn stared at the phone as the dial tone bled through the line. Her lip trembled and tears blurred her vision. Doubt crowded her mind and it blew sky high when he walked in twenty minutes later, soaking wet and carrying shoes that looked like they’d been doused in blood.
Randy muttered under his breath and crossed to the slider, hanging the coat over the railing. He dropped his sneakers on the wet concrete and when he turned, Carolyn gasped. The black eye and split lip stood out against his wet skin.
Without a word, he stormed into his bedroom, stripping his clothing as he went and turned on the shower.
Carolyn followed, staring at his stained jeans, her stomach knotting to a tight ball. “Where did you go?” she asked, pulling the shower curtain back.
* * * *
Randy turned his head in her direction, the hot shower had done nothing to quell his aggravation, and he carefully examined his response. How do I explain a black eye and the blood on my clothing to the assistant D.A? It was almost laughable, but the earlier events had dampened his mood. The truth would land him in a shitload of trouble, but he couldn’t brush it off either. “I went to meet a client and got mugged on the way back.”
Carolyn’s eyes grew hard as she took a step back. “I had another vision.” She took another step toward the bathroom door.
Randy’s eyebrows drew together at the question in her eyes. A vision, shit. She thinks I’m responsible? The sudden realization of her thought process burned through him like a ravaged wild fire. “You think I…”
Carolyn bolted out of the room.
“Fuck!” Randy cursed and grabbed a towel, sliding on the tile floor as he made a bid to catch her. Her hands shook as she tried to navigate the dead bolt on the front door and he grabbed her arm before she figured out how to unlatch it. He had to stop her, to convince her it wasn’t him, and he spun her toward him. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“But you weren’t mugged, either!”
Randy’s shoulders slumped and his gaze traveled to the balcony and the bloody shoes. “No, I wasn’t mugged. But I’m not the Scarlet Psychopath, either.” He brought his gaze back to hers.
“You were covered with blood when you came in, what the hell am I supposed to think?” She yanked her arm from his grasp. “And your face, that’s
where she hit him with her purse.” Carolyn’s voice trembled as she pressed her back to the door.
The fear in her eyes churned his desperation into raging fury. She believed he was capable of murder, of killing innocent women—women who looked like her. “Go ahead, test the blood.” Randy pointed at the balcony, his anger bleeding from between his clenched teeth. “It’s beef and pork blood, from my family’s meat packing plant.” He turned and stormed back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
He drew on a pair of jeans and returned to the living room “How the hell can you think I’m capable of that!” Anger radiated in waves.
Tears brimmed and slid down her cheeks. “Your trench coat, now this…”
“Jesus, Carolyn.” Randy ran his hand through his wet hair, her accusation stewing, stirring his anger into a tizzy.
“I couldn’t reach you the other night after the nightmare and tonight you weren’t here. Do you have an alibi for the other murders?”
Randy couldn’t believe her audacity, her ability to believe he was capable of such things. “If it happened at night, I was here. During the day I’m working.”
“Can anyone vouch for you?”
Randy’s jaw tightened, his teeth aching from the pressure. “I don’t know.”
Her head dropped to her chest and her lips pressed together. “I have to go.”
Of course she’s going to run. That’s what she does when things get tough. “I’ll take you home.” He turned before she could argue, coming back moments later fully dressed. He grabbed his trench coat and ripped open the front door.
“Randy.” The glare he sent her stopped her in her tracks.
“You think I’m a murderer. What else can I say?” he snapped. “This…” He pointed between the two of them. “Is over.” He stabbed the down button and waited for the elevator.
* * * *
His words hit her with the same impact a physical blow would have and her breath hitched.
Carolyn slumped against the wall. Randy had never spoken about his family and she assumed he no longer had any around. She never put two and two together. Kincaid Packing was a large privately held company that owned several meat-packing plants in Manhattan.
