29

Selena

Do you remember me? I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.

The words lingered in my mind, the second note I’d found on the windshield of my car haunting, pulling me into an entirely different kind of darkness. Was it possible my past was coming back to haunt me?

The terror was real and ripe, pushing me to the very edge of rationality. And I hated it.

I’d stood staring at the blood-red script, taking me back to the single time in my life when I’d failed completely. I’d failed myself. My profession. And the victims of heinous crimes. The loss had humbled me, shaken me, and provided proof that I could never be cocky. What was I doing lately? I’d laughed even as a few tears had slipped past my lashes, refusing to believe the monster had returned after these years. But the MO was very similar, the same calling card that I’d heard about from the various cops who’d investigated the scene.

The pictures reminded me of the ones depicting the murders of the Voltairs, but there was enough of a difference I hadn’t made the connection. Had the asshole stalking me found out about the single case that had almost driven me out of my profession? A more important and damning question that had entered my mind more than once was asking my inner self if there was any chance Joshua was capable of something so… mind controlling, using the uncontrollable fear and self-loathing against me.

I glanced into the rearview mirror for the tenth time, making certain no one had followed me. Every set of headlights, every person I’d passed and who had glanced at my vehicle had seemed suspicious. I’d needed to send the note to the crime lab to check for fingerprints, but I already knew what the outcome would be.

The reason six women had been slaughtered before the bastard had been caught was that he’d left no DNA, no evidence of any kind.

Until the very last murder. The bastard had gotten careless, a single bloody fingerprint the reason for his arrest. But he’d not only had an alibi from a beautiful and highly respected model complete with pictures, there’d also been a reason the man had been at the last victim’s house.

Business.

It was all too familiar, all too horrifying.

I was sick to my stomach wondEricag whether I was being manipulated or being stalked. I could barely think the name let alone say it out loud, yet when Damien, aka the Butcher, had left the courtroom that day a free man, he hadn’t done sowithout sauntEricag over to me with a smile on his face. And I would never forget the words. They hadn’t necessarily been a threat, but they were ones that had lingered in my nightmares for weeks.

“You did your best, Ms. Barrios. I respect that, especially in a woman. I’m leaving your fair city, my hopes and dreams taking me elsewhere. But one day I will return. One day.”

It had taken me months not to look over my shoulder every single day. Now here I was doing it again. As far as I could recall I’d never told anyone what he’d said. Not a single soul.

For Christine to remind me of the darkest time in my life was simply cruel. However, I couldn’t allow it to derail me one bit. I had work to do, including figuring out why Joshua was being framed and especially why it had become so important to my boss to have the man behind bars. Sure, I knew that there’d been a sweeping desire to eradicate organized crime, but was it possible there was an organized group of people determined to do it in any way possible?

God. I was stretching everything, my imagination getting the better of me. Or maybe I was simply terrified. What I had learned about Christine’s father’s death had troubled me as much as much as what she’d said to me. The man had simply died in his sleep. He’d been healthy, no symptoms but an autopsy hadn’t been done, which seemed odd to me.

My nerves were frayed, the goddamn storm that had lasted all day long making it worse. Damien had struck during nights of bad weather. Thunderstorms. An ice storm. He’d made certain it would be difficult to provide aid if his victims survived. A nervous laugh bubbled to the surface. I wasn’t prone to allowing my imagination to get the best of me, but here I was.

I pulled into my driveway and groaned. The storm seemed more intense than it had that morning, wind whipping through the trees. The lightning had gotten worse since I’d started driving home, rumbles of thunder so loud that I could hear it over my stereo. At this point, I couldn’t wait to be home, safely locked behind closed doors. I’d stopped to purchase a few groceries, including a fresh bottle of wine when the skies had broken loose again, soaking me since on top of everything from the horrific day, I’d forgotten my umbrella.

After turning off the engine, I sat in my car, praying that it would die down. Now I hated myself for not purchasing a house with at least a single-car garage. Maybe because I hadn’t been able to afford it. It was already dark outside, more so given the ugly storm. When a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, I jumped.

I’d never been prone to paranoia even after the various threats I’d received over the last couple of years, but I’d seen the way everyone inside was staring at me through the glass walls of my office. It was as if they’d been poisoned. Even my assistant had been jittery, barely asking me any questions. Or maybe I was just a paranoid psychopath.

I sat back in my seat, staring aimlessly into the rearview mirror when I noticed a car driving past my house at a very slow rate of speed. They were positively crawling. I slunk down further, using the side mirror. It took them a full ten seconds to pass. The creepy crawlies appeared again and I wasn’t certain what to do.

I’d been advised by my father to buy a gun for protection. He was originally from New York, what he called the murder capital of the world. Even our time spent in Hawaii hadn’t broken the thought, his military background boosting his words and need for protection. He was used to violence and danger for people of all ages. I’d refused to purchase one, although theancient machete-style knife my grandfather had used in cutting sugarcane was safely tucked away.

I couldn’t sit here any longer and it didn’t seem the rain was letting up any time soon. At least I could slide into my warm jammies and continue working. Only I had no intention of working on the case. Now I was after something else: trying to determine what Christine’s intentions were in threatening me. If I had to guess, I’d say the lieutenant governor, Karen Jennings, was poised to announce her run for the governor’s position while Christine would saunter in as the lieutenant governor.

On her way to president one day.

I wondered if Karen had any idea that eventually Christine had plans on leap-frogging ahead of her in the great game of politics. Why hadn’t I seen my boss’s unabashed hunger for power? Amazons. The thought continuously rolled through my mind.

Maybe because she’d been correct in that up to now, I’d been the exact same way. A fucking carbon copy, only I had no aspirations of running for office. Or did I?

Sighing, I opened my door, the light flooding in making me wince. I jumped out, racing to the other side to grab the two bags of groceries, the rain pelting against my skin. Juggling the paper bags and my briefcase proved to be significantly difficult. By the time I reached my door, I was soaked, my hand shaking as I tried to insert the key into the lock, cursing that I’d stayed late and had forgotten to turn the outside light on.

The sound of an engine caught my attention before I could accomplish the task. When I looked over my shoulder, the hair stood up on the back of my neck. There was no doubt it was the same vehicle. I slunk against the door, holding my breath asthe driver slowed to almost a full stop. Shit. What the hell was I supposed to do?

Get inside.