She picked it up on the sixth ring. “Hello.”
Breathing. Slow, deep breathing.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
“Hello, Rebecca. It’s your boyfriend.”
Her brain nearly shut down on her. She stared at the phone, not
believing, not wanting to believe, but it was him, the stalker, the
man who murdered that poor old woman, the man who shot the
governor in the neck.
He’d found her. Somehow he’d found her. She said, “The governor’s
alive. You’re not so great after all, are you? You didn’t kill
him. You were so ill informed, you didn’t even know there would
be a bunch of doctors around him.”
“Maybe I didn’t want to kill him.”
“Yeah, right.”
“All right, so the bastard is still breathing. At least he won’t be
climbing into your bed anytime soon. Hear he’s having a tough
time talking and eating. He needed to lose a few pounds anyway.”
“You killed Dick McCallum. You made him tell those lies about
me and then you killed him. How much did you pay him? Or did
you threaten to kill him if he didn’t do as you asked?”
“Where did you get all this information, Becca?”
“It’s true.”
Silence.
“Nobody could have found me. The FBI, the NYPD, nobody.
How did you find me?”
He laughed, a rich, mellow laugh that made her want to vomit.
How old was he? She couldn’t tell. Think, she told herself, listen
and think. Keep him talking. Use your brain. Is he young or old?
Accent? Listen for clues. Make him admit to murdering Dick.
“I’ll tell you when I see you, Becca.”
She said very deliberately, very slowly, “I don’t want to see you.
I want you to go someplace and die. That or turn yourself in to the
cops. They’ll fry you. That’s what you deserve. Why did you run
down Dick McCallum?”
“And just what do you think you deserve?”
“Not this bullshit from you. Are you going to try to kill the governor
again?”
“I haven’t made up my mind just yet. I know now that he isn’t
sleeping with you, but only because he doesn’t know where you
are. An old man like that. You should be ashamed of yourself, Rebecca.
Remember Rockefeller croaking when he was with his
mistress? That could be you and the governor. Best not do him
again. But you’re a little slut, aren’t you? Yeah, you’ll probably call
him so he can come sleep with you some more.”
Why hadn’t she had the phone tapped? Because neither she nor
Adam dreamed he’d find her here in Riptide and call her.
“You murdered Dick McCallum, didn’t you? Why?”
“You’re all confident again, aren’t you? You’ve been away from
me for only a couple of weeks, but you’re all pissy again. Too confident,
Rebecca. I’m coming for you very soon now.”
“Listen, you bastard. You come anywhere near me and I’ll blow
your head off.”
He laughed, throaty, deep laughter, indulgent laughter. Was he
young? Maybe, but she couldn’t be sure. “You can try, certainly. It’ll
add some spice to the chase. I’ll see to you soon. Real soon, count
on it.”
He hung up before she could say anything more. She stood
there, staring blankly at the old-fashioned black phone, staring and
knowing, knowing deep inside her that it was all over. Or it soon
would be. How could anyone protect her from a madman? She’d
done the best she could and yet he’d found her, nearly as easily as
Adam had.
How had he found her? Did he have as many contacts as Adam?
Evidently so. No, she wasn’t going to give up and let him come to
kill her. No, she would fight.
She laid the phone into the cradle and walked slowly from the
living room. She was tired, infinitely tired. She couldn’t just stand
there in the middle of Jacob Marley’s house, she just couldn’t. She
felt itchy from the inside out, and cold, very cold. Nearly numb.
She loaded her Coonan .357 Magnum automatic, slipped it in
the pocket of her jacket, and walked to the woods where she’d
confronted Adam two days before. Had it really been only two
days? She sat down in front of the tree where he’d been doing his taste kwon do exercise. She looked at the spot where she’d stood,