Dark Pursuit

“He dragged his victim into your room, strangled her on the bed. I imagine it was over quickly. With no sexual assault, no apparent beating, he simply wants to get the job done. Which,” her grandfather raised his eyebrows, “I find quite telling. These are crimes of cold passion rather than hot.”

“What do you mean?” Kaitlan whispered.

“He kills his victims quickly and efficiently. He seems to take no warped joy in the act. Rape, you see, is an act of power and hatred against women. It has little to do with sex. Craig kills not in a rage, wielding such power, but with the quiet calculation that the woman—for some reason only his disturbed mind knows—deserves to die.”

Margaret frowned. “Wouldn’t he know not to rape because of the DNA evidence he’d leave behind? He is the police chief’s son.”

Kaitlan’s grandfather shook his head. “Killers like this are driven by their twisted desires. Even with all they might know about crime-scene evidence, they don’t think in those terms when they give way to passion. Besides, they have the ego to believe they’ll never be caught.”

“But …” Kaitlan swallowed. She still couldn’t grasp this. “He’s been so nice to me, and I just can’t …”

Her grandfather’s expression softened. “Girl, listen to me. Too often there’s a mighty fine line between truth and fiction. In my stories, the murderer is always someone you’d never expect. Those stories are a reflection of the real world. How many times have you heard about a serial killer being apprehended, and everyone who knew him is shocked?”

“I know, but still …”

“Kaitlan. Do you want me to save your life? Because that’s what’s at stake here.”

She clutched her hands, running one thumb over another until it whitened. Deep inside a part of herself was shriveling up and dying.

“But the book he’s writing,” she blurted. “How would he ever expect to publish it? All those scenes in the killer’s head. If he did this, if those scenes are true, readers from around here would know.”

“Vanity, granddaughter. A person like this does not think of getting caught. Besides, don’t believe everything he’s writing is true. Or even fifty percent of it. The scenes could be predicated on his own experience and motivation for killing. But details will be masked, many completely changed. That’s what I’m telling you about fiction—it arises from truth about humanity, the world, but then veers off into imagination. In reading a novel, you may form a picture of the author’s worldview, but don’t forget the characters are fictional.”

“I just thought … I don’t know.” Kaitlan tried to imagine reading Craig’s manuscript. If he was a real killer, would reading his work help her understand him better or only throw her off course, since she wouldn’t know what was true and what wasn’t? Especially if over fifty percent turned out to be made up …

She fisted both hands and pressed them underneath her chin. This whole thing was too awful. She couldn’t grasp it.

The party. Kaitlan checked her watch. Oh, no, it was late. She had no time to wrestle with this.

She took a deep breath. “So what do we do about the body? And I have to call Craig. How do I keep him from coming over and ‘discovering’it?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“You’re not going to call him.”

“I have—”

“Stop.” Her grandfather raised his hand. “Listen to me. You were right about Craig’s suspicious tone when he called you. He doesn’t think you’re coming home from work soon. He knows you found the body two and a half hours ago.”

“But—”

“He knows, Kaitlan.” Her grandfather leaned forward, his words coming more rapidly. “He was there when you got home. He had just killed the woman. You wonder why he left her in your apartment? The answer—it was never his plan. He heard you coming and slipped out the back. When he phoned you, he was somewhere close to your house.”

“Oh!” Margaret’s hand flew to her mouth.

Kaitlan’s lungs swelled. “Then he’ll kill me too! Why would he let me live?”

Her grandfather ignored her. “The reason he called you? He wanted to see how you’d react. What you were thinking.”

“What I was thinking? Like—congratulations on your latest success?”

“Don’t be stupid,” her grandfather snapped. “He needed to know how pliable you’d be. Were you quick to suspect him, or had you already convinced yourself he could never do such a thing? And you failed his test. Had you screamed about the body in your house, he’d have come to your rescue, played the innocent. But you claimed you were still at work. You acted normal. Which immediately told him you suspected he was responsible and were too petrified of what he’d do if you let on.”

Kaitlan covered her face. This couldn’t be. Even though everything made so much sense. Even as she realized the sickening truth had screamed at her from the moment she’d answered that call.

Heat radiated down her limbs. One thing she could cling to. Her grandfather had figured this out while she hadn’t. He was thinking clearly. “What am I supposed to do?”

“What time is it?”