Blaire’s porcelain skin looked even paler than usual. “Unfortunately, I think your detective is right,” she said. “Did he give you any update on suspects?”
Kate shook her head. “He won’t share the details, but he assured us he’s being thorough.”
“Well, he seems to be. When he questioned me just now, he told me he was going to talk not only to my doorman but also to a neighbor who saw me. I think he’s good at following up. Let’s run it down ourselves. You were home when your dad called, right? Where had he been?”
“He’d been home earlier that day and went back to the hospital.”
“Okay, good. What about Simon?”
“He was at work. It was late, but that’s not unusual.”
“Was anyone there with him?”
Kate made her voice neutral. “Another architect. Sabrina Mitchell.” She didn’t want to get into the Sabrina situation right now.
“What if we make a list? Think of everyone you know. It could be anyone. Colleague, client, employee, extended family.”
Suddenly, the idea of this evil psychopath being someone close to her was too much for Kate. She closed her eyes and stayed very still, hoping to quash the painful twisting in her gut. She felt a hand on her knee, and when she opened her eyes, Blaire was kneeling beside her.
“I’m going to call Daniel and tell him I’m staying on, that I want to be here with you.”
“No, no. I can’t let you do that. I’m sure he’s missing you. And besides, it’s almost Christmas. It’s enough that you came for the service. It means the world to me.”
“I want to be here for you now. There have been so many years we’ve missed.” Blaire reached a hand out to Kate.
“But don’t you need to get back to your writing?”
“It’s December. The publishing world is quiet, and Daniel can do without me for now. He’s finishing up our last tour stop, and then we were planning on taking off until January. I do write a detective series. Maybe I can finally put all my book research to good use here. I don’t want to go anywhere until we find this bastard.”
Kate felt her body go limp with relief. Despite what she’d said, she desperately wanted Blaire to stay. “Are you sure? I mean, I would love that, but . . .”
“I’m sure. Just try to get rid of me.” Blaire smiled at her and rose. “I’ll get going now. You should rest. Call me if you need anything. I don’t care what time it is. I’m here for you.”
Kate grabbed her hand and held it as they walked to the front door together. “Thank you,” she said as she pulled Blaire into a hug, then watched her old friend descend the steps to her sports car.
Kate arched her back, trying to relieve the ache she felt. She needed to go for a run, to release some of this pent-up anxiety that threatened to consume her. She went to her bedroom and changed her clothes, grabbing her running shoes from the closet. Then she texted the security detail stationed outside. A return text informed her that Alan would be her companion for her run. She wasn’t worried about whether or not he could keep up. Simon had reassured her that all the guards were either ex-military or heavily trained in martial arts and weaponry.
When she got downstairs, Alan was waiting outside the front door. Even though it was only four thirty, the sun was going down and the air was frigid. She put her earbuds in, but Alan walked closer.
“Sorry, ma’am. I’d prefer it if you didn’t do that. I need to make sure you can hear me if I need to warn you.”
She groaned. How was she supposed to run with no music? “I’ll just leave one in.” He started to object, but she took off, “Sweet Child o’ Mine” playing in her left ear. Almost immediately she began to feel the tension leave as her stride lengthened and she picked up speed. She thought of nothing else but the pavement and her feet upon it as the cold air burned her cheeks. She wanted to run into oblivion, to go so fast that she would leave all the terror and grief behind. The hammering in her chest was so hard it felt like she would split in two, and she knew she was going way too fast. It felt so good to let herself fly, but she had to ease up. She gradually slowed her pace and put her hand on her chest, pushing against her breastbone.
She turned down the street and headed to the small pond that had a paved trail around it. There were other runners out there today, and she turned to look behind her, just to make sure Alan was keeping up. He gave a little wave. Before she faced front again, she noticed a runner approaching from behind, dressed all in black. Fast. She knew Alan was trailing her, but what if this man got to her first? Pushing her body, she picked up the pace, timing her breath to her strides. She threw another glance back at Alan and saw the black blur closer than it had been before. It had been a long time since she’d trained in sprints, but suddenly, she was doing just that, dodging oncoming pedestrians and fellow runners as she did. Her feet smacking the pavement, she felt the pace get out of control just as she came to a corner. She stopped cold and whipped around, the man running toward her, looking right at her. He was between her and Alan now—he had sped up, flying at her faster than she’d just been going.
Did she know him? He looked familiar. Maybe she’d just seen him out on one of her runs. Or maybe she knew him in some other way. Of course, maybe he was the killer . . .
Throwing her hands up to ward him off, she felt a wave of dizziness. By the time Alan reached her, it would be too late. A scream was working its way up her throat when the man blew right past her. She was flooded with relief so strong her knees buckled, and she rested her hands on her thighs, sucking in lungsful of air.
She had to get back to the house. She was too exposed.
Alan ran up to her, looking concerned.
“Let’s go back. Can you stay next to me?” She hated feeling so weak.
“Of course,” he answered, with no change in expression.
When they got back to the house, she ran upstairs, and turned on the shower, waiting for it to warm up. She threw her phone on the counter. It lit up, and her text tone sounded.
Private Caller. The pounding in her chest was instantaneous. She took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and read.
Did you like my gifts? Dead mice. Dead birds. Dead Kate?
“Stop this!” she yelled at the phone, tears springing to her eyes. Running to the bedroom, she picked up the house phone and dialed Detective Anderson. He answered on the first ring.
“I know,” he said without preamble. “We’ve pinpointed the IP address and are heading there now.”
“You know where this is coming from?” Kate asked, panting.
“The Starbucks on York Road. I’ll call you as soon as I know more.”
At least she knew the killer was miles away and not in her immediate area. And now they’d find him. Relief flooded through her. They would get this lunatic, and then she could breathe again. As she showered, she told herself that it was going to be okay. Anderson would find whoever was doing this and lock him up. She was drying her hair when her phone rang. Anderson.
“Did you get him?”
He cleared his throat. “By the time we got there, they’d turned the phone off and were gone. We know they used some sort of texting app that delivers over Wi-Fi. We were able to trace the IP address to that particular Starbucks. But once the phone is off, we can’t track it.”