LITMIR.BIZ

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he’s playing games?”

      That was the feeling John had, so he nodded. “That’s the impression that I’m getting.”

      He’d dealt with plenty of criminals. He’d had a few occasions when he’d been certain he was looking evil in the face. He was trained to understand the way felons would respond in a variety of situations, and he had a reputation for being good at staying a step ahead of the bad guys.

      Sometimes, though, crimes weren’t about what could be gained. They weren’t about revenge or jealousy or passion. Sometimes they were a fantasy being played out, a game whose rules only the perpetrator knew.

      He thought this was one of those times.

      If he was right, the perp’s next move couldn’t be predicted. How he’d act or react couldn’t be ascertained.

      The best thing they could do was find him quickly and get him off the street; because until he was locked away, Virginia wouldn’t be safe.

      * * *

      One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

      Virginia mentally counted houses with Christmas lights while she waited for Officer Morris to finish typing whatever it was he was typing into his tablet.

      Six. Seven. Eight.

      She hadn’t learned much about what had happened at Laurel’s place, but she could say for sure that John had a good view of the neighborhood from his kitchen window—houses, streets, the city beyond, all of it covered with a layer of ice that sparkled with reflected light.

      It would be a mess for the commute in the morning, but right then, it was lovely. So were the Christmas lights hung from eaves and wound around columns and pillars. Several trees were decorated for the holiday. Most of them with soft blue or white lights. Very elegant and lovely, but that was the type of community they were in.

      Nine. Ten. Eleven.

      Officer Morris continued to type, and Virginia continued to count, because it was easier to do that than think about the gunshot she’d heard. No one had been injured. That’s what Officer Morris had told her, but she hadn’t heard from John, and she was worried.

      Because worrying was something she excelled at. Apparently so was counting.

      Dealing with emergencies? Not so much.

      She almost hadn’t opened the door when Officer Morris knocked. She’d been too afraid of who might be on the other side.

      “Okay,” Officer Morris said. “The report is filled out. We’re good to go. How about we walk you back to your place, take a look around? Aside from a cut screen and busted window lock, I didn’t see anything that looked out of place, but it would be best for you to take a look before I leave.”

      Her place.

      Right.

      She kept thinking of it as Laurel’s or Kevin’s or the Johnsons’, but it belonged to her, and she had to go home to it. At least for the next few days.

      “I should probably wait for John to return.”

      “He’ll meet us at the house. I need to speak with him.” There was no question in Officer Morris’s voice. He had a plan, and he expected that everyone was going to follow it.

      She didn’t mind that. She didn’t mind him. He seemed like a good guy, a nice cop. The fact that he knew what had happened to her...that was a little awkward, but he wasn’t treating her with kid gloves, and she appreciated that.

      She still didn’t want to go back to the house.

      Not after he’d been in it again. The guy who looked like Kevin. She hadn’t seen him, but she was certain that was who it had been. Two different intruders in less than twenty-four hours seemed like too much of a stretch.

      Yeah. It had been him. He’d broken the lock, cut the screen, entered the house. All while she’d been sleeping.

      She shuddered, pulling the blanket John had given her closer.

      Officer Morris’s expression softened, and he touched her shoulder. “It’s going to be fine, Virginia. He’s gone. I promise you that.”

      She wasn’t sure who he was talking about. The guy who looked like Kevin? Kevin?

      Either way, he meant well, the words soothing and kind.

      “Right. I know.” She plastered a smile on her face. One that felt brittle and hard.

      “I’ve been doing a little research,” he said. Maybe he was hoping to distract her from the panic that was building. “Laurel Johnson was involved in a lot of charitable organizations.”

      “Yes,” she responded, her mouth so dry it was all she could manage.

      “One of them was the state prison ministry. She used to go there twice a week.”

      “I didn’t know that.”

      “I doubt anyone did. She spent some time with one of the prisoners, helped him get his college degree. Name was Luke Miller. Ever heard of him?”

      “No.”

      “He was released two months ago.”

      She wasn’t sure what he was saying, what he was trying to get at. She was still thinking about going back to the house, walking into the place that had brought every nightmare she’d ever lived through.

      “You look a little shaky. How about some water before we head over?” he suggested.

      She nodded, mute with fear.

      He walked into the kitchen, found a cup and filled it. “It really is going to be okay,” he said, holding out the cup.

      She took a step forward, felt the earth shake, the entire world rumble. For a moment, she thought she’d lost it, that it had finally happened, panic making her completely lose touch with reality. She was on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, smoke billowing all around her.

      Officer Morris shouted something, and she rolled to her side, saw him lying under the partially caved-in wall, ice falling on his dark hair.

      “Get out of here!” he shouted.

      She struggled to her knees, her feet, grabbed the wood that was pinning him.

      “Go!” he said again, and she shook her head, tugged harder, praying that somehow her strength would be enough to free him.

SIX

      Smoke billowed up into the sky, flames licking the side of the garage as John raced toward his apartment. He’d expected trouble, but he hadn’t expected this. He should have. He should have been prepared for anything.

      Too late now.

      The building was in flames, the interior exposed on the lower and upper levels.

      A bomb?

      That was what it looked like.

      If there were more, they’d all be killed, but he wasn’t going to wait for the fire department to show, couldn’t wait for the bomb squad to be called in. Virginia and Officer Morris had been in the apartment. If they still were, they were in trouble.

      “Hold!” he commanded, and Samson stopped short, his soft whimpers following John as he raced up the stairs that had been left untouched by the explosion.

      The front door was closed. No time for a key, he kicked it in, smoke billowing out as it opened.

      “Be careful!” Dylan shouted as he raced up the stairs behind him. “This place could crumble any minute.”

      That was John’s fear. Getting in and out as quickly as possible was his plan.

      Only God knew if that would happen,

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