Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
I smile, thinking about the moment she’ll realize we are one and the same. It will be too late, of course, but I appreciate that moment of realization more with every kill.
Like an addict, I watch her from the shadows when she doesn’t know I’m around. She hunts the monster and wants to lock him up. But the man? She wants him, too. Desires him in a way even she can’t explain. She wants us both, and knowing it only enhances this strange, magnetic pull I feel toward her.
I’d feel giddy if I were capable of such an emotion.
She’s tired and angry, but she’s also doubting herself. I know the extra time I took at the crime scene is making her doubt everything she knows about the monster she’s hunting. The lack of a dump site and the different method of evisceration is likely driving her crazy.
It’s satisfying but it’s not enough. I need to do more, I need to push Frankie a little more, which is why I make a stop at the best florist in downtown Los Angeles.
“Welcome to Bloom! How may I assist you today?” The woman behind the counter is exactly what a florist should look like, short and round with soft silver curls and a friendly smile.
I offer a friendly smile in return, careful to leave a lasting impression. “I’d like two dozen long-stem roses.”
Her blue gaze lights up. “Lucky lady. Red?”
I think about it and shake my head. “Red, pink and white. Make it beautiful. And feminine.”
With a bit of pep in her step, the florist disappears for a few minutes before returning with a tall crystal vase full of colorful roses and a baby’s breath for extra decoration. “I think this is what you’re looking for?”
I take it in and a slow smile spreads. “Yes, this is perfect. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. You’ll want to leave a note, of course,” she says and slides a small card across the counter.
I scribble a message on the card and seal the tiny envelope with a smile, paying for the delivery in cash.
“Make sure you deliver these at this exact time to Detective DeMarco.”
The florist flashes a bright smile. “And they men don’t know how to be romantic anymore. I’ll handle this myself, sir.”
“Thank you.”
Two hours, one meeting and one excruciating conference call later, I’m sitting in my home office when Frankie finally arrives home.
She’s barely standing up, unsteady on her feet as she carries the crystal vase that holds the long-stem roses. She’s smiling through her exhaustion as she buries her head into the perfumed bouquet before opening her door, something I imagine she’s done a few times since they arrived at the precinct.
The sound of a car pulling up grabs her attention. My heart quickens. Through another camera, I see Nate Robinson stepping out, along with two other people. This should be interesting.
Frankie peers through the door peephole, and her brow furrows as she recognizes them.
She swings the door open. “Nate, what’s going on? Jay? Why are you here? I just left,” she says, her voice heavy with exhaustion.
“Frankie, we need to talk. This is important.” Nate’s tone is serious.
She lets them in, and I switch my view to a wider angle, making sure I don’t miss anything. “What’s going on?”
Jay steps closer, crossing his arms. “We received a report about someone hanging around your place last night. It might be nothing, but with the serial killer on the loose, we’re here to check things out.”
Frankie blinks a few times. “I had a dinner date a few nights ago, but I haven’t seen anyone hanging out around here. I was at work until about nine last night. Who called it in?”
“Anonymous caller,” Jay replies.
“Fuck,” she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “So, what now?”
A female officer steps up, holding a device. “We’re going to perform a comprehensive scan of your home, Frankie,” she explains. “We’ll check for any unauthorized surveillance gear, hidden cameras, and any other tampering. You can’t be too careful these days. If someone’s got their eyes on you, they might have planted something—could be a bomb, incendiary device, a bug or anything else that could jeopardize your safety. We want to make sure your home is secure.”
Frankie’s eyes widen, but she nods, stepping aside. “Hey, Sarah. Do what you have to do. I won't let someone fuck with me in my own home.”
My heart is practically beating out of my chest. Fuck. This wasn’t part of the plan. I watch the cop, Sarah, closely. I know exactly what she’s going to find.
After some time, Sarah’s device beeps. She pulls out a tiny, sophisticated camera from an inconspicuous spot on the bookshelf and holds it up. “Nate, I got something. It’s a camera. There could be more.”
Frankie’s face pales as she backs away from the lens. “What do you mean a camera? How is that possible?”