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“I told you. It’s her. Every word she says… she says it with so much feeling.”
“Like your articles are different when you’re writing about The Abstract Killer and his victims, huh?”
“Yes, exactly.” K.Y. Wolff was still keeping her silence, while I was sitting on the sidelines for once in my life, trying to figure out the woman’s motive, which was becoming more and more elusive with each passing week.
“Did you find anything from Reah? An IP address?” Enzo asked.
“No. Reah couldn’t find anything. K.Y. Wolff is using proxy chains and encrypted tunnels, using techniques like onion routing and VPN cascading. She’s employing every trick to hide her tracks.”
“Half of that went over my head,” Enzo said. “But am I to understand that even Reah can’t find our mysterious woman?”
“Yes, and that’s saying something,” I said with a frown.
Enzo hummed. “That means she must be a computer genius.”
“I’ve been listening to Victor’s story as more episodes are posted, and I’m trying to find some kind of connection between all these victims.”
“And?” Enzo put the whiskey down and stared at me.
“Everything feels so disconnected. There’s no fucking thread connecting Jordan Kent to Michael Brown to Victor. All these cases were closed, except one. Robert Miller. I’m trying to contact the orphanage where he worked. He died in that orphanage. In other cases, the killers were arrested. How? Something’s so fucking wrong here.”
“Anything else about the victims?”
“Most of them were… you know, alleged assholes and bastards. I’ve no idea how or why she found them.” I tapped my finger against my chin.
“So, are you saying she’s basically you?” Enzo said with a wink in my direction. “Maybe you’ll find what you’ve been looking for all this time with her? Then you’ll have someone else to share your secrets with. Share this burden?”
“Fuck no. I don’t need more crazy to fill my already crazier life, but I do need to find her.”
“She’s leaving you alone for now. So why not just wait and see what she does, and then we can decide what to do with her?”
I shook my head, cutting him off.
“What if it’s too late by then? I can’t risk her exposing my secrets,” I said with a frown.
I had thought about it, to just forget about her and move on, but then there was Phil and the consequences of what I did to him. Victor, and what she did to him. We were bound in some strange way, and it’d only end when I cut it.
“What will you do if you—no, when you find her?” he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
I shrugged.
On my way home, I drove toward Palmer Woods. I hadn’t made any conscious decision to drive towards Yara’s house, but talking about her with Enzo pushed me. It was instinctual, an inexplicable pull that I couldn’t resist. The need to catch even a glimpse of her was overwhelming. My animal demanded satisfaction, and he’d get it this time.
The beat of my heart quickened with each passing block. The street was almost silent, obscured by the veil of night.
As I neared her house, a mix of anticipation and anxiety coiled in my stomach.
The line between need and obsession had long become blurry, and I couldn’t shake off this compulsion. The rational part of my mind knew I should stop this, but the scream of irrational desire pushed me to drive another mile and another.
Parking at a discreet distance from her house, I looked up, knowing exactly where she would be right now. Her room was the only one that still had a light on.
“Red,” I muttered under my breath. “You’ll completely ruin me.”
The size of her mansion, buried under the canopy of oaks and pine, safely tucked away from prying eyes, still took my breath away. Oh, the possibilities that existed within the walls, where one could engage in illegal, dangerous activities and never get caught.
Doctor Yara West would never say no to whatever I wished to do. I sensed the wildness sleeping within her.
I imagined her in nothing but her white lab coat, her hands tied above her head with silk, her breasts, soft and lush, bare to my greedy eyes, and my breath hitched.
