Page 73 of M for Murder

‘So, you still won’t accept that Boone might be involved with the recent murders?’ Rebecca pushed.

‘Nope.’

She glared at him. ‘You are such a narrow-minded jerk, it’s unbelievable.’

Hickok shook his head. ‘I’m not narrow-minded, Angell. I’m just being logical. You, on the other hand, are so nuts you should be institutionalised.’ He gave her a teasing grin. ‘I guess you’re lucky I’ve got a soft spot for crazy women.’

Rebecca glared at him, infuriated at how stubborn he was being and even more infuriated that as he sat there watching her with taunting eyes, dark hair falling onto his forehead, she was finding herself undeniably attracted to him. To hide her feelings, she got to her feet and, grabbing hold of the empty pizza box, carried it through to the kitchen. She heard Hickok get up and start to follow her and for a moment she panicked, wondering if he knew what she was thinking. She didn’t want to have to deal with what she was feeling. Not now. Not ever.

She turned and saw that he was standing in the archway that separated the kitchen from the living room. He studied her face for a moment, looking as though he was about to say something, and she caught her breath as she realised that they were both thinking the same thing.

For a moment a thick silence hung between them. Hickok had lost his cocky grin and there was a fervid, almost hungry look in his eyes. Rebecca watched him, a little unsure what to expect.

The shrill ring of the phone sounded beside her, making her jump and cutting through the tension like a knife. The moment lost, Hickok gave a nonchalant shrug and turned back to the couch. Rebecca watched him, feeling both relief and disappointment. She listened as her answer machine picked up the call, wondering why it was she was suddenly finding herself attracted to an arrogant, self-important jerk like Hickok.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she was nuts.

Her mother’s voice echoed out of the answer machine. ‘Rebecca? Rebecca, are you there? Rebecca, it’s your mother…’ Not wanting to have one of Sarah Angell’s mother–daughter chats in front of Hickok, Rebecca chose to ignore her, letting the machine take her message. As she listened to her mother run on about nothing in particular, she shrugged apologetically at Hickok, who sat watching her with a bemused expression.

‘That’s my mother,’ she told him, feeling the need to explain.

‘Yeah, she said.’

‘She just likes to check that I’m doing okay.’

‘So I hear.’

‘She’s not really as bad as she sounds,’ Rebecca said, screwing up her nose. ‘Well, okay. Maybe she gets a bit carried away.’

Hickok nodded, the cocky grin returning to his face. ‘Really? Well I guess now I can see where you get it from.’

27

J ustine arrived at the diner first and stood waiting outside, nervously chewing on her nails. She waited for fifteen minutes, until eventually a brown Buick pulled up and the man who she had met earlier stuck his head out of the open driver’s window.

‘Ready to go, Justine?’ he asked, a grin lighting up his face.

Justine didn’t want to get in the car. She didn’t make a habit of riding with strangers and was even less eager at the prospect of riding with this one. Unfortunately, as he was blackmailing her, she didn’t really have much choice. Reminding herself of what would happen if she didn’t go with the man, she climbed into the passenger seat.

As they drove, Justine babbled nervously, and the man listened. At least she thought he was listening until she asked him a question and got no reply. She tried again, this time her voice louder and her tone sharper.

‘I asked if you live locally?’

This time he looked at her and gave a half smile.

Guessing that he didn’t want to talk, Justine turned and looked out of the window. She was uncomfortable being with him and her stomach was grinding nervously.

Maybe it was the not knowing where they were going or what they were going to do. Or perhaps it was because, until now, her lust for Lawrie Parker had been secret. Her own personal secret. Maybe it was knowing that someone else now knew that secret that was making her so nervous and excitable. Or perhaps it was the fact that since she’d climbed in the Buick, the guy had undergone a complete personality change.

While she talked, he drove in silence and it was almost as though she no longer existed to him or, as though, now he had her where he wanted her, there was no longer any need to keep up the charade. A shiver ran down Justine’s spine as she recalled the warning they had been given at college just the day before.

You all fit the profile of the killer’s next victim.

She wondered how come the cops seemed to know who the killer’s next victim would be. There were thousands of students who attended the college. Thousands of potential victims.

Besides, this was different. This guy, he’d been watching her, he’d told her so. He needed her help. He’d told her that they were after the same thing. He knew everything about her.

And she realised she knew absolutely nothing about him.