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Amber sawFrancesca nod briefly to her, but her attention was obviously more on Simon.
“It’s nice to meetyou both. It’s not every day we get FBI agents coming down to help out with ourcases.”
“Well, it’s notevery day a serial killer strikes in a small town like this,” Simon said.
Francesca gave hima small smile. “That’s fortunately true. Westford hasn’t had a case like thisbefore. I’d been hoping to get through the rest of my career without somethinglike this. I just hope we can catch this guy before he takes another victim.”
“Your accent doesn’tsound West Coast,” Simon said.
“I was originallya detective in New York before I moved out here.”
“Hoping for somepeace and quiet?” Simon asked with a smile.
“Something likethat. Plus, my life outside of work is a lot more fun than it would be in thebig city.”
“It’s a pity we’rejust here to work,” Simon said.
Amber could feel acertain tension in the air and wondered if there was more going on there. Wasit possible that Simon was… interested in the detective? That he was attractedto her?
And if so, why didAmber care? She shouldn’t, she knew that. It wasn’t her business. But somethingabout the idea of Simon being attracted to someone else made her feel… uneasy.And that in itself was strange. They were partners, colleagues, nothing more. Maybeit was just that she was worried about the possibility of it distracting fromthe case.
Besides, Amber waswith Joseph. The best-looking reporter on theWashington News, the guyshe hadn’t dared to ask out until the day she quit. What Simon did or didn’t doshouldn’t matter to her at all.
She mentally shookherself, reminding herself to stay focused on the case. It was just that itwould be great if Simon and Detective Angelique could manage the same thing.They had a crime scene to examine, after all.
Amber hoped therewould be something there to lead them to the killer. Without that, they weregoing to be left fumbling in the dark, not knowing which way to look.
CHAPTER FIVE
Colm O’Raffertysat in his safe house, carefully examining a selection of store-bought puzzles.They were all pitifully easy, designed to challenge the average mind, ratherthan his. He dissected them the way another man might dissect an animal, pickingthem apart, learning their inner workings.
Around him, aselection of computer screens showed more puzzles online, and connected him toa few chess games. He was winning, but then, most people weren’t as good asthey thought. He set problems for them and they quickly found that they couldn’tanswer them adequately, let alone with the brilliance they would need to win.
Colm looked fromone screen to the next, hoping for something that would catch his interest, orrather, trying to distract himself for a few moments from the thing that trulyhad his attention. That had held it steadily since he acquired it. Sometimes itwas better to delay gratification with this kind of thing.
This was the thirdsafe house Colm had spent time in since his escape from prison. He kept asuitable network of them on hand just in case, and it wasn’t hard to acquiremore, just as it wasn’t hard to lay his hands on money or resources. Doing so wasjust another kind of puzzle, and Colm was good at puzzles.
The best.
Idly, Colmwondered what someone would see if they saw him here, before dismissing theidea as ridiculous. If anyone entered this place, he would have to kill them.Besides, guessing at other people’s thoughts was foolish. Empathy was nothingmore than a lie, designed to hold back the brilliant. It was a way of trying totell someone like him that he was like everyone else, when that clearly wasn’tthe case.
Still, thishypothetical individual might see him for a few seconds before they died. Ifso, they would have seen a man in his twenties, a little taller than most, withsandy hair and boyish good looks. He was wearing a shirt and slacks now, ratherthan the prison jumpsuit he’d escaped in, and they hugged an athletic frame, alwaysready with the potential for sudden violence.
Not that Colmliked his violence to be sudden, because that implied unexpectedness, and hepreferred to plan everything to the last detail. He liked everything to run theway he had designed it to run, with no irritating deviations from his plans.
Colm picked outone of the computers, calling up a video file of Amber Young at a recent puzzlecompetition. As he watched her solve the puzzle in record time, a smile spreadacross his face. It was the first time in a while that he had felt genuinelypleased about something. Genuinely interested. Watching her work, the way hermind moved, was a thing of beauty to him.
He could see thepotential in her, even the hints of brilliance. He watched her intently, takingin her moves and strategies as she solved puzzle section after puzzle sectionflawlessly.
She had definitelybeen worth breaking out of prison for.
He wondered howshe would react if she knew that he was watching her. Would she be afraid?Intrigued? Would she try to find a way to catch him and put him back in prison?Colm couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the audacity of that thought.Colm was confident that even Amber couldn’t catch him, whatever her puzzle-solvingskills.
Yet shewasanintriguing figure. It wasn’t just her intelligence that caught his attention.There was something about her that interested him. Maybe it was the way shemoved, the way she held herself with confidence and grace. Or maybe it was theglint of determination in her eyes as she solved each puzzle. Whatever it was,Colm was drawn to her.
As he watched,Colm couldn’t help but feel a sense of admiration for the young woman’s skills.She was good, very good. Colm was better, of course. Much better. He couldsolve any puzzle, crack any code, and outsmart any opponent.
Yet maybe, justmaybe, Amber was good enough at what she did to be a worthy opponent. No, therewas no maybe about it. Shewasgood enough to be interesting. Far betterthan his current opponents online. Colm clicked over to his chess games, makingmoves that he knew would ultimately lead to his opponents’ resignations, feelingas he did so that it was all far too easy.
