Meanwhile the man went to the trunk and started pulling what looked like sweatshirts out of a huge duffel bag. The entire time he would not be able to see the door to the restroom. In those few minutes the boy was an easy target. So was his father.
Both vehicles presented excellent opportunities. In either case he’d be able to do doubles if he chose. What would a father be willing to do? Would he insist he go first? Would he bribe or fight or plead?
Unfortunately Lily had fought more than he’d expected and he was too exhausted to enjoy the challenge. Maybe another time. He had a long trip ahead. He was quite certain other opportunities would be available.
CHAPTER 22
Lily clung to the straps of her leather handbag.
Cold, so freaking cold
.
She was used to the opposite. Usually her body was burning up from the inside.
The straps had gotten snagged on a tree branch that hung over the river. She knew she was bleeding. The pain inside her head made it difficult to think, to move, to react. Her normally feverish body was submerged in freezing water. She no longer felt bugs crawling all over her. Instead she was quite certain they had now burrowed down deep into her skin. She could feel the prickling sensation and the tingle of them gnawing their way into her veins.
Her bravery had started to wear thin. At first the asshole had made her angry. And she fought him. When he hit her she became more angry. She lashed out at him, pleased to gouge some of his skin. But now, in the dark, surrounded by night sounds that she didn’t recognize and feeling dizzy with pain, she was no longer angry. She was scared.
She waited. She had to wait, she told herself, until he was gone. She had to convince him that he was leaving her exactly the way the bastard wanted to leave her—dead.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 20
CHAPTER 23
VIRGINIA
Gwen had a bone to pick with Maggie. When her friend told her that Assistant Director Raymond Kunze was arranging for Gwen to interview convicted arsonist Otis P. Dodd, she hadn’t mentioned that Kunze would be escorting her there. It was bad enough that her nerves were already frayed. An hour and a half trapped with Kunze threatened to unravel her completely. To make matters worse, he was being polite, which made it harder for Gwen to take out her frustration on him.
Frustration was putting it mildly. Her last interview with a convicted felon had left her with a freshly sharpened pencil almost impaled in her throat. Maggie had tried to assure her that Otis P.—as he liked to be called—was not violent. Out of the thirty-seven fires he had started, no one had ever been hurt or killed.
Gwen had wanted to ask Maggie last night how she could say such a thing about a serial arsonist? The simple act of torching building after building was quite violent. She wanted to remind her friend that many serial killers started as arsonists. But to do so would alert Maggie that perhaps Gwen wasn’t up for this assignment. And Gwen would much rather tamp down her ridiculousfear and struggle through this interview than admit to Maggie that she might not be capable of doing it.
Gwen was fifteen years older and she knew that Maggie considered her a mentor even as the two of them became friends. In fact, Gwen had a strong maternal instinct when it came to Maggie, wanting to shield and protect her, concerned to the point of nagging. Maggie’s dysfunctional childhood and failed marriage had closed off her heart in ways that even Gwen hadn’t been able to pierce. But she knew she was the only person Maggie trusted unconditionally. That should have been a triumph for Gwen, but in some ways it felt like a burden. Gwen didn’t want to give up the façade of being the older, wiser, reliable, unshakable mentor. She didn’t want to let Maggie down.
So here Gwen was, getting patted down by a prison guard with bad breath and clumsy hands. Or at least he pretended they were clumsy while he groped exactly where he wanted. The warden
Both vehicles presented excellent opportunities. In either case he’d be able to do doubles if he chose. What would a father be willing to do? Would he insist he go first? Would he bribe or fight or plead?
Unfortunately Lily had fought more than he’d expected and he was too exhausted to enjoy the challenge. Maybe another time. He had a long trip ahead. He was quite certain other opportunities would be available.
CHAPTER 22
Lily clung to the straps of her leather handbag.
Cold, so freaking cold
.
She was used to the opposite. Usually her body was burning up from the inside.
The straps had gotten snagged on a tree branch that hung over the river. She knew she was bleeding. The pain inside her head made it difficult to think, to move, to react. Her normally feverish body was submerged in freezing water. She no longer felt bugs crawling all over her. Instead she was quite certain they had now burrowed down deep into her skin. She could feel the prickling sensation and the tingle of them gnawing their way into her veins.
Her bravery had started to wear thin. At first the asshole had made her angry. And she fought him. When he hit her she became more angry. She lashed out at him, pleased to gouge some of his skin. But now, in the dark, surrounded by night sounds that she didn’t recognize and feeling dizzy with pain, she was no longer angry. She was scared.
She waited. She had to wait, she told herself, until he was gone. She had to convince him that he was leaving her exactly the way the bastard wanted to leave her—dead.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 20
CHAPTER 23
VIRGINIA
Gwen had a bone to pick with Maggie. When her friend told her that Assistant Director Raymond Kunze was arranging for Gwen to interview convicted arsonist Otis P. Dodd, she hadn’t mentioned that Kunze would be escorting her there. It was bad enough that her nerves were already frayed. An hour and a half trapped with Kunze threatened to unravel her completely. To make matters worse, he was being polite, which made it harder for Gwen to take out her frustration on him.
Frustration was putting it mildly. Her last interview with a convicted felon had left her with a freshly sharpened pencil almost impaled in her throat. Maggie had tried to assure her that Otis P.—as he liked to be called—was not violent. Out of the thirty-seven fires he had started, no one had ever been hurt or killed.
Gwen had wanted to ask Maggie last night how she could say such a thing about a serial arsonist? The simple act of torching building after building was quite violent. She wanted to remind her friend that many serial killers started as arsonists. But to do so would alert Maggie that perhaps Gwen wasn’t up for this assignment. And Gwen would much rather tamp down her ridiculousfear and struggle through this interview than admit to Maggie that she might not be capable of doing it.
Gwen was fifteen years older and she knew that Maggie considered her a mentor even as the two of them became friends. In fact, Gwen had a strong maternal instinct when it came to Maggie, wanting to shield and protect her, concerned to the point of nagging. Maggie’s dysfunctional childhood and failed marriage had closed off her heart in ways that even Gwen hadn’t been able to pierce. But she knew she was the only person Maggie trusted unconditionally. That should have been a triumph for Gwen, but in some ways it felt like a burden. Gwen didn’t want to give up the façade of being the older, wiser, reliable, unshakable mentor. She didn’t want to let Maggie down.
So here Gwen was, getting patted down by a prison guard with bad breath and clumsy hands. Or at least he pretended they were clumsy while he groped exactly where he wanted. The warden
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