My gaze drops to the void between us, the reminder of his motivations dampening any static lingering in my veins. “Right…that’s a memo I seem to miss regularly.”
“Isobel—”
“Do not, Jack,” I hiss, my free hand gripping the edge of the table as I lean forward. The unexpected burn of tears stings my eyes at the sound of that name falling from Jack’s lips, pulling my scars taut. “Do not ever. I am not Isobel. I told you this. That girl is already dead.”
Jack holds my vicious stare. I blink the glassy sheen away. Nothing about him changes in his observation of my swirling distress.
I knock back the rest of my wine and place the glass down on the tablecloth with a dull thud. “Well, congratulations are in order, Jack. You've been in my line of sight for all of thirty seconds and you’ve already ruined my evening. A new record,” I snap, whipping my sparkling clutch from the table as I move to stand.
Jack’s hand darts out and encircles my wrist in a steadying grip. He’s careful not to touch the stitches embedded in my skin across the healing wound.
“I’m sorry,” he says, as though he’s never put those two words together and is just as surprised as I am that they could exit his mouth. “Sit.”
I don’t make a move.
“Please.”
I lower myself onto the plush seat with a slow descent, Jack’s hand unfurling from my wrist only once I’m sitting. We regard one another in tense silence until a loud group passes too close to our table for his liking judging by his cold stare, their proximity breaking the spell between us.
“How do you know Hayes hasn’t followed you here?” Jack asks when he turns his scrutinous attention back to me.
“Because Hayes couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag.”
Jack snorts a laugh and takes a sip of his drink, and I savor the glimpse of his fleeting grin at my words. “Even so, I followed you here undetected.”
“Did you though?” My grin widens as Jack flashes me a vicious glare. I lean forward and clear my throat to deliver my best stage whisper. “A black BMW XM is not really the height of ambiguity, Jack. In the game of who is the most lethal, you lose points for hubris.”
“Just as easily you will lose points for underestimating an opponent. I should know,” Jack says as his gaze leaves mine to sweep across the room. His jaw tics as though he’s trying to hide a smile, but it quickly fades. “Hayes… he’s not so easily fooled.”
“So I’ve come to understand. He came by my house earlier.”
That gets Jack’s undivided attention. His gaze snaps back to mine and burns with molten fury. “When? Why?”
“Ten o’clock. He was waiting in front of my house when I got back from a run with Cornetto.”
Jack’s eyes narrow.
“My dog.” Jack’s head tilts and I roll my eyes. “You should really know the vitals of your opponent, Jack. Large, fur-covered mammal? Cornetto…? Christ. Points lost for critical details missed.”
I swear I see a hint of a blush on Jack’s cheeks. “I knew you had a dog.”
“Did you know what his name was?”
“...No.”
“Minus five points.”
Jack lets out an exasperated sigh at my brilliant, cunning smile. “Hayes, Dr. Roth. What did he want.”
“Bethany. Minus two more points for not sticking to my cover,” I reply, managing to subvert Jack’s growing irritation by diving into the information he wants before he can draw his next breath. “He wanted to have a little catch up, dredge up some old history. He told me he believes the Slayer is still active but that he’s changed his process. He doesn’t believe Brad is to blame for the body in his basement. He believes the fire was set by someone else. He’s convinced the Silent Slayer is involved.”
Jack’s lips tense into a grim line. “I don’t think he’s as hapless as he first appears. I don’t like him.”
“You don’t like anyone.”
“That’s not—”
“Well, aside from yourself. You like yourself. A lot.”
I beam a bright smile when the silver in Jack’s eyes slashes me with menace, though his ire doesn’t last. He’s too curious to let his irritation get the better of him for long. “Who are you after tonight?” he asks as he refills my glass of wine. I rush to bury the intrusive thought that begs me to say you.
“Someone who exceeds my criteria,” I reply, my voice thinning with distraction as I glance across the motion of bodies on the dance floor. “His name is Sebastian. He’s been banned from a few local strip clubs, gotten grabby with the girls when he’s drunk and high. There was an assault case against him three years ago but it was dropped.”
My gaze pins to my target in the distance, a shorter man than Jack by a few inches but broad, powerful. Sebastian can pass for handsome until you look too close. He’s only twenty-four but looks older with his slicked-back blonde hair and the early signs of bad decisions.
“He’s probably not got anything of value to you,” I mutter as I follow Sebastian’s progress through the lace of laser lights blanketing the dancers. I know Jack has strict criteria for the bones he chooses to pry from his victims, and though I don’t know what they are, I doubt that Sebastian would meet Jack’s discerning tastes. I peel my gaze away from my prey. “To be honest, I’m surprised you’d follow me.”
Jack lifts one shoulder, feigning disinterest, though his gaze is too cutting for casual curiosity. “I had a gut feeling you were up to something peculiar when you went to Parkside Place. Do you have a condo in the building?”
“I did, but I guess I’ll have to sell it now. I liked that condo.”
“I already know where you live.”
“Sure, but I don’t need you finding all my little lairs. I’m going to have to give another one up tonight since you’ll be coming with me,” I say as my attention shifts to the dance floor. My intended prey slides through the crowd toward the bar, swaggering through the swarm of bodies with his slick suit and his coke-fueled arrogance. I sweep my clutch from the table as I rise.
“Who says I’ll be joining you?” Jack says, defiance heavy in his voice as he leans back in his chair with his whisky in hand, the round ball of ice clinking against its glass cage.
I’m the one who shrugs with feigned disinterest this time, and though I feel the bitter sting of disappointment, I’ve got enough practice to know it won’t show on my face. When it comes to Jack Sorensen, disappointment is something I’ve grown accustomed to. “Suit yourself,” I say, recalculating my next moves to lure in my target now that Jack is bowing out of the game. “I suppose this is a good time to tell you that Sebastian Modeo is Anna Modeo’s younger brother, and she was murdered by the Silent Slayer twelve years ago. If Hayes believes the Slayer is still active, perhaps we should give him a reason to follow a dead-end trail that leads away from Westview. But don’t worry, I’ll tell you all about my fun evening in extensive, gory detail.” I clink Jack’s glass with mine as I stop at his side, downing my drink before leaving it behind. “Cheers. Have a great night, Jack.”
“Bethany,” he says with a single nod. Jack doesn’t look up, doesn’t shift his relaxed stance. But I think I catch a glimpse of his fingers tightening on his glass before I turn away.
I slip into the growing crowd as I head for the dance floor. That ember of disappointment dims a little as I near my mark, and I give Sebastian a coy smile as I pass in front of where he stands in the short line for the bar. He returns my grin with one that’s much more lecherous, running a thumb over his bottom lip as he follows my path into the dancers. I keep hold of his gaze over my shoulder for a few steps, brightening my smile like an invitation to follow. I don’t watch to see if he does, but I know Sebastian Modeo, even though he doesn’t know me. I know all his next moves before he does.
I weave just far enough into the throng that Sebastian will easily find me, allowing myself to be absorbed by the music and shadows and bodies and shifting lights. The rhythm creeps into my chest, curling around my veins. My muscles loosen. The base of my spine unlocks. I move with the people around me and they welcome me as though I’m part of their circles, even though I’m the death in their midst. When the DJ blends one song into another and shifts the intensity to a driving beat, I raise a hand like everyone else, closing my eyes as my movement settles into the percussive hum.
