From Darkness (Hearts & Arrows Book 3)(42)

She gave him a wary smile as she walked toward him. Her eyes darted across the street, and he wondered if she was going to cross to avoid him.

“Hey.” He smiled as he tugged a trash can up to the curb.

“Hey,” she said with her hands in the pockets of her oversize letter jacket and her ponytail bobbing.

He picked up another trash can and banged it into the first. It hit the pavement with a thunk and a clatter, and his recycling skittered across the pavement in her path.

“Shit, I am so sorry.” He bent down to pick up cans.

“Here, let me help you.” She knelt next to him, close enough to touch.

He glanced around and saw no one.

“Thanks,” he said as they stood.

She deposited an armful of cans into the trash and smiled up at him. “No problem.”

“It’s freezing out here. You don’t live far, do you?”

“No, I’m just around the corner.” She glanced down the street.

“Ah.” He nodded and glanced down at her uniform. “So, you’re a cheerleader?”

“Yeah. Go Bulldogs!” She propped a hand on her hip and threw the other in the air with mock enthusiasm.

He laughed, and she smiled back.

“I’m Corey.”

“Hannah,” she said as she took his hand.

“Your hands are like ice cubes.” They were small, soft, and cold in his. He rubbed her knuckle with his thumb, not even conscious that he was doing it. “Come on inside for some cider.”

Her eyes dropped to his hand. “I really should go.”

He squeezed. “I insist.”

She tried to pull away, and the look passed across her face. He pulled her into his chest and laid a hand over her mouth.

“Shh. Don’t fight, Hannah,” he said into her hair as he dragged her into his garage.

The memory was as crisp as the light twinkling off her earrings in his hand.

They hadn’t found her body for weeks, and even though he had hoped for more time, he was satisfied. He’d had to switch up his routine for her, unable to use the secluded inlets to the river where he usually dumped the girls. His regular method would never have worked for Hannah. No one looked for prostitutes, but a sixteen-year-old girl would have all the patrols out.

So Rhodes drove into northern New Jersey, to the Delaware Water Gap, through the winding path around the national park. The night was black by the time he pulled into a small inlet to the river, surrounded by pines and maples. He opened his trunk, pulled out his waders, and stepped into them. The plastic wrapped around her crinkled as he lifted her out, her skin already gray against her red uniform, her body stiff in his arms, and he carried her into the lake like a child, taking a last look at her before he let her go.

The black water swallowed her up, and then she was gone.

He’d acted on impulse, which was something he hadn’t done since Jane. And being out of his routine unnerved him, his paranoia nearly driving him mad as he drove home. But he told himself that by the time Hannah was found, if she were found, there would be no evidence.

He hadn’t been overly concerned, not even when the PI had come asking around, not even when he’d realized she knew something wasn’t right. There was nothing she could do, no evidence that she could dig up on him.

Or so he’d thought.

A few weeks after he’d killed Hannah, he’d gotten a call from Troy, an old high school friend who worked at the library in their hometown. Troy had filled him in. The same redheaded PI who had grilled him about Hannah a few days before had gone to Deer Lodge, and the librarian had told her all about Jane and Sheriff Jackson. The investigator had photocopied all the old newspapers, and Rhodes could only assume she would speak to Jackson.

Out of everyone, the old Sheriff was the one person who’d been bound and determined to pin him for Jane’s death. Some days, Rhodes didn’t know how he’d gotten away with it.

Josie Campbell had walked away with something, and whatever it was, he wanted it. The thought consumed him as he staked out her apartment. She’d been easy enough to find, though he had no plan. He just waited through most of the day and into the evening, looking for some sign, some opportunity.

When he spotted her red hair, he recognized her. But, when he noticed the box under her arm marked with the name Bernard, rage filled him like a hot, angry wind.

She had more than he’d anticipated.

He had to get that box.

She left less than a half hour later, and her apartment was dark. He pulled on his gloves, cutting through the buildings, finding the fire escape around the back that led to an open window. A dumpster stood nearby, perfect to reach the ladder, so he climbed up and jumped for it, hoisting himself up rung by rung until he was on the platform. He waited by the window, listening. He only heard music playing, so he ducked into the bedroom and walked through the apartment.

Two desks sat against the long wall of the living room, and he spotted the box almost immediately. It was the exact moment that a girl walked in from the other bedroom.

They both froze, staring at each other with hanging jaws. He didn’t know who she was, hadn’t realized that Campbell had a roommate. He’d been careless. Again.

They moved at the same time, both running for the desks where he saw a pistol behind her laptop. She was reaching for it when he punched her. She spun around, knocking a lamp over as she fell to the floor, and blood spilled from her mouth.