She Can Hide (She Can #4)(63)

“We have new digs.” His movements were jerky, his eyes chemical-bright. “Get up.”

Krista pulled her wobbly legs under her and followed him. She’d learned doing what she was told didn’t eliminate the pain but lessened the severity of her punishment.

She’d also learned she didn’t really have a death wish. She wanted to see her son again.

Not that it mattered much. There was no way Joe was letting her go alive. She’d seen too much.

Joe released her hair and shoved her ahead of him. They went through a doorway and into a kitchen. Krista’s feet slipped. She looked down. The floor was smeared with red.

Blood.

The scream burst from her throat.

Joe’s slap cut it off. “Shut the fuck up.”

Her head snapped back. Already dizzy, she fell backward. Her head hit the floor. As her vision went dark, she looked into a pair of dead eyes.




Hours later, Ethan sat in the chief’s office waiting for his boss to finish his call. Ethan crumpled up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it in the trash can. Abby’s turkey sandwich was still in the bag, unopened.

“You should try to eat,” he prompted.

She shook her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“It’s going to be a long night,” Ethan said.

“I know.” Her gaze went to the closed door. In the conference room next door, the police artist was working with Derek to get a composite sketch of Joe. Hopefully, his description would be detailed enough to get a lead on Joe’s identity.

The chief hung up his desk phone. “Joe wasn’t just making meth in Derek’s basement.”

Ethan’s gaze snapped up. He lowered the cheesesteak he’d been about to bite. “But Derek said he had an assortment of chemicals, a scale, and a hot plate down there.”

“He did.” The chief’s gaze shifted to Abby. “All this is preliminary. Verification will have to wait until the lab tests come back, but the evidence team found traces of meth production, in addition to the necessary household ingredients and equipment to make the chemical bombs and the GHB that poisoned Abby. It looks like Joe is a well-rounded amateur chemist.”

Abby’s hands tightened on the arm of the chair. “Krista’s boyfriend poisoned me?”

“That’s our working hypothesis,” the chief said. “They found fingerprints. They’re running them now.”

She dropped her forehead into her fingertips.

“We should be able to get an ID on this guy.” Ethan set his sandwich aside. The man who tried to kill Abby—twice—had been living right next to her this whole time. “With all that going on, I doubt this is his first crime.”

Abby lifted her head. “Why would Krista’s boyfriend try to kill me?”

“When did she start dating this guy?” Ethan asked.

“About a week before…” She stopped. Her skin faded from white to whiter.

Ethan reached for her hand. Her fingers were cold and didn’t return his squeeze. “Just enough time to learn your schedule and figure out how to administer the GHB.”

“But why?” Abby rubbed her temples. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“We won’t know that until we identify him.” Ethan touched her forearm.

Someone knocked then opened the door. The police artist stuck his head into the office. “We’re finished.”

He handed the sketch to the chief, who turned it to Abby. “Does he look familiar?”

She studied the picture. “I’m not sure. I only saw him once in the dark and once from a distance.”

“But you don’t know him from anywhere else?” Ethan asked.

“No.” She shook her head.

The chief studied the drawing. “What about height, weight, or body type?”

Ethan leaned over and looked at the picture. “Derek said the guy is a little bigger than me. Similar build. So, estimate six-two, one-ninety.”

“Let’s get this distributed.” The chief handed the sketch back to the artist. “I want to find this guy.”

Abby picked up her water bottle and stood. “I’m going to see how Derek is doing.”

Ethan followed her. Theories rumbled through his head. Joe was a serial killer. Doubtful. The methods of attempted murder didn’t seem to fit a serial killer. He kept the possibility in the back of his head, but the attempts on Abby seemed too impersonal.

They went into the conference room. Derek was stuffing the end of a foot-long meatball sub into his mouth.

Abby sat next to him. “Are you all right?”

The kid had been nervous when they’d first brought him to the station, but he’d relaxed during the long stint with the artist.

“Do you know where your mom met Joe?” Abby set her water on the table and picked at the label.

“The restaurant bar, I think.” Derek sucked on the straw of his Coke. “He came home with her from work.”

But did Joe target Abby before or after he picked up Krista? Did he spot Abby and decide to kill her? Or did he pick up Krista because she lived next to Abby?

The latter made the most sense. Krista was a means to get close to Abby. Living right next door, Joe was able to watch Abby without seeming suspicious. No doubt Krista knew things about Abby as well. They’d been neighbors for two years.