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God, he had to stop this before it got out of hand. He had to tell Jess he couldn’t go to the Pelican Club with her. He had to tell her that he needed to move out.
Jess backed out of the garage, then cut the engine and climbed out of the car. As she walked toward Rob, a breeze blew, ruffling her dark hair, leaving one silky lock out of place. He couldn’t stop himself. He reached up to smooth it back down, and as he touched her, their eyes met and she smiled. And all of the words he needed to say dried up in the heat of his desire. Everything that he knew he should say and do instantly became as hard and as unrecognizable as the worm Kelsey had found.
Rob wanted Jess more than he’d ever wanted a woman before. It was more than pure physical need, although there was plenty of that. But there was also emotional need—a vast, empty longing for a normal life, for a chance to feel at peace.
“I better go get dressed.” Jess’s voice was slightly breathless as she pulled away from him. “I don’t want to be late.”
Rob watched her walk up the stairs, wondering how, after this was over, he was going to live with himself.
JESS LOOKED AT HERSELF in the bedroom mirror. The dress she was wearing dated from her college days at Berkeley School of Music. It was black, with a cuffed, low V-neckline that plunged down between her breasts. Her arms were bare, and the full skirt ended midthigh. The skirt used to be a lot longer, but Jess had taken her scissors to it, in an attempt to update her wardrobe without spending any money. The end result was still elegant, with the added bonus of a lot of leg. And that’s show biz, she thought wryly, slipping into her black pumps.
Rummaging through her purse, she found her makeup. She ran a brush quickly through her shiny, dark hair, dug her dangling onyx earrings out of her jewelry case and put them on.
“I’m ready,” she sang out as she carried her guitar onto the deck and locked the door behind her.
Both Kelsey and Rob looked up as she came down the stairs. But while Kelsey merely glanced at her mother from her perch on the swing set, Rob’s eyes were riveted to Jess.
He wiped his hands on a rag and lowered the hood of her car, latching it firmly. “You look beautiful,” he said. Then he frowned. “I thought the Pelican Club was casual.”
“You can be casual.” Jess smiled. “I, as your evening’s entertainment, want to be noticed.”
Rob nodded. “You’ll be noticed.”
“Thank you,” Jess said. Lord, he looked so serious, standing there like that, trying so hard to hide his attraction to her. But he couldn’t hide it entirely—which was a good thing, especially since he was the one she wanted to notice her.
As his eyes lingered on her legs, Jess felt a momentary flash of apprehension. She was finally going on a date with this man—because she had asked him. He’d been living next door for two weeks, but she still didn’t really know him. Who was he? Where had he come from? She knew his father had abused him as a child. Rob had a background as different from Jess’s own happy childhood as she could imagine.
Jess put her guitar into the trunk and her bag into the back seat, trying to dispel her uneasiness. “How does the car look?”
“You were right,” Rob said, tossing the rag onto the floor of the garage and lowering the door. “The clutch needs to be replaced. It should be okay for the next day or two. It could even last as long as a month. But sooner or later it’s going to go.”
“Probably when I’m already late for an important audition,” Jess said, rolling her eyes.
Rob moved toward her, but stopped a good six feet away, careful as always not to get too close. “I’d offer to replace it for you, but I don’t have the tools for it. I could see if I could borrow some, though.”
“Thanks, but no.” Jess shook her head. “I can’t take advantage of you that way.”
“Yes, you can,” Rob said quietly. “I’d love to do it for you. I’m just not sure if I’ll have a free weekend before the clutch goes out.”
Jess had to turn away, afraid that he would see the sudden longing in her eyes. Despite all of his secrets, she liked Rob too much. She liked his direct approach with Kelsey, the way he talked to the little girl as if she were a grown-up. She liked his gentle smile and his warm laughter and the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he was amused. She liked the way his hand had felt in her hair.
But at the same time, he was a mystery. He was intriguing, with a dark past, possessing more than a hint of danger.
And she was intrigued.
Jess turned back to face him. “Thank you,” she said simply. If he’d been standing any closer, she would have leaned forward and kissed him. But he was too far away. She took a step toward him—
“Yoo hoo!”
Jess looked up to see Mrs. Greene standing on her porch, next to her husband’s wheelchair. The bright pink-and-orange flowered muumuu she was wearing over her large girth rippled slightly in the evening breeze.
“Where are you going?” Mrs. Greene called out. She wore a pair of binoculars around her neck and she lifted them to her face, turning a dial to bring Rob into better focus.
“I’m singing tonight out on Siesta Key,” Jess said patiently, hiding her exasperation. It was good her neighbors were always watching her house, she told herself. She didn’t have to worry about burglars or vandals. The nosy Greenes were better than a guard dog.
“Oh, really?” Mrs. Greene called. “Where?”
“The Pelican Club,” Jess replied.
“And the new tenant’s going along?”
“His name is Rob Carpenter, Mrs. Greene,” Jess said patiently. “You’ve met him before.” She turned to Rob. “Rob, you remember Mrs. Greene. And Mr. Greene,” she added. It was easy to forget the silent, angular man in the wheelchair. He faded to almost nothing alongside his enormous, talkative wife.
“Of course,” Rob acknowledged.
“Too bad Stanford’s not back from the store,” Mrs. Greene said, referring to her only son. “I’m sure he’d love to go along with you. I don’t suppose you could wait twenty minutes…?”
“No, I’m sorry.” Jess tried her best to sound regretful. “We’re already running a little late. Maybe next time.” She turned toward the backyard, praying that Stanford wouldn’t come home early. “Okay, Kel,” she called, trying not to sound as if she were suddenly rushing. “Wagon train, ho!”
Kelsey came running, stopping to pick the newspaper up off the lawn. She carried it with her into the back seat.
“Bye, Mrs. Greene,” Jess called out as she and Rob and Kelsey all climbed into the car. But Mrs. Greene had already gone back into her house.
Jess glanced at Rob as she started the car. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t even smile. But she could see amusement in his eyes.
As Jess pulled out of the driveway, old Mr. Greene watched them from his wheelchair on his porch, craning his neck as they moved out of sight. “Seat belts fastened?” she asked her daughter.
“Check,” Kelsey said. “What does s-e-r-i-a-l spell?”
Jess exchanged a quick look with Rob. He leaned toward the back seat. “Let me see that, Bug.”
Kelsey handed him the newspaper.
Jess pulled up to the stop sign at the end of the street and looked down at the paper Rob now held. “It spells serial, Kel,” she said distractedly as she silently read the headline, “Sarasota Serial Killer—Victim Eleven.” She quickly skimmed the article. Another murder had occurred, this latest not more than a few miles from her neighborhood. The victim had been another young woman. She had been raped, and her throat had been cut. And like all the other victims, she had been found naked, in her own bedroom, with her face heavily made up, and with a ten-foot length of rope tied tightly around her left ankle. What kind of man could do such a thing? A person who had grown up with constant pain and violence, perhaps? Jess’s eyes slid toward Rob and she found herself wondering… No, that was ludicrous. Wasn’t it?
“Who are all those ladies?” Kelsey asked, leaning forward to look over Rob’s shoulder.
The newspaper had run studio photographs of all of the victims to date. There were ten of them—eleven after last night.
“Mommy, they look kind of like you,” Kelsey said. “So pretty. Is it some kind of beauty contest?”
Jess looked closely at the pictures. Kelsey was right. All the women did resemble her. They all had dark hair, and most of them wore it short. They all had faintly heart-shaped faces, with large dark eyes…
She swallowed, fighting the wave of fear that gripped her. How unpleasant to realize that she fit the description of the type of woman the killer liked to murder most….
She turned back to Kelsey, trying hard to make her voice sound natural. “Someone killed those women,” she replied. “The police are trying to catch him.”
“Until he’s caught, you’re going to have to be careful, okay, Bug?” Rob said.
Jess put the car into gear, but she saw Kelsey nod very seriously in the rearview mirror.
“You have to remember to stay close to the house. Don’t go anywhere alone. Especially at night,” Rob instructed. “Jess has to remember that, too.”
Jess looked over at him.
“You’ve got to keep the doors and windows locked,” he said in a low voice. “Promise me you will, okay?”
He cares about me, Jess thought, suddenly deliriously happy despite the frightening newspaper story, despite the fact that Rob remained such a mystery. “I promise,” she agreed. She glanced at Kelsey as she pulled out onto the main road, heading west toward Siesta Key and the Pelican Club. “Okay, Kel,” she added, “You got your drawing pad and pencils?”
Kelsey rummaged through her backpack. “Check.”
“You got your Star Trek dolls?”
“Check.”
“How about the sticker book, coloring book and crayons, giant monster mazes book?”
“Check, check and…check.”
“Look in my bag for me. Did I forget anything?”
Kelsey opened Jess’s bag and peeked inside. “Extra guitar strings, capo, tuner, two cords,” the girl said. “Pitch pipe, Swiss army knife and your little box of picks.”
“Thanks. Okay. Now tell me again. What are the rules?”
“No talking to you during the set,” Kelsey recited. “And stay close, where you can see me. I won’t go out of your sight, and I won’t talk to strangers.”
“Good,” Jess said. “Course, this time it’ll be different, because Rob’s here.” She glanced up and found him watching her, and felt a flash of warmth. Rob’s here.
“Rob and I are going to eat dinner while you sing,” Kelsey said. “I’m going to have the broiled scrod.”
“Oh, Bug, what a thrill.” Rob grinned as he turned sideways in his seat to look back at Kelsey. “I can’t tell you how often I’ve longed for a dinner date with a beautiful woman who actually knows what she wants to order before we even walk into the restaurant.”
“We Baxter women are known for our decisiveness,” Jess said, then laughed. “Of course, I realized as soon as I said that, that I can’t decide which song to open my first set with.”
“’Country Waltz’ or ‘Jamaica Farewell,’” Kelsey suggested.
“I can’t start a set with a song that has farewell in the title,” Jess protested.
“Then ‘Country Waltz,’” Kelsey said. “There. You decided. No sweat.”
Jess looked at Rob and grinned. “Life should always be so simple, shouldn’t it?”
THIS TIME HE FELT IT begin as he was in the car. He had gotten depressed again after last night, and even thought about turning himself in. But as he slipped out of his depression and into the warm feeling of expectation, he basked in the rush of knowing that he would, that he must, strike again.
For a moment, he wondered what made him know that it was time again to start the game. The thought had barely formed before it was pushed aside by an almost giddy confidence. The urge was upon him, and he would fulfill it. He was totally in control, completely unstoppable. His senses were so keen he had to turn the radio down to barely a whisper to keep the sound from hurting his ears. He put his sunglasses on to protect his eyes from the brightness of the blue sky.
When the car stopped at a red light, he tried to identify the taste in his mouth. Then, as the light turned green, he smiled and surged forward.
Of course.
The taste in his mouth was blood.
Chapter Three
The Pelican Club’s outside bar was already crowded, and Jess quickly set up the house sound system. She was still fifteen minutes early, but this job paid particularly well. If she left a good impression, it could become a weekly gig. She tried not to think of all the things in her life that needed to be repaired or replaced. Instead she concentrated on adjusting the small mixing board and hooking up the microphone and the cord from her guitar.
She tuned up quickly, put her gleaming guitar into a stand, and crossed to the bar.
The bartender was a man she’d never seen at the Pelican Club before. He was different from the usual beefcake-types she’d met there in the past. He was older, shorter, slighter. He was average height and build, with short dark hair that curled slightly in the humidity and looked as if it hadn’t been combed after he’d taken a shower. He wore the tight red T-shirt with khaki shorts that were the standard uniform for all of the staff at the Pelican Club. He had a typical beach bum’s two-day growth of beard, but something about him seemed oddly out of place, as if he didn’t belong here.
“Hi, I’m singing here tonight,” she said, when he looked up from replacing glasses in the overhead rack. “Lenny said someone named Pete would be on duty…?”
“I’m Pete.” He had silver-gray eyes and a smile that came and went far too quickly, leaving his rather angular face looking almost stern. “You’re Jess Baxter. You look just like your picture.”
“My picture…?”
“The manager pinned it to an easel in the lobby,” Pete explained. “Where it says, ‘Tonight’s Entertainment.’”
He leaned his elbows against the bar, his body relaxed and loose. But his eyes were watchful and sharp, and he seemed to study her face, her dress and her body beneath it.
“I’m going to start in a few minutes,” Jess said, backing away from him. Glancing around, she spotted Rob and Kelsey sitting at a table at the side of the crowded deck. Rob had his back to the railing that looked out over the water. As their eyes met, she felt a familiar surge of energy and excitement. She had to force herself to look back at Pete. “I’ll need you to turn off the tape that’s playing.”
Pete nodded. He gestured with his head toward Rob and Kelsey. “Is that your family?”
“My daughter,” Jess said. “And…a friend.”
The bartender nodded, glancing again at Rob. It was a seemingly casual move, but Jess couldn’t shake the feeling that those odd, silvery eyes missed nothing. “Just let me know when you want the music turned off,” Pete said, moving away to serve a customer.
Jess crossed the room, toward Rob and Kelsey. What was it about the bartender that seemed so odd? Sure, his eyes were an unusual color, and he didn’t smile very much, but that wasn’t it. There was something else that seemed wrong.
“Problem?” Rob asked, rising to his feet as she approached their table.
Jess shook her head. “No, just stage fright, I guess.” She took a deep breath in and let it out in a rush, forcing herself to smile. “Believe it or not, after all these years of performing, I still sometimes get it.”
“You know, I read a book once,” Rob told her, “that said what you call something, what you label it, helps determine whether or not you feel positively or negatively about it. Like, some people get what they call ‘stage fright’ and become terrified or sick from it, but other people call that same feeling ‘excitement’ and they get pumped up and really jazzed about a performance. It’s the same feeling of anticipation—that kind of butterflies in the stomach feeling—but what these different people label it determines how they’re going to react to it.”
Jess was looking at him peculiarly, her eyebrows slightly raised. “You’re not following me, are you?” he added.
But she shook her head. “Yeah, actually I am,” she said. “And I agree with everything you just said. You’re right. Usually I don’t call this feeling stage fright.” She looked out over the rail at the calm water of the harbor. “But tonight, for some reason, I’m particularly nervous.” She turned to look at him again. “I think I’m more nervous about being here with you than I am about singing,” she admitted frankly.
But before he could respond, she changed the subject. “You do read a lot, don’t you,” she said.
Rob nodded, relieved to be on safer ground. “Yeah,” he replied. “That’s usually what I do when I’m not working.” But not by choice. He didn’t say those words aloud, but as he met Jess’s eyes, he knew that she could read his face as clearly as one of his books.
“I like books,” he said almost defensively. He just wouldn’t spend all of his time reading—living a fantasy life—if he had any kind of choice.
But he hadn’t had a choice in so long…
