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make him angry,” Marie said in a pathetic whimper.
     Riley, overwhelmed, feeling a panic attack coming on, suddenly realized it had been a terrible idea to come here. If anything, she felt worse. She knew she could not sit in this oppressive dining room a moment longer.
    “I’ve got to go,” Riley said, talking. “I’m so sorry. My daughter’s waiting.”
    Marie suddenly grabbed Riley’s wrist with surprising strength, digging her nails into her skin.
    She stared back, her icy blue eyes holding such intensity that it terrified Riley. That haunting look seared into her soul.
    “Take the case,” Marie urged.
    Riley could see in her eyes that Marie was confusing the new case and Peterson, blurring them together into one.
    “Find that son of a bitch,” she added. “And kill him for me.”

 

Chapter 5
     
    The man kept a short but discreet distance from the woman, glancing her way only fleetingly. He placed a few token items into his handbasket so that he’d look like just another shopper. He congratulated himself on how inconspicuous he was able to make himself. No one would guess his true power.
    But then again, he’d never been the kind of man who attracted much attention. As a child, he’d felt practically invisible. Now, at long last, he was able to turn his own innocuousness to his advantage.
    Just a few moments ago, he had stood right next to her, scarcely more than two feet away. Rapt in choosing her shampoo, she hadn’t noticed him at all.
    He knew plenty about her, though. He knew her name was Cindy; that her husband owned an art gallery; that she worked in a free medical clinic. Today was one of her days off. Right now she was on her cell phone talking with somebody—her sister, it sounded like. She was laughing at something the person was saying to her. He burned red with anger, wondering if she were laughing at him, just as all the girls used to. His fury increased.
    Cindy wore shorts, a tank top, and expensive-looking running shoes. He’d watched her from his car, jogging, and waited until she’d finished her run and came into the grocery store. He knew her routine for a non-working day like this. She’d take the items home and put them away, take a shower, then drive to meet her husband for lunch.
    Her good figure owed a lot to physical exercise. She was no more than thirty years old, but the skin around her thighs wasn’t tight anymore. She’d probably lost a lot of weight at one time or another, perhaps pretty recently. She was undoubtedly proud of that.
    Suddenly, the woman headed toward the nearest cash register. The man was taken by surprise. She had finished shopping earlier than usual. He rushed to get in line behind her, almost pushing another customer aside to do so. He silently berated himself for that.
    As the cashier rang up the woman’s items, he inched up and stood extremely close to her—close enough to smell her body, now sweaty and pungent after her vigorous jog. It was a smell that he expected to become much, much better acquainted with very soon. But the smell would then be mixed with yet another odor—one that fascinated him because of its strangeness and mystery.
    The smell of pain and terror.
    For a moment, the lurker felt exhilarated, even pleasantly light-headed, with eager anticipation.
    After paying for her groceries, she pushed her cart out through the automatic glass doors and out into the parking lot.
    He felt no hurry now about paying for his own handful of items. He didn’t need to follow her home. He’d been there already—had even been inside her house. He had even handled her clothing. He’d take up his vigil again when she got off work.
    It won’t be long now, he thought. Not long at all.
     
    *
     
    After Cindy MacKinnon got into her car, she sat there for a moment, feeling shaken and not knowing why. She remembered the weird feeling she’d just had back in the supermarket. It was an uncanny, irrational feeling of being watched. But it was more