The Serial Killer's Wife Read Online Free PDF Page A

then pulled the phone from her pocket and answered it.  
    Cain said, “So what do you think?”  
    “Why did you bring me here?”  
    “He looks pathetic, doesn’t he? Certainly not like a man who molests children.”  
    Reginald Moore’s face had paled. He mouthed, Who is that?  
    Elizabeth said, “Give me back my son.”  
    “Not yet. First I want you to see something.”  
    “What?”  
    “Ask him why he did it. I know you took the tape off his mouth. I watched you do it. Ask him why he liked to touch children in their private parts.”  
    The basement had begun to spin. She closed her eyes.  
    “No,” she whispered.  
    “Yes, Elizabeth. If you ever want to see little Matthew again—or should we call him Thomas?—you will ask Mr. Moore that question.”  
    She opened her eyes again. The basement hadn’t stopped spinning but it was slowing down.  
    She said to Reginald Moore, her voice dry and monotone, “Why did you like to touch children in their private parts?”  
    The man reacted as if her words had slapped him across the face. He actually flinched, looked embarrassed, glanced away from her as he murmured, “I don’t know.”  
    Cain said, “Make him repeat it.”  
    “Say that again,” Elizabeth said, her gaze darting surreptitiously around the basement in search of the hidden camera.  
    “I don’t know,” Reginald Moore nearly sobbed, fighting back tears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”  
    “He’s lying,” the dark robotic voice of Cain said.  
    Elizabeth said, without knowing why, “You’re lying.”  
    “I am not!” Clearly sobbing now, tears running down his face. “Please, I’m ... I’m ... I’m troubled. I know that. I’ve been taking medicine, seeing doctors. I’m trying to be normal!”  
    Cain said, “Tell him he now has five minutes.”  
    “What?” Elizabeth asked, frowning now, but immediately she knew what he meant. She turned toward the stack of boxes against the wall, to the alarm clock resting on top. It still read five o’clock.  
    Until it suddenly began to count down.

 
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 8

    “W HAT IS IT ?” Reginald Moore asked. “What’s wrong?”  
    Elizabeth stood motionless, transfixed by the bright red numbers that had quickly begun to count down on the alarm clock.  
    4:57 ... 4:56 ... 4:55 ...  
    In her ear, Cain said, “In less than five minutes Reginald Moore will die. There’s no changing that. The collar he’s wearing is filled with C-4. Do you know what C-4 is, Elizabeth?”  
    She had been gripping the tire iron tightly, but now her fingers relaxed and the makeshift weapon fell to the floor. Her gaze shifted back to Reginald Moore. She just stood there, completely frozen, watching him as he bucked in the chair, jerking his head back and forth as if that might release the collar around his neck.  
    “Elizabeth, do you know what C-4 is?”  
    “It’s a bomb.”  
    Her voice hardly sounded like her own, too hollow and small.  
    Cain seemed to chuckle. “A simple way of saying it, but yes, it’s a bomb. Wrapped around inside that collar is enough plastic explosive to kill both of you right now.”  
    She glanced back at the clock: 4:26 ... 4:25 ... 4:24 ...  
    “I know what you’re thinking, Elizabeth. You’re wondering if it’s possible to take the collar off him without bringing harm to either of you. It’s a noble thought, but the answer is no.”  
    A tear fell from her eye, sloped down her nose, over her cheek, held in place on the end of her chin for an instant before falling to the floor.  
    She whispered, “Why are you doing this?”  
    4:01 ... 4:00 ... 3:59 ...  
    “To give you an example.”  
    “An example?”  
    “Yes. Of what’s to come.”  
    Despite his efforts, Reginald Moore could not move the chair even an inch. Apparently it had in fact been bolted down, Cain keeping in mind the animalistic way humans will react when faced with death. Only Moore