The older boy somehow had most of the younger boy’s blankets. He was using two comforters while his brother was uncovered and curled into a ball to ward off the cold. Typical, Malcolm thought as he stood over the bed. The younger brother never had a chance. That was how it’d been in his family, too. Jack had taken more than his share of everything, especially their parents’ love and attention.
Malcolm blew out a sigh. Mary cared more about these boys than she did about anyone or anything else. Should he march them into her room and kill them in front of her?
It’d be easier if he had his gun, he decided. Quick. Lethal. One shot and it would all be over, just like with Emily and Colton.
But he couldn’t use a gun. It was too loud and the ballistics tests would reveal too much. He had to use a knife. Did he have the nerve to murder two children he’d never even met, especially with a knife? The rage he felt certainly tempted him. Malcolm responded. He wants to know what’s in the package, but he didn’t leave an address. I’ll reply, see if I can get it out of him… She’d taken away the one positive aspect of his life, the one thing that had kept him going over the past few months since the money ran out. After being fired from yet another job as a security guard for a large commercial complex in downtown Los Angeles, he’d come to Sacramento to start over-again. Mary had been his promise that this time he’d finally build a new life, just as he’d planned ever since leaving Jersey.
But she’d ruined it for him. Sacramento wouldn’t be the answer. He’d have to move elsewhere, try to get on with another crappy security company, assume another alias-but not until he’d finished his business here. Not until he’d put an end to Mary and Sebastian and knew for sure that there was no one left-other than Pam Wartle-who had any idea he was alive. Only then could he truly forget the past. Only then could he really move on.
He could kill the kids, he assured himself. He’d do it in front of Mary. But not until he’d had the chance to confront her…
Slipping out of the boys’ room, he approached the door at the end of the hall and paused to listen to the TV droning behind it. Was she awake and watching a program as he liked to do? Or had she fallen asleep with the TV on?
He was about to find out, about to see the woman he’d loved since he was sixteen years old. Maybe he’d tell her she could save herself and her children by having sex with him. He’d threaten her, tell her not to make a sound while he forced her to deliver on all the false promises she’d made. She owed him that much, didn’t she? Then he’d kill the children, saving her for last, clean up any evidence he might’ve left behind and slip away.
Too bad her first glimpse of him would include overalls, a hairnet, gloves and plastic bags over his feet. Dressed this way, he certainly couldn’t compete with the stylish, debonair Sebastian Costas. But he couldn’t compete with him, anyway.
At least Mary would be scared. She’d be terrified, and that was all that mattered.
He’d teach her that he was no fool, he thought, and went into her room.
Seventeen
Sebastian was so tired he almost fell into bed without checking to see if Malcolm was online. For once, he didn’t want to get involved in a conversation. His time with Jane had left him even more unsettled than after she’d lowered her skirt and walked out this morning. Why? What was it about her? His feelings were so confused-a mix of commiseration, identification, admiration, lust. Even disgust for what she’d done with Oliver’s brother. He knew it would be easier not to think about her if he could sink into unconsciousness for a few hours. After all the late nights, he needed a break.
But force of habit had him booting up his computer while he brushed his teeth.
He opened his own e-mail first. Mary had IMed him from her account around midnight. Hey, you there? You up?
He checked to see if she was still on and got no response, so he read his e-mails. His mother had sent him a message, letting him know she’d couriered the handwriting sample. His boss from Lincoln Hawke had also sent him a message.
When are you coming back? There’s a great opportunity here for you, perfect for someone who wants to get away. It’s in Hong Kong.
He was hearing from Bill Masters more and more often. His boss had been understanding to begin with, but now he was getting impatient. He didn’t want to lose one of his most successful investment specialists, and had repeatedly said that Sebastian could make it even in today’s banking environment. But Sebastian wasn’t remotely tempted to accept an assignment in Hong Kong. He felt as if he’d been living in a foreign place ever since Malcolm killed Emily and Colton.
After rinsing out his mouth, he thanked his mother and wrote a polite response to Masters, telling him he needed a little more time. Then he logged into Mary’s e-mail account. He didn’t see a message from Malcolm, but he knew she’d been using the account earlier. She’d IMed him from it. So he opened the Old Mail file to see what had happened in his absence.
He found nothing from Malcolm, or Wesley as he called himself, in Old Mail, either. But something stood out that seemed very strange. Mary had received an e-mail from [email protected]
/* */.
He didn’t have an account at that address, and he doubted Mary knew someone else with his name and had failed to mention it.
What was going on? A trickle of fear ran through him as he read the message.
Hey, any word from Malcolm?
There was no signature, nothing but that one line.
The dread kicking up his heartbeat increased as he opened Mary’s Sent folder and saw that she’d replied.
Malcolm responded. He wants to know what’s in the package, but he didn’t leave an address. I’ll reply, see if I can get it out of him, okay?
Sleep tight. I’m glad you got to bed early for once.
Mary
Who’d sent the first message? And who’d received the reply?
Sebastian’s muscles tensed as he realized who the likely culprit was. Malcolm was on to them. He had to be. The sneaky bastard had figured out a way to see if they were in communication with each other, and because they’d been out of touch tonight, it had worked.
His pulse racing, Sebastian checked the time on Mary’s message. She’d sent it at 12:08 a.m., presumably right before she went to bed. Several hours had passed since then. It was after two when he and Jane had finished at the casinos. What time was it now?
His eyes flicked to the bottom right of his monitor-3:15.