Page 43 of Kill For Me Kill For You
The elevator doors opened, Scott gritted his teeth, followed the man inside. The man pressed the button for the twelfth floor and looked at Scott.
‘Twelve is fine,’ said Scott.
The man nodded and cupped his hands in front of him, spread out his legs a little. He maintained a wide stance, his back straight. Scott had seen some partners at the firm who were ex-military stand in the same way.
His eyes. It was as if there was a forty-watt bulb behind each orb, lighting them for the world to admire. And while they were arresting, Scott found them cold. A killer’s eyes. It was risky getting into the elevator with him. The killer must know what Scott looked like. He’d watched their house before he attacked Ruth.
Scott swallowed down the fear rising in his stomach.
The doors closed. Scott moved further back into the elevator.
‘You here on business?’ asked Scott.
The man half turned, said, ‘Something like that.’
He was from New York. Scott could tell by the accent.
‘You sound like a New Yorker,’ said Scott.
The man smiled, revealing a row of small, white teeth, but he didn’t say any more.
The elevator slowed, stopped.
The doors parted.
Before they were fully open, the man stepped forward then turned to say, ‘I hope your wife feels better soon. She looks like a real sweetheart.’
The comment rocked Scott back on his heels. How did he know? He must’ve been watching them, in the restaurant. He didn’t bring it up when they were standing in the elevator, like a normal person would have if they’d been genuinely concerned. He had been watching them, and now he was giving Scott a parting shot. Scott could’ve sworn there was a trace of a smile on the man’s face as he spoke.
And that word.
Sweetheart.
The same thing he’d said to Ruth during the attack. Ruth was dead right. Itwashim.
Cocky son of a bitch – saying that to the husband of his victim.
Scott moved forward out of the elevator. Looked right. No sign. Looked left. The man was fifteen feet ahead of Scott, moving down the hallway, passing by the first rooms along there.
Scott skipped ahead, a couple of steps, just to narrow the distance between them. The man swung his arms as he walked. Casual. Unafraid. Like he owned the place. He took long, confident strides and Scott found himself walking much faster than normal just to keep up with him.
He could feel his cheeks burning. A wash of adrenaline was scalding his skin, firing his muscles, curling his fists. As his body fizzed with chemicals, his mind began to boil with questions. How dare he come to this hotel? This sick motherfucker – it was a game to him. He said he wasn’t here on business exactly – it wassomething like that? What did that mean? Why does someone who lives in the city take a hotel room?
Unless it was to stay close to someone else.
And then Scott almost came to a stop. A thought hit him like a ten-pound hammer.He came here for Ruth. He wants to kill her.
Of course the prowler would want to finish off Ruth. She’s the only victim who’d managed to survive. And the only victim, the only person in the world, who could identify him as the prowler. He was there to kill her.
Scott quickened his pace. He imagined the man in front of him waiting outside their house. Watching as Scott left that night, then going round back and breaking a window. Getting inside. And waiting for Ruth in the dark.
Scott was suddenly aware that his breath was ragged. A patch of sweat stuck the back of his shirt to his skin, and he was shaking.
The hallway had dim, mellow lighting, with a wall lamp every ten feet or so, and every fifty feet a ceiling light in the shape of a large hanging dome. Scott began to glance at the doors as they passed. Rooms 1242, 1243, 1244 passed quickly by. There were coming up on a left turn. Only two more doors before the hallway broke left.
This man had destroyed his wife. Ruined any hope of Ruth carrying his baby. And when this had happened, Scott hadn’t been there. He’d left Ruth alone. He should’ve been there. He could’ve stopped it.
The man began to slow, just a little, and he dipped his right hand into his pants pocket. He stopped in front of the last door on the left before the hallway turn. Room 1248.
