E than’s hand rested casually on Sheila’s denim-clad thigh, a small smile on his face as he headed back to Lake Stevens. This was the first time they’d been in a car together. It might have passed for a date had she not been unconscious.
The radio was tuned to a classic-rock station and the Rolling Stones “Sympathy for the Devil” was booming out of the loudspeakers. Sheila had once told him about the summer she and her girlfriends drove cross-country to catch the opening of the Stones’ American tour. The story included a car breakdown, hitchhiking, some bad pot, and a zany stop at a truckers-only diner. She’d barely been out of her teens. He wished he could have known her then.
She breathed evenly beside him, her face peaceful. He figured she’d be out for about three hours-just enough time to get her into the house and make preparations for the next phase.
The Stones’ song ended and he switched the stereo to MP3 mode. Fiddling with his iPod, he found the song he was looking for. After all these years, Radiohead’s “Creep” still gave him shivers. The first time he’d heard it, he’d been in love. And having sex. And strangling someone.
All at the same time.
He smiled as the memories overtook him. The late-afternoon sunlight streaming across his bedroom walls. Books and backpacks strewn across the floor. The smell of her skin, slick with her musky sweat. Her voice in his ear as she whispered his name.
The way her face looked, pale and slack and immobile, a few seconds after she stopped breathing. Her hair tickling his bare arms as he shook her, trying to revive her.
The small line of saliva that ran from her bloodless lips and down her chin as she lay heavy and unmoving in his arms.
You never forget your first time.
Upon reaching the gate at Briar Woods, Ethan punched in his code, noting with satisfaction that the guard booth was empty.
He’d timed it perfectly, same as always. The ancient security guard hired by the Homeowners’ Association was predictable-Henry always left at midnight to take a dump. Every shift, without fail, the old rent-a-cop drove to the twenty-four-hour doughnut shop two streets away, did his business, and returned to the guard booth with a large coffee and French cruller. Not that Ethan couldn’t have handled Henry if for some reason the geezer’s bathroom habits suddenly changed. But why take the risk?
He looked up at the security camera mounted above the booth. It was broken and had been for a year. He was sure of this because he was the one who’d broken it.
He was nothing if not careful.
In under a minute he was in his driveway, pressing the button on the remote garage-door opener he’d stuck on the visor of the Chevy Suburban. His street was dimly lit, with no movement anywhere. In the bedroom community of Briar Woods in Lake Stevens, everybody was tucked in for the night.
He parked right in the middle of the large garage so there’d be ample space on either side of him. His vintage Triumph was gassed and ready to go. Once he got Sheila settled in, he’d be taking the bike and going back out to Renton to get her car out of Tony’s Tavern’s parking lot.
As for her Volvo, that was easy. He was going to park it back at Sheila’s place.
He pressed the button to close the garage door, got out of the car, and walked around to the passenger side. He opened the door and unfastened Sheila’s seat belt.
Hoisting her over his shoulders, he carried her inside the house through the connecting door. There was no alarm to disengage. He’d never had a system installed because he didn’t want the headache of a security company snooping around, should the alarm go off by accident. Besides, security systems were designed to keep the bad guys out… and he was the bad guy. The thought made him grin.
Inside the house, he took an immediate right, heading through the basement door, which he’d propped open before he’d left that evening. The door behind him closed and locked automatically, and it had a keypad. Nobody could enter or exit the lower level of the house without the code.
It hadn’t been easy to find a house with a basement in the greater Seattle area. The basement mirrored the upper level-huge and sprawling. He felt no claustrophobia here. As he navigated down the stairs, the lights turned on automatically.
It would only take a few minutes to get Sheila prepared. He hummed, almost giddy with anticipation.
He placed her gently on the bed and her head rolled to the side. Her mouth was slightly open and a line of saliva trailed down her chin and under her jaw.
She looked dead.
Lovingly, Ethan traced the saliva with his finger and tasted it, remembering.