The Stranger You Know (Forensic Instincts 3)

He was a fucking kid. Fourteen years old. A horny adolescent who’d never had sex before. She was a twenty-eight-year-old woman with a body to die for and an appetite for students. It had been easy to seduce him.

She’d taken him to the grounds behind the baseball diamond and touched him everywhere—with her hands, her mouth. She’d gotten him so hot that he’d do anything to get laid. But she’d made him wait. Made him beg. Hold off until he was in agony. And when she’d finally straddled him, taken him inside her, she’d clamped her legs around him, held him in place like a prisoner. She’d controlled everything, riding him hard, taking his hands and wrapping them around her neck, making him squeeze until she was gasping for breath.

That was when she’d climaxed. He wasn’t allowed to come until she had. If he did, she punished him, kept her body from him like some kind of treasured prize.

He was addicted. He did anything she wanted. Anything so he could have that incredible release.

He’d literally been her slave.

Never again.

In one harsh motion, Glen released Casey’s face. He groped inside his jeans pocket, pulled out a knife and flipped open the blade.

“Just like the first time, Red,” he said, referring to that night in Tompkins Square Park when he’d taken her at knifepoint. “Only this time I’m going to slit your fucking throat after I rape and choke you.”

He reached for the front of his jeans, unbuttoning them and unzipping the fly. He used his knees to stretch her legs as far apart as the beams would allow them to go.

He was just groping inside his pants to free himself, when the front door opened.

“Pizza delivery,” a man’s voice called out.

“Goddammit, not now!” Glen yelled.

Casey’s breath was coming in harsh, shallow pants, and her body was shaking with shock and fear. But she recognized the voice of the man who’d just walked in. She couldn’t quite place it.

Whoever it was had saved her life.

She angled her head to see him.

“Robbie.” Relief surged through her as she focused on the pizza delivery guy who’d found the bloodstains in Deirdre’s dorm room. “Quick,” she rasped. “Help us. This is what happened to Deirdre Grimes. Call the police. Hurry!”

Robbie set down the pizza box and studied her. He didn’t seem horrified by what was going on, or terrified by Glen’s outburst.

What the hell was the matter with him?

“Robbie? Did you hear me?” Casey asked frantically.

“I heard you,” he replied. “I was just thinking that it was a lot different with Deirdre. Quicker. Less fanfare. Then again, less investment.” He shrugged. “I brought you half a pie,” he told Glen. “It would’ve been nice if you’d waited for me before you started the party.”

Glen’s head came up. The crazed look in his eyes was fading. “You were gone too long.”

“Looks to me like I timed it pretty well. And what’s with the knife?”

“Instant replay for me. But I’ve got one for you, too, okay?” Glen sat back on his haunches. “Grab a chair. You can watch round one.”

“Watch?” Casey whispered in helpless incomprehension. She was still staring at Robbie. “You’re part of this? I don’t understand. You called in the other crime.”

“That was just me being clever,” Robbie responded with a smug grin. “I grabbed Deirdre’s cell phone when I stuffed her in the duffel bag and took her. I used it to call in her order. Her number shows up at the pizza place three times a week, so everyone there knows it. Johnny took her order that night. He asked if she wanted the usual. I just said ‘yup’ in a high voice. That place is so noisy, you can’t make out a thing, anyway. Johnny said the pie would be there in thirty minutes. Great timing. I snuck back, put Deirdre’s cell phone on her desk and left. Johnny called me to pick up the delivery. I showed up with the pizza, knocked and—what do you know—I found the door ajar. I went in, saw the blood, called 9-1-1. Pretty smart, huh?” He pulled over the second chair and straddled it. “All set for the show.”

“Oh, my God,” Casey whispered, past fear and into hysteria. “You killed those women? Why? Why?”

Both men chuckled, and Glen gestured at the younger man. “Meet my nephew, Jack. He delivers a great pizza—and a great dead body. He’s multitalented.”

Casey stared. “Robbie...is Jack?”

“Yup,” Jack confirmed. “A little time away, a little plastic surgery and a whole new identity. Kept me safe from the mob, and eventually I was able to help out my uncle Glen. Till you got him thrown in prison. Then I took over. I resented the hell out of you at first. But, in the long run, it gave me the chance of a lifetime.”

“All along, it was you.” Casey processed that as best she could. “The phone calls, the rapes, the murders. You knew all the victims from your pizza deliveries and you exploited that fact to...” She broke off, too far beyond overdrive to even speak.