He began to tie Jamie’s hands to the bedposts as she kicked her legs and grunted at him through the tape.
He laughed out loud at her. She was a tough one. He wouldn’t expect anything less from a cop’s wife. It would give him such great pleasure to do what he wanted with her then kill her right here.
He began to rip her clothes off, pleased with what he saw, claiming it with every touch, igniting all the fantasies and desires he had inside for Grace.
He would pretend she was Grace for a little while. There would be nothing better than the real thing and soon he would have her.
Grace was his goal. His ultimate prize. He would retire from his murder spree soon enough. By the time the cops figured out who he was and why he killed, it wouldn’t matter. Grace would be his to have forever.
He stared at Jamie. She was Grace’s best friend and cousin. She didn’t have shit on Grace, but she was quite appealing to the eyes. He closed his eyes a moment and envisioned Grace lying there, bound, naked and ready for him.
He moved closer and removed the tape from Jamie’s mouth.
“Don’t scream, my love. Don’t cry, don’t yell, just do as I say and maybe you’ll live.”
* * * *
Jamie shook with fear as the killer whispered to her. Her arms were aching, her eyes were burning and the killer was on top of her, touching her.
“I’ve missed you, Grace. You’ve been on my mind constantly.” He rubbed Jamie’s stomach with his hands. Her heart ached and tightened. This was definitely the killer. He came after her. Why?
“I’m not Grace,” Jamie began to say as the killer smacked her across the face.
“Shut up. You speak when I tell you to speak or I’ll kill you right here.”
Jamie couldn’t believe this was happening to her. She was going to die and her husband Tod, a seasoned detective, would be the one to find her. She was shaking with fear as the killer taunted her, acting like she was Grace. She tried not to freak out as the pounding sound in her head continued. She focused on his voice and it hit her. He sounded familiar. Do I know him?
Her chest tightened and she gasped as different people’s faces passed before her eyes, but his words, the sick tone of his voice cluttered her thinking.
“I love you, Grace. I have for many years. Especially after Clara died. I wanted you then, but I couldn’t have you. Why did you go away?” He kissed her neck, her shoulder bone.
I know him. No, it can’t be?
“Do you love me, Grace? Tell me you love me.”
“No, you sick son of a—”
The killer began hitting her, punching her, and suddenly she felt his gloved hands around her neck. He was choking her, taking the life out of her.
“Tell Grace I’m waiting.” He punched Jamie and she fell unconscious.
* * * *
Grace slept until midnight. She couldn’t believe she slept through dinner and that the guys never woke her. As she looked around the room, she saw Sandman there, sleeping in the armchair.
His laptop was still on and she assumed he spent the day watching over her.
“Hey, sleepyhead, how are you feeling?” Sandman asked as he turned off his laptop and stood up to stretch out.
“I feel tired.”
He smiled at her as he approached the bed.
“We had an eventful evening,” he said, and she felt her cheeks blush. She remembered making love to them.
She remembered passing out.
“You were upset after reading the letters. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that,” he told her and she shook her head at him.