Paul cringed at her poor choice of words, but the killer had made his point. He was either Stan Klaus or a copycat. Newspapers around the country had printed stories detailing the Dakota Strangler’s methods. A book on serial killers had an entire chapter dedicated to him. Anyone with a sick mind could copy his methods.
What they shouldn’t have been able to do was find his wife.
Unless one of the children had unintentionally let the secret leak out. Brandon was old enough to remember his real name. Luke had been four when his father disappeared: he probably didn’t even remember the man.
Paul made a mental note to ask Brandon. Not that he expected the boy to open up to him. For some reason, Brandon viewed Paul as a threat to his mother.
Paul had little experience with children, but how hard could it be to get the boy to warm up to him? He’d just turn up the old Fletcher charm, as Mel called it. After he stopped by his apartment and packed an overnight kit.
He wasn’t taking no for an answer from Elise. She needed protection. Whether the killer was Stan or a copycat, he definitely had something in mind for Elise Johnson.
Chapter Five
Elise threw herself into the normal routine of homework with the boys, grading papers and then fixing dinner for her small family. The work should have helped her to calm down after Paul’s revelation and pending return.
But she couldn’t help what her mind kept conjuring. A woman floating in the Guadalupe, her blond hair streaming out beside her, her hands and feet tied in Ethernet cable. Every time the image surfaced, a cool chill she couldn’t attribute to the new air-conditioning shook Elise’s body.
When she finally dropped into her chair at the dinner table to eat the boys’ favorite, mac and cheese, her shoulders were stiff and her appetite nonexistent. She forced a smile, determined to act like normal. “How was your day, Luke?”
Luke gave her a cheesy grin and spoke around the food in his mouth. “I got four stars today for helping clean the classroom.”
“Very good, Luke. I’m sure Mrs. Dobratka was impressed with your thoughtfulness.”
He nodded, stuffing another heaping forkful of orangey macaroni into his mouth, half of it falling back to his plate.
“Smaller bites, big guy.” Elise turned to Brandon. He’d been quiet since he’d gotten off the bus, following her around the small house, if not physically, then with his penetrating gaze. Sometimes she thought he could see more into situations than an eight-year-old should.
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