A Soul To Steal (The Sanheim Chronicles, Book One) (24 page)

But when he looked again, it was only his shadow on the wall.

Quinn looked to the front, while she kept an eye out behind them. Quinn felt like they were moving too slow. He fought down the urge to grab her and bolt toward the door.

At the reception desk, both jumped as the phone at the front rang. Kate pointed the gun at it.

“It’s past 10 o’clock,” Quinn said. “Who the hell would be calling?”

“Pick it up,” Kate said.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said.

“Pick it up,” Kate said.

Quinn slowly reached over the desk and did so. He stared at the receiver and picked it up.

“
Loudoun Chronicle
,” he said. “Hello.”

There was no answer. At first, he wondered if it was a hang up. But then he distinctly heard the sound of breathing on the other end.

“Who is this?” he asked.

No response.

He walked around the desk and looked at the phone more carefully.

He dropped the phone, grabbed Kate and the two of them ran out the door.

“What did he say?” Kate demanded, still holding the gun in her hand as they ran down the street.

“Nothing,” Quinn replied.

“Then why are we running?”

“It was an internal call,” Quinn said. “He was in there.”

Quinn and Kate fled into the darkness.

Chapter 16

Friday, Oct. 20

Quinn woke up stiff from sleeping on the couch all night. He looked at the clock. It was barely past 5 in the morning.  He was not surprised.

Last night’s adventure had him so wired he had taken more than three hours to fall asleep. And even in his dreams, he seemed to be keeping a close eye on the door.

Kate was in his bedroom—the two of them having mutually decided that it was best to stay together. Quinn wasn’t sure to whose advantage that was. She had a gun and seemed to know how to use it. Of course, she was also the one being hunted.

The note had felt like a jolt to his system. He could only imagine what it felt like for her. The guy knew. Somehow he knew who Kate really was.

He kept turning the possibilities over in his head. The first was that Lord Halloween could have just seen her at some point, recognized similarities and done some research. That seemed implausible, however. How would you recognize someone after 12 years out of the blue, especially when they were a kid when you saw them last?

The second was that someone Kate had told had passed that information along to someone else. Or perhaps she had told the killer himself.

But Quinn knew that was a limited few, of which he was one. Since he knew he hadn’t done it, he mentally marked himself off that list. He would just have to hope she did that too.

Janus clearly suspected Kate had a history here, Quinn considered briefly, but pushed the thought to the back of his head. For starters, Janus was his best friend and incapable of being a murderer. A pain in the ass, yes. But he was no psychopath.

But how, he thought, do you know anyone for sure? He supposed the real murderer had friends he must hang out with, people he must know. Did they suspect? Quinn doubted it. Whoever did this kept that part of himself buried. And it was possible it was so buried the killer didn't know himself. Quinn had heard of people with multiple personality disorder, ones who weren't aware of what their other personalities did.

Even aside from that, Janus was not a logical suspect. Janus was... what? 30? 31? If he was the same murderer from more than a decade ago, he would have to have been killing as a teenager. Possible, but likely? Sure, there were kids in schools who started shooting people, but this was a different deal. This was vicious murder of a very personal nature.

Quinn sat up and rubbed his eyes. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Could he really calmly be assessing whether his best friend was a killer?

He got up and walked the few steps to his kitchen. It was a mess, of course.

If he had known Kate would stay the night again, he might have cleaned up.

But the idea had never occurred to him. Not in the end-of-a-date romance kind of way and certainly not this one.

He idly fixed himself a cup of coffee, still keeping one eye on the door.

The guy could have followed them back. A worse thought suddenly occurred to him. If he knew who Kate was, he undoubtedly knew who Quinn was. And almost certainly knew where he lived.

Quinn would have to find someplace else to stay, he decided. They both had shied away from Kate’s hotel, but Quinn wasn't sure why. They had hardly discussed it.

Quinn thought he heard a noise and paused for a moment. It was a soft clicking coming from his bedroom. It took him a minute to recognize the sound—someone was typing. Kate must be using his computer, he thought. He walked down the hallway and paused outside his door to be sure.

The typing stopped. Quinn waited and heard nothing.

He thought about tapping on the door, but decided he was imagining things. He turned to walk away and then the typing started again.

He cautiously opened the door.

Kate sat there fully dressed at his computer.

When the door opened, she practically jumped out of the chair.

“Quinn,” she said.

“You couldn’t sleep?” he asked and moved over to look at the computer. She hurriedly was closing windows on the screen. But Quinn caught a brief look at one.

It took him only a moment to figure out what was going on.

“Either you are now hiding your secret love of Internet porn, or you’ve been doing research—on me,” he said.

Kate looked at him for a moment. He wondered if she had slept at all. She was dressed in the same clothes from last night.

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“I caught a glimpse of my old paper on the screen as you were shutting down,” he said. “Plus, you just look guilty.”

Kate studied him for a moment more.

“I was doing research on you,” she said finally.

Quinn sat down on the bed.

“Let me guess,” he said. “You were trying to figure out if I was the killer? Or if I might be in league with him at any rate?”

“You were the only one I told, Quinn,” she said. “I told you who I was and nobody else. So if he now knows...”

Quinn nodded.

“That’s logical,” he said. But he felt like he had been cold cocked nonetheless.

“It isn’t that I think you're him, I just...”

“Had to be sure,” he finished.

“Yes,” she said.

“And are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Sure?” he asked.

She looked back at the computer screen briefly and laid her palm on the desk.

“No,” she said. “I found nothing in there that helped me.”

“I thought not,” he said.

“I have to say—you are taking this pretty calmly,” she said.

“So is that a strike for or against me?” he asked, with an air of resignation.

“I don’t know,” Kate replied.

He leaned on his knees.

“It hurts a little, you know,” he said. “I have all this... I don’t know. Since you came here and I met you, I’ve felt... Oh screw it.”

He ran his hands through his hair. He was tired. She was paranoid. What was there to say?

“You felt what?” she asked, but she looked away from him.

“A connection,” Quinn replied. “Like you and I were supposed to be together or something. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I know you think you know me,” she began.

He cut her off.

“That’s just it,” he said. “I don’t think I know you at all. I just know I want to. But I can’t do that if you don’t trust me.”

“I think you will agree our circumstances are a little different,” she said.

“Of course,” he replied. “And probably if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t trust anybody either. But I don’t know how to convince you. I’ve been as honest with you as I know how.”

Kate sighed.

“Here’s the thing,” Kate said. “How do you know another person really is who they seem to be?”

“You don’t, you just…”

“No, no, don’t answer quick,” she said. “People can’t see inside each other’s heads. Everyone knows that. But think about how much people really don’t know about their friends and their family. Read the papers. Read our paper. How many child molesters? Rapists? Bullies? Killers? How many of them have families who just see them as friendly old John or Joe?”

“I know,” Quinn said.

“People don’t even know themselves. Husbands and wives cheat on each other and even they can’t explain it. They betray, they lie, they steal and sometimes feel like they are watching someone else do these things. Behind each person, there is a monster. A thing that lurks deep in their brain and slithers out every once in a while.”

“That’s not true,” he replied.

“It is true and you know it,” she said. “Everyone knows it. I’ve learned the hard way. You can’t trust anybody. You can’t even trust yourself.”

There was a long pause between them.

“I don’t believe that,” Quinn said finally. “I believe you can trust people.”

“But who, Quinn? How can you be sure?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s a risk…”

“Let’s take it out of the hypothetical,” Kate said. “How do you explain how the killer knows who I am? Let’s assume it isn’t you. Then how does he…”

“There are a few possibilities I was running over in my head,” he said. “For starters, what about your dad’s friend? The cop.”

She nodded.

“I’ve been trying to do some research on him as well,” she said.

“He’s a possibility?" Quinn asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “He is one of my dad’s best friends. I find it hard to believe...”

“There is another possibility,” Quinn said.

“Janus?” she asked. “I know. He could have figured it out.”

Quinn did not know if he wanted to scream or laugh.

“This is insane,” he said. “We are paranoid. I thought about it. I want you to know that. I really considered Janus. It’s a possibility, but I don’t think so. He would have been really young the first time around.”

“Still possible, though,” she said.

“Very unlikely,” he replied. “Or there’s the paper.”

“Do they all know?”

“You blew up in a room full of reporters,” he said. “You could have made someone curious.”

“So one of the guys could be...”

“Or one of the women,” Quinn said. “Or they could be working with him. Anybody could have been curious and dug a little.”

She put her head in her hands.

“I knew this would happen,” she said. “I just knew he would find me.”

“He hasn’t found you yet,” Quinn said.

“How do you know?” she asked. “He could be here right now, waiting outside the door. He could be anyone—even you.”

“I’m not him,” Quinn said.

“I know, I know,” she said, and then she laughed to herself. “But how do I really know? How can I trust anybody?”

Slowly, Quinn reached across and took her hand. She pulled it away.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I want to trust you. And I do...”

“But only so far,” he finished.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m sorry. But I’m on my own here. He’s hunting me, not you.”

Quinn sighed and lay back on his bed. What was he supposed to say? How do you really know somebody else? There has to be some leap of faith, but what if you’re wrong?

He raised himself up again and looked at her.

“I believe in you,” he said. “I know it sounds corny. But I don’t think you’re going to be beaten by this guy. He may know who you are, but other than that, he knows nothing else about you.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“You’re not a scared little girl anymore, Kate. You’re not the girl he saw. Don’t let him put you in that position. You grew up. You’re smart, capable and tough.”