Dream Man by Linda Howard Read Free Book Online

present tense she was using when she spoke, as if the murder were happening right now.
    “Go on,” the lieutenant urged.
    It was a moment before she resumed, and her tone was even flatter than before, as if she could thus distance herself from the words. “He makes her take off her nightgown. She’s crying, begging him not to hurt her. He likes that. He wants her to beg him. He wants her to think that she’ll be okay if she just does as he says. It’s more fun that way, when she realizes—”
    She interrupted herself, leaving the sentence unfinished. After another moment she resumed. “He uses a condom. She’s grateful for that. She tells him thank you. He’s easy with her, almost gentle. She starts to relax, even though she’s still crying, because he isn’t hurting her and she thinks he’ll just leave when he’s finished. He knows how the stupid bitches think.
    “When he’s through, he helps her to her feet. He holds her hand. He bends down and kisses her cheek. She just stands there, until she feels the knife. He keeps the first cut shallow, enough to let her know what’s going to happen, so he can see the look in her eyes when she panics, but the cut shouldn’t be so bad that it slows down the chase. There wouldn’t be any fun in that.
    “She panics; she screams and tries to run, and the rage in him is let loose. He’s held it in check all this time, toying with her, enjoying her fear and humiliation, allowing her to hope, but now he can let it out. Now he can do what he came for. This is what he likes best, the complete terror he can see in her eyes, the feeling of invincibility. He can do anything he wants to her. He has total power over her, and he revels in it. He is her god; her life or death is his choice now, his decision. But it’s death, of course, because that’s what he enjoys most.
    “She’s fighting, but the pain and loss of blood have slowed her down. She makes it into the bedroom and falls down. He’s disappointed; he wanted the fight to go on longer. It makes him angry that she’s so weak. He bends over to slice her throat, to finish it, and the bitch turns on him. She’s been faking it. She hits at him. He’d meant to make it quick, but now he’ll show her, she should never have tried to trick him. The rage is like a hot red balloon, swelling up and filling him. He slashes at her over and over, until he’s tired. No, not tired. He’s too powerful to be tired. Bored. It was over too soon; she’s learned her lesson. She hadn’t been as much fun as he’d hoped.”
    Silence fell. After a few seconds, Dane realized that she was finished. She still sat stiffly in the chair, her gaze locked on the window blinds.
    Lieutenant Bonness seemed disappointed by Dane and Trammell’s lack of reaction. “Well?” he demanded impa-tiently.
    “Well, what?” Dane straightened away from the wall. Rage had slowly built inside him as he had listened to the flat, emotionless recital, but it was a cold, controlled anger. He didn’t know what the bitch’s motive was in coming here, but there was one thing he knew for certain, and he didn’t have to be any sort of mind reader to figure it out: She had been there. Maybe she herself had murdered Mrs. Vinick, maybe not, but she had been in that house when it had happened. At the very least she was an accomplice, and if she thought she could waltz in here with that bullshit story and get a lot of media attention while she jerked them around, she had tangled with the wrong guy.
    “What do you think?” Bonness snapped, irritated that he had to ask. Dane shrugged. “A psychic? Get real, LT. That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
    Marlie Keen stirred, slowly unknotting her hands as if the movement were difficult. Just as slowly she turned her head and looked at Dane for the first time. Despite his icy rage, his stomach muscles contracted abruptly in reaction. No wonder Bonness had been taken in! Her eyes were the deep, dark,