I'm Watching You by Karen Rose Read Free Book Online

you’d have been out of here a half hour ago.“
    „I’m waiting for a cab.“
    „A cab? Why?“
    „Because you have my car at Impound and the rental car place is closed.“
    Abe shook his head. Of course. He couldn’t believe one of them hadn’t thought about that before going their separate ways. „Don’t you have a friend you can call?“
    „No.“ It wasn’t a bitter retort, just no. No, you don’t have a friend you can call, or no you don’t have a friend ? The thought hit him out of nowhere, accompanied by a profound need to protect. From a vigilante murdering peeping Tom? From having no friends? From me ?
    „I’ll take you home. It’s on my way.“ It was a lie, of course, but she didn’t have to know.
    She smiled. „How do you know? You don’t even know where I live.“
    He recited her address, then shrugged a little sheepishly. „I was listening when you told Spinnelli your address for the patrol drive-bys. Let me drive you home, Kristen. I’ll check out your house and make sure no vigilante peeping Toms are hiding in the closets.“
    „I was worried about that,“ she admitted. „Are you sure it’s no trouble?“
    „I’m sure. But I do have two favors to ask.“
    Instantly her green eyes went wary and he wondered why. Or who . A woman that looked like Kristen Mayhew would find it impossible to escape opportunists who wanted special favors. „What?“ she asked sharply.
    „First, stop calling me Detective Reagan,“ Abe said simply. „Please call me Abe.“
    He could see her shoulders relax through the heavy winter coat. „And the second?“
    „I’m starving. I’d planned to stop someplace for a quick bite. Join me?“
    She hesitated, then nodded. „I never ate dinner, either.“
    „Good. My SUV is parked across the street.“

 
    Wednesday, February 18,
    11:00 P.M.
     
     
    He was ready. He ran a soft cloth down the matte barrel of his rifle. It was like new. It should be. A wise man cared well for his tools. It had served him well these past few weeks.
    He pulled the photo in its cheap silver frame just a little closer. „Six down, Leah. Who will be next?“ Carefully he laid the rifle on the table and stuck his hand in the fishbowl. Once the bowl held Leah’s goldfish. Ever since he’d known her, Leah had a goldfish. Cleo had always been its name. When one died, a new one would miraculously show up in the bowl the next day and it would be named Cleo. Leah never acknowledged one fish was dead, never made a fuss. She just went out and bought a new fish. He’d found a dead Cleo in Leah’s fishbowl the day he’d identified her body. He hadn’t the heart to buy a new one.
    Now the fishbowl held the names of every person who had escaped justice under Kristen Mayhew’s watch. Murderers, rapists, child molesters, all out walking the streets because some morally bankrupt defense attorney found a loophole. The defense attorneys were no better than the criminals themselves. They just wore better suits.
    He riffled his hand through the little slips of paper, searching, pausing when his finger caught a dog-eared edge. He’d worried over whom to target first. Over which crime was more serious than the rest, which victims deserved justice before the others. He’d only have so much time, especially now that the police were involved. He’d known that Kristen would involve the police before he’d tipped his hand, but it seemed a justifiable risk for the satisfaction he’d receive just by knowing she knew. So he’d put all the names in the fishbowl and let God guide his hand. He pulled out the folded piece. Looked at the corner he himself had turned down. He’d given God a little help, that’s all.
    What was the punishment for that dog-ear? he wondered. There were crimes that were worse than others. Rape and child molestation had a premeditation, a wickedness that must be punished, eliminated. So he’d gone back and dog-eared all the sexual crimes.
    He stared at the folded paper