The Perfect Murder by Brenda Novak Read Free Book Online Page A

routine. He pushed himself to lift and run more each day, but not because he gave a damn about improving his physique. It was all about coping with his frustration--and being ready to exact retribution.
    In the same reflection, he could see his handgun sitting on the nightstand behind him. He'd spent a lot of time learning how to use it. Sometimes he even craved the feel of that smooth handle in his palm.
    What have you become? he asked himself. Was he allowing what had happened to Colton to change more than his appearance and habits? Was he allowing it to twist his heart?
    Constance certainly thought so. But he couldn't seem to escape the compulsion driving him. It was like some kind of centripetal force that'd sucked him in and held him fast.
    Let it go and move on, Connie always said. Come back to me. Don't let Malcolm cost you any more than he already has.
    For a moment, he grabbed at the hope in those words. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe he could go back to New York, to her.
    He scooped his phone off the desk to see if she'd called again, but didn't bother checking when he noticed a change on his computer screen. A reply from Mary McCoy had popped up.
    BrownEyedGirl: I'm here.
    42

    Relieved, Sebastian tossed his phone on the bed so he could type.
    S.Costas: What'd our friend have to say tonight?
    BrownEyedGirl: Not a lot. It was mostly me, doing what you said to do. I told him I'd like to hook up, suggested I drive down to L.A. this weekend to see him.
    With luck, she was leading Malcolm right where he wanted to go.
    Considering all the time he'd put into reestablishing the relationship, he had to be secretly hoping to see her. Otherwise, there wouldn't be much of a payoff to their lengthy and sometimes sexual Internet discussions.
    But would that desire be enough to tempt Malcolm into revealing his true identity? That was the big question.
    S.Costas: Did he agree?
    BrownEyedGirl: He didn't disagree. But he didn't make a commitment, either. I asked for his address. I said I wanted to see how far he lived from Sacramento. He said L.A. was about 400 miles. So I said maybe I should fly and he should pick me up at the airport, but he said he had a lot going on this weekend and we should plan it for another time.
    He was dodging them, playing it safe.
    S.Costas: Did he say when?
    BrownEyedGirl: No. He said he'd have to check his schedule. Then he got off.
    Shit. Sebastian hoped they hadn't spooked him.
    S.Costas: Did he seem nervous or suspicious?
    BrownEyedGirl: Not really. Just a little cagey. Maybe he'll get back to me, 43

    like he said.
    He obviously wanted some contact with her or he wouldn't have gotten in touch. And Malcolm was cocky enough to think he could get away with anything.
    The killings had occurred in Newark, New Jersey, Malcolm and Mary had gone to high school in San Antonio, Texas, and Mary now lived in Sacramento. Perhaps he believed she was sufficiently removed from the situation. If Sebastian hadn't found that old shoebox in the storage above Malcolm's garage, the one that contained Mary's old letters and pictures, he wouldn't have realized they'd once been so close, and Mary might not have learned about the tragedy in New Jersey. She'd been completely surprised--stunned--when he'd told her. The news had brought her to tears. It wasn't until five months later that she'd dug Sebastian's card out of her desk and called him to say she was receiving some rather mysterious e-mails--e-mails that reminded her of someone they both knew quite well.
    S.Costas: Don't mention seeing him again, not for the next few days. We have to be careful or we'll blow this.
    BrownEyedGirl: If it is Malcolm, I can't imagine he'll really agree to get together, not after telling me he's someone else. How will he explain that?
    S.Costas: Easy enough.
    BrownEyedGirl: How?
    S.Costas: By saying he's in the witness protection program or something.
    Knowing Malcolm, and his desire to come across as a big shot, that was exactly the