Anger boiled inside him.
All afternoon TV reporters were talking about the murder. Flip the channel to a different news station, and there it was again.
It wasn’t really the murder they cared about. What impact had Tom Hutchens’s life had on greater society? What all the reporters and viewers alike wanted — all those intrusive, gawking people — was information on Rayne and Shaley O’Connor. How were they handling the murder? Were they close to the victim? Had they been spotted today?
When the reporters ran out of knowledgeable answers, they started speculating. Worse, they delved into Rayne’s and Shaley’s pasts. The fact that Rayne had remained single, had raised Shaley alone. The unknown factor of Shaley’s father. Yes, they dared talk about such private things.
And now — see what they’d done. They accosted the Special One in public. Paparazzi hounded her, crowding around and scaring her to death.
Scum.
He wanted to kill every one of them.
That treatment of her was just as bad as Tom’s lack of boundaries. Both sins threatened her. Neither could be tolerated.
Wincing, he rubbed between his eyes against a piercing headache, trying to calm himself. Now was not the time to let his guard down. Now … was not … the time.
But his hands itched, and his head throbbed.
This wasn’t turning out as planned.
And the Special One herself — how deeply disappointing were her actions. What gratitude had she displayed for what he’d done? There she was, going on with her normal life. Going shopping! As if he hadn’t sacrificed a thing for her. As if he hadn’t put his own life on the line.
No, indeed. This wasn’t turning out well.
It made him want to strangle somebody.