CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

 

Selene assumed that the chimes she heard were the product of the deep dream she was in, tapping into her mind in a surreal way. When she opened her eyes, she was groggily aware of the phone ringing. Her eyes shifted to the bright red numbers on the digital clock atop the dresser.

Two-fifty A.M.

Who in the world is calling at this hour?

Selene wondered if it was an emergency at S.A.W. House. As director, she was on call twenty-four hours a day. But there was usually someone there to handle most problems that arose. Could it be something more serious?

She noticed that Quinn was still sound asleep, apparently undaunted by the intrusive sound. Not wanting to wake him, Selene carefully slid out of bed and answered the phone.

“Hello...” Selene stammered. There was no response. “Hello...” she said again.

This time Selene heard a noise resembling something scratching a rough surface; then a muffled, somewhat raspy voice said, “Your husband is responsible for the deaths of those women in The Woods...”

“What—?”

“You heard me!” The voice, which she did not recognize, was direct and implacable. It was also distinctly male.

Selene was stunned into silence for a moment. The implication of the caller’s words was almost too much to comprehend. Was he accusing Quinn of being The Woods Strangler? Or could he be referring to Michel?

“You obviously have the wrong number,” she said.

“I don’t think so!” the caller said. “This is Selene Herrera, right?”

Selene didn’t respond, since it was clear he already knew the answer. But what did that prove? Anyone could have gotten the number. As the director of S.A.W. House and a community activist against domestic violence, she was an open target for those who opposed her views.

“Who is this?” Selene demanded. She assumed it was Michel, though the voice was obviously disguised and therefore impossible to identify conclusively.

“Never mind who I am,” the man said. “The important thing is you’re sleeping with a murderer. If you don’t stop him, he’ll kill again. Mark my words...”

The line went dead.

Selene felt numb, frozen in place like a statuette. She didn’t know what to think other than it was pure rubbish, plain and simple. Yet her pulse was racing wildly and her mind swirling over the stunning accusation.

Quinn opened his eyes and mumbled, “Who’s on the phone?”

Only then did Selene realize she was still holding it. Her first instinct was to tell him that someone had called to say he was a cold-blooded serial killer. But how did one share such a vicious thing with her husband at nearly three in the morning?

“No one, honey,” she said instead, and got back into bed. “Just a wrong number.”

Quinn drew her to his body. “Well, hopefully we can both get back to sleep.”

Selene agreed, but wasn’t very optimistic. The caller had rattled her to the point where sleep seemed almost impossible.