CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

 

The phone rang, startling Selene awake. She glanced at the clock. Two-forty a.m. Her heart skipped a beat. She looked at Quinn, who was sound asleep.

Should I answer it?

What if it’s him again?

He wants me to be afraid.

Selene decided she wouldn’t be a prisoner in her home.

She slipped out of bed and into her robe. She made her way to the spare bedroom at the end of the hall, turned on the light, and picked up the cordless phone.

“Hello...” she said.

“You didn’t get the message last time,” the muffled voice said. “Now you let it happen again... You’re living with a crazed, cold-blooded killer!”

Happen again? Had someone else been killed?

Selene’s knees were shaking. “Why are you doing this?”

“To protect the citizens of The Woods from a serial killer. It’s too late for some, but not for others...”

“Is that you, Michel?” Selene asked. “Is this your sick attempt to circumvent the court order to stay away from me? If it is—”

“I don’t know anyone named Michel,” the man said. “Even if I did, it ain’t about him. It’s about that murdering bastard you call your husband!”

“You couldn’t be more wrong!” She lowered her voice so she wouldn’t wake Quinn. “He had nothing to do with those murders. Slandering Quinn’s name won’t change that.”

“You think you know him, but you only know what he tells you. He’s guilty! Don’t be fooled by his God-fearing, easygoing, warmhearted image. He’s your worst enemy—and the enemy of every woman who lives in The Woods!”

Selene closed her eyes for a moment, leaning on the wall for support. “If you really believe that, you’d be going to the police instead of harassing me!”

“I don’t wanna get involved with the cops. I’ve got my reasons. I’m telling you, so you’ll put a stop to his homicidal rage one way or the other.”

What type of nut was he?

“Were you at the meeting last night?” Selene asked. She tried to envision which man it could be. Robert Leighton came to mind.

“That’s not important,” the caller said. “The only thing you need to know is the reward money is there even for a killer’s wife. Think about it...before he squeezes the life out of another woman!”

Before Selene could respond, the line went dead.

She slumped down to the floor.

Why is he doing this to me—to us?

She assumed it was Michel. But what if it wasn’t?

Selene refused to take the allegations seriously. But it was hard to ignore the caller’s scathing words.

Was it possible that Quinn was a totally different person than the man she knew?