CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

 

It was nearly six a.m. when Selene woke to the sound of the phone ringing. It took her a moment to regain her bearings, as she had been in a deep sleep. She looked beside her and saw that Quinn was not in bed. At first she was alarmed, thinking his absence was directly related to the chiming of the phone. But she quickly dismissed that, knowing Quinn was often up and at it early for everything from work to running.

Selene grabbed the phone. “Hello—”

“You’ve been a very bad girl,” the distorted voice said with irritation. “You disregarded my warning and now the man you call your husband has killed again—”

Selene’s heart skipped a beat. She’d heard that Cyndi Gordon was the latest victim of The Woods Strangler. She also knew that Todd Foxworth had been questioned by the police, but hadn’t been charged with anything. Now the caller was once again accusing Quinn of committing this brutal crime.

“You there?” the caller snapped.

Selene wanted to hang up, but she couldn’t. Not yet. Not till she tried to get something out of him that might tell her who he was. And what he wanted from her.

“Yes,” she answered. “How do you know Quinn did it?”

“Because I’ve been watching him, suspecting he was The Woods Strangler. I warned you twice before, but you wouldn’t listen.”

“Why on earth would I listen to someone who hides behind a muffled voice accusing my husband of such vile acts?”

The man coughed into the phone. “Because it true, even if the truth hurts.”

“No, it isn’t true! If you had the facts to back you up, you’d take your story to the police instead of continuing to harass me!”

“Call it what you want, Selene. It won’t change a thing. He’s a merciless killer. It ain’t up to me to help the cops and make their jobs easier. Unless you take matters into your own hands, Quinn Herrera will keep strangling women in The Woods every chance he gets. You mark my words...”

Selene shivered. “Who are you? And why don’t you identify yourself?”

He laughed derisively.

Selene imagined it could be Michel. Or maybe that was wishful thinking—sort of. He still seemed like the most likely suspect. There was no getting around the fact that Michel was not happy she had married Quinn and she was convinced he would do just about anything to undermine their relationship.

Including trying to blame Quinn for the murders in The Woods.

“I’m your guardian angel,” the caller said smugly. “Trying to help you help yourself. And it ain’t about the reward money, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s about doing the right thing.”

“Right for who—you?”

“Right for The Woods and all the sweet looking ladies who are trying to stay alive!”

Selene stood up. Enough is enough. “You listen to me, you bastard, whoever you are. Don’t call here anymore! I’m not interested in hearing your lies about my husband or anything else you have to say. Do you understand?”

“You’re the one who has the problem understanding, bitch,” the caller said angrily. “Your husband killed someone last night. Maybe he’ll kill you next. Is that what you want? Think about it...”

The line went dead.

Selene put the phone down. Her hand was shaking so badly that she had to grab it to settle her nerves. After a few minutes, she turned on the television.

The early news was on and a female anchor was talking about the murder of Cyndi Gordon. According to the anchor, police revealed that before a pizza deliveryman discovered the victim, an anonymous phone caller had apparently tipped off the authorities about the crime.

Selene put her hand to her mouth in dismay. She thought about the caller’s chilling words. His indictment of Quinn. Again.

And the anonymous call to the police.

Were the two callers one and the same?

Had she actually been talking to The Woods Strangler who was pretending to be a concerned citizen just to taunt her for some wicked pleasure?

Selene jumped when she heard the front door close downstairs. Maybe the killer was watching the house. Maybe he hurt Quinn and was coming to kill her.

Panicking, Selene ran to the walk-in closet where Quinn kept a baseball bat. Holding the wooden bat firmly, she waited in the closet. She heard someone mounting the steps quickly. The person moved steadily across the hardwood floor in the hallway toward the bedroom.

Selene’s heart was hammering ferociously against her chest. She held the bat up high, ready to swing it as hard as she could at the first sight of the intruder.

Selene saw a creepy shadow stretching across the floor and up the wall like something out of a slasher movie. Then a figure suddenly came into view and she screamed before focusing on him, bringing the bat down at the same time.

The man, in a defensive position, caught the bat before the wood could make contact atop his head.

“Selene, it’s me, Quinn—”

Selene stopped screaming long enough to catch her breath. It was Quinn. He was perspiring in his jogging suit and running shoes.

“Let me have the bat,” he implored, holding the front end of it. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Selene continued to hold the bat against his resistance, as though still not sure if Quinn was the enemy. Then she came to her senses and realized he was the man she loved—not a killer. She let him take the bat from her and started to cry.

Quinn wrapped his arms around her protectively.

“Tell me what happened,” he said.