Friday, June 18, 12:50 a.m., Greenwich, CT

Rollins

The man who sometimes called himself Jim Rollins pulled into the parking garage of Greenbeck Dermatology, a full forty minutes ahead of schedule. As expected, traffic along I-95 had been light, and his passenger had been cooperative for the entire trip.

Maybe too cooperative, he thought as he popped open the trunk.

Jessica Goodwin lay pretty much where he’d left her three hours ago, curled into a fetal position and taped securely around the ankles and wrists.

He reached in to shake her. “Time to wake up, sweetheart!”

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling the tape off her mouth. That was the problem right there. Hard to judge the right sodium pentothal dose. That, combined with the tape, probably caused her to suffocate during the trip.

Not that it mattered. She would’ve wound up this way in a few hours anyway, but that hadn’t been the plan.

Her husband was supposed to watch.

Oh well, life was friggin’ unpredictable that way. He shrugged, then hooked an arm around her slender waist and hoisted her out of the trunk and over his shoulder in one fluid motion.

Jesus, she was light. Like a ballerina. And drop-dead gorgeous, too. At least she had been. So different from Bree, but every bit as beautiful in her own way.

Hey, you had to give Doctor Faggot credit. The dude had good taste. Not like he’d know what to do with a woman like this.

Rollins buried his nose in her long dark hair and inhaled deeply, enjoying the strawberry scent of her shampoo, the feeling of her limp body draped against him. He ran his fingertips along the warm curve of her thigh, thinking he really should’ve been more careful. This would’ve been so much more fun if she were still alive.

He carried Jessica Goodwin’s body through the parking garage, setting her down by the employees’ entrance. The door to Greenbeck Derm clicked open as soon as he entered the five-digit pass code. No alarm, as planned. He kicked the heavy door open, eager to get started. So much work to be done before his guests arrived. Everything needed to be perfect.

Especially for Bree.

Just the thought of her, now so close he could almost smell her in the wind, made him shiver with anticipation.

He closed his eyes, imagining the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips, then realized with a sudden jolt that it wasn’t the feel of her skin he was remembering.

This tactile memory was fresh, and it brought with it a startling realization.

Corpses weren’t supposed to have warm skin.

Rollins heard the rustling, seconds before he turned around to find Jessica, in the process of ripping the last piece of tape from her ankles. Her hands were already free, probably had been all along.

Playing possum.  Such a huge turn on.

Her reaction to being discovered was even hotter. She backed up against the door like a cornered animal, wild eyes glaring up at him in defiance.

“Welcome back, Jessie,” he taunted. “I always knew you were a fighter.”

She answered him with a piercing scream.

Rollins pounced, knowing he only had seconds to shut her up. A cry for help would carry far in the silence of night, maybe even far enough to reach some random cop on night patrol.

He threw his whole body into the attack, but she was ready.

Bringing her knees up under her chin, she kicked out like a friggin’ mule. The blow caught him just above the groin, close enough to hurt like a motherfucker. He rolled onto his side, pushing back the pain before leaping to his feet.

The bitch bolted past him, screaming like a car alarm as she ran through the parking garage. Damn, that voice would carry if she got out into the open.

Not like that was gonna happen.

Closing the distance between them, Rollins leaped up onto the hood of a car. Reached into his jacket pocket to pull out the weapon.

“Jessie! Don’t make me shoot!”

She didn’t even look back as he pulled the trigger.

The taser wires shot forward with a loud pop, scoring a direct hit on her back. She crumpled to the ground, where her body twitched for a few seconds before going still.

“Nailed her!” Rollins strutted toward his victim, like a proud hunter retrieving his game. “Now was that really necessary?”

He knelt beside her to pull off the taser wires, then reached down to grab a fistful of hair and yanked upward. The violent motion exposed her swan neck.

Why not just finish her here, right in the parking lot? Aroused by the thought, he reached into his pocket to palm the switchblade, then thought better of it.

She needed to die inside. Besides, she’d already put him behind schedule. The fun would have to come later.

He reached under her arms to lift her, then threw her over his shoulder and carried her into the medical building.

One problem neutralized. And if everything went as planned, her husband would be joining her soon enough.

***

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