How many times had he stood out here and watched her when he was younger? And tonight the show had been especially good: he had watched her pad through the house in just her black bra and panties. She still looked good. Rain ran down his face. He didn’t care. The rain was irrelevant. Julie was the reason the game could continue. He’d worried after Steve’s arrest that it would be all over. Killing Mel could have turned into a mistake. He was too close. The connection too easily made. But the opportunity had presented itself and he just couldn’t resist. He should have been smarter, though, held back. He frowned. He didn’t like thinking he wasn’t in control. Control was everything. A momentary glitch—that was all. He’d been away from the blood for too long. And after Elise, and then Micah—well, it was understandable that he had wanted more than a taste. So he had plunged the knife into Mel—again, and again, and again.
