Chapter 32

What was that noise?

His head popped up from the paperwork he had been trying to concentrate on. He hadn't been too successful. His mind was out back, in his lab, with the woman who would be his. He had it planned down to the tiniest detail.

Michelle might need some time to come around. He could give that to her. At least a little time. She could have until he killed his wife. Then they would have to leave. If she wasn't with him by then, well, he would miss her. But tomorrow would be a first for them both. It would be her first time to see his Purpose and his first time to do his research in front of anyone else. Just the thought of her eyes on him while he performed upon the girl had him hard and aching. After, when the girl was done, then it would be Michelle's turn.

Would she come to him willingly? He hoped not, at least not at first. He could imagine how she would look when she was being punished. He wouldn't be as rough on her as he had others. She was different. He would just have to be more inventive. He had the books, books on bondage, on autoerotica, on sexual enslavement. He mentally rubbed his hands together. He couldn't wait to get started on it all. He just had to get through tonight. Tomorrow, Sunday, he would make excuses to his wife, she didn't care if he was there unless she needed an arm to go somewhere anyway. And he would spend the day with Michelle.

It was an engine. That was what he heard, a motorcycle engine. But no one around here owned a motorcycle. Why would...

That girl, the other one of the task force. The brunette. What was her name? She drove a motorcycle.

His study was at the back of the house. The lights couldn't be seen from the front. He hurried over and hit the switch, dousing the room in darkness except for the light coming in the window from the backyard light.

He heard the sound of footsteps close to the front door and glanced out his study door, staying well back in the shadows. It was her, the cop with the motorcycle, and the FBI agent. Did they know? Why else would they be here at this time of night? But how did they find out?

That didn't matter now. He slipped away from the door to the hallway and crossed the study, opening the big double French doors and sneaking out into the night.

The darkness welcomed him, he knew where he was going, knew every inch of the grass and rock between the house and the little door that he had carefully hidden with a rock garden, bushes and vines. He reached in his pockets for the keys that he carried everywhere and pulled them out, slipping inside the door at the top of the stairs. He had replaced the original steps with stone that was strong and firm. He didn't need a light.

He found the door by instinct and slid his key unerringly in the lock. It clicked with just the slightest of noise and he opened the door. He went inside and turned, closing it tightly before reaching for the light switch.

Before he flipped it, he paused. Something was different. He sniffed the air like an animal scenting for a predator. Something was wrong. Something was...

He heard her voice an instant before he felt the knife at his throat.