Page 35 of Little Ballerina
Somehow, he helped her get her breathing back under control. He didn’t give her time to dwell on anything but immediately began questioning her. “When was the last time you talked to your mother?” he asked.
“Sunday. I always call her on Sundays.”
“When you spoke with her, how did she seem?”
“The same as usual.”
“Did she mention anything unusual happening? Someone hanging around? Letters?”
“No.”
“What about the staff? Have they contacted you to tell you about anything out of the ordinary?”
“No.”
“I think she’s safe where she is. Her facility is a good one, it wouldn’t be easy for this guy to get to her there.”
Sam was right. The psychiatric facility where her mom lived was a good one. Not only were the staff top-notch, but the residence itself was very secure, which was the major reason why she had chosen it in the first place. Her mom had suffered a nervous breakdown ten years ago. The series of events that started with the fire had been more than she could bear, and she had simply shut down.
“What about your sister? When was the last time you spoke to Ruth?”
That was harder to remember, she and her older half-sister didn’t talk often. “A month, maybe six weeks ago.”
“How did she seem? Did she mention receiving any threatening letters?”
“No, she didn’t mention anything like that. She was going to go back to rehab.” The night of the fire as they had scrambled down the side of the house, Ruth had slipped, badly breaking her pelvis and both legs. She had undergone several surgeries, which had repaired the damage, but left Ruth addicted to pain pills. She had been in and out of rehab more times than Naomi could count. When she wasn't in rehab, she was bouncing from one bad relationship to another.
“Do you know which facility?”
“She didn’t say.”
“But she usually chooses good facilities, right?”
“Yes.”
“So she should be safe too. Your family is safe, Naomi. I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’syouwho’s in danger. It’syouthat we have to worry about keeping safe.” Sam’s dark eyes were bright with emotion, and she knew that his interest in her hadn’t dimmed.
Naomi wanted to yell at him to just let this guy have her and be done with it. She wasn't worth all this hassle, she certainly wasn't worth working so hard to keep alive while other people were dropping like flies around her. Instead, she met his gaze squarely, counting on the same desire he had not to upset her with sedatives to get her way once again. “I need to move, please, Sam.”
“You need a nap.” His face was stern, unmoved.
She knew he meant well, but he was wrong. If begging didn’t work then maybe honesty would. It had last time after all. She didn’t want to admit this. Not out loud because it felt like admitting weakness, and she hated to do that. But desperate times called for desperate measures. “Sam, please, it’s the only way I can hold it together. If I don’t move, I’m going to lose it.”
* * * * *
2:17 P.M.
This was the perfect choice.
He really couldn’t think of anything better. Or rather anyonebetter to make his next victim.
Naomi had to know that he was moving closer. He was done with acquaintances, with vague friends, his next kill was going to be someone much more important to her. Someone who would really get her heart racing. Someone whose death would serve to further isolate her.
He needed her isolated. He wanted her to come running to him, and left to her own devices, she would. The only thing that was going to stop her was her support system. It only made sense to eliminate them. Once she had distanced herself from them, she would be easy pickings.
It was important to him that she be the one to come to him.
He needed to be in control of her, just like he had been back then.