“I think you’re a pathetic freak.”

“Let me tell you how this is going to go down.” He says between clenched teeth.

I try to twist away, but he’s got a vise grip on the sleeves of my coat and gives me another hard shake. “You’re so distraught over losing your job and your complete and utter failure with regard to this case, you couldn’t take it anymore. So you get yourself juiced up. You drive to this deserted farmhouse. Have yourself a few more drinks. Then you sit down on the floor, pick up that pretty little Kimber, stick it in your mouth and pull the trigger. How’s that for a happy ending?”

“No one will believe that.” The words are a scream inside my head, but they come out evenly.

“You wouldn’t be the first cop to eat a bullet because of the job.”

“Here’s a reality check for you, Detrick. Tomasetti knows what you did. He’s going to take you down. Your problems are just beginning.”

Moving with the speed of a striking snake, he grasps both sides of my face with his hands and pulls me close. “I’d sell my soul right now to cut you,” he whispers. “I’d slice you open and pull out your intestines the way I did the Johnston girl. Then I’d turn you over and stick it in places where you good girls don’t like it stuck in.”

I steel myself against his closeness, against the horror of the words. I stare at him, hating him, hating everything he is. “You do that and the cops will know I didn’t commit suicide. How are you going to put these murders on Jonas if another body turns up while he’s in jail?”

“You think you’re real smart, don’t you? Let me tell you something. There are a lot of things I can do to you the cops won’t be able to detect if this place burns down with you in it.” He motions toward the heater. “You put that thing too close to those curtains and this dump will go up like it was the Fourth of July.”

I shudder when he runs his tongue down my cheek. I smell garlic on his breath. The musk of drugstore cologne. The warmth of his breath against my face. The wetness of his spit on my skin.

“As long as I don’t break any bones, the fire will take care of any evidence. I wear a condom, you know.” He pats his coat pocket. “Got a whole box right here just for you.”

I head-butt him in the face as hard as I can. I hear his nose crack. He shoves me, cursing, and clutches his face. I catch a glimpse of blood between his fingers an instant before I land hard on my backside. I don’t wait for him to come after me. I roll toward the Kimber he dropped, wiggle like a worm until my right hand brushes the grip. If I can get my fingers around it . . .