Self-preservation pulled me a step from her before I knew I had moved. “I thought it might have been from the drugs he had knocked me out with,” I said, not liking that the mention of blood had jerked her into motion. The brown of her irises was shrinking behind her widening pupils. I was sure it was from discovering Trent’s ancestry and not me standing in her kitchen with my blood pounding and my palms sweating. But still…I didn’t like it.

Mind whirling, I gave her a warning look and put the island counter between us. Okay, so I knew Trent’s history. Telling him would certainly get me an audience with him, but how do you tell a serial killer you know his secret without ending up dead?

“You aren’t going to tell him you know,” Ivy said, giving me an apologetic look before putting her back against the counter in a blatant show of keeping her distance.

“I have to talk to Trent. He’ll talk to me if I drop this on his plate and serve it up with gravy. I’ll be okay. I have that blackmail on him.”

“Edden will slap you with a harassment suit if you so much as call him,” Ivy warned.

My eyes lit upon the bag of sandwich cookies with their little oak tree and clapboard sign. Moving slowly, I slid the bag closer, picking out a figure with all his limbs intact. Ivy’s eyes dropped to the cellophane, then rose to me. I could almost see her thoughts aligning themselves to mine. She gave me one of her few honest smiles, letting slip only the barest glimmer of teeth as a wicked yet almost shy look brought her alive.

A shiver laced through me, pulling my insides tight. “I think I know how to get his attention,” I said, biting the head clean off the chocolate-covered cookie and wiping the crumbs from my lips. But in the back of my head, a new question niggled, incited by Nick’s constant worry. Was the thrill of anticipation I felt rising through me from my coming conversation with Trent…or that tiny whisper of white teeth?

Twenty-Three

The clamor of the bus’s diesel engine was obnoxious as it jolted into motion and struggled to find momentum while going uphill. I stood on the weed-edged sidewalk and waited for it to pass before crossing the street. The soft whooshes of cars made a comforting background to the birds, insects, and the occasional quacking of a duck. I turned, feeling someone’s eyes on me.