The Dead Don't Worry by Meghan O'Flynn

Author:Meghan O'Flynn [O’Flynn, Meghan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781947748422
Publisher: Pygmalion Publishing

Chapter

Nineteen

Maggie drove home in a daze, the windshield wipers thundering back and forth, the air inside the car as thick as the storm outside. Kevin had been murdered because of her. Innocents had died because of her. And to what end? Why had they been chosen?

Most of the victims made no sense at all.

She didn’t know Cara. She’d barely met Yuri. Joel she understood, though no one in their right mind would think he was a threat to a real relationship—he was a one-night stand. But Reid was a significant threat. Why had the detective come out unscathed?

Reid followed her to her house so she could change her clothes, waited in the living room while she showered. She couldn’t stomach spending any more time here than absolutely necessary. Half of her dad’s house was trashed—that one was her fault, but not the rest. The plants in the gardens were trampled, the windowsills covered in fingerprint dust. At least the officers had removed the gift boxes. They’d taken the bloody tattoo. And Ernie.

When she emerged with clean hair and a striped blouse, an ostentatious bow just below the throat, the coffee table was clear. The dishwasher was running. Reid’s shirt cuffs were wet, but he shrugged into his jacket without a word and headed back out into the rain.

Damn. She’d fallen pretty far if she needed a handsome detective to do her dishes. The words thank you lodged in her throat—shame that the favor had been necessary. But, oh, it had been. She needed to change… something. Maybe everything.

Maggie made it to the office on autopilot. Reid had been correct that she needed to review her patients, to see if anyone fit the profile. As unrealistic as it was that she’d date a patient, the killer was not operating within the realm of reality. Perhaps he imagined that she’d fall in love with him as his shrink, and, when that failed, he’d moved on to the sex club.

She repressed a shudder. Not now, Maggie. She couldn’t fully process the whole screwing-the-enemy thing until the killer was behind bars.

Maggie took the stairs two at a time, on high alert for other footsteps—just Reid’s, pounding along behind her. Her palm was wet, the doorknob slippery. She threw open the door on the third floor.

If the suspect was in her filing cabinet, it had to be someone she’d treated back before Kevin’s death. A patient from a minimum of two years ago. How long would it have taken for such an obsession to fester? How long had he waited after meeting her before he’d taken steps to attack? It was even possible that he hadn’t felt that pressure until after he stopped seeing her in a professional capacity—until after they no longer had a scheduled connection.

There was no way to tell. He’d shown himself to have an excessive amount of patience. And that was the problem. She had so many cases to review that she wasn’t sure where to start.

Owen was standing in the waiting room when she entered.

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