The Sharpest Edge

Chapter Twenty

Chapter One

I will come for you.

Kim Collins bolted upright in bed, adrenaline spiking. What was that? A whisper in the wind? Or her imagination? A premonition of a future soon to be hers? The promise of a man whose only goal was to kill her?

I will come for you.

Her heart pounded in her chest, filled her ears, bruised her ribs.

He was here. She knew it.

She frantically searched the dark bedroom, her gaze darting back and forth, trying to cover every inch at once. She dipped into the moon’s eerie shadows, double-checking the location of each item. Nothing amiss. Even her suitcase still lay open on the floor, half-unpacked after her arrival from California two days ago. All was quiet.

Except the six-inch scar on her thigh.

It throbbed with pain. Pulsed with fear. Ached with ugly reminders.

But the room was silent. The house was still.

Relax, Kim. It’s another nightmare. Nothing in the room had moved since she’d gone to bed. See? She was imagining things.

It was nothing but a dream.

Or, rather, a nightmare.

Kim pushed her hair off her face, her fingers twisting in the wet strands, damp from the humidity and the fear. The sweat of terror. Too real. Too often. And now…she was having those dreams almost every night.

The knife.

The blood.

Her scream.

The overwhelming terror of impending death.

And that sickening smile he’d given her when they’d escorted him out of the courtroom for his six-month stay in prison, his thin lips forming his promise: I will come for you.

Yesterday, she’d gotten the call from the Los Angeles County District Attorney’s Office. Jimmy Ramsey was out on parole. She’d known he would be getting out. She’d been preparing for it by taking a leave of absence so she could get out of town, but nothing had prepared her for the shock of knowing he’d been released. Free to pursue her. And he was coming for her. She knew it.

“Stop it!” She hugged her pillow to her chest. He was probably three thousand miles away, stalking her in L.A., clueless that she was hidden away in the Maine woods, right? Her best friend, Alan Haywood, was watching her apartment and he’d call her as soon as Jimmy was spotted.

Everything was under control.

Besides, Jimmy wouldn’t travel across the country just to stalk her.

No, but he’d travel that far to kill her.

If he realized she wasn’t in L.A., he might remember hearing about the family resort in Maine and decide to see if she was out here. He’d pull out his credit card, mosey on over to the airport, grab a last-minute ticket and then he’d be here…

Argh! She closed her eyes and pressed her palms to her eyelids, trying to expel the thought from her head. Deep breaths. Inhale for five counts. Exhale for eight counts.

A distinct thump sounded above her head and she lurched off the bed. She landed on her feet, her fists balled and her breath heaving, dread paralyzing her for an instant. Then she shook it off and raced for the open windows. She yanked them shut, locked them and jumped back. Her hands shook, her skull ached where Jimmy had smashed it and her legs threatened to give out.

The scrabbling on the roof continued. Little thuds and scratches, faster now.

Dammit. She wasn’t ready to die. She hadn’t been before and she wasn’t now.

She grabbed the phone, but her fingers were shaking too much to hold on to it. It clattered to the floor. She dove for the handset and dialed 911. The operator answered, her calm, detached voice so wrong for the intensity of the situation.

“1370 Birch Road. There’s an intruder! Please send someone. Hurry!”

Kim jumped away as the wall nearest her began to shake. He was climbing down the side of her house! She heard a thud on the ground and fresh panic surged over her. Was he planning to break a window and come in the ground floor?

“There’s an officer in the area. He should be there in about three minutes.”

“Thanks.” Kim hung up just as the operator was telling her to stay on the line. As if that would help if Jimmy came through her window wielding a knife. Stay away from me or this operator will kill you. Uh-huh. Yeah, that’d work.

The phone rang and she jumped.

The operator calling back?

Or was it Jimmy phoning from her front step? Laughing at her fear? Mocking her? Counting down the seconds she had left to live? No, thanks.

She let it ring.

The police would be there in three minutes.

That was all the time she needed to buy herself.

She kicked her bedroom door shut.

No lock.

A scrambling noise from outdoors spurred her into motion. She ran to the end of her dresser, wedged her back against it and pushed with all the strength her trembling limbs could provide. With a protesting shriek that made her own hackles rise, the bureau screeched its way across the wood floor, a mournful sound that made cold fingers of fear close around her spine.

The creepy wail didn’t end until she had the dresser jammed safely in front of the door. The taut silence was barely a respite as she stepped back to inspect her work.

Not enough. He could still get through.

She ducked into the attached bathroom, grabbed the lid off the back of the toilet and hoisted it over her shoulder, taking up a post by the side of the door. If he stuck his head in there, she’d brain him with the porcelain. It wasn’t a gun, but it was heavy and hard. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Kim strained, listening for the sound of breaking glass or splintering wood. Or the ominous thud of footsteps on the stairs.

Silence. Not even a noise from the side of the house anymore. She took a deep breath. Maybe it hadn’t been Jimmy. Maybe it was a really fat raccoon. Or even a bear.

Or maybe she was deluding herself right now. Maybe she’d been yards away from the man who wanted her dead.