Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Becca Thatcher was only five minutes late getting to the wedding.
She’d lost time staring at her murder board that she’d started in the beginning and maintained over the years.
Pictures and newspaper clippings covered the board.
A detailed time line of all three deaths and animal mutilations that Becca contributed to Knife Boy were listed in chronological order.
If there was a connection, neither Becca nor Danny could figure it out.
This was the first time she had gotten close, due to the premonition of the killer’s stalking.
She was close this time; she could feel it in her bones.
Becca pushed thoughts of the killer from her mind and looked down from the banister to the main floor below, where her sister’s wedding reception was in full swing.
Harper was happier than Becca had ever seen her.
Her smile was bright as she gazed upon her tattoo-covered, hit man husband, who she’d wrongfully accused of being a stripper.
Ryker was always within reach and alert to everything going on around them.
Becca caught a glimpse of a silver glint beneath the tuxedo jacket as Ryker spun his new wife around on the dance floor.
He was packing, and much more proficient with a gun, easing the tension in Becca’s shoulders.
Her powder blue semiautomatic with matching holster was tucked neatly away inside her purse.
Harper, like their other sisters, Quinn, Cara, and Grace, had beaten the odds and whipped her husband into submission, all while saving their company.
Her sisters were strong like that. Something Becca had always envied about each of them.
Grace had been the only one to skip the traditional wedding and run off to Vegas to get married.
She’d been the smart one, and Becca would follow in her shoes, if that day ever came.
“They look good together,” Ian McDougall said. The Highlander laird had shown up when Quinn had married his rival, and like a bad habit, he was hard to get rid of. “No’ as good as you’ll look wearing my colors when we tie the knot.”
Ian turned his back to the festivities below and rested his elbows on the railing.
Becca ignored his statement. He’d asked only a dozen times, and every time her answer had been the same. Not in this lifetime.
“They belong together. You can see it in their movements, the way he watches her, and the way she automatically knows what he needs. It’s like a natural dance.
” Becca smiled. In her heart, she was happy that Harper had found the man of her dreams, but deep down, it did nothing more than highlight Becca’s own lonely existence.
“Hae you thought aboot my proposal?” Ian asked.
“Marriage without love. Doesn’t sound very appealing, but thanks for asking...again.”
“It could be,” he said and turned around to stare below. “One year, Becca. That’s all I need. My ma can die a happy woman.”
“Believing a lie. Why don’t you just tell her the truth? You’ll never settle down and quit chasing skirts. She loves you, Ian. She’ll understand.”
“Nae, she willnae.”
“Sorry, the answer’s still no. I just…can’t,” Becca said, moving away from him.
How was she to explain that she would never have a full night’s rest again, not while the killer she was mentally connected with was roaming the city free to claim more victims. It had started to become routine to wake up in the morning, from her own screams, as she witnessed the phantom crime in her sleep. “I just can’t.”
Ian placed a warm palm on her arm. “Your sister once asked me what I was running from. I dinnae know the answer then, but I ken it now. What is it you’re running from, Becca?”
His eyes searched hers, as if he could see beneath the sheen of calm exterior she portrayed around her family. They didn’t need to know the turmoil she experienced. No one did.
“Donae tell me that you’re no’. I see the way you look over your shoulder. The way you’re always scanning the room. What has you so bothered that you cannae relax? Whatever your issues, I can help you fight your demons.”
Becca shrugged off his hold. “I’m not wife material. You should have made a play for Harper. You’re out of sisters to ask.”
“Is that what this is about?” he asked, stepping toward her. “You think I want your sisters?”
“You asked them, didn’t you?”
“One, Becca. I asked one, and I only offered Cara because she needed someone. I knew she was too stubborn to agree. I have no’ asked anyone else.”
She patted his chest. “Maybe you should have.”
She slipped around him and headed for the stairs.
She had bridesmaid’s duties to fulfill before she could leave.
The sooner she left, the quicker the rest of them would be out of danger.
If the killer had even the inkling that she’d been watching, it was only a matter of time before he took out the one unseen witness that could point the finger at him.
A shiver skirted down her spine as goose bumps rose on her arms. Night was closing in, and with it, the demons that Ian had noticed.
Becca adjusted the flower wreath on her head. Her sisters all thought of her as a flower child and tree hugger. They didn’t know her at all.
She pasted a smile on her face and headed to her mom. Aunt Betty stepped into her path, stopping her. Her auburn hair sparkled under the dance floor lights. Aunt Betty’s gaze went to the balcony where Becca had left Ian before resting back on Becca’s face.
“You’re going to marry him, and he’s going to save you.”
“Did you see that in one of your visions?”
“Yes. You need him, Becca, as much as he needs you. It would be easier if you believed me and didn’t fight it, like all of your sisters have.”
“Well, when you put it that way, maybe I can still catch the minister.” Becca didn’t even muster a smile for the fake enthusiasm.
Marrying the Highlander ranked up there with joining the killer on a spree.
Okay, she may be exaggerating, a little.
Ian was good looking, if not a little blunt.
His accent was sexy…now if she could just get past all of the horror stories Quinn had told her about Ian screwing maids in the closets.
Yeah….no. Probably not even then. He’d be a barbarian in her way of life.
They’d clash like two hounds fighting over the last T-bone steak.
“You should. You’ll save yourself a lot of headache.”
“Have you been drinking the ‘special’ punch tonight?”
“No, dear,” she said, lacing her arm around Becca’s. “You know I don’t drink. It clouds my judgment and my visions. When the last of you girls is married, I’ll make up for lost time.”
“I’m afraid you’re going to be waiting a long time.” Becca patted Aunt Betty’s hand as they approached Harper.
“Not as long as you think,” Betty said in a singsong voice as she walked away.
The woman was as crazy as the time Becca kissed a frog wanting a prince.
All she’d gotten was a wart. How was she to explain the reason she needed to leave?
The fact that night closing in was worse than any premonition or ghost. There was no logical explanation, not that they wouldn’t believe her.
Hell, she’d had a hard time believing it herself until one of the killings had made the six o’clock news.
This killer was no longer a menacing figment of her imagination.
He was as real as the trail of bodies he was leaving behind.
“There you are,” her mother said as she approached. “It’s time to toss the bouquet.”
“Oh, yay.” Her words were about as enthusiastic as a patient going in for a root canal.
Becca smiled, ignoring her churning gut.
Her plan was to stay out of range. Never raise her hand.
She wouldn’t fight. She wouldn’t even use her elbows.
No way was she walking out with a curse like that, no matter how beautiful the flowers in the bouquet. Not her.
Becca frowned while staring down at the roses and baby breath bouquet in her hand.
How she’d come to have them was beyond words.
They’d bounced off a woman’s head and had been fought over by two other women until they flew into the air again and landed directly at Becca’s feet.
She’d kicked it like a field goal kicker on an NFL team going for the extra point and, in the process, ripped the seam of her dress.
Her shoe had flung off her foot and hit a guest in the head, knocking him unconscious.
A collective gasp happened the same moment the color drained from her mother’s face.
The DJ killed the music. Ian’s laugh was the only sound in the room as the flowers got lodged in the expensive crystal chandelier.
Five seconds later they fell smack-dab on Becca’s head like a bird aiming for a just-washed car windshield. Her sisters had broken out into laughter. Becca’s face heated when she met Ian’s gaze as he swung the garter on his finger. How had she let this happen?
“I can’t be this unlucky.”
“Seems that you are,” Grace said, sitting in an empty chair by Becca. She set a serving tray in front of them, loaded with ten shot glasses.
“Where’d you get the alcohol? The bartender is on break.”
“I know a guy who knows how to play bartender.” Grace grinned as she passed out the shots, placing just as many in front of Becca’s chair as her own.
“I’m pretty sure the meaning of open bar isn’t for just anyone to start mixing concoctions.”
“Then they need to add when-bartender-on-duty to the phrase open bar. You can see my honest confusion.” They each picked one up. “To Harper and Ryker.”
Becca picked up the shot glass and toasted to the newlyweds before they drank the rest.
“I don’t want to get married.” Becca plucked one of the petals from the bouquet, which was wilted, much like her resolve. Maybe if she left it, some other woman would be stuck with it. “You keep it.”
Grace chuckled. “It doesn’t work like that. Besides I’ve already been to Vegas and tied the knot in front of the Elvis impersonator. My life is complete.”
“It doesn’t work at all. It’s a myth.”
“Aw, Becca.” Grace rubbed Becca’s back before grabbing two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter.
Grace handed her one. “If it can happen for us, it can happen to you. Someday, some guy is going to sweep you off your feet. You won’t even know it until it’s too late and you’ve verbally beaten him into submission. That’s how it happens, honey.”
“You’re as crazy as Aunt Betty,” Becca said, clinking her glass against her sister’s.
“I can only hope so. That woman has mastered the art of a good time.” Grace winked.