Chapter Twelve
Noelle
How does he know? How could he possibly know Steven was my ex?
Did he know about our connection when he came through my window tonight?
I have so many questions I need answers to to connect all the dots. But my brain is scrambling to put the pieces together with what little information I have.
And the most pressing matter is if I’m in danger or not. Cole has repeatedly told me he doesn’t intend to harm me, but it would be a great risk to take the word of a serial killer and expect him to honor it.
Then again, he’s been so transparent about everything else, why would he lie about his intentions toward me?
“You look different than the first time I saw you,” Cole confesses. “The blonde suits you better.”
Well that’s a clue. I’ve been dying my hair blonde for four years now. I guess that makes sense on the timeline of events since he killed Steven five years ago.
His first kill. With Steven’s death, the Serial Killer Santa was born.
“You better start explaining,” my vehement demand rings between us. “Did you know who I was when you came here? Is that why you’re here?”
At the sight of my agitation, Cole immediately tries to soothe me. His brows raise, the corners of his eyes tip down, he uncrosses his arms. But even the broad expanse of his chiseled chest can’t distract me from the fear coursing through my veins right now.
“No, Noelle I promise I had no idea. It was fate that brought me here.” Do I believe him?
“Frank has been on my radar for some time but I had no idea you lived here. Just serendipitous, I suppose. I didn’t even recognize you at first. It took a little while for it to come back but then I remembered you. ”
“From where?” I need to know.
When Cole moves forward, I sink back into the couch but there’s nowhere for me to go. Thankfully, he halts his pursuit to show he doesn’t mean to hurt me, I’m not in danger.
Sighing, he admits, “Five years ago I saw a guy grabbing a girl half his weight in a parking lot. I saw the terror on her face. I heard the whole conversation about how he broke your wrist, the restraining order he kept violating, all of it.”
I think back to the last time I saw Steven.
Two days later he was found in his apartment with his heart brutally torn from his body.
Two more killings similar to that one occurred the same year.
The only difference was the weapon used to slay them.
Steven was the only one killed with a kitchen knife, the rest were killed with a scalpel.
Was killing Steven a crime of passion? An in-the-moment decision? Or methodical like the rest?
“Something snapped in me when I saw the way he was hurting you–when I heard how he’d been hurting you. Too many evil people get away with destroying the good in this world and it’s sickening. I don’t know what changed in me that night, but I decided I wouldn’t stand for it anymore.”
“So you made him your first kill.” I state what I assume is obvious.
But Cole doesn’t confirm that. He lets a moment of silence pass until he says, “He was my first kill as the Serial Killer Santa, but not my first kill. That took place several years before.”
If curiosity killed the cat, it’ll surely kill me too. I want to know about his first kill and why he’s being so cryptic about it. But I need to stay on the current topic that concerns my safety. The one he’s open to discussing,
When Cole comes forward again, I don’t recoil this time. Thankfully, he keeps a safe distance with my cheap Ikea coffee table between us.
“I know how this must look, but I promise I had no idea whose apartment I was crawling into tonight. I thought it was empty and I’d just crash here before leaving in the morning.
But maybe God or the universe or whoever brought us back together for a reason.
” He sounds like a crazy person. “I know it sounds insane but I think we both needed tonight.
I think I needed to confess my sins to you. And I think you needed to hear them.
“I killed Steven, and not in some insane possessive way because I wanted you. I killed him because people like that–who hurt and destroy–they don’t deserve to live.
“I had no intention of ever finding you. But fuck, I’m glad I did.”
What am I supposed to say to that? Should I believe him? Nothing about Cole’s behavior has made me feel like I’m a target. He’s had plenty of opportunities to kill me and hasn’t. I mean, he gave me one of the greatest orgasms of my life. But that really isn’t a sign of goodwill, is it?
“Why are you glad?” The question surprises even me. I should be more concerned with many other things that have come up tonight. But that comment sticks with me.
“Because I think I found a kindred spirit in you, Noelle.” A spark of hope ignites in Cole’s eyes. His posture straightens when he says, “Because this has been one of the best nights of my life.”