He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not

less muscular, and not nearly as appealing. She clenched her fist and vowed not to let the police chief distract her any further. “So, Officer Riley, why are you here? I specifically asked the police not to come.”
    “We’re here, Ms. Stockton,” Richards began, forcing her to turn back toward him or look impossibly rude. “ . . . Or should I call you Ms. Jones?”
    She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Jones is a legal device to keep the press from finding me and to ensure my privacy. I’ve never gotten completely used to that name.”
    He nodded. “Ms. Stockton, we believe the same man who attacked you also killed another young woman yesterday morning.”
    She took a deep, bracing breath. “Yes, the officer told me that last night.”
    “We also think he may target you again.”
    She couldn’t suppress a shiver at the expression on his face. He clearly believed she was in danger. “It’s been years, Chief Richards. If he was coming after me, wouldn’t he have tried sooner?”
    “I’m not saying he will. It would be unusual for a serial killer. . . .” He stopped when she flinched.
    She took a steadying breath and tried to smile. “Sorry. I hadn’t thought of him as a serial killer until you said that. I guess it only takes two murders to qualify as a serial: my friend Dana and the woman yesterday morning, Carolyn?”
    He exchanged a quick glance with the detective. “Technically, two qualifies, although some might argue with that.”
    “Chief Richards, what aren’t you telling me?” She stared into his eyes, forcing herself not to look away, even though it seemed like he was trying to stare deep into her soul, as if he knew her terrible secret.
    “I spoke to the FBI early this morning. They believe this killer has been operating up and down the East Coast for at least four years, killing several other women.”
    Four years. She rubbed the goose bumps that had popped up on her arms. “You think Dana was his first kill.”
    “I think you and Dana were both supposed to be his first kills. You were incredibly lucky to escape with your life.”
    Lucky, right. Just a simple twist of fate that had nothing to do with her cowardice. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. Just a few more minutes. She could hold it together just a little while longer. All she had to do was answer their questions and send them on their way. Then she could go back to pretending her life was normal.
    When she opened her eyes Richards was staring at her, his face etched with concern. He glanced at her hands and she realized how badly she was shaking. She clasped them together in her lap and cleared her suddenly constricted throat. “Since I . . . escaped, you think he came back to finish what he started. Is that what you’re saying?”
    He exchanged another glance with Riley. “We don’t have any evidence that he’s looking for you. It’s practically unheard of for a serial killer to go after a victim who got away, but he came back for a reason. I’m speculating he might have decided to go after you as a matter of pride, a job left undone he’s compelled to finish. Or, it could be fear.”
    “Fear?” Her fingers began to go numb from squeezing her hands so tightly. She tried to relax.
    Richards shifted his position in the chair, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees. “Amanda,” he said, dropping formalities, “you spent three days with him. Even though you didn’t see his face, you may know things about him that you don’t realize. The smallest detail could be important: the way he carried himself when he walked, a phrase he repeated, whether he was right- or left-handed.”
    “Left,” she whispered, mesmerized by his soothing voice.
    “See? You know things about him. If the killer thinks so, too, he may fear you could remember something else that might lead the police to him.”
    “No, no, that doesn’t make sense at all. If he wanted to kill me, he would have come after me long before now.” She looked away from those searching eyes and concentrated on breathing in and out. Her heart was beating so fast she felt slightly dizzy. How much longer could she endure these questions, pretending to be calm, when inside she was screaming?
    “You moved out of state, changed your name.” He shrugged. “Maybe the killer hasn’t tried to find you before because he didn’t suspect you had evidence that could implicate him. Or maybe he hasn’t had the opportunity to come