Lover Beware

called the desk. The operator responded with a bored, sleepy, “How can I help you, Ms. Travelli?”
    “I’d like to leave a message at the desk for Jerry Costos: Meet me at Pauline.”
     
    HE REMEMBERS HER, of course. Anna Travelli. Hard to forget her kind. Their paths had crossed many times during her tumultuous love affair with Costos.
    He has followed her career with interest, catching her interviews on Forensic Files, The New Detectives, and, most recently, on Dateline. Profilers are big news these days. Especially one of her caliber. Doesn’t hurt that she has a nice ass and spectacular tits.
    If he had the time, he might hang around awhile, toy with her a bit. Might be fun to bring her down a peg. Add to the pleasure of humiliating the NOPD and Jerry Costos. What sport. Had he known slaughtering women would make him feel so gloriously wonderful—indeed powerful—he might have done it long ago.
    Too bad about the children, of course. Killing them had been an unpleasant necessity, and a very sad occurrence, considering everything. Actually felt a pang of conscience over it. But what the hell. He’d get over it.
    Besides, the killing of Laura and her children has succeeded in stimulating the sense of panic in the city. He can feel it, the fear, dancing upon the tips of his nerve endings. It tingles through him in tiny bursts of electricity. Makes him feel buoyant. Enthused. Confident. Oh, yeah. Confident is good. Control is the key. Power the ultimate aphrodisiac.
    He watches as Anna drives from the St. Louis. Alone. No Costos. Her plans have obviously changed. Perhaps Costos is meeting her at the crime scene instead of her hotel. Good. Very good. This will give him some time alone with the lady—at least in his thoughts. Time to imagine what he could do to her, should he so desire. What a shame to bury her head in the bayou. Much too beautiful to waste. Might even change up his M.O. again—as he did with Laura and the kids—and leave her head as a souvenir for Costos. Position it on the D.A.’s car, a bug-eyed, mouth-frozen-in-a-soundless-scream hood ornament for his Silver Mercedes SL.
    He chuckles and cruises, keeping a safe distance from the rental car. Not that she would notice, of course. She is too preoccupied with her speculations about the crimes, and about her old lover, reminiscing with thoughts of how he fucked her and licked her and made her beautiful body writhe beneath his. She has no doubt creamed her panties already.
    Wouldn’t it be fun to watch them go at it? More fun to slaughter them during the act. Imagine what the headlines across the country would do with that one.
    She pulls the rental car to the curb, parks it beneath a streetlight, bumper to bumper with the cruiser wherein a cop is smoking and drinking coffee to keep him awake. The cop exits the cruiser and meets Travelli on the street, nodding as she flashes him her FBI shield; then she moves to the sidewalk and stands next to the One Way street sign as the cop returns to the car and continues to smoke.
    Might be fun to creep up behind the cop and slide the ice pick into the prick’s throat.
    Ah, yes. He is hungry again.

Chapter 4
    THE HOT AUGUST night bore down on her, the humidity and heat causing sweat to bead on her body and run down her sides beneath her clothes. The dread looming greater in her mind didn’t help.
    Moving close to the One Way sign, Anna glanced over her shoulder, toward the cruiser where the cop continued to smoke and look out at her. The overhead flickering vapor light made his face appear oddly blurred.
    The silence and emptiness, and the yellow crime scene tape, gave the area a surreal feel, as did the advancing rumble of the freight train crawling its way along the tracks next to the river.
    Turning, slowly, she allowed her gaze to move toward the north intersection of Royal and Pauline as she stepped back against the street sign and prepared herself.
    She closed her eyes. Took a deep breath. Told herself to relax. Empty her mind. Breathe, breathe. Focus.
    She sank harder against the signpost, felt its hard form press along her spine, cool even through her jacket and T-shirt.
    It began then, the heat. Spread at first like warm sparks of electricity along her spine.
    Breathe evenly. Relax. Her instructors at Quantico had drilled into her head that she must not fight the flashes. Must not brace herself in preparation for their onslaught. Easier said than done when the flashes were not only too