Simon Says Die

stabbed, just like all the other ‘Simon says’ victims. The killer would have had blood on him.”
    She blinked up at him. “What makes you think it was the ‘Simon says’ killer?”
    He blew out a harsh breath. “Because he left the same kind of note he leaves on all his victims. Hamilton confirmed the wording and the writing are the same.”
    â€œThen . . . maybe Damon . . . is the killer. Maybe he stabbed that boy, and zipped up his jacket to cover the blood.”
    â€œI already mentioned that possibility to Hamilton. He thinks it’s highly unlikely. The killer wouldn’t have stuck around in the crowd and risk being discovered.”
    She rested her face in her hands, looking worried, defeated.
    Pierce wished he could make her feel better, but short of catching her stalker and proving he wasn’t Damon, he didn’t know what else he could do to give her peace of mind again.
    â€œWe’re through here,” he said. “The police are looking for the man you described. If he’s still in the area, they’ll find him. We might as well go.”
    She looked relieved to be leaving. “Do you want to go see Mrs. Whitmire now?”
    He opened the door for her, and they headed outside. “I didn’t think you’d be up to talking to her today, after . . .” He nodded toward the yellow tape down the street.
    Madison followed his gaze, then quickly looked away. “I want to talk to Mrs. Whitmire now. No sense in wasting time.”
    Keeping a close watch on the people around them, Pierce walked her toward his car. The killer who was stalking Savannah had just struck within a few hundred yards of where Madison had been. Could it really be a coincidence that she was being stalked, and the “Simon says” killer murdered someone a few hundred yards from her?
    If the killer was the same person stalking her, that blew a big hole in Madison’s belief that her dead husband was her stalker. Pierce couldn’t imagine that a killer narcissistic enough to leave those notes would use a fake name.
    So what did that mean? Were two people after her now? How the hell was he supposed to protect her from a stalker and a sadistic killer?

 
    Chapter Nine
    â€œY OU’RE CERTAIN THIS is not the man who dropped the note off, Mrs. Whitmire?” Pierce asked.
    Madison sat impatiently while Pierce continued to question her former property manager. So far, he wasn’t doing any better than she had when she’d questioned the woman.
    Mrs. Whitmire squinted down at the black-and-white printout of Damon’s driver’s license that Tessa had faxed over.
    â€œI’m sorry,” she said. “I thought I was sure, but I guess it could be him.”
    â€œWhat about his eyes?” Madison asked. “Did he have pale blue eyes?”
    â€œHe caught me outside, and he was wearing sunglasses, dear. I didn’t see his eyes.” She shoved the paper back across her desk. “Perhaps if you had a better quality photograph?”
    Pierce glanced at Madison sitting beside him. “I assumed Mrs. McKinley had a picture of her beloved husband in her purse.”
    Madison smirked at him, but smoothed her face into a smile when Mrs. Whitemire turned to her. She twisted her hands in her lap, trying to portray the grieving widow. “I’m so sorry. With Damon gone, I just couldn’t bear to keep his pictures with me. It’s only been eighteen months. The memories are still so fresh.”
    The manager’s eyes moistened with sympathy. “Understandable, dear. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
    Madison wiped a fake tear from under her eye. “Thank you.”
    Pierce rolled his eyes.
    Madison kicked him.
    He coughed to cover his reaction. The property manager looked at him, her eyes wide.
    â€œI wasn’t involved in the original investigation,” Pierce continued. “Bear with me if I ask some questions you’ve already answered. But can you tell me whether the housekeeping service you hired to clean the house ever reported anything odd at Mrs. McKinley’s house?”
    She shook her head. “They cleaned once a week. Never mentioned anything.”
    â€œWhat about the yard service? Did they ever see anyone hanging around?”
    Mrs. Whitmire huffed. “I have to assume not. The man I hired never bothered to call me each week like the cleaning service did.