Page 89 of Chilled
“Change of plans.”
Paul climbed into the passenger seat, the dream of relaxing by the apartment complex pool with a beer fading as Melissa pulled onto Interstate 10, headed toward El Paso. “Where are we going?”
“Breuer.” Dressed in jeans and dingo boots, Melissa had transitioned from the east coast like she’d been born and raised in Texas. She’d even picked up a little of the local dialect.
“Why Breuer?”
“Remember Alice Klaus?” She glanced at him before returning her attention to the San Antonio afternoon traffic. Slowing, she allowed cars from the access ramp to ease onto the busy interstate as their drivers headed to the suburbs after a day at work.
“Alice from the Dakota Strangler case in North Dakota?” An image of a pretty lady with pale blond hair and two cute little boys swam into his head. “The wife of the serial killer Alice?”
“That’s the one.”
“What does she have to do with Breuer?”
“Her sister, Brenna, called a few minutes ago. Apparently, Alice Klaus, now Elise Johnson, settled in Breuer and hired on as a high school history teacher.”
A smile lifted the corners of Paul’s lips. He remembered her all right. Pretty blonde, killer husband. “She changed her name.” He nodded. “A good thing.”
“Yeah. Only someone’s found her.”
Paul tensed and sucked in his breath. “Found her or killed her?” He’d barely known the woman more than a few days, but he remembered feeling regret. If the circumstances had been different, she was someone he wouldn’t mind getting to know better.
Melissa shot a glance at Paul. “Found. She’s alive.”
Paul let the air out of his lungs and leaned back in his seat for the twenty-minute drive to the hill country outside San Antonio.
When they pulled onto Main Street in Breuer, Paul scanned the small town with a critical eye. White limestone buildings intermingled with old, German-style gingerbread houses. People smiled and waved to each other from the sidewalks, and children played in their front yards. Paul would bet most residents didn’t even lock their doors at night.
A veritable nightmare if a killer ran loose in their midst.
“Here’s Highland Street.” Melissa turned left onto the street lined with gnarled live oaks whose branches shaded the curbs, giving the impression of a leafy arched bower instead of a city street.
Melissa parked in front of a yellow cottage with a three-foot-tall, white picket fence surrounding the yard, front and back. “How cute. Reminds me of my grandmother’s house in Wisconsin.”
Paul climbed from the passenger side of the truck and pushed through the rickety gate. Before he got halfway to the house, two little boys burst through the front door and raced out into the yard.
“Luke, Brandon! Come back inside right now!” A beautiful woman with long blond hair flung open the screen door and raced out onto the porch, a worried frown creasing her forehead. When she spied Paul, she stopped, her eyes widening. She pressed a hand to her mouth as tears bubbled up and spilled over.
Somewhere in her past life, she had to have been the high school beauty queen. She was perfect in every way except for the tears now pouring down her cheeks.
For a man who avoided crying females like the plague, Paul couldn’t resist moving forward and taking her into his arms. “Shh.” He smoothed her hair and spoke to her in a soothing tone. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“He’s supposed to be dead.” She pushed away to stare up into Paul’s eyes, her jaw clenched, angry light refracting off the tears in her eyes. “He’s supposed to be dead.”