Page 39 of Guilty as Sin

“Except that youareblonde,” he pointed out. “As it happens.”

He’d swear it took her a beat. “Yes. Right. Clearly. My point. I see, by the way, why you thought it was me. Here I am, your neighbor. There you are, brooding, hard, and mysterious, the perfect outlet for my inappropriate fantasies. My physical description matches. The thong’s even my size. And I’m a little quiet, a little shy.”

He looked around him.

“What?” she asked in alarm, looking around herself.

“I’m just looking for this neighbor you’re talking about. The one who’s quiet and shy. We’ll take it as read that I’ve crossed you off the list.”

Whywasn’the considering her? She made perfect sense as his stalker. Especially that confusion over the blonde bit, as if she’d forgotten. But he had to trust his gut. His gut said, “I want you naked. Now.” It didn’t say, “Danger.” Not in that way. Not that she couldn’t kill him, but it wouldn’t be like that. He’d die of frustration, maybe.

“I can be,” she said. “Quiet and shy.”

“Yeah, right. Moving on. So if it’s not Kelli—who else do you have for me?”

“Well, that’s the problem,” she said. “It could be anybody. We know ‘typical,’ but typical isn’t individual. Female stalkers are typically mid-twenties to mid-thirties, and they stalk older men. Which would put you in the right category. What are you, forty?”

“Not yet. Thanks heaps.”

“Well, sorry. All right. Women stalkers are opposite to male stalkers that way, which makes sense, as it follows male/female attraction patterns. Male stalkers are older and choose younger targets. And here’s the other interesting thing. Women arelesslikely than men to have had a sexual relationship with the victim. Some stalkers are exes, yes, but others have a casual relationship with the target that they magnify in their minds. ‘Our love is meant to be.’ Like an adult version of a teenage crush on an actor, but with a twist, which is going beyond the fantasy to violating the target’s boundaries. Getting into his house and his head, or at least getting her fantasies there. Telling you to put the envelope in the bed of your truck, so you think she’s watching even if she isn’t. But unless she does something we can see, all of that stays in her head, so how would you recognize her, other than things like the body type? You need to pay attention, because it could be your waitress at the coffee shop. It could be the meter reader.”

“The meter reader’s got more beard than I ever did. I suspect he’s got hair on his back as well. He’s never getting into that thong. It’s not the meter reader.”

“Oh. I never noticed. All right. My point stands, though. Unfortunately, you’re too attractive.”

Luckily, he wasn’t taking a drink of water this time. He just laughed. “Unfortunately?”

“For our purposes. Like I said—tall, dark, good-looking in a slightly scary way. Crush material for half the female population. Hard to narrow it down. But plenty of stalkers are exes. So since you and I are taking this seriously—what about that?”

He didn’t answer for a minute, just kept pedaling, and she said, “Are we having an awkward moment? Am I supposed to know? Because I don’t know. If I knew, I’ve forgotten.”

“You haven’t researched me, then. Here I thought I was meant to be so attractive.”

She waved an airy hand and kept pedaling. On a low resistance, but pedaling all the same. “I’m damaged, that’s why.”

“People who are actually damaged,” he told her, “don’t go around talking about how damaged they are.”

“All right. You’re not my type. I thought the other thing would be easier on your ego.”

He stopped pedaling. “I am exactly your type.”Wait.How many times had he thought that she wasn’thistype?

“Sorry. I can go home and research, since you told me it’s out there, or you can save me the trouble.”

He paused a long moment. He’d preferred the flirting. “I’m a writer.”

“Yes. We’ve established that. Also a killer. Go on.”

“Recently divorced.”

“Promising, from an ex-as-stalker point of view.”

“I make a lot of money. Am I your type yet?”

“No, and you’re getting to the point awfully slowly. I’m hungry.”

“Right, then. It’s not my ex. There’d be no reason.”

“Hmm. Why not? And does she know where you live now?”