W hat would Betsy do if she knew of the real monster sitting beside her drinking his wife’s favorite tea like he and Maggie had done so many times together? What would Betsy think if she knew what had been done right here in this house’s basement?

“Maggie’s roses are looking promising.” Betsy peered his way and frowned when he seemed not to be paying attention to her.

Henry snapped out of his funk. “Yes, they are. I was just remembering when we planted them. She was so happy.”

Betsy patted his hand. “She loved you dearly, Henry. Maggie told me dozens of times how blessed she was to have found you.” She sipped her English garden tea. “You weren’t in church Sunday.” Betsy sniffed in that infernal way she had of showing her disapproval.

Henry did his best to contain his annoyance. Betsy was nosey. Always had been. And he suspected she had her eye set on him now that Maggie was out of the way despite Maggie being her friend.

“I wasn’t feeling up to being around people.” He wanted to tell her she was part of that group. At some point, Henry would have to deal with Betsy. Set her straight. She would never take Maggie’s place, and she was unworthy of being one of his girls.

Betsy set her teacup down. “I could make us some lunch.” That little smile of hers sickened him.

“I’m afraid I must pass. I have to handle some paperwork.”

Her brows shot up. “Oh . . . ?”

“Maggie’s death and all.”

Betsy slowly nodded and rose. “I’ll clean up the tea things.”

“No need. I can get it.” He used the armrest of the sofa to assist him to stand. His knees weren’t what they used to be. She’d almost gotten the better of him.

Henry slowly lumbered to the door. Betsy sniffed her displeasure and followed him. “I’ll call you in a few days.”

He ground his teeth. “I’m afraid I won’t be here. I’m going to take a little trip. Get away from all the reminders of Maggie and all.”

Betsy didn’t much like her offer being rejected and covered it badly. “Suit yourself, Henry. When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll be in touch when I return.”

Betsy started to say something else. Henry slowly inched the door closed.

“Henry!”

“Call you soon.” He shut it the rest of the way and locked it, listening to Betsy grumble to herself for a bit longer before she headed to her car.

He moved to the window and watched her back out and head down the driveway faster than normal.

Maggie used to tell him about Betsy’s anger. He’d only seen it himself a few times, but it had lived up to Maggie’s description.

When Maggie was alive, he might have experienced guilt over the lie he’d told Betsy. But that part of him had died along with his wife. He wasn’t the person Maggie loved. He’d reverted back to his old self. The one who had enjoyed the act of killing.

There was work to do, and he didn’t need Betsy nosing around.

Henry closed the curtains and headed to the kitchen without clearing away the tea service.

Downstairs in his private workroom, she waited. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and imagined her fear. In the past, the excitement of what was to come was almost as exciting as the act of killing. Something seemed different this time.

Being old had its advantages. It allowed him to gain trust. No one suspected a kindly old man. For the most part, he was invisible to her age group. He’d watched her at the mountain for several days until he’d gotten his nerve up again. After so many years, he was rusty. His bad knees created a problem. She’d almost gotten the better of him. Almost.

Henry had dutifully zeroed in on her in particular because his partner would be pleased with her. She’d reminded Henry of the first. He’d sabotaged her vehicle, ensuring it would die along the isolated patch of county road leading down the mountain.

Henry had pulled up alongside her in the tow truck and smiled. She’d been trying to use her phone. She didn’t know there was no service down this stretch of road. It was why he’d chosen it.

He’d pretended to try and fix the car without any luck. And then he’d offered her a ride to his place, which was closer than town. He had a landline she could use.

She hesitated briefly. In the end, his gentle, grandfatherly personality worked. As soon as she got in, he jabbed her neck with the syringe. She tried to open the door and realized he’d removed the door handle. She was trapped.

By the time he’d pulled his tow truck in front of her vehicle, she was out. He hooked up her car and headed on his merry way.

Henry’s anticipation grew as he twisted the doorknob. Heard her muffled screams and smiled. He’d miss her. Today was their final day together. She’d watched him prepare her barrel and carefully print her name on it. Dawn. A pretty name.

“Hello, my girl.” He flipped on the lights.

She craned her neck from her place strapped to the table. The terror in her eyes was exhilarating. It never got old.

Tears streamed from her eyes. The marks of the fun they’d had were on her body. He touched her face. “You brought me back from dormant, my girl. For that I’m grateful. I’ve been frozen in ice for the past twenty-five years.” He leaned close, and she tried to shrink away. “I’m here now. You don’t have to worry.” His hand swept to the spot where he’d put her barrel. “I’ll take care of you.”

She rapidly shook her head. The muffled words “please don’t kill me” and “I won’t tell anyone” were barely recognizable.

The creature from his past reared its head again. It had pulled Henry back into the dark place he’d thought he’d escaped. Could he go back there? Was he ready to sink back into the world of the monster that had rested inside him?