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Chapter Fifteen

KAT

Present

“Uh, what happened to the painting?” Oliver asks, walking into the living room.

“I threw it out.”

“Threw it out?” His brows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because you were right. It was creepy, and I felt like my paranoia got worse with it being here.”

“I’m happy you realized that, but that painting was very expensive. You could have donated it instead of throwing it in the trash.”

“I just wanted it out of the house as soon as possible, and it was trash day,” I say.

He walks over to the couch and presses his lips against my head. “We can find a better painting to put in its place. I’ll be in my office. I have some work to finish for a meeting tomorrow morning.”

“Okay. Oliver, wait,” I say. “Can you sit for a moment?” I pat the couch.

“Of course. What is it?” He sits beside me .

“When are you going back to Chicago?” I ask.

“In a couple of weeks. Why?”

“I’m going to put in for some time off and go with you.”

“I’m afraid you can’t do that, Kat.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s nothing but non-stop work when I'm in Chicago. I leave early in the morning and don’t return to the apartment until late. We won’t be able to have breakfast or dinner together. You’ll be miserable and then get mad when I can’t spend time with you.”

“That is not true, Oliver.” I cock my head.

“Yes, it is, darling.” His lips press against mine. “I would love nothing more than for you to go with me, but I also know how it would end.” He winks, stands up, and walks out of the living room.

After finishing some work, I go upstairs and get ready for bed. Once I’m in, I grab my book from the nightstand and set it on my lap. Picking up the remote, I turn on the news, featuring the weatherman's forecast for next week. I open my book, where the bookmark lays between the pages, and start reading. Suddenly, my eyes divert up to the TV.

“We have some breaking news this evening. Nolan Brown, from the Tribeca area, was found murdered in his home by his assistant when he didn’t show up for work this morning. He was stabbed twenty-two times in the chest and abdomen. Nolan Brown and his wife were in the middle of a nasty divorce. The police are now calling this serial killer The Widowmaker.”

My heart jumps out of my chest just as Oliver walks into the bedroom.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, stopping and staring at the TV .

“Oh my God. Nolan Brown? I know him. I just spoke to him last week,” he says in shock.

“His wife is Lucinda’s client,” I try to catch my breath, but it isn’t easy. “He was cheating on his wife.”

“I know.” Oliver removes his clothes, slips on black pajama bottoms, and climbs into bed.

“You knew that?” My brow raises.

“Yes. I saw him with her last week at the Beverly Hills Hotel.”

“Why were you at the Beverly Hills Hotel?” I frown.

“Lunch meeting with Garrett Willoughby from Texas. I can’t believe this.”

“They’re calling the killer The Widowmaker,” I say.

“I sure hope they catch the person.” He leans over and kisses me. “Goodnight, darling. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, Oliver.”

I set my book on the nightstand and settle under the covers. I try to get some sleep, but I can’t. Now, I’m more than convinced this is the same person who attacked me and Brian back in Maine.