course,” Janet replied slightly breathlessly. “So you think this might mean something?”
“To be honest, I don’t know, but I really appreciate you bringing this to me.”
Minutes later, Monica reared back in her chair, her mind racing with the information she’d just been given. Was it just a coincidence that the Vigilante Killer had murdered the bad guys of four men who attended a small survivors’ group?
There were dozens of survivors’ groups around the Kansas City area, yet according to what Janet had just told her, the Vigilante Killer had focused in on this particular group. Why?
And now she had another reason to talk to Jake Lamont. Although she couldn’t see how this information worked in the puzzle she was trying to piece together, it definitely warranted further exploration. And that’s what she did for a living.
For the rest of the morning she worked on the material for her podcast that night, and then she left the house to shop for a few groceries and to buy a new coffee machine. There was no way she was going to go a full day without her coffee.
It was nearly three by the time she got back home. The whole time she’d been shopping, her brain had worked overtime on the information Janet had given her. She made herself a cup of coffee and once again sat in her office chair.
Rather than thinking about the killer, she found herself thinking about Jake Lamont. He was definitely one hot hunk of a man. His suit had fit perfectly over his broad shoulders. His dark hair had been slightly shaggy and his eyes had been the deep green of a primal forest.
She’d come home the night before and had done a search on him. She’d learned that he was single and a successful architect. She’d reread articles about his sister’s murder, and she’d also used a search engine that had provided both his work and home phone numbers and his home address.
At four she left her small ranch house and drove the fifteen miles to where Jake Lamont lived. She had no idea what time he got home from work. She didn’t even know if he did work today, considering it was Saturday. But she intended to go to his house and try to talk to him again.
She especially wanted to speak to him now, armed with the new information she’d received from Janet. If he wasn’t home when she arrived, then she intended to be there waiting for his return.
She still hoped to get him on her evening podcast and now she also wanted to ask him about the time he’d spent at the Northland Survivor Group and the other three men who had attended with him.
Jake’s house was a large, beautiful brick with a huge bay window in the front. The lawn was neatly manicured, with trimmed bushes and flowers surrounding a beautiful fountain. Both the oversize plot and the expanse of the house whispered of money and success.
The first thing she did on arriving was knock on his front door. When there was no answer she assumed he wasn’t home, and she pulled out of his circular driveway and parked down the street where she could see him when he arrived.
She’d taken him by surprise last night. She was hoping tonight he’d be more willing to talk with her. She’d just settled in to wait when her cell phone rang. There were only a few people who had this number.
Looking at the caller identification, her stomach instantly clenched tight with a familiar stress. “Hi, Dad,” she answered.
“What are you doing?” Neil Wright’s deep voice boomed over the line.
“I’m working.”
Her father’s dry chuckle twisted the nerves in her stomach even tighter. “I was hoping by the time you hit thirty you’d put that podcast silliness aside and get a real job.”
“Dad, this is a real job,” she replied, knowing it would do no good. She’d been a disappointment to her father since the moment she’d been born a girl instead of a boy.
She was the youngest of three girls and according to her father, was the last chance for him to get the son he’d desperately wanted.
It hadn’t been so bad when her mother had been alive to soothe the hurt her father sometimes caused, but her mother had died from breast cancer when Monica had been eight.
“So, what’s up?” she now asked.
“I’m heading out early in the morning for a day of fishing with Harry and Frank, but those parts I ordered for my truck came in at the Liberty location so I was wondering if while you’re out running around tomorrow, you could pick them up for me.”
Monica stifled a deep sigh. “Sure, I can do that.”
“Great, just drop them off in the garage. I’ll be home late tomorrow night.”
When the call ended, she released the sigh she had stifled moments before. Her father often asked her to run errands for him and to her it was just another indication of how little he respected her and her job.
She knew she could gain his respect if she went back to school and became a nurse or a lawyer, like her two sisters had become.
But news was her passion and she absolutely loved what she did. Always in the back of her mind was the notion that if she became big enough, if she reached a certain number of followers or one of her stories got picked up by a national news source, maybe then she’d be good enough for her father to love.
All insecurities and thoughts of her father flew out of her head as Jake Lamont’s car passed hers and turned into his driveway.
She started her engine and followed behind him, her heart beating with the excitement of a potential story. He stopped outside his garage door and got out of his car.
She quickly parked behind him and did the same. Good lord, the man had been a hunk in his suit last night, but he was even hotter in his jeans and a navy T-shirt that showcased his muscled chest and flat abdomen.
“You’re trespassing.” His handsome, chiseled features were taut with obvious anger.
“I thought with a night to think about it, maybe you changed your mind about being on my podcast.” She offered him her most charming smile.
“My mind hasn’t changed,” he replied, and headed toward his front door.
She followed closely behind him. “Since the latest man murdered by the Vigilante Killer is tied to you and your sister’s death, I’d really like to get how you feel about the murder on the record.”
“What don’t you understand about no comment?” he replied tersely. He unlocked his front door and then turned back to look at her. “And now it’s time for you to get off my property.”
“Just one more thing,” she said hurriedly. “Can you confirm to me that you attended meetings at the Northland Survivor Group at the same time Nick Simon, Troy Anderson and Matt Harrison attended?”
He appeared to freeze. Once again he turned to face her. The anger that had ridden his features appeared to relax. “Okay, I’ll give you five minutes. Come on in,” he finally said, and to her surprise he opened his door wider.
