Enjoying Your Company //

chapter fifty three

Unsub's POV:

Zandra's lights were still on, just like always. It's eight pm, Tuesday night, she's watching her shows. I can hear the theme song playing through the living room, humming along enjoying the sound through closed eyes. I inhale, remembering Amara. The show tune distorted to static as the "Love Boat" theme tore through my ears. I wince at the memory of her retched breath, and grimy wrinkled hands with that rosary. My eyes ripped open, scaling the wall to the back door. My girl always kept it unlocked. She never learned. I reminisced about the time one I got too close, nearly got caught, exciting myself as I slip open the sliding glass door.

My first step inside. I could smell her perfume, the one she used twice daily, beginning to forget she'd already used it.

Another step inside. I could hear the tv's voices more clearly now, the sound of the soap opera's dramatic background effects fed my hungry list. I adjusted the black case in my hand, feeling the thrill climb through me. I let out the breath I'd been holding as I creep, deeper towards her. A step closer, every time.

Another step before the corner. I caught a glimpse of Zandra through the reflection of the microwave door, white knuckling the handle of the blade as I whip around the corner.

It wasn't Zandra. It was a mannequin with a wig. She wasn't there. The case hit the floor with a clang.

"NO!" I scream. "NO! NO! NO! NO!" The lights flashed through all the windows as the doors burst inward.

"THOMAS KANE! FBI!"

"NO!" I ran for the back door, blocked in by more flashlights, turning back to the front and stopping, too angry to move. "NOOO!" I bellowed, wielding the knife at them.

"DO NOT MOVE!" One of them warned. I counted the barrels, all pointed at me.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!" I turned over myself in defense, blinded by the searing lights.

"Zandra is safe, she's in custody, we didn't do anyth-"

"LIAR!" I brought the knife to my neck. My only way out. "SHE NEEDS TO PAY! FOR HER SINS!" I yell, feeling the blade sting my throat.

"She is not Amara, Tom. She's not your grandmother."

"SHE NEEDS TO PAY!" I took a deep breath. "ZANDRA!" And yanked my hand across my throat.

Vanessa's POV:

The team came back silent, nobody had to say anything. I knew from the depth of this guys mental state that it wasn't going to end well. Spencer crossed to me, expressionless, leaning next to me. I rubbed my hand down his back in affection.

"Miss Vanessa?" I heard the frail voice of a Zandra Rodgers behind me. I turn, greeting her with a kind look. "Is it okay to go home now?" I exhaled slightly relived that was all she wanted to know. "I'm missing my shows." I held her arm, guiding her gingerly to the nearest chair.

"I'm sure it'll be soon. I'll bring over my finest agent to let you know, okay?" I felt Spencer behind me.

"Hi Zandra, do you remember me?" I watched his tepid voice send a wave of familiarity through her.

"Yes, yes, from my house, with the tea." She grinned, putting on a slow smile. I grin to him, watching his ears burn red, blinking, embarrassed. He nodded slowly.

"Uhh yes, the one with the tea."

"It was excellent tea." She said as an aside to me like it was a secret, patting my hand. Zandra glanced over her shoulder and eased close to us. "You're a very lucky young lady." Spencer and I shared a mixed look of skepticism and disbelief.