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She’d certainly tried enough in the past to block out the images.
    So, if he went there now, would she see him coming and run? The gift was a strange thing, usually limited to violent crimes. The only exception had been the Angel case. She’d never been able to see him, only the evil surrounding him.
    Davis decided he didn’t want to take any chances. He’d wait until dark at least. Hopefully give himself some advantage.
    He pulled into a Mini Mart parking spot and grabbed a Red Bull drink. Davis had stopped smoking after the first Angel case. But with the long grueling hours he’d put in recently trying to solve the new cases, and the unspeakable evil surrounding the death of people he’d known personally, he needed some vice. The caffeine in the drink seemed to do the trick and beat the hell out of smoking again.
    Davis stood outside the Mini Mart loitering, while those passing by easily pegged him for an outsider. The suit and sunglasses made them suspicious. He hadn’t taken the time to change. His mind had been on what lay ahead.
    The caffeine, added to the stress of the day, churned inside his empty stomach. He needed food to counteract their effects. Davis ignored the fast-food joints, choosing a somewhat nicer restaurant instead where he hoped to find a quiet table to think about what to say to her.
    But too many other thoughts pressed down on him.
    God, he wished he could understand how he’d become so enmeshed in this thing. Why had the killer—because he couldn’t accept that the Angel might still be out there somewhere waiting to make a fool out of all of them all over again—chosen to make Davis as well as Kara part of his gruesome game this time?

Chapter Three
     
    Ava had been grumpy and sullen since Kara picked her up at the bus stop hours earlier. She complained about the homework Miss Clopay assigned and took no interest in their usual evening routine of reading. When Ava’s bedtime finally rolled around, Kara’s nerves were raw from trying to remain patient with her daughter.
    “Okay, little girl, off to bed you go.” When faced with going to her room, Ava’s sullenness turned to tears. She clung to her mother’s waist and sobbed.
    “Mommie, I can’t sleep in there! There are too many noises!” Kara’s pulse skipped a beat at her daughter’s confession.
    She picked Ava up in her arms, “Honey, what are you talking about? What noises?” The only sound in the house came from the low murmur of the TV in the living room.
    Please, God, not the voices of the dead…
    “The coyotes are howling outside again,” was Ava’s tearful response. At least Kara could breathe again.
    “Then we’ll turn the radio on in your room to help you sleep and Buster can stay with you this one time, okay? Come on, baby, you need to get some rest.”
    Kara untangled Ava’s clinging arms and kissed her gently. With all of Ava’s emotional turmoil, sleep was not long in coming. Kara barely finished one page of the book they’d been reading before her daughter drifted off.
    With Ava finally out, Kara closed the door, confident of Buster’s abilities, and returned to the living room to the comforting sound of the TV.
    Sleep for her would not be possible. Since she’d learned about the dead, the dreams of the Death Angel had become more real and more frightening than ever. They took on the feeling of a reality waiting for fulfillment.
    Inside her top dresser drawer, way in the back, she found the silk scarf. Kara kept it to remember, not that she needed much help.
    The second her fingers touched the silk, she sensed the nightmarish terror associated with it as clearly as if it were woven into the material. Even though she’d never seen the Angel’s face, the stark evil in him reached out to her. He was someone who enjoyed his work, took pride in it even. Someone cunning and off the charts in intelligence.
    Kara took the scarf and stuffed it into the box with the photos. Tomorrow she would burn them all.