CHAPTER THIRTY TWOThe Horror of Love“Daddy, this is Eddie. I love him, and he loves me, and he is strong enough to handle anything that needs handling, and you’d better listen carefully because now I’m going to be Mrs. Warshouski. That’s W-a-r-s-h-o-u-s-k-i. Warshouski. Now let’s get everybody together because we really would like to get married soon, please.”Bryony threw herself onto her aging father, who cried happy tears for his little girl. And Eddie reached out to shake his hand, but he was drawn into the hug, as well, and Stop kept saying: “Bless you, my boy.”Eyes were wet and smiles were genuine and Eddie looked around the house and deemed Bryony’s childhood home to be absolutely lovely and worthy of her.Then he turned and looked out of the windowtowardthedesert.“It has always been this way,” Bryony offered by way of explanation, and Eddie had to go and sit down for a minute because his heart threatened to stop and his legs tried to give out.“How can you live

CHAPTER THIRTY FOURPain and PeaceToday was a beautiful day as far as Mrs. Warshouski was concerned. Her darling Eddie was getting married, and what could possibly be better than that? Why, nothing. Nothing. Soon their house would be full of tiny Edwards and . . . what was her name again? A poisonous flower. Oleander? Baneberry? Goodness, that can’t be it. No mother in her right mind would ever name her daughter Baneberry.Mrs. Warshouski could just see it now . . .“Why, hello, new mother. I am your nurse. You have a tiny baby girl.”“Oh, do I? How utterly delightful. I am ever so happy.”“As am I. What a pleasure to assist in the labor and delivery. And what, pray tell, are you going to name your little bundle of goodness and light?”“I shall call her Baneberry.”“ . . . Shall you? Oh my.”“Yes. I wish to give my daughter a rather conflicting name, you see, and I felt that being called after a poisonous flower would do just that. First I thought of Elephant Ear, but you can

CHAPTER THIRTY SIXHe Has a NameThe murderer was thrilled to see Bryony back on the trail. It had been a few days, not so long, as he was beginning to despair of ever seeing her again, but long enough that he had killed twice more in her absence. Nobody spectacular or even very special; just some random people he deemed suitable. But now she was back and ready to play.Only . . . only there was something different about her, and he couldn’t quite figure it out. Something about the way she held herself, something about the shape of her mouth.Ah, yes. Grief.How unusual. She was a woman born of grief, and yet somehow she was breaking under the weight of it. It was a lovely thing to see, actually, like the branches of a tree snapping under an ice storm, a sort of beauty in the pale horror of the event, but at the same time, he didn’t enjoy seeing her suffer. She moved him in a way he hadn’t often been moved. It was like watching a ghost fade away after you had just grown accustomed

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHTSorrow and Stars and LightEddie Warshouski was getting tired of Detective Bridger.“So your old girlfriend and your mother were both murdered, and now your new wife is attacked, as well? You’re sort of the Typhoid Mary of killers, aren’t you?”Well, ouch, Eddie thought. This man pulls no punches.“I told you I wasn’t in town for my mother’s murder. I was getting married. And a man in my girlfriend’s building killed her. He was a whack job. And this guy that attacked Bryony—”He couldn’t finish. He was furious. The idea that some sadistic killer would step out on a popular running trail and try to drag his wife off to do who knows what was beyond him. What a horrible and distasteful affair. How absolutely hurtful and unforgivable, whatever he had planned.Well, he knew what. He knew exactly what this creep had planned to do, and he could hardly think straight. Bryony was still in the hospital, cut and bruised and shaken, but otherwise whole, although they wo

CHAPTER FORTYStitches“Mr. Culpert, would you mind passing the rolls?”“Please, call me Peter.”So it was the weekend, and the cozy and sparse apartment was suddenly full of guests. There were Bryony and Eddie, and they had invited Syrina and Rikki-Tikki over, as well, and Peter Culpert—the man who wanted more than anything to murder Bryony—was their guest of honor.“Thank you so much for saving her life,” Syrina said, clasping both of Peter’s hands with her own. “I can’t imagine what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”Yes, thank goodness I was stalking her from the bushes, Peter thought.“Yes, thank goodness I was jogging just then,” he said aloud. “What a remarkable coincidence.”Rikki-Tikki snorted. “Nah, it wasn’t a coincidence. Death sort of has a thing for Bryony, if you know what I mean, and we’re all set up like chess players to thwart it sometimes.”Peter tilted his head to the side and looked at Rikki-Tikki. “Death has a thing for her? Whatever do you me