Read Online In Memories We Fear by Barb Hendee - Free Book Online Page A

had asked him that before, and he looked at her.
    “No. Why?”
    She shrugged. “I always seem to end up with married guys.”
    Well, if you didn’t leave bars with guys you just met, that might not happen so much.
    The thought passed quickly through his mind, and he didn’t say it out loud. The BMW pulled up, and he watched her face. Her eyes flickered once, but she made no comment. He opened the door for her, tipped the valet, and jogged around to the driver’s side.
    “Where should we go?” she asked once he got in.
    “How about the waterfront? Take a walk down by the Cannery? Maybe get some coffee?”
    This time, she couldn’t stop her face from registering surprise. He’d learned quickly that suggesting things like walks by the waterfront and then having coffee were unexpected to girls who hung out in expensive nightclubs . . . but the suggestion always worked.
    “Sure,” she said again.
    He pulled out into traffic and headed for Jefferson Street. To his relief, she didn’t talk much on the way. He found a parking place near the wax museum, and got out, jogging around to open her door. Then he headed toward the water and she followed him—even though she was wearing five-inch stiletto heels.
    “I like to look at the boats,” he said, moving toward the docks and listening to the sound of the waves. “Sometimes I think about living on one.”
    That part was true. He’d thought about living on a boat since long before he was turned.
    “Yeah?” she asked, but didn’t seem too interested. “What do you do?”
    What did he do? He followed Julian’s orders. That was what he did.
    “This way,” he said without answering her question, and led her down Pier 45 toward the Fishermen’s and Seamen’s Chapel. Halfway down, there was a narrow opening between the buildings, and he slipped inside. “Here.”
    She paused. “What’s in there?”
    “Just come talk to me for a while. I’m lonely.”
    He let his gift flow and watched her expression change from one of caution to one of sympathy. She followed him in without another word, and they were alone in the shadows and darkness. In his early hunts, he had sometimes kissed his victims and allowed them to become completely immersed in sympathy for him before he suddenly shut it off and then rejoiced in their fear—rather like revenge for years of rejection. But he didn’t do that anymore. He still tended to choose a certain type of girl, but now he wanted no connection whatsoever and no reminders of the past.
    As soon as she reached him, he pushed her up against the wall and held her there, but he turned his gift up until her mind was clouded by feelings of pity for his loneliness. He could see she wasn’t the type to offer anyone comfort, and yet she still wanted to comfort him. He pressed up against her, smelling her skin. While she was dazed and clouded, he drove his teeth into her neck and started drinking. She bucked once, but he used his strength and his gift to hold her in place, and she barely knew what was happening.
    He drew down hard and swallowed quickly over and over, feeling his own body growing stronger.
    Her memories were predictable: many nights dancing and drinking in clubs; running up credit card bills until her father threatened her; sex with numerous men at least ten years older than she was—most of whom were already married. He saw a white cat name Percival that she loved, and the wrinkled face of a grandmother she called once a week.
    He pulled away. He didn’t want to see those last two things.
    The girl’s throat was a mess, blood running freely down her dress. Within a few seconds, her heart stopped beating, and her head lolled. He listened for any footsteps, and, once certain they were still alone, he picked her up with one arm, carried her out to the rail, and dropped her body into the water. It vanished beneath the waves.
    He wiped his face and checked his shirt for blood.
    Then he walked back toward his car. He was going