Andrew watched her browsing the Christmas sweaters with clenched fists. Shoppers bustled past him, cheeks rosy and arms burdened, paying no mind to the lanky boy in a leather coat.
Someone should have been watching him.
Deedee was by herself, but the diamond ring on her finger declared her not alone. Someone was with his woman, and was determined to claim her entirely.
Andrew ground his teeth. Three years of his life, gone to this selfish wench. He'd endured her needs and demands. He'd held her hand through sappy movies, had taken her to her grandmother's funeral. He'd gone back to school, abandoned his old friends, changed his habits. All of it, just for her.
None of it had made a difference. Without warning, Deedee had moved out, taken the dog, and refused to take his calls. For six months, he'd looked for her, wanting to give her a piece of his mind.
And five inches of stainless steel.
He fingered the filet knife in his pocket. It was the only thing she'd left at Andrew's apartment, and he felt the irony was delicious. Deedee probably wouldn't recognize the blade, wouldn't understand why this was the murder weapon, but Andrew would know. Andrew would be relieved of his pain and anguish, and would laugh as her life was wasted.
Deedee pulled a bright red sweated from the rack and held it to her torso. She smiled and rubbed her swollen tummy, and Andrew's face drained. The wench who'd broken his heart was pregnant with another man's baby.
The stalker hesitated, wondering if he could kill an innocent baby. The child had nothing to do with its mother's betrayal. Would probably even be a decent person when it grew up.
He fingered the knife again and made his choice.
