The Killing Game (32 page)

“You bet you are.”

SARAH PATRICK MET
Eve as she walked into the foyer. “Welcome home.” She glanced at Logan. “You evidently did something right.”

“I didn't dare do anything else. I'm scared of Monty.” He turned to Eve. “You'll have what you need in a couple of hours. Okay?”

She nodded. “Thanks, Logan. I owe you.”

“Friends never owe friends.” He smiled. “Remember that.”

“Then is it okay if I'm grateful?”

“Same answer.” He headed for the front door.

But she
did
owe him, she thought as she headed to the office. And she'd owe him even more if he came through with the information she needed.

Sarah trailed along with her. “You look a little jumpy. Anything I can do?”

“You can check with the welfare office and make sure Jane is all right.”

Sarah nodded. “I've been calling a couple of times a day. I tried to go see her, but they wouldn't let me and Monty in the place.”

“Too bad. Seeing Monty would have made her feel better.”

“That's what I thought. Have you had lunch?”

Eve shook her head. “But I'm not hungry. I've got work to do.”

“Really?” Sarah studied her face. “You're excited.”

“Logan said I was very calm.”

“On the surface. Beneath you're seething like a geyser. Want to talk about it?”

Eve shook her head. “But I think I've found a way to get him.”

DONE.

Eve pushed her chair back from the computer and covered her eyes with her shaking hand.

I've got you, Dom. I've got you.

Her phone rang.

“The caseworker from Atlanta, James Parkinson, and Jane just got into a squad car with two officers and are on their way to the airport,” Joe said. “I'm following them.”

“I didn't think they'd leave tonight.”

“I didn't either. Parkinson was in and out of that welfare house in fifteen minutes. I'll call you when we get to the airport.”

Eve tried to think. It was logical that the caseworker wanted Jane out of Phoenix now that Eve had been released. But Jane was more vulnerable outside the home and on the road.

A
twisted mass of metal at the bottom of the ravine
.

That couldn't happen twice. Besides, Joe was watching.

But so was Dom.

James Parkinson.

She called Joe back. “How do you know Parkinson is the social worker?”

“The squad car radioed the pickup back to the precinct, and I heard it on my radio.”

“What does Parkinson look like?”

“He's black, heavyset, plump face. He would have had to show ID to both welfare administration and the officers in the squad car.”

“IDs are easy to get, and Grunard's had time to plan.” But she did feel a little better. “Watch closely, Joe.”

“You know I will.”

“
I GUESS YOU
'
RE
glad to be going home, young lady.” Officer Rivera glanced back at Jane over his shoulder.

Jane didn't answer.

“I have a daughter about your age. She's on the softball team.”

Jane gazed through the window, closing out Parkinson and the officers. She hadn't said a word since she'd gotten into the squad car. Poor kid, Rivera thought. He looked at Parkinson. “Is she going to be okay?”

Parkinson nodded, his white teeth flashing in his brown face as he smiled. “Just fine.”

Jane suddenly stiffened, her gaze flying to Parkinson's face.

“There, honey, don't be scared.” Parkinson patted her shoulder.

Jane went rigid and then slumped to one side.

“What's wrong with her?” Rivera said. “Pull over, Ken.”

“Oh, no, don't do that,” Parkinson said softly.

Then he shot Rivera in the head.

SHIT.

Joe's hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Something was wrong.

The squad car was weaving in and out of the city streets, even backtracking.

What the hell!

The squad car roared over railroad tracks, driving through the signal just as the train approached, leaving Joe stranded on the other side.

He radioed the precinct for backup as he waited for the train to pass. “I don't care who comes. Just get someone, anyone.”

He wasn't getting through to them. He closed his eyes. “Okay, if you won't stop the squad car, come after me. This is Joe Quinn.”

Joe gunned his car as the caboose rattled past.

It took Joe ten minutes to locate the squad car again.

But he lost it again in the traffic near the stadium.

There it was. Two blocks ahead, turning left.

He lost it again.

It took five minutes to locate the squad car this time.

It was pulled over to the side of a deserted street.

“
I HAVE HER,
Eve.”

Dom.

“You're lying. She's on her way to the airport.”

“No, you'll get a call soon. I just wanted you to know that the game is almost over. It's time for me to claim the stakes.”

“I don't believe you.”

“You believe me. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Let me talk to her.”

“No, she's not able to talk. I drugged the little angel. Just a little pinprick. A rather boring old trick but effective. It was such a wonderful disguise, but I think she recognized my voice. Besides, I have a distance to take her and I needed her quiet.” He paused. “Shall I tell you what I'm going to do to her before I kill her, Eve?”

“No.” She closed her eyes. “Don't hurt her.”

“Not yet. She's no fun at the moment. She can't feel anything.”

Rage seared through her.

“That made you angry, didn't it? I can almost feel the waves of emotion through the phone. It's quite wonderful, but you really shouldn't indulge me this way.”

“You don't want her. You want me.”

“That's right. I want you to die first, knowing what's in store for her. Come and get her.”

“Where are you going?”

“A place you'll remember. Earth to earth. Salt to salt. I thought it fitting. My most satisfying kills were done there. But don't worry, I won't chop you into pieces as I did them. I respect you too much.”

“Will she be there?”

“I'm not a fool. You might arrange a trap for me.”

“I won't come up to the tent site until I know she's alive. Until I hear her voice.”

“You'll hear it. Be there at nine tomorrow night.” He hung up.

Christ.

She had thought she was so close, and Dom had still managed to pull the rug right from under her.

Joe called her. “He's got her. I found both officers dead in the squad car and Jane gone.”

“I know. Dom called me.”

“Shit. I screwed up.”

“It's not your fault,” she said dully. “He was disguised. Even Jane didn't recognize him right away.”

“Is she alive?”

“He says she is. Right now.”

“Don't you move a muscle. I'm on my way over there.” He hung up.

Joe would come and some of the fear would go away. She didn't have to face this alone.

Yes, she did. From the beginning she'd known that she'd have to face Dom alone. He was planning on having her walk right into his trap and killing her and Jane. He would butcher Joe if he was anywhere around.

Then flip his plan. Catch the hunter before the trap was sprung.

“Sarah! Will you come in here?”

Sarah appeared in the doorway. “What?”

She held up a finger. “One minute.” She dialed Spiro's digital number. He answered on the third ring.

“Dom has Jane, and I know where he's headed. I want you to meet me there.” She had to stop to steady her voice. “You wanted to use me as bait. Okay, let's find a way to do it.”

C                  H                  A                  P                  T                  E                  R

EIGHTEEN

The following night
8:45
P.M.

Candles.

Everywhere.

Candelabras with tapers whose flames flickered in the wind. Lanterns. Oil lamps.

Eve parked her car at the bottom of the hill and looked up at the tent site.

Is this my welcome, Dom? Are you up there?

She dialed Spiro's number. “Where are you?”

“We're in a lay-by about two miles down the road to Jamison. We couldn't get any closer without risking him seeing us. That hill has a view for miles.”

“I know. Can you see the candles?”

“Yes. Remember, press the radio signal as soon as you determine Dom's there, and we'll come in.”

“You don't move until I'm sure Jane's alive and safe. He's supposed to call me.”

“Stay locked in the car until you're sure. At least you're safe there. Do you have a weapon?”

“A revolver.”

“Did Quinn give it to you?”

“No, I told you I didn't want him to know about this. Sarah had one and lent it to me. It's in my jacket pocket.”

“We could have used Quinn.”

“And chance having Dom butcher him? He's done too much for me already.”

“I should have known that protective streak would raise its head. Don't hesitate to use that gun.” He hung up.

She sat in the car, staring up at the candles on the hill.

Five minutes.

Seven minutes.

The phone rang.

“Are you enjoying my candles?” Dom asked.

“I want to talk to Jane.”

“Do you doubt me? I told you I wanted you to die first.”

“Let me talk to Jane.”

“Oh, very well.”

“Eve, don't you do what he says,” Jane yelled into the phone. “He's a slimy creep and I—”

Dom took the phone away. “Is that enough? It's all you'll get. I've been very patient with Jane since she woke, but she's really beginning to annoy me.”

“It's enough.”

“Then step into my parlor. I'll be there in ten minutes.”

She pressed the off button and quickly dialed Sarah. “Ten-minute walk from here.”

“That could cover a lot of territory.”

“Find her. If he manages to kill me and escapes, you can't let him get back to Jane.”

“We'll do our best.”

Nine minutes.

Stay in the car. Be safe for just a little longer. Sit and watch the flickering lights on the hill.

SARAH PUT ON
her utility belt and Monty tensed.

“That's right, boy. Time to get to work.” She let Monty sniff Jane's T-shirt. “Find her.” She started down the trail at a trot. She'd already scoped out the lay of the land and come up with the two most logical possibilities.

He wouldn't keep Jane out in the open. So there was the stand of woods near the base of the mountains to the west.

Or there was the brush-covered ravine to the east.

Either was a fast ten-minute walk to the hill.

Which direction?

She'd make the decision when she got closer.

Pray to God she'd make the right one.

Monty was stretched out, almost running.

Child . . .

TEN MINUTES.

Eve opened the door and got out of the car. The air was knife sharp, cutting her to the bone. It was a moonless night, icy cold with a promise of snow.

She started up the hill.

Candles.

Flames.

Are you there yet, Dom?

She reached the top.

No one.

Just the candles and the flames and the flickering shadows on the desolate earth. It wasn't as brightly lit as she'd thought from down below. There was a patch of deep shadow at the far corner of the site.

She moved farther into the circle of light.

Was he watching her, or was it her imagination?

She whirled around.

No one.

Or was there?

Something in those shadows . . .

She hesitated and then moved away from the light toward the patch of darkness.

“Dom? You wanted me here. Come and get me.”

No sound.

DECISION TIME.

Sarah paused to catch her breath.

The woods or the ravine?

Monty had already made a decision. He was tearing across the ground toward the woods. He stopped, sniffed, and took off again.

He'd caught Jane's scent.

THE SUBSTANCE IN
the shadow was no standing figure, Eve realized. Something on the ground . . .

She drew closer.

She still couldn't make it out.

A few steps closer.

It was taking on a vague shape.

She was almost on top of it.

A body?

Oh, God.

Jane?

She screamed.

The man's body was tied spread-eagled to four pegs, and his eyes were wide open. His features were contorted in a silent howl of agony.

Mark Grunard.

“That's how I staked out my father.”

She whirled to see Spiro behind her.

He smiled. “A little welcome present. It was going to be the little girl, but I knew you wouldn't come unless you thought you had a chance of saving her.”

“You,” she whispered. “Dom?”

“Of course it was me.”

A man who stares at monsters.

But he was the monster himself. “God, what a fool I am. No trap. No FBI agents swarming in at the last minute to save me.”

“Unfortunately not.” He stepped closer and was almost lost in the shadows. “Don't put your hands in your pockets. I have a knife in my hand and I can reach you in a heartbeat, but I don't want it to end that soon. It's been a superb game, and I want to savor the win.”

“You haven't won yet.”

“That's what I admire about you. You never give up. But you should be more generous. I was very clever with every move. I deserve to win.”

“You were clever. You set Grunard up perfectly. You even gave me the characteristics of the serial killer so I'd be able to associate them with Grunard later. It never occurred to me that they might also apply to you. You associate with the police as Grunard did, but even more, you're an FBI profiler. You could move from place to place. You liked to be in the field, you said. That means you were contacted by your digital phone and no one actually knew where you were at a given time. You could say you were in Talladega when you were in Atlanta.”

“I do regard the digital phone as one of the most helpful inventions. And it was a real challenge to become an FBI agent. Background checks that had to be foolproof, psychological tests that had to show me as completely normal. I prepared for almost two years before I applied. Setting up the personal interviews with people from my supposed past was the most difficult. It took finesse, bribery, and a psychological sleight of hand that would fill you with admiration.”

“No, it wouldn't.”

“But it was all worth it. Who else would be in a better position to hide and change evidence? I had to keep an eye on where and when any of my kills surfaced so I could erase the records.”

“But the VICAP report uncovered the Harding kills.”

“Before I was able to sidetrack the search. Very annoying.”

“But you led me here to find Debby Jordan.”

“I'm a fatalist. I saw that everything was leading back to my roots. I wanted you here to help me start again, to revive that splendid surge of power.” He smiled. “It did do that. When I killed Grunard, it was almost like the old days. But he wasn't you. It will be much better with you.”

“Did you always plan to kill Grunard?”

“After I examined the situation and all the possibilities, I realized that his death would accomplish two ends, create a red herring and make our game more complicated. How could I resist? He would become Dom and disappear.” He shook his head. “But that complication may cause me to have to move on and reinvent myself. Grunard's background is pretty solid. There may be questions.” He shrugged. “Oh, well, I'll have plenty of warning and I've already set up an identity in Montana. It may be good for me. Being Robert Spiro made everything too easy for me. The kill, the cover-up . . . It may have been part of my problem.”

“You'll move on and you'll kill again.” Her voice was shaking. “Over and over.”

“Of course, that's what I do.”

“How many?”

“I really don't remember. I was drunk with the pleasure during those first years. I went out every night. Later everything blurred. More than thirty years . . . a thousand? I don't know. Maybe more.”

“My God.”

“But don't feel bad. You won't be like the others. I'll remember you.”

“You have me. Let Jane go.”

“You know I won't do that. She knows my face and the little bitch would try to find a way to hurt me. She's like you.”

“But you were wrong about her being like Bonnie.”

“But I set up an interesting scenario, didn't I? It pulled you in. The bones and then sweet little Jane.”

“Whose bones were they?”

He was silent.

“
Tell
me. Were they Bonnie's bones?”

“I could let you go to the grave not knowing.”

“Yes.”

“But then you wouldn't realize how clever I've been. How wonderfully I'd set you up.”

“They weren't Bonnie's bones.”

He shook his head. “Doreen Parker's.”

“Then everything you told me about your conversation with Fraser was a lie.”

“Not entirely. I did talk to him. It was remarkably easy, since I was an FBI agent. He was a copycat and he was claiming some of my kills. We had a nice chat, and I told him to back off. Since he had the good sense to admire me enormously, he agreed.”

“You knew about the ice cream. Did you find that out from the police records?”

“No, I told you, we had a nice chat. He told me a lot about Bonnie. Did you want to know how he did it?”

She clenched her fists as waves of pain washed over her. “No.”

“Coward.” His gaze narrowed on her face. “But you want to know where he buried her, don't you? You've always wanted to find her.”

“I want to bring her home.”

“It's too late. You're going to die without finding her. That hurts terribly, doesn't it? Your Bonnie is buried all alone in Chattahoochee National Park, and you're going to be buried here, hundreds of miles away from her. It cuts to the quick, doesn't it?”

“Yes.”

“I can feel your pain.”

“And you love it, you bastard.”

“I have to squeeze as much as I can out of the moment. It's going to be over too soon.” He paused. “You haven't asked me what color candle I'm going to give you.”

“I don't care.”

“It will be black. Black was the color of my candles, and I've decided to share it with you. I've never done that before. You should be honored. The candles are lying beside Grunard's head. Pick them up, Eve. Light them.”

She didn't move.

“Pick them up or I promise you I'll make it very hard for Jane before I give her candle to her.”

Eve hesitated and then walked over to Grunard.

How the man must have suffered. His expression . . .

“Pick them up and come back toward me.”

He was standing in the shadow. There would be no chance if he stayed in the dark.

She picked up the black candles.

“Now come toward me.”

She slowly started toward him.

One step.

Two.

Three.

“Hurry. I find I'm very eager for—”

She hurled the candles at his face.

“Eve!”

She took off running.

Out of the shadow into the candlelit center of the tent site.

“Stop running. The game's over, Eve.”

She glanced over her shoulder. He was running after her.

Fast.

Closing on her.

Come on.

Faster.

Out of the darkness.

Into the light.

The single shot splintered the night.

Spiro jerked, stumbled, and collapsed to his knees.

The knife fell out of his hand.

He looked down in disbelief at his chest, which was bubbling with blood. “Eve?”

She turned to face him. “
Now
the game's over, you son of a bitch.”

He touched his chest and brought his hand away. It was smeared with blood. “Who . . .”

“Joe.”

“No, I—searched here before I lit the candles. There was nowhere he could hide . . .”

“He was a sniper in the SEALs. He told me once that he can hit a target from a thousand yards. It's not five hundred yards to that tree down the slope. I knew he could get you if he could see you, Spiro.”

His eyes widened. “You knew . . .” He collapsed to the ground.

She walked over and knelt beside him. “Where's Jane?”

“Screw you.”

“You're going to die, Spiro. What difference does it make?”

“It—makes a difference. How—did you know?”

“You made that anonymous telephone call and had me thrown in jail. I was there for forty-eight hours. For the first twenty-four hours I was a basket case. You would have loved seeing me. Then I realized I was letting you win. So I spent the second night thinking. I thought I was going to find a way to locate Grunard. I tried to divorce myself the way I do when I work on one of my skulls and just examine the facts and events. I started with something that bothered me at the time I learned about it, but I forgot about when I saw the photo. Charlie said that Sung was excited and talking about shifts and spectrums and that he made a phone call before he said he needed to see me. He could have called Grunard, but if he recognized Grunard as the killer, why call him? No, it had to be someone else. So I asked Logan to check phone records and find out who Sung called. It was to Multiplex, one of the digital imaging companies on the West Coast. Sung wanted to verify his findings on the photo. It was the middle of the night, but there's often a crew working at those big companies. You'd sent the photo out to Multiplex to have Grunard's image implanted in it so I could ‘discover' it. That was why you stalled giving us the photo.”