Deadly Dance (24 page)

The old woman nodded once and then turned to disappear behind the undulating beads.

Hannah swallowed a smile. “Well played.”

They walked outside, heading for the bottom end of the T. Most of the rooms had the curtains drawn, either the occupants not in residence or the rooms empty. About halfway along, a curtain twitched open but was quickly dropped again.

“Not exactly the cream of society staying here,” Simon observed as they approached room fourteen.

“Yeah, I’m guessing she has a lot of hourly traffic.”

Slowing, they drew their weapons, Simon crossing to the far side of the door, Hannah flanking him on the near side, both of them with their backs to the wall.

On his nod, Hannah reached out and knocked.

“Housekeeping.”

She waited a second or two and then knocked again, repeating the identifier. No one answered.

Again with a nod from Simon, she slipped the key into the lock and turned it. And then on a silent count of three, she opened the door, Simon swinging through it, gun at the ready. Hannah followed close behind, ready to back him up, but the place was empty, the bed unmade, a pizza box on the bureau. Whoever had been staying in the room was long gone.

“The old bitch probably knew he’d left,” Simon said, moving forward to check the bathroom. “She probably got a kick out of jerking our chain. There’s definitely no one here.”

Hannah holstered her gun, disappointment mixing with her abating adrenaline. “Well, at least we know that someone
was
here.” She lifted the lid of the box. There was still a quarter of a pepperoni pie inside.

Simon pulled out his cellphone, heading outside for better reception. “I’ll call in the techs. There’s probably nothing to find, but we might as well be certain.”

Hannah nodded, turning to survey the room again, and sighed. The SOB was still one step ahead of them, playing a game only he fully understood. She bent to pick up a piece of paper on the floor.

“This is the restaurant bill from last night,” Hannah said, as Simon walked back into the room. “We should probably check with the delivery guy. At least we can get visual verification that the man staying here was actually John Walker.”

“Good idea,” Simon said. “You think he’s finished?”

“No. I think he just moved locations. Either because he knew we were on to him or because he’s being overly cautious.”

“And so we’re back to square one.”

“Looks that way,” she said, frowning as she noticed something sticking out of a Bible lying on the bedside table. She crossed the room, and using only her thumb and forefinger, carefully pulled out the envelope stuck inside the leather-bound book, her breath catching in her throat when she saw her name scribbled across the front.

“What kind of game is this bastard playing?” Harrison asked, as the team looked at the array of photographs the killer had left for Hannah. It was difficult to control his anger. The idea of a man out there playing God with their lives was untenable. And the fact that the killer now seemed to be focusing on Hannah set every nerve in his body on fire.

“I think that it’s pretty clear he’s sending a message,” Avery responded to Harrison’s question, “but unfortunately he’s the only one who knows what it is.”

They were back in the war room, Drake sitting on one side of the table, Hannah and Tracy on the other. Simon was in the back of the room on the phone, and Avery was at his customary place at the front of the room. Harrison paced beside the table in front of his computer console, fingers itching for something to do.

The envelope hadn’t yielded anything that might identify the sender. No DNA or fingerprints. The handwriting was compact and upright, indicating someone with control issues (according to Tracy), but they’d already guessed as much. The photos inside were alarming but again offered little new insight.

There were pictures of Tina and Sara at various locales around campus. And four photos of the crime scenes—taken while the crimes were occurring. And perhaps
most disturbing, at least from Harrison’s point of view, were the pictures of Hannah.

There was one of her leaving the social sciences building. And another of her heading into the Aaron Thomas Academic Center. And worst of all, three of her outside her house, one of them showing her on the front porch—in Harrison’s arms. The bastard was stalking her. He clenched his hands and forced himself to focus on the conversation. There was nothing to be gained by letting his emotions get the better of him.

“I just got off the phone with the pizza place,” Simon said as he walked up to the table. “I faxed over a picture of Walker. The delivery guy said the guy barely opened the door. Just grabbed the box and shoved some money at him. But he was pretty sure it was Walker. So at least we’re chasing the right guy. Although it seems surprising to me that someone with his background would risk the dude recognizing him.”

“Maybe he wants us to know who he is,” Hannah said, chewing on the side of her lip. She was handling all of this pretty damn well, considering, the nervous habit the only sign that she wasn’t completely okay. “Maybe that’s part of the game.”

“It’s definitely possible,” Tracy agreed, her gaze on Hannah. “He obviously left the pictures for you to find.”

“But nothing to give us a clue where he is now or what’s next on the agenda,” Drake said, a frown creasing his forehead.

“I think the pictures are part of it,” Tracy offered. “He’s clearly been watching Hannah. As well as Tina and Sara. It’s interesting that there wasn’t a picture of Jasmine except for at the scene.”

“It supports the idea that maybe his taking her wasn’t part of his initial plan,” Avery said.

“You’re thinking he was waiting for Tina,” Hannah said, her eyes narrowing.

“Makes sense.” Avery nodded, his expression grim. “He was in her house, after all. And I don’t see how he’d have known Jasmine was going to be there.”

“Yes, but he shouldn’t have expected her to be there either,” Drake said. “Not if he really had her under surveillance. He’d have known that we had her in our protection.”

“Maybe he thought we’d let her go. Nothing this guy does follows solid rationale.”

“Well, at least this time tomorrow, she’ll be safely in Brooklyn,” Hannah said. “Hopefully beyond this guy’s reach.”

“Yeah, except that with her gone, it’s conceivable that the killer’s focus will move to you.” The words came out of their own accord, and Harrison wished them back the minute he’d spoken them. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t saying that I wanted him to be fixated on Tina. Or to be able to get to her. I just don’t like that Walker’s been taking pictures of Hannah.”

“None of us do,” Avery said. “And you can bet your ass we’re not going to let anything happen to her.”

“Hey,” Hannah protested. “I’m sitting right here, and it’s not like I’m some helpless female.” She lifted her weapon to underscore the statement. “Not that I mind having you guys watching my back.” She tried for a smile but missed, sighing instead. “But isn’t Walker’s MO the video camera? So maybe this means something else. Maybe he’s just trying to show us how close he can get to us without being seen?”

“Not exactly a positive factor,” Drake said.

“True,” Tracy agreed. “But Hannah may be right about the difference in the message of the medium. It’s almost more like he’s just trying to play a mind game with all of you. Make you jumpy. He’d know that you’d all be protective of Hannah—which might keep you off center.”

“Keeping us from paying attention to the real target,” Simon mused.

“I think it’s a possibility,” Tracy said.

“One we can circumvent by staying alert.” Avery leaned forward, palms on the table. “But if Tracy is right—and he’s using the photos of Hannah to screw with our heads, then I think we have a larger problem here.”

“This asshole knows who we are,” Drake said.

“But it could still be about Harrison, right?” Simon asked, picking up the picture of Harrison and Hannah. “I mean this is pretty damn telling.” He shot Hannah an apologetic look. “What better way to get to you than to go through someone you care about?”

“Except that he didn’t leave them for Harrison,” Hannah said, her faint blush highlighted by the deep pink frames of her glasses. “He left them for me. And I don’t mind saying that if he was trying to spook me, he did a damn good job.”

Harrison wanted to reach out for her. To offer reassurance. Thanks to the killer, they’d been outed. So it wasn’t as if he had to hide his feelings. But somehow, it just didn’t feel right. The very fact that their relationship, or whatever the fuck it was, could be playing into this prick’s fantasy made him feel as if he needed to use restraint. As if he might push too hard and send her running.

“But Harrison’s got no connection to this dude,” Drake
said. “At least not that we can find. Walker’s much more likely to have run into one of us. I mean if he really has been involved in terrorist activities, that puts him in the middle of our ball field—not the FBI’s.”

“So you think he knows
me
?” Hannah asked. “That I’m the common denominator in all of this?”

“I’m not saying anything,” Drake lifted his hands in apology, “except that I think Avery is right and that this is linked to us—to A-Tac. Either this guy has a score to settle or he wanted to get our attention when he took his leap over the psychological cliff.”

“Is there any precedent for something like this?” Avery asked Tracy. “For a guy like Walker to cross the line into serial killing and target us in the process?”

“It actually fits the profile to some extent,” she responded. “If he had bad dealings with the CIA, it’s possible he’d choose something like A-Tac for his killing ground. But it makes a lot of suppositions about his ability to gather information, so I can’t say with any certainty that this is about you guys. It could just be a happy circumstance—as far as Walker’s concerned, I mean. Something he stumbled into after the fact.”

“If he’s who we think he is, he definitely has the skills to put it together.” Harrison frowned.

“So the guy’s mind fucking is either planned or a bonus round, and either way, we’re on the damn firing line,” Drake said. “If he’s got a beef with us, he’s also going to know that this is the kind of thing that could easily get us all burned. And if we’re outed we can all kiss our careers good-bye. We’ll be toast with the CIA and with academia. Hell, we’ll be lucky to get jobs parking cars.”

“As much as I want to protect A-Tac,” Avery said, his tone a warning, “let’s not forget that we’ve got two women dead, and nothing to make us believe that the bastard’s finished. So until we can nail this guy, keeping the women of this campus safe has to be our paramount concern.”

“But none of this reads like a normal serial killer, right?” Simon asked, his gaze moving over to Tracy.

“I’ll admit, in some ways, the unsub seems to be all over the board. Organized, disorganized. Impulsive one moment, and almost anal retentive the next. But these guys don’t always follow a pattern. Unfortunately, a profile is an educated guess. And some are more accurate than others.”

“And it’s also possible that someone with a knowledge of behavioral sciences could rig the game, right?” Drake leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Make us believe he’s something he’s not.”

“It’s possible,” Tracy acknowledged. “Although even in that case, there’s a certain physiological pathology that must be present in order for him to pull it off. This guy is killing with the efficiency of someone who knows what he’s doing. A pro. But judging by the videos, there’s at least some evidence to support the idea that he derives a certain amount of pleasure from the killing. And while that combination can sometimes be suppressed, it can never be truly eliminated. And given the right set of circumstances, his true nature is going to rise to the surface.”

“In other words,” Avery said, “even if Walker didn’t start out as a serial killer—he’s most likely become one now.”

T
ina Richards jerked awake with a start, blinking as she tried to adjust to the now darkened bedroom. It had been late afternoon when she’d opened the first pages of the book, hoping to erase the images that kept playing in her head. She glanced over at the clock, surprised to see how late it was. She hadn’t expected to sleep at all. But maybe it was a blessing. Everyone was trying hard to make sure she was okay, but the truth was that she wasn’t sure she’d ever be all right again.

Everything had changed.

She tipped back her head, blowing out a long breath as she walked to the window, looking out at the quiet campus. The lights in the trees shifted ominously with the movement of the branches, the whistle of the wind sending leaves swirling through the darkness. She’d always loved Sunderland at night. But now, the shadows only hid evil. Somewhere out there, he was watching. Stalking.

If not her, then people she cared about.

She wrapped her arms around her waist, shivering. Even with Reid outside her door, she still felt vulnerable. As if somehow the killer would be able to reach her no matter where she tried to hide. Hannah had said he got off on fear, and Tina had tried to keep hers at bay, but it was difficult. Especially now, in light of what had happened to Jasmine. Roger said that it would pass. But Roger wasn’t here. He hadn’t seen what she’d seen. He hadn’t been targeted by a madman.