He frowned. “Then where will you be today?”
“On campus. Somebody’s gotten access to our study
files. It’s the only way he could have picked all three women.”
His frown deepened. “And what will you do should you
find this person?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not planning to make any citizen’s
arrests. I’ll call Webster.”
“And what if he comes after you when you’re alone on
campus? What then?”
“I’m licensed to carry a concealed. I never leave the
house without my gun in my computer bag. Except for yesterday.” She bit at her
lip. “I was so rattled over seeing Christy hanging like that, I forgot a lot of
things.”
“Considering you were cuffed and questioned, it’s
probably good you didn’t have your gun with you. I’ll drive you to school. Let
me know when you’re ready to leave.”
Tuesday, February 23, 8:05 a.m.
Abbott tossed the morning
Mirror
on the table.
“That punk reporter Buckland was at your scene last night,” he snapped. “What
happened to securing the perimeter?”
Jack frowned. “I didn’t see Kurt Buckland there
yesterday.”
Micki pulled the paper closer to where she and
Carleton Pierce sat. “I didn’t either, and Christy’s house is pretty remote. We
would have seen his car if he’d driven up. Must have parked a ways off and used
a telephoto.”
Noah scanned the front-page article whose headline
screamed RED DRESS KILLER and in smaller caps, THREE WOMEN DEAD. “He’s named
all three women, including Samantha. Here’s a quote from her mother. ‘We knew
our daughter could never have killed herself.’ ” He passed the paper to Jack.
“I bet he was following us yesterday when we went to see Samantha’s mother.”
“Asshole reporter even added the part about the
snake,” Jack said, pushing the paper away in disgust. “We would have held that
back.”
“Find out where he was hiding,” Abbott said grimly. “I
want to know how he knew about the red dresses and the snake
and
I want
him kept away from our crime scenes.”
Carleton looked uncomfortable. “Are you sure that’s
the best approach? It’ll just make him more determined. Maybe he would make a
better ally.”
Abbott scowled. “I’m not embedding any media in my
teams.”
“I didn’t say strap him to your chest like a papoose,
Bruce,” Carleton said mildly. “I’m familiar with minds like his. If you deny
him access, he’ll go on the offensive.”
“The doc’s right,” Jack said. “I’d rather control what
this Buck-land guy knows. On the bright side, at least he didn’t know about the
connection.”
Carleton looked around the table. “And that would be?”
“Ever hear of a computer game called Shadowland?” Noah
asked before Jack could mention Eve. Noah wasn’t sure Carleton would be allowed
to keep her involvement from her faculty advisor. Ethically Carleton might have
to tell.
“I never got into computer games,” Carleton said. “But
I take it that the victims did.”
“Big time,” Jack said. “Hours a day.”
“I have a few patients who have game addictions. They
talk about a Worlds of War.”
“Warcraft,” Jack corrected. “Similar principle.”
“We found that all three women were participating in a
psychological study at one of the local universities,” Abbott added and Noah
wanted to protest, but it was too late.
Carleton’s brows shot up. “How did you find this out?”
“Confidential informant,” Noah said.
“Does this informant have a name that you’d care to
share with the team?” Carleton asked quietly, but he was angry and Noah
supposed he had a right to be.
Abbott nodded. “Yes. If it comes down to it, we’ll
tell you.”
“For now,” Noah added, “we don’t want to put you in
the spot of having to report it.”
“Pesky ethics,” Carleton said tightly, his smile
forced. “Fine. For now. So… obviously somebody besides your CI knows about this
study. Do you know who?”
“We’re investigating that today,” Noah said. “Your
profile would be a big help.”
“I’m not so sure it’s accurate anymore. Knowing about
the computer game could make a difference. Knowing there is a link to a
psychological study makes an even bigger difference.” Carleton’s voice was
sharper than Noah had ever heard it. “It’s possible I wasted five hours of my
night on a profile that is completely meaningless.”
Noah closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Carleton. I didn’t
think about that.”
“I guess not,” Carleton replied. He pressed his
fingertips to his temples, then lifted his head. The anger was gone, but the
irritation was still there. “Tell me what you can.”
Tuesday, February 23, 8:45 a.m.
“Excuse me. I’m looking for Eve Wilson.”
Dr. Donner’s odious secretary, Jeremy Lyons, pointed.
“She sits back there.”
Eve closed her laptop quickly.
Dammit.
She’d
been so close to getting into Martha Brisbane’s Shadowland file, but a man was
coming her way. He was clean-cut, well dressed, but there was an arrogant gleam
in his eye. Eve instantly did not trust him.
“Miss Wilson.” He held out his hand. “I’m Kurt
Buckland, with the
Mirror
.”
She shook his hand reluctantly. “Mr. Buckland. I’m
rather busy at the moment.”
He ignored her. “So tell me how you knew the three
murdered women.”
Years of maintaining the secrets of Dana’s shelter had
taught her how not to react. But it was hard. She blinked. “Murder? You have
the wrong woman, Mr. Buckland.”
“You drive an old Mazda. Blue with a dented fender.
Yes?”
“Yes. But I still don’t know what you’re talking
about.”
“Your car still sits in front of Christy Lewis’s house.
You were at Martha Brisbane’s apartment.” He handed her another photo. It was
her with Noah and her heart sank.
He knew. Soon everyone would know that her study had
lured these women to their deaths. Their killer would know they knew and the
police would lose any advantage.
“You spoke with the detective,” he said. “I want to
know what he said.”
Even as her heart pounded, she was relieved. The
intruder last night was this reporter. Not a killer. “Talk to Detective
Webster.” She swiveled in her chair, hoping he would leave.
Instead he leaned against her cubicle wall. “So. What
was
it like to die? Twice? Did you see bright white lights? God? Angels? Or was it
hellfire and brimstone?”
Fury bubbled, but she kept her cool. “Use your
imagination. It’s what you’re good at.”
“I’ll pick God and angels. So, when that man strangled
you, did it hurt?”
It had
. It
still did, in her worst nightmares. Worse, it shamed her.
No more
.
Slowly she stood, damned if she’d be victimized again.
“Yes, it hurt very much. I have a scar from where he wound twine around my
throat. Would you like to see it?” She unfastened the leather choker she always
wore, leaned forward, chin high. “Would you like to touch it? So that you can
more accurately describe it to your readers?”
His eyes flashed. “You can’t bluff. I get what I want,
or I will print your personal story. Tell me about these three murdered women
and your privacy will remain intact.”
She smiled at him, a full smile that accentuated the
dead side of her face. It looked creepy, she knew. Phantom of the Opera creepy.
She’d perfected her half smile so she wouldn’t see the disgust she saw on Kurt
Buckland’s face at this moment.
“You’ve already breached my privacy,” she said loudly.
“Everyone in this room is googling me. They’ll be too polite to come and ask
about it to my face. But they’ll talk among themselves. Bad move, raising your
voice like that. You just lost your leverage.”
“The rest of my readers won’t be so polite,” he
snapped. “They’ll point and stare.”
Eve laced her fingers loosely even though her insides
were so taut she thought she’d break in two. “If you want a story, talk to
Webster. You won’t get shit from me.”
He drew himself up tall and put his smile back on.
“I’ll make sure you get a copy of tomorrow’s paper. For your scrapbook. You can
paste a clipping next to this one.”
He tossed a photocopy of a murky newspaper photo to
her desk and her taut insides shattered.
That’s me.
The day she’d been
released from the hospital, almost six years ago. The face was horrifically
scarred, the eyes wide and terrified. Eve felt the pain, all over again. But
she’d made it through then. She was stronger now.
“One last chance,” he said quietly. “Nobody else has
to see that.”
Eve made herself touch it. Keeping her hands steady, she
brushed past Buckland, walked straight to the bulletin board and pinned the
picture in the middle with a tack. Then she turned, her half smile in place.
“I’m not afraid of you. Leave. Now.”
One of the other students rose from his cubicle. Jose
was built like a brick, and now he put one of his beefy hands on Eve’s
shoulder. “The lady said leave.”
“And stay away from my apartment,” Eve added, “or I’ll
get a restraining order.”
Buckland glared. “I haven’t been near your damn
apartment.”
“Save it for the judge. Stay. Away. From me.” With a
final glower, Buckland walked away and Eve let out a breath. “Thanks, Jose. I
owe you one.”
He took the horrible picture down. “You want me to
shred this?”
Eve took it from his hands. “No. I think I’ll keep
it.”
He took the choker from her stiff fingers and fastened
it around her neck. Eve turned to thank him but something in his eyes gave her
pause. “You already knew, didn’t you?”
He shrugged. “I was doing research last year for
Abnormal.”
The class she was taking now. “The mind of serial
killers,” she murmured.
“I found articles on Rob Winters.” She winced and he
grimaced. “I’m sorry, Eve.”
“It’s okay. Really.” She made herself smile. “It’s not
like we can go around calling him ‘He who should not be named.’ That’s kind of
long.”
His lips twitched. “I think that’s copyrighted,
anyway.” He sobered, kindly. “None of us knew what to say, so we decided not to
say anything. It’s your business. Your life.”
“Which I think I just took a little more back of this
morning.” And it made her proud.
Her elation was short-lived. Donner’s assistant was
watching her with ill-disguised curiosity from behind his round spectacles.
She’d waited all morning for Jeremy Lyons to take his break so she could
download the study files from his PC. She didn’t want access traced to her own
laptop and she wouldn’t dig Ethan in any deeper than he was.
But Jeremy had stubbornly stayed and soon Donner would
return from the class he was teaching. After Buckland, Eve wasn’t sure she had
the energy left to stand up to Donner, too. Donner would demand to know what
she’d done, why she’d told the police about Martha when he’d all but commanded
her to forget Martha’s name.
Besides, Donner had access to the list. As did Jeremy.
They could be involved.
She’d thought it a hundred times since talking
with Noah that morning, but it was no easier to believe. Donner was an
academic, Lyons an annoying weasel. Neither of them looked like killers.
But then, neither had Rob Winters when she’d first met
him. “Jose, can you divert Jeremy? I need to get out of here and I don’t want
to deal with him.”
Jose’s eyes narrowed. “I hate that little troll. Just
leave him to me.”
Jose blocked Jeremy’s view and Eve sailed by without
detection, but once outside the building, the bubble of accomplishment popped.
I
don’t have my car.
And then Jeremy was running out of the psych building,
followed by Jose. Instinctively, Eve ducked around the corner, into the alley
between their building and the next. From here she could listen and see without
being seen.
“Where is she? Dammit,” Jeremy said angrily.
“She’s gone home,” Jose said. “Let her be.”
Jeremy looked afraid, and the hairs on Eve’s neck
lifted. “I’m so dead,” he muttered.
It could have been simply an overused phrase, but Eve
was taking no chances. Sticking to the alleys, behind and between the
buildings, she began to run, her cell phone in her hand.
Tuesday, February 23, 8:45 a.m.
So this is all being done within a game?” Carleton
asked incredulously. “This is… amazing. And certainly changes the nature of my
profile.”
“How so?” Noah asked.
“There’s a level of intelligence, of order that I’ve
never seen before. You say he’s able to go in and change these game characters—”
“Avatars,” Jack inserted.
“Avatars,” Carleton repeated. “He’s got technical
skills or he’s able to learn them quickly. And then there’s the cruelty. I have
to tell you, I haven’t been able to get that victim from yesterday out of my
mind. That he went to the danger and effort of locating a highly venomous
snake, immobilized her… I don’t even want to imagine what that poor woman went
through. I have patients with snake phobias and they are very real.”