That Dell hadn’t been the one to write the headline
was frustrating as well. He could still be submitting stories as Buckland had
his old man kept his damn mouth shut.
I didn’t do it.
What bullshit. Harvey had threatened to tell, and he had. But when time came to
pay the piper, Harvey had whined like a little girl.
V always said he would. V always said they could make
him cry if the two of them had joined forces as kids.
But I was always too
scared.
Tonight he had not been afraid at all. He’d been angry and
justified.
But now Webster knows who I am
. Webster had gone to Harvey’s house. They’d found the
old man’s body. He’d heard the chatter on the scanner, the BOLO issued…
for
me.
But they’d missed on his vehicle. They had him in a black Lincoln
Navigator.
Just like that gun-pointing guy was driving
. Dell grinned as things fell into place. Unless
Webster had three guys on his ass, the guy in the Navigator was the Red Dress
Killer himself. Dell put down the camera and pulled out his BlackBerry, doing a
reverse search on the Navigator’s plate. Then frowned at the name that popped
up.
Donald Donner
.
Where had he seen that name before?
Oh, yeah
. That was the name he’d
seen on the door behind that douche Jeremy Lyons’s desk at Marshall.
“I don’t think so, Dr. Donner,” he murmured. “I saw
him first. He belongs to me.”
But first, headlines. He couldn’t write them, but he’d
make damn sure someone else did. He dialed a number he’d found in Buckland’s
contact list. “Hi. I have a tip for you…”
Wednesday, February 24, 9:55 p.m.
Eve was cold despite the car heater Noah had left
running at full blast.
She’d seen four dead bodies tonight. She included
Katie in that number, the sight of the body bag fresh in her mind.
I saw her
Sunday, called her a bimbo du jour
. Eve wondered what Katie had done to
warrant Dell’s wrath. Or if the man had simply lost it.
He killed his father.
And tried to kill me
. And
David. She groaned. She needed to call David. He’d be worried sick. She dug her
cell from her computer bag, wincing at all the calls she’d missed.
“I’m sorry,” she said before David could snarl. “I’ve
been busy. This guy who hurt you—”
“I know. Olivia called me. She’s stepped up security
here at the hospital.”
Eve’s blood ran colder. “She thinks he’ll come after
you? He was trying for me.”
“She said she’s not taking any chances. Are you okay?”
“Physically, I’m fine. Emotionally… I’ve seen four
bodies tonight.”
“Webster let you?” He sounded outraged.
“He won’t let me out of his sight. What he sees, I
see.”
He grunted at that. “Tom told me you had a dinner
thing. How did it go?”
Eve found the one side of her mouth lifting despite
everything. “Not bad.”
“A glowing endorsement coming from you. I’m glad. You
deserved it.”
“Get some sleep. I’m safe.” Hanging up, she reached
into her bag for her laptop and her hand brushed the hard bulge in the zippered
pocket. The image of Harvey Farmer flashed into her mind, dead on the floor of
his living room, a hole in his chest. Dell was out there, somewhere. The gun
she carried would do her little good in her computer bag unless she intended to
hit him with it.
Lifting her head, she looked both ways out the window
before slipping her gun from the bag to her coat pocket and suddenly felt much
safer. She opened her laptop to make sure Natalie and Kathy were safe as well.
They were, Kathy’s avatar on her Ninth Circle bar stool and Natalie’s still at
the poker table.
Natalie was losing big. Dasich, conversely, had a
mountain of chips.
So not fair. Guy’s a damn cheat
. Eve watched the next
hand go to Cicely, the avatar who always sat next to Natalie’s. Once she’d had
Greer bump into her to get her screen name, to determine if Cicely was one of
her subjects. She wasn’t.
At least not that you know of
. A new chill chased down her spine.
“Shit.”
I have a dozen avatars. Any one of them
could, too
. She could have red-zones she’d never identified. And at the
moment she had no idea what to do about it.
A roar from the casino had her looking down. The
Cicely avatar had won a hand she shouldn’t have. It was extraordinarily lucky,
totally skillful, or totally cheating.
Natalie agreed, filing a formal complaint. A brawl was
building. More fun and ga—
Eve was yanked from the action by a knock on the car
window that had her stifling a yelp. She rolled down the glass, drawing a
breath. “Captain Abbott, you startled me.”
He didn’t smile. “Did Web tell you that we’ve arranged
a safe house for you?”
Eve smiled, brightly. “He did. Thank you for your
concern.”
Abbott opened her car door. “I’ll take you there now.
Come with me.”
Eve leaned back, shaking her head. “I’ve made
alternate arrangements.”
“You can’t stay here. This is a crime scene.”
Eve looked up at him, keeping her expression bland
although in her mind, her eyes were narrowing suspiciously. “I’ll leave as soon
as my ride gets here.”
Abbott’s jaw clenched. “What are your alternate
plans?”
The hairs on the back of her neck lifted. “I’m staying
with Sal and his wife,” she lied.
“I cannot have Webster distracted. This mess with Jack
is bad enough.”
“How is Jack?” she asked, changing the subject before
he decided to call Sal.
“They’ve pumped his stomach, but he’s not out of the
woods. Don’t change the subject, Eve. I don’t want Noah to miss a threat because
he’s looking after you. It could mean his life. Or yours.”
Put that way, Abbott made sense. “I understand.”
“Then you’ll back away from him until this case is
resolved.”
Eve studied his face, harshly illuminated by a
streetlamp. “I will not be a distraction.”
He glared at her, knowing she had not agreed. “See
that you don’t.”
He closed her car door and had started to walk away
when Noah emerged from the Bolyards’ house with Micki Ridgewell, both looking
grim. Eve muted Shadowland, so she could listen to what was being said outside
the still-open car window.
“Time of death?” Abbott asked Noah.
“Between seven and eight,” he replied and Eve’s heart
sank. That would have been when they’d been kissing in the backseat of his old
car.
“Any indication of what they’d planned to tell you?”
Abbott asked.
“No.” Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “But they did
make a phone call at 7:47.”
Micki pointed to a local TV news van that was just
slowing to a stop. “To them.”
A woman approached wearing a stylish coat and high
heels. “I’m Regina Forest,” she said. “Can you tell me what’s going on here?”
“This is a crime scene,” Noah said. “You’ll have to
leave.”
Forest’s expression became a deliberate mix of horror
and interest. “Mr. Bolyard?”
“No comment,” Noah said, but before he could step away
Regina came closer.
“Stuart Bolyard called our office. Talked to one of
our staff members.” Her eyes narrowed, catlike. “I’ll tell you everything I
know if I get an exclusive.”
“Depends on what you know,” Noah said. “So what do you
know?”
“Mr. Bolyard said he’d seen the Red Dress story on the
news and recognized one of the women. That he’d seen her at a coffee shop and
that he’d called the police for a meeting. I asked why he just didn’t tell the
police everything when he called and he said his wife was ‘into celebrities.’
She wanted to meet Jack Phelps. Where is Phelps?”
“Not on duty right now,” Abbott said. “What else?”
“So you already knew all that?” she asked. “He also
said he saw a man leave just after them.” Her smile bloomed, cagily. “And that
he didn’t tell you.”
Noah’s smile was unpleasant. “Ma’am, we have an
ongoing homicide investigation, as you’re well aware. Please don’t play games
with us.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. The staffer called me to the
phone and when I introduced myself, Mr. Bolyard said his wife wanted to meet
me, too, and be on TV. I told him I’d need to hear more. He told me he’d seen
the man again, in the same coffee shop. Said he was a professor at one of the
local colleges. Fifties, horn-rimmed glasses and a bow tie, and that his hands
shook when he drank his coffee.”
Donner
, Eve
thought. To his credit, Noah didn’t blink.
“Do you know him, Detective?” Forest asked shrewdly.
“Did Mr. Bolyard approach this man?” Noah asked
instead of answering.
“Yes. When he saw him today he asked if he was the one
who’d left with the woman who got killed. He said the professor got angry and
denied it. So,
do
you know this man with the bow tie?” She wagged her
finger. “And no fair answering with a question.”
“We may,” Noah said. “As soon as we confirm, we’ll
give you your exclusive. And you’ll hold back on broadcasting the tape your
assistant is shooting right now?”
Forest scrutinized him. “Sure. Just don’t double-cross
me, okay?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Noah murmured as another car
raced up the street, stopping behind the news van with a screech of brakes. Two
men emerged, one with a camera.
“Detective Webster?” The one without the camera jogged
across the street. “Can you comment on Detective Phelps’s attempt at
murder-suicide?”
Forest’s brows shot up and Noah’s eyes flashed
dangerously.
“No comment,” Noah said softly.
“I’d say that qualifies as a double-cross,” Regina
Forest said, equally softly, and motioned at her assistant in the van to keep
rolling tape.
The reporter looked annoyed that he’d been scooped.
“Nelson Weaver, the
Mirror
. Is it true that Jack Phelps murdered his
girlfriend and OD’d on booze and pills?”
“No. Comment,” Abbott repeated forcefully.
Forest’s lips curved, this time in disdain. “Nelson, I
think we should grab a coffee. Chat.” She walked away, the confused
newspaperman at her side.
“God
damn
it,” Abbott muttered. “So much for
Jack’s privacy.”
“But now we know who killed five women,” Noah said,
sounding oddly disconnected. “I’ll go pick up Donner.”
Abbott turned slowly toward Noah’s car, as if
remembering Eve still sat there. “I’ll send a squad car to Donner’s house to
hold him there, then
I’ll
pick him up. Drop her off at Sal’s before you
meet me at Donner’s.”
Well, that was interesting, too
, Dell thought, watching through his zoom. The guy
from the
Mirror
he’d fully expected since he’d called him, but the chick
from the TV news was a bit of a surprise. Looked like Phelps would be covered
coming and going.
Phelps could still die
, he thought optimistically,
but even if he
doesn’t, his face will be plastered all over the Twin Cities
. A
murder-attempted-suicide by a cop was big enough to be picked up by CNN. Hell,
maybe even big enough for Yahoo.
Everyone had read that
MSP
article and thought
Phelps was a god. Now they knew he was a murderer and a coward. In other words,
everyone would know the truth.
“Now, on to Webster,” he said with a big grin. He knew
how to hit Webster where it would really hurt. The man cared for his family.
Wednesday, February 24, 10:15 p.m.
Noah clenched his steering wheel as he drove away from
the Bolyards’ house. “What happened between you and Abbott?”
“He wants me out of the way so you won’t be
distracted. I told him I’d comply.”
Noah tamped down his temper. No easy feat. “By going
to Sal’s?”
“I figured Sal would cover for me. Abbott tried to
take me to the safe house himself and that wasn’t going to happen.” She drew a
breath. “Noah, I don’t know what to say.”
He gave her a hard glance. “About what?”
“Those people, the Bolyards… They were killed while we
were…” She shrugged.
“I know. But you told me that Jack made a bad choice,
letting a woman he didn’t really know into his bed. You were right. The
Bolyards made a bad choice, too. They could have told us what they knew and we
could have picked Donner up before he shot their heads off. They didn’t. They
wanted their fifteen minutes of fame.”
“Looks like they got it,” she said sadly. “But back to
you. Abbott’s right. I’m a distraction to you right now. Drop me off at Sal’s.
I’ll go home with Callie and ask one of the cops to follow us. I’ll even call
you when I get there so you know I’m safe.”
“I’ve got an idea that I like better. Brock and
Trina’s house,” he said, then blinked when she forcefully shook her head.