“
No
. They’ve got kids. No way will I lead Dell
to them. I’ll go to a safe house first.”
His heart squeezed hard. He hadn’t expected her to say
that, but now that she had, he was totally unsurprised. “They sent the kids to
Brock’s dad for the night. He’s a retired cop and understands what’s going on.
The boys will be perfectly safe there. I called Brock while I was in the
Bolyards’ house and he says it’s fine with them.” He lifted his brows,
engagingly, he hoped. “Trina is a really good cook.”
“I don’t want to put them out. And what about Callie?”
“I can have her taken to Brock’s, too. You girls can
do each other’s nails and stuff.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Would it keep you
non-distracted?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll go. Thank you for finding a different way.”
She studied his face, hers troubled in the darkness. “Do you believe Donald
Donner killed five women?”
He looked over at her. “Do you?”
She wagged her finger. “No fair answering with a
question,” she said, mocking the Forest woman, then shrugged. “No, I don’t.
He’s angry, but forgetful. Sometimes he’ll be teaching and just trail off,
staring into space. He forgets what he’s assigned. His obsession is getting
published. I don’t think he has the mental organization to do these murders, or
frankly the physical strength. He’s pretty old.”
Noah nodded thoughtfully. “What you said.”
“But you’re picking him up anyway.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said grimly.
“I’m assuming this couple saw Martha at the Deli,” Eve
said, “because that’s where Donner goes for lunch. Whether or not he’d go there
on a Saturday night? Don’t know.”
“Hopefully the Deli’s security video will shed some
light.” He glanced at the computer on her lap. “Did Donner know about
Shadow-land? I mean, did he play?”
“I don’t know what he did at home. He needed me to
explain the game to him, every time we talked. If he was faking his
forgetfulness, he’s a damn good actor.”
“I agree. Did you check on your red-zone cases? Are
they where they should be?”
“Yes.” She squeezed his hand lightly. “I’m sorry about
the Bolyards. About Jack, about all of this.”
“Not your fault.”
“I don’t mean that. I’m not apologizing that it
happened. I’m… sorrowful. Sorrowful that you have to see all this pain and
death and that it hurts you.”
Emotion, exhaustion, exhilaration… all welled up in a
wave that closed his throat. This is what he’d missed. What he wanted. What he
needed. Unwilling to trust his voice, he pressed her hand to his cheek and held
it there.
Wednesday, February 24, 10:30 p.m.
The Bolyards hadn’t locked their back door. Donner
appeared to be more careful with his locks.
He broke a pane of glass in the basement door, reached
in, and twisted the doorknob from the inside. A quick survey of the house
revealed Donner and his wife were not home.
Dammit
. Donner was supposed
to have been here tonight. They’d had an appointment.
Bastard stood me up
.
I should have grabbed him before I killed the Bolyards
. This could be tricky. He could only hope that,
wherever Donner had gone, his alibi would be as shaky as before.
This did save him from having to kill Mrs. Donner,
though. Killing people not in his original plan chafed at him, and he was still
plenty chafed over the Bolyards.
I should have stayed outside that coffee house and
waited, like I did with the others.
But the night he’d met Martha had been so damn cold. He would have drawn more
attention to himself sitting outside in his car than going inside. But now he
had two unplanned murders and a lot of extra effort to explain it away.
He had to hurry. The TV news reporter had probably
already shown up at the Bolyards’ house to get the interview he’d promised from
Stuart’s home phone, only to find Webster’s crime scene instead. Pretty soon
this place would be crawling with cops. They were supposed to find the house
empty, because he’d taken Donner.
He went straight to Donner’s bathroom and frowned.
Both toothbrushes were gone, as were several toiletries, leaving gaps in the
row of bottles and cans on the bathroom shelf. The Donners had gone away for
more than the evening.
In Donner’s kitchen, however, he had to smile. There
was a lone highball glass on the table. He sniffed at it. Donner had been
drinking bourbon. He’d make sure the sixth of his six victims had a bottle in
her house. He dropped the glass in a plastic bag.
Donald Donner had never been a real suspect in
Webster’s eyes, but even Webster wouldn’t be able to explain away hard
evidence.
As for Donner’s whereabouts… On a hunch he hit redial
on the kitchen’s cordless phone and hung up before the number could connect.
Committing the number to memory, he took out his BlackBerry, connected to the
Net and did a reverse call lookup.
Ah
. The
number belonged to Adele Donner, Donald’s mother. He’d confirm it, of course,
but instinct told him this was where Donald had retreated.
He dialed 411, let it connect, then hung up when the
operator answered. He’d knocked Adele’s number from the last-called spot so the
cops couldn’t do what he’d just done. They could get the number from Donner’s
LUDs, but that would take them time.
Time was something he didn’t have a great deal of. He
left the way he’d come, and none too soon. As he rounded the block, a squad car
entered the neighborhood, lights blazing but siren silent.
Sorry, boys. Dr.
Donner has left the building
.
Wednesday, February 24, 11:00 p.m.
“Nice place,” Eve murmured. Brock and Trina lived in a
brick house with a chimney from which a cozy stream of smoke billowed. Just
looking at it made her queasy.
“Nice people,” Noah said quietly. “Why are you
nervous?”
“It’s serious when you meet family.”
“You know them from the bar.”
“This is different. This is… personal.”
“Damn straight it is. You introduced me to Tom
tonight,” he noted.
“I know.” Her face still heated in embarrassment at
the stern way Tom had studied Noah, as if Tom were the father and she were an
errant teen. “Kid’s a pain in the ass.”
“He loves you. You’re his family. And I passed
muster,” Noah added with an arched brow, then he smiled. “Trina already likes
you. Why are you nervous?”
“I don’t know. Maybe my spider senses have been on
tingle mode so long today, my nerves are shorted out. I don’t know how you cops
cope with all the excitement.”
He came around to open her door. “Normally it’s not
this exciting. Normally it’s all paperwork. Don’t forget your phone.”
Her computer bag had fallen on its side and the phone
had slid out of the front pocket. Out of habit she flipped it open. “I’ve got a
million missed calls.”
“You’ll have time to catch up inside,” he said, a
little impatience in his voice.
She made her feet move. He had work to do and she was
distracting him again. “Sorry. I procrastinate when I’m nervous.”
“Well, stop it. You don’t need to be.” He put his arm
around her shoulders and she leaned against him, hip to hip, her head on his
shoulder as he walked her to Trina’s front door. “Feels nice, doesn’t it?” he
murmured in her ear and she shivered.
Because it did. And that made her nervous, too.
He sighed. “Just enjoy it, okay?”
She realized she was holding her breath. “God. This
shouldn’t be so hard.”
“Try to relax. I’m the least of your worries right
now.”
“That’s what you think,” she muttered, then jumped
when the cell phone in his pocket vibrated against her leg.
“Eve, relax. Trina doesn’t bite. Not anymore, anyway.”
He was smiling until he looked at his caller ID. “It’s Abbott.” He stopped on
the front porch and took a step back, turning his face away as he listened to
his boss.
Eve didn’t want to know what was happening. The day
was catching up to her and she was suddenly overwhelmed.
No more. Not
tonight
. But Noah’s call wasn’t quick and too much energy had her flipping
her phone open to look at the incoming calls.
Oh God.
It
was the same number that had sent the text. She lifted her eyes to Noah, who
was now pacing the width of the driveway as he talked with Abbott in low tones
she couldn’t hear. Her hand trembling, she hit the speed dial for her voicemail
and put the phone to her ear.
“Didn’t your parents teach you not to get into cars
with strange men?”
She was breathing hard, the cold air hurting her
lungs. Her knees gave way and she sank to the edge of the porch, numb. It was
him.
Him.
It couldn’t be. He was dead.
But it was.
The voice that taunted her nightmares until she woke screaming. Her phone slid
from her fingers, hitting the porch with a clatter that brought Noah around.
He ran to her, dropping to one knee in the snow.
“What?”
“Him.” She shook her head hard, trying to clear it.
“Dell Farmer?”
“Yes. No.
God
.” She was hyperventilating and
she pursed her lips, made herself breathe through her nose. “It was a voice
message. Winters’s voice.”
Stunned, Noah did a fast take. “Are you sure?”
She ground her teeth. “Fucking sure. I hear that voice
in my dreams. Dammit.”
“Sshh,” Noah soothed. He took her phone, punched in
the numbers to replay the message. And his face grew grim. He pocketed her
phone and helped her to her feet. “I’ll tell Olivia. We’ll find him.”
“How did he get it? How did he get his voice?” She heard
the hysteria in her voice, tried to battle it back. “How did he know?”
“I don’t know. Maybe from an old interview. I found a
few on the Net this morning. Try to breathe, honey. It’s just words. Winters
can’t hurt you now.” His arms were around her, holding her up. “He can’t ever
hurt you again.”
She thought of Harvey Farmer and Katie. And Kurt
Buckland and David. “But Dell can. He wants to. He won’t give up.”
“Breathe.” He pounded on Brock and Trina’s door, loud
enough to wake the dead. But nobody answered and he pounded again, harder.
“Open the damn door.”
It opened only a few inches, Trina’s face peeking
around the edge. “Noah,” she said brightly. “Eve, what a surprise.” Then she
frowned. “
Go
,” she mouthed. “
Now
.”
“Goddammit, Tree, I don’t care if you’re both naked
and having sex from the damn chandeliers.
Move.
” Noah knocked the door
open with his shoulder.
Trina’s words hadn’t matched the look in her eyes, Eve
thought numbly. Slowly, the look in Trina’s eyes sank in.
Run
. Pulse
shooting like a rocket, Eve backed up, but it was too late. Trina was yanked
from sight and Eve heard a loud thud a split second before a hand grabbed her
arm, dragging her inside.
“
No,
” Noah thundered, trying to yank her back.
Eve thrashed like a wild cat. But it was too late. She went still when a gun
was shoved against her temple.
Noah had gone still as well. “Dell Farmer,” he said
quietly.
What a shock
,
Eve thought, her mind racing now, even as her body was motionless.
An arm locked over her throat, squeezing. “The great
and powerful Noah Webster,” Dell scoffed. “You couldn’t have found your own ass
in the dark.”
“I seem to have found you,” Noah said calmly, his
focus on Dell’s face.
Dell scoffed again. “Yeah, right. Only because my old
man gave me up.”
Noah looked surprised, though none of his focus
dulled. “No, he didn’t.”
Eve could see Trina, hands and feet bound, lying dazed
against a wall.
Where’s Brock?
Then Eve was lifted on her toes, Dell’s
gun digging harder into her head.
“Don’t lie to me, Webster,” he snarled.
Eve found her voice. “He’s not,” she said. “
I
found you. It wasn’t that hard.”
Dell stiffened and for a split second the pressure
from the gun slacked away. But he recovered and Eve winced in pain when he
ground the barrel harder. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not. I found an article by Kurt Buckland, with a
nice photo of your father standing at V’s graveside. You resemble your dad.”
She paused for effect. “Or you did, until you killed him. You don’t look much
like him anymore, what with that hole in his chest.”
“Shut up.” But she could feel a slight tremble in
Dell’s hand.
She could see Noah watching, waiting, alert. She felt
the weight of her own weapon in her pocket and hoped to keep Dell distracted
enough that he wouldn’t feel it, too.
“You killed your father for no reason, Dell,” Eve said
softly. “He didn’t tell on you.”