Kiss of Death (33 page)

But again, it's in vain. As the blood-soaked man comes running toward me, I take a deep breath. I know what I have to do….

The shot rings out loudly in the park, the trees and open skies engulfing the sound.

Both the Benson twins are down.

Again, I feel bile rising but I focus on my surroundings—Winters. I swing around and he's on the move…again.

“Hold it, Winters!”

He hesitates, slows down, but doesn't turn around and doesn't stop.

I fire a warning shot and it has the desired effect. He
stops and turns around slowly. There's no way he could outrun me with his hands cuffed behind his back and he knows it. And he also knows that I can now block his psi-attack, too. It's game, set and match for Winters.

I immediately call Sloan.

“Sloan, I've got an officer down, concussion, and the two Benson twins are down, too.” I swallow hard. “Gun-shot wounds to the chest. I need medical evacuation as soon as possible. Our GPS coordinates are…” I check my BlackBerry's GPS and give Sloan our exact coordinates. “I've also got Damien Winters in custody and another two in custody with two LAPD officers nearby.”

“And the victim?”

“Safe.”

“Good job.” She hangs up, obviously as keen as me to get medical help. But
is
it a good job? Two of our suspects may be dead.

I keep my gun pointed at Winters, who doesn't show the slightest bit of concern that two of his followers, his “family members,” have been shot. Then again, as profiled: extreme narcissism and the inability to feel empathy. He's only concerned for himself.

I want to check on Darren, but he's at sixty feet away, out of my line of sight, and I can't afford to drop my guard with Winters.

“Darren?” I yell out.

First I hear a groan, then: “Yup.” His voice is throaty and confused.

“Stay where you are, we've got paramedics on their way.”

Nothing.

“Darren?”

“Yup. Okay.” He's still not with it—I hope it's nothing more than concussion.

Next are the Bensons. I kneel down to check on them, keeping my gun and eyes on Winters while feeling around
for a pulse on one of the twins' necks. I'm relieved to feel a steady beat. The other twin also has a pulse, but it's more erratic.

“They're both alive,” I tell Winters, but he simply shrugs.

Me, on the other hand—I'm happy I haven't taken a life. I know these men were responsible for at least two murders, maybe more, but I still don't want their deaths on my conscience. Besides, in some ways I think rotting in jail is better justice than dying. We just have to make sure they get life with no parole.

I'm still weighing my options when I hear a rustling to the east. I keep my gun on Winters, but also prepare to shift my aim.

“FBI,” says a voice, seconds before Schultz comes into view.

“Good to see you.” Even though I've got control of Winters, another gun never hurts. “The leader's in custody and we've got two wounded.”

Schultz moves his flashlight onto Winters and the Benson twins. He's slightly surprised. “Impressive take-down, Anderson.”

I force a smile, still feeling less than impressed myself. “Thanks.”

“The LAPD officers are walking the vic and the two perps out with the help of Ranger Brown. I came down when I heard the shots.”

“Thanks.”

He gives me a nod. “But it looks like you've got everything under control.”

“Not quite. These guys need first aid and Darren's down, too.”

“Is he okay?”

“Just concussed, I think.” A chopper is now audible in the distance.

“Good.” Schultz aims his gun squarely at Winters.
“The chopper's only minutes away. You check on Detective Carter.”

I run the short stint to Darren and am happy to find him sitting up, although he is leaning heavily to one side.

“How you feeling?”

“Not so hot.” He winces. “Winters must have done his psi-vamp thing on me, because I suddenly felt disorientated and lost my footing. Stupid.”

“Hardly.” I lean down and give him a kiss.

“Where's Winters?”

“With Schultz.”

Darren moves slightly and winces. “You'd better go check on him. He's probably trying to fuck with Schultz, too.”

I race back and get up close and personal with Winters. “None of your tricks, Damien. I'm keeping an eye on you.”

He hisses at me.

I shake my head. “Charming.”

I roll both the Benson twins over and quickly assess the damage. Not surprisingly, the one with the erratic heartbeat looks worse, so I apply pressure to his chest wound. I look up and realize Winters is staring at the twins, not with concern or anguish, but with desire. But it's not for them, it's for the blood that's oozing out of their chests.

A minute later two EMS helicopters hover about a hundred and fifty feet above us, and twenty seconds after that two of the paramedics are rappelling down. They tend to the Benson brothers first, applying pressure bandages and setting up plasma, before checking out Darren. The paramedic confirms concussion but wants to take him in for tests.

A few minutes later the Bensons are being winched
up to the chopper while Darren's about to be loaded onto a stretcher.

“I'm fine. I don't need that. I can walk.”

I hold his hand. “Just relax and let them check you out properly, huh?”

“I'm fine. Really.” Darren makes to stand up, but suddenly stops and turns pale. “Okay, I am a little dizzy.”

I shake my head. “I'll come with you. I'm here for you.”

Two days later

I
sit at my desk, making the final touches to my report. Once I e-mail this to Brady I'll be back to my normal to-do list, which for the next day or two means back to my presentation for the LAPD's homicide detectives. Who knows, maybe I'll include this investigation as a case study.

Winters still hasn't talked, but I'm not surprised. Despite his delusions of grandeur, he's a smart man who knows a confession never helps in court. While it was possible his narcissism would win out and he'd boast about his accomplishments, good sense has kept him quiet. Likewise, I doubt we'll get the Benson brothers to talk, either. They are staunchly loyal to one another, and I think that feeling of honor and duty extends to Winters, even though it's not reciprocated. At least they
can
talk…or will be able to soon. They're both still in hospital, critical but stable. My bullets pierced their lungs, but, as intended, missed their hearts.

While it's likely that Winters and the Benson twins will remain silent forever, the other members of the Knights of Reason did enough talking for everyone. The
two males holding down the victim were Mark Reynolds and Charlie Spoon. We also found one female vampire in the surrounding area, Shelley Smithson…shoe size eight. I guess that lets Desiree off the hook once and for all. That and the fact that none of the Knights of Reason seemed to know her.

That Tuesday night our first choice for questioning was Reynolds, an eighteen-year-old with a middle-class background who'd only been involved in the vampire scene for six months. I bowed out of the interview, not wanting to aggravate Reynolds, but I briefed Sloan to act like she understood the group's actions and that she admired Damien Winters. Sloan played her role to perfection.

For the first twenty minutes of the interview, Sloan praised Winters and said how she understood what the Knights stood for. When Reynolds gushed about how his life had changed for the better since he'd met Damien Winters, Sloan agreed. When he talked about what a great master Winters was, Sloan agreed. And when Sloan swerved the conversation to the girls who were sacrificed and Reynolds said they should have felt honored to be chosen, honored that they'd be the key in the rise of the vampires…Sloan agreed. Of course, he didn't know any of the girls' names. Why would he—they were inconsequential. Mere vessels for the greater good. I included his exact response in my final report, because it spoke to the psychology of the group:
I don't know their names, only the purpose they served. Their bodies were nothing in this lifetime, nothing but an inferior vessel. Once sacrificed, we gave them the chance to be reborn as vampires. Like us.

It was clear from Reynolds' interview, and those of Charlie Spoon and Shelley Smithson, that Winters had convinced his followers that taking the women's lives released them into a higher place. All three of them talked about the women's deaths, the murders, as the “next stage
of their journey.” Manson did the same thing, to such an extent that it was arguable that his followers could no longer psychologically conceive of “murder.” Manson engulfed his family of followers into his warped reality—it's not the end for the victims, merely the beginning. Winters did the same thing. And despite Winters spending time “educating” the girls in the group's ways and trying to make them understand how important their roles were in the rise of the vampires, they didn't seem to understand.

Once Sloan had softened Reynolds up by buying into the rhetoric, he admitted to being present and playing a part in “releasing a total of four girls for the greater good.” He'd told her, in detail, about each victim and the overall ritual. The MO was the same for all women. Winters chatted them up at one of the Goth clubs and invited them back to his place. Perhaps he used his psi-powers or perhaps it was pure charm. Either way, Winters was careful to leave the venues separately, ensuring he wasn't captured on video with his victims. According to Reynolds, Winters would buy the girls a drink and then feign chivalry suggesting there was no reason for them to walk to his car when he could pick them up out front. By the time they finished their drink and exited the club, Winters was waiting for them. And that's exactly what happened to Katie Harper, last night's intended victim. Sherry Taylor was a little different. Apparently Winters didn't feel she was a suitable sacrifice, perhaps picking up on the fact that she was only dabbling in the vampire world. He rejected her, and she ran to Todd Fischer for comfort. However, when she returned to the club just before 1:30 a.m. she was unlucky enough to run into Winters again. He'd been unable to find a suitable sacrifice and was worried time was running out and so, according to Reynolds, Winters “settled” for Sherry. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The girls were willing, or perhaps coerced, sexual partners and blood donors for Damien Winters. He convinced them the park would be romantic and exciting, led them to the ritual sites…and his waiting followers. The first set of lights our witness saw must have been the group hiking in with torches, awaiting their master and the sacrifice.

The girls would have then realized they were in danger, but by then it was too late. While Winters kept them under control, his followers stripped the girls and removed their makeup, jewelry and nail polish. Then Winters released them and they ran, playing into the Knights of Reason's desire and need to chase their prey. Once caught, the women were forced into the center of a circle formed by the followers and their candles. The next stage of their ordeal was Winters preaching, telling them of the prophesized reign of vampires and the important role they were to play in the uprising. Then came the blood. Damien Winters always took the first bite, and the followers were lined up, ready to take over when the master was finished. Winters also employed a chalice to catch any blood that may have spilled while his members took their turn. Apparently the sacrifice's blood was sacred, which explains the clean crime scenes.

Katie Harper would have been the second-last victim, and then Wednesday night's victim would have completed the six-day ritual when she was murdered in the center of the pentagram. Reynolds said that the final victim had already been chosen—a woman Winters described to his disciples as having a powerful energy signature, one that would guarantee the rise of the vampires. Veronica was on his hit list, all right.

On Wednesday morning, Reynolds' account was confirmed when our people found another two bodies using Statesman's GPS coordinates and cadaver dogs. And that left Sloan with another two death knocks. At
least the families got closure. I think not knowing, always hoping your loved one is alive, is more painful than discovering your worst fears have been realized. At least the four women can be put to rest. And hopefully the justice system will deliver for the young women and their families. We've completed the first step—arresting and charging their killers.

In the end Gold and his team managed to lift some DNA from Sherry's throat wound. And while Gold said the DNA picture was too confusing to draw out specific samples, the mess of DNA does suggest more than one individual sucking on the wound. It'll certainly provide us with compelling evidence on the role the other members played in the murders. The blood near Sherry's body was confirmed as her own, so that won't help us, but we do have the footprints. With warrants for all the suspects' houses, we found matches. At Shelley Smithson's house, crime-scene investigators found a pair of women's size-eight shoes that match the imprint left at Sherry Taylor's crime scene, and the two partials are a strong statistical match for shoes owned by Mark Reynolds and Damien Winters. And who knows what other evidence we'll gather from the new crime scenes and bodies.

In addition to the forensics we'll have the testimony of Katie Harper, my testimony and the testimony of the other law-enforcement personnel in Topanga State Park on Tuesday night. After all, we caught Reynolds, Spoon and Winters red-handed. Signed, sealed and delivered.

Sloan and Carey don't believe Winters has any powers, other than a general power of persuasion, and I can see where they're coming from. If I hadn't experienced it myself I wouldn't believe it—and I've already had to accept that there are things I don't understand, including my ability to tap into people's lives…their past, present and future. I can't explain that, nor can I explain what I felt at the hands of Winters' mental attack. But I did
feel something, and so did Darren, not to mention the two LAPD officers who were obviously affected, too. I downplayed the effect it had on me to Sloan and Carey—and in my official report—but maybe I shouldn't have, especially given the two LAPD officers haven't even mentioned it. Katie Harper, on the other hand, did talk about feeling drugged and said she felt compelled to do whatever Winters asked her to. Her blood tox screen came back negative, and Sloan and Carey are convinced that it's some untraceable sedative; certainly that's the story they're sticking to publicly.

I hit Send on the report and decide to check in with Darren before getting back to my presentation.

He answers after a couple of rings. “Hey, you.”

“Hi. How you feeling?”

“Fine. It was only a mild concussion, Soph.”

“I know. But it was kinda my fault.”

He laughs. “Well, that's what you get for being obsessed with your job. My only way to spend time with you was to put myself in the line of fire.”

Even though he's joking, I wince. I have to stop taking Darren for granted, otherwise I will lose him. Not today, not this time, but maybe in the future.

“I'm sorry it was such a crappy visit.”

“You can't always clock off in this job.” He takes a deep breath. “But you do need to learn how to, Sophie.”

“I know. But it was a fast case, I had—”

“I know, your time frames were short. And you did exceptional work.”

“Thanks.” We solved the case and saved a woman's life within three days. “So…” I cross my legs. “I don't suppose you're planning another visit soon?” I'd love to visit Darren in Tucson, but unless I'm on official vacation time, I'm on call 24/7.

“Maybe. Can you make room for me in your life?”

Again, it's said lightheartedly but I know he's asking
a very serious question. I have to make room for him, or give up the relationship.

I've been dipping my toes in the water for too long. It's time to dive in. “I promise I'll make time. And I don't take my promises lightly.”

“I'll hold you to that.”

“And so you should.”

His voice softens. “So, you've finished the paperwork?”

“Uh-huh. Just sent off my report.”

“How does it look for a conviction?”

“It's hard to say. At one point Detective Carey described one of Winters' followers as delusional and enamored with Damien Winters. Scary thing is, I bet the lawyers use that angle when it comes to trial. The defense attorneys will say that their clients were not in a sound frame of mind, not making their own decisions, and that Winters is the only person who can be charged with murder. The judge didn't buy the diminished capacity argument for the Manson family, but that was over thirty years ago. Who knows what will happen with this case.”

“Hopefully the evidence will win out.”

“I hope so.”

Darren's quiet, hesitant. After a few seconds he says, “So, have you seen Ward?”

“Uh-huh. Yesterday. I told him that Damien Winters had been charged with murder and that he really was reenacting the Knights of Reason's mission.”

“I see.”

Silence. Darren's not naturally the jealous type, but at the same time I basically told him that Anton understood me better than he could.

“I'm sorry I thought Anton could help me. That he understood my gift.”

“So you don't believe that anymore?”

“Not really. Although he did have some interesting theories.”

“Such as?”

“Well, for a start he thinks I was so affected by Winters' psi-attack because of my abilities. Like maybe I'm easier to tap into and easier to drain more completely.”

“Mmm…” Darren's silent for a bit. “I guess that makes sense. In some ways your visions are like an extreme extension of empathy, allowing you to channel people's most horrific moments. Part of you is always open to that, so maybe you're also open to someone like Winters.”

I sigh. “I don't know, Darren. There's still such a large part of me that wants to discredit the very notion of psi-vampires. But I can't.”

“Not everything in this world can be explained. Can you live with that?”

I laugh. “I guess.”

“Did Ward have anything else to say about your ability?”

“Not really. He can sense it, feel it, but he can't define it. He doesn't have answers for me, and I realize that now.”

“Maybe there
is
no answer, Soph.”

I blow out some air. “Yeah, I know. But the objective, scientific part of my brain doesn't like that one little bit.”

He chuckles and we sit in a comfortable silence for a few seconds before I say, “Come visit again soon and I promise I'll make things up to you.”

“Maybe you can wear one of your Veronica outfits.”

I laugh. “If you insist.” I pause. “See you soon?”

“Count on it.”

We say goodbye and hang up.

Staring at my computer screen I think about what the trial will be like. On the stand I'll be asked to give my expert opinion on possible diminished capacity for
Reynolds, Spoon, Smithson and maybe even the Benson twins. And from a psychological perspective rather than a law-enforcement one, I would hesitate. While part of me knows that everyone's responsible for their own actions or inactions, the argument that Winters' followers were somehow under his spell, under his control, is a strong one, especially given what I know about Winters' ability to control people. He's a powerful and skilled man…skilled vampire.