Her mind was spinning with questions. What did Darwin want with
her? What was she doing, going to meet him alone? He wouldn’t have placed a
camera in her car, so she could call for backup, right? She reached for her
radio but…Darwin had been two steps ahead of them all along. Hell, he’d gotten
to Lana. How did she know he hadn’t wired her car? That he wouldn’t know
immediately she’d called for backup and kill an innocent woman?
She withdrew her hand from the radio and made it to Bowers’s
home in just over seven minutes. She threw open her car door, bolted outside and
ran up the stairs to his front door. She reached for the doorknob, praying that
Darwin hadn’t started hurting Maria Nelson.
Pain exploded through her head as someone hit her from
behind.
* * *
W
HEN
C
ARRIE
CAME
TO
,
the
world was pitch-dark. A sharp, insistent throbbing drummed at her temples where
she’d been hit, as well as in her neck, back and shoulders. Her arms were pulled
back tightly and tied to her feet. She couldn’t open her eyes and knew they’d
probably been taped shut with duct tape. Her mind was muddled and she was
confused. Where was she? Where was Jase? What had—
Suddenly, memory returned. She remembered everything. How
Darwin had kidnapped Lana and bartered for a trade. How Jase had gone to meet
him, only to discover that Lana was dead and the man they’d thought was Darwin
was a bystander desperate enough to shoot Jase. How Darwin had called her and
ordered her to come to him.
How in her drive to get inside and save Maria Nelson, she’d let
him get the jump on her.
Just like Kevin Porter had gotten the jump on her that first
time. But she’d had a second chance to take Porter down, she reminded himself.
And she still had the chance to take Darwin down. Because she was still
alive.
Alive but freezing.
She lay on a cold surface and she was guessing it was the tile
Dr. Bowers had installed in his basement. The rest of his house had carpet or
hardwood floors. At first, she couldn’t hear anything, but then a door opened
and she heard the sound of scuffling and a woman whimpering.
Maria Nelson, she thought.
Helplessness washed through her, escalating into terror.
Suddenly, she struggled to breathe.
Stop it, she commanded. She couldn’t have a panic attack. Not
now. She needed to be strong. Needed to be ready.
She forced herself to take deep breaths. Told herself she might
be the only chance Maria had. The woman sounded so frightened. So—
“Shut up!” A man yelled.
Carrie heard flesh striking flesh. A moan of horror and pain.
And then things went quiet again. But not for long.
“You’re going to feel so stupid, Special Agent Ward,” a man
said from behind her. “You had me right in front of you but weren’t smart enough
to realize it.”
No, they hadn’t been. They’d just figured out Brad Turner’s
connection to Dr. Odell Bowers.
Brad Turner. The man from Steam. He was Darwin.
Carrie recognized his voice the moment he spoke, and she wanted
to curl up and howl with fury and self-disgust. Stay calm, she told herself.
Don’t panic. Eventually, Jase and the others would have noticed she was missing.
Granted, they wouldn’t know where she’d gone, but they’d figure it out. Somehow,
they’d figure it out.
“As for your good-looking partner?” he continued. “He was the
one I needed all along. Beautiful. Perfect. Now that I have you here, he’ll
follow, right? And I’ll have him where I need him. I’ll kill him and claim his
perfection. I’ll be perfect and Nora will see that.”
Nora. The girl who’d grieved for Tony Higgs. She was the one.
The angel he’d talked about. The one he’d believe he’d gain once Tony Higgs was
out of the way.
He was right. They’d had him right in front of them and they’d
failed to see him.
Now she and Maria Nelson were going to pay the price.
* * *
“W
HERE
’
S
C
ARRIE
?”
Jase asked Bo as he was being loaded into the ambulance.
Bo put his hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go get her.” He was back
in minutes, a concerned frown on his face. “I can’t find her.”
“What do you mean you can’t find her?”
“She’s not here, Jase. She took her car. No one saw her, and we
don’t know when she left.”
“Damn it,” Jase said. “Help me up.”
Bo looked at the EMT, shook his head. “Jase,” Bo began. “She
might have gone for backup. Or food—”
“Without telling me? Without seeing for herself that I made it
to the hospital? No, Bo. Listen to me,” Jase gritted out. “Carrie is missing.
Help me get the fuck up so I can find her. Please.”
Bo helped Jase stand.
“The cameras,” he gasped. “He was watching us. He got to her
somehow.”
“But why? Why would she gave gone without telling us?”
“Because he had cameras on us. Because he has an innocent woman
held hostage. And because she’s Carrie. She—”
Jase abruptly stopped talking when he saw the flashing light on
his phone. He had a text message. He looked at his screen.
Looking for someone? She’s at the scene of the crime. Guess which one. Come
alone. If I see anyone else, she’s dead. Just like the doctor.
* * *
D
ARWIN
GRABBED
HER
by her bindings and dragged her
up. A small tremor of hope shook her when she felt him cut the rope holding her
hands and feet together, releasing the tension in her neck and back. She
prepared herself to move as soon as he untied the rest of the rope, but he never
gave her the chance. With her hands and feet still bound, he lifted her up and
into a straight-backed chair, smashing her hands behind her before securing her
to the chair with more rope around her chest. She felt him kiss her cheek
softly, and his warm breath puffed against her.
“You’ll be the first thing the woman sees when she wakes up.
For a second, she’ll feel hope. Wonder if you’re here to save her. Then she’ll
realize it doesn’t matter. That I’m going to kill you both. She’ll see what I
really am then, just the way you will.” Without further warning, he ripped the
duct tape from her eyes, not caring that he took flesh and hair with it. She let
out an involuntary gasp, but then bit her lip hard, refusing to make another
sound.
She slowly blinked her eyes, adjusting them to the light, and
focused on the man standing in front of her. He wiggled the fingers of one hand
and smiled tauntingly.
“Hello again.”
It was him, all right. Brad Turner. The same baby-faced,
handsome boy whose complexion was completely unmarred. Unscarred.
The man she and Jase had both failed to see for what he
was.
Had they been wrong about why he was killing, as well? After
all, he’d come to Bowers with a disfigurement, but it had been one Bowers had
cured. At least, that’s how it seemed.
She did a quick scan of the room. Saw a woman that looked
startlingly like Lana crumpled in the corner. But since Carrie could see her
breathing, she was alive. At least, for now.
She returned her gaze to Turner.
They’d thought he was killing because of his scars.
But he had no scars. None that she could see.
No scars, so no motive.
Had his talk of beauty and power all been a diversion? “You’re
very handsome.” She obviously didn’t mean it as a compliment, but he took it as
one.
He laughed. “Thank you. It’s come with a price, I must tell
you.”
“So all your talk about scars was bullshit?”
He grabbed at his heart as if she’d wounded him. “Of course
not. Don’t you see? That’s why I’ve been killing. I was born with a port-wine
stain. It covered half of my face and caused me terrible grief growing up. Do
you know what it’s like? Being the freak that everyone stares at? Being the one
that your own parents give up because they can’t stand to look at you?”
Carrie snorted unsympathetically. “I know exactly what it’s
like to feel like an outsider. It doesn’t give you a right to turn psycho and
start killing people.”
He walked up to her and slapped her hard. Then visibly tried to
control himself. He laughed again, the sound high and jittery. “Don’t be
condescending. It’s hardly the same thing. My defect wasn’t a choice. I tried
everything. Paid thousands of dollars for laser surgery. One painful procedure
after another committed by that damn crazy quack Odell Bowers. None of it
worked. I even followed him from Fresno to San Francisco, but the stains kept
coming back. Ruining my life. Ruining my chances to be with Nora. It wasn’t
until I killed the prostitute that I found the cure. Found the way to get rid of
my scars and Tony Higgs, once and for all.”
Understanding gripped Carrie. Understanding and despair. He’d
called Odell Bowers a quack, but he was just as disturbed. Maybe even more so,
if that was possible. So delusional that he didn’t even realize the surgeries
had worked.
Suddenly, she remembered where she’d seen him before. Why he’d
seemed familiar to her. It hadn’t been at McGill’s Bar, at least not
exclusively. If she’d seen him there, it had been in passing, just as she’d seen
him at the medical clinic where she had her P.T. appointments. She must have
seen him coming to or leaving his appointments with Odell Bowers. She looked
away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing any kind of emotion on
her face, be it compassion or disdain.
She concentrated on where he’d brought her. Dr. Bowers’s
basement. It wasn’t as clean as it had once been because it had been processed
ten times over, but the room still contained the steel operating table. Counters
with lots of storage space inside for who knew what.
He looked around, as well. “It’s nice, don’t you think? Have
you seen the upstairs? Dr. Bowers liked to live large.”
“I know,” she said. “I was the one who found him. I didn’t
realize it at the time, but you killed him, didn’t you? Did you dress him in the
women’s underwear and apply the makeup, too?”
Turner giggled. “I did. But it was all his stuff, so I’m sure
it wasn’t anything new for him. Can you imagine? What a fucking psycho.”
“Yeah. A psycho. So did you work together? Before you decided
to—what?—go off on your own?”
“I wasn’t involved with Dr. Bowers’s crimes, but I was smart
enough to figure out what he was doing. As soon as I heard about the serial
killer that was cutting off eyelids, that he’d committed crimes in Fresno, too,
I knew it was him. Dr. Bowers was a huge fan of horror movies. I’ve spent
practically half my life listening to him talk about them, in particular his
favorite one, one where the killer cut the eyelids off his victims. Such a small
thing but unique enough to be memorable, don’t you think?”
She remained silent, which he didn’t appear to like.
“Oh, come on. You have to admit, it was clever of me. Once I
knew what he was doing, I thought, why not try it myself? Afterward, I knew
exactly why he’d been doing it. It gave me the beauty and the power of my
victims. Can you imagine what an intoxicating rush that would be?”
He lifted his hand, and for the first time Carrie noticed the
knife he held. He watched her closely and began twirling it between his fingers.
“My victims were beautiful and strong, but not strong enough. Nature took them
out the way it’s supposed to be. To give way to the stronger and more beautiful
of us.”
She tested the ropes again, noting that they had very little
give. He’d made sure she wouldn’t be able to escape. She couldn’t remain silent
any longer. “So that’s how you justify killing Kelly Sorenson. Tammy Ryan. Tony
Higgs. They deserved to die because they weren’t strong enough to live?”
Walking up to her, he laid the cool flat of the blade against
her cheek. Carrie refused to be cowed and continued to stare at him. He pressed
harder and began to rub the flat surface in circles. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re weak enough to kill others because it’s the
only way you can feel powerful.”
Fury glittered to life in Turner’s eyes. He raised the knife,
and she waited for him to strike her in the face. The blow never came.
Carrie heard something outside at the same time Turner did.
They both turned their heads and watched as Jase Tyler limped down the basement
stairs toward them.
“Ah, Special Agent Tyler. Right on time,” Turner said.
CHAPTER THIRTY
J
ASE
STRUGGLED
TO
KEEP
his footing as he made his way down the stairs
toward them. Immediately, he spotted the woman who looked a lot like Lana Hudson
crumpled in the corner. Was she still alive? His stomach clenched at the memory
of discovering Lana’s death. However, terror nearly overwhelmed him when he saw
Carrie tied to a chair. He recognized the man from the college café immediately.
Maybe in his early twenties. Tall, with light hair and an angelic face. He
looked like the boy next door, except for the insane glint in his eyes. Seeing
Jase seemed to stoke the fire there.
Thank God he’d guessed correctly given Darwin’s vague reference
to a crime scene, Jase thought. He’d immediately dismissed the places where
they’d found Kelly Sorenson, Tony Higgs and Tammy Ryan; none were isolated or
contained enough to give Darwin the advantage. So what crime scene had he been
talking about? The more Jase had thought about it, the more Carrie’s theory
about competing serial killers had made sense. After all, her televised ploy had
brought Darwin out in the open. There’d been every reason to believe that Darwin
had killed Bowers to get rid of the competition, which meant Bowers’s home was a
crime scene and, hopefully, the one where he’d find Carrie.
Just to be sure, however, he’d told Commander Stevens to keep
the others away from all the known crime scenes.
“You can’t go in alone, Jase,” Stevens had said. “You’re
injured. You need backup. You don’t even know if he has Carrie. If she’s still
alive—”
“She’s alive,” Jase had snapped back. “And he has Carrie. She
went to him alone in order to protect a life. And that’s why I’m going to him
alone, too. To protect hers.”
“You know I can’t let you—”
Jase had almost fallen to his knees at that point. “I’ll beg if
I have to, Commander. You know this is the only way. He’s played us at every
turn. He sees you coming, and Carrie’s dead. I can’t—I won’t—let that happen.
And you know we don’t have time to argue about this. Please.”
“If I let you go in alone, you’re both dead,” the commander had
replied, but in the end he’d done the only thing he could do. He’d given Jase an
hour. After that, he was surrounding all the known crime scenes full force. Jase
didn’t have much time left.
It looked like everyone knew it, too.
Darwin, aka Brad Turner, swiftly took position behind Carrie’s
chair and held his knife to her throat. As soon as Jase stepped onto the
basement’s tiled floor, Turner tensed, tightened his hold on Carrie’s hair and
pierced her neck with the blade. Her face contorted with pain. A streak of red
appeared and ran down her throat.
Jase froze. “No. Stop!”
Turner stared at him and laughed. “I knew it. I knew you’d make
the right choice. I assume the police have given you some kind of deadline
before they rush in? Call right now and tell them you’ve found her. Tell them
you’re on your way to the hospital and for them to meet you there.”
Jase’s gaze once again flickered to Carrie. “Listen to me,”
Jase began. Instinctively, he took a step toward them. Again, Carrie flinched.
Again, Jase froze. Again, a small stream of blood ran down her throat from where
Turner cut her. Rage and panic bubbled inside of him, cutting off his breath
and, combined with his recent blood loss from the shooting, making him feel
perilously close to passing out.
“I don’t want to hurt her, but you have what I need, Agent
Tyler. You
are
what I need and if hurting her gets
me what I need, I’ll do it.”
Carefully, Jase pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and
called Commander Stevens.
“I’ve got her, sir. She’s okay. I’m driving her to the veterans
hospital near Geary and 40th right now.”
“Thank God. What about Darwin? Did you—”
He hung up before the commander could say anything else.
His cell immediately began to ring.
“Silence it and then toss it over there,” Turner said, jerking
his head to indicate the far corner of the room.
Jase did as he said.
“Now your weapon.” Of course he had one. Tucked into the back
of his pants. But he couldn’t give it over. Not yet.
“I don’t have one with me.”
“Liar,” Turner screamed, spittle spraying from his mouth. “Take
off your shirt. Now.”
Jase unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. It fluttered to
the floor. He wasn’t wearing a holster, so at first he couldn’t understand why
Darwin’s eyes widened.
“You bastard. Your body. What did you do to your body? You’re
scarred.”
Turner’s hands were shaking now, jerking against Carrie’s
throat, sprinkling cuts and nicks across the smooth surface that Jase had
showered with kisses just two nights ago. She held herself still, trying to stay
calm, but Jase could read the terror on her face. Jase prepared to lunge for
Carrie, to try and knock her chair down, knowing that if he waited much longer
the man would kill her anyway.
Turner raised his hand from Carrie’s throat and slammed the
knife handle into the side of her head. Jase could tell the blow dazed her. She
blinked several times, trying to focus her vision.
Jase wanted to kill him. Strangle him with his bare hands. He
tried to move toward them, but Turner returned the knife to Carrie’s throat.
Helplessness washed over him. He stared at Carrie, trying to
gather strength from her presence. She needed him to be strong. To help her. But
how was he going to get the bastard away from her?
Turner continued to rant. “You’re worthless to me. I need
someone perfect. Someone perfect, do you hear me?” He paused, looked down at
Carrie again.
Jase felt bile rise in his throat. Shook his head. “No.”
Ignoring him, Turner grabbed Carrie’s chin and shoved it up for
his inspection. He stretched her neck up, causing the wounds there to weep even
more. Then he roughly pushed her away.
He shook his head. “She’s pretty. Not beautiful. I need
something more.”
“Wait!” Carrie spoke this time, jarring him. “I’m perfect. A
perfect shooter.”
No. “Shut up, Carrie,” he growled.
She kept talking. “I’m a sniper. Best of the best. I can shoot
a dime from a hundred yards away. I won a gold medal in the Olympics.”
Jase knew that it had been a silver medal, but Turner probably
didn’t.
“Plus I’m strong. I’m probably even stronger than you. What do
you think of that?”
Turner looked down at her. “You’re bullshitting me.” But Jase
could tell her boasting had caught his attention.
“I’m not.”
Jase felt dizzy and closed his eyes, trying to get back his
equilibrium. When he opened them, Turner was grinning. “How are you feeling,
Jase? You’re not looking good at all.”
He swayed on his feet. He didn’t know how much longer he could
hold on. Bracing an arm against a wall, he steadied himself. “You don’t want to
hurt her, Brad. You hurt her, and the whole police force will be after you.”
Turner laughed. “Like they aren’t already? Come on, Tyler. I’m
not a fool. Give me the gun.”
When Turner moved the knife threateningly close to Carrie’s
eyes, Jase reached into the back of his back waistband and pulled out his
gun.
Turner smiled. “Nice and easy. That’s right. Kick it toward me.
Now, Tyler. Or she’s dead.”
Jase put the gun on the ground and kicked it toward Turner. It
stopped about two feet away. His muscles bunched in anticipation. When Turner
leaned down to pick it up, Jase lunged toward him.
* * *
C
ARRIE
SCREAMED
when she saw Jase rush Turner. She’d seen the way Turner
had smiled and kept an eye on Jase. Knew that he’d laid a trap for him. Like
her, he had known that Jase wouldn’t go down without a fight. Even as weak as he
was, even as hopeless as things seemed, Jase wouldn’t give up. He’d die
first.
Even as she had the thought, she saw Turner pivot to meet
Jase’s tackle. Saw the way he lifted the knife and held it aloft so that it
would meet Jase’s forward momentum. Saw the blade sink into Jase’s torso with
sickening ease.
Someone was screaming. Crying. Howling Jase’s name in grief and
rage. It was her. She stopped. Watched Turner rise and pull his knife back. The
blade was covered with a shimmery layer of blood.
Jase fell to the ground. He shifted and tried to move, grabbing
the bottom of Turner’s leg to pull himself up. Turner tsked. “Give up, man.
You’re going to lose.” He kicked Jase in the face and then stomped on his bad
leg. Jase moaned and then went still.
He shook his head in disgust. “Weak. I don’t know why I ever
thought he was perfect.”
Carrie was crying again, throwing her weight around in her
chair, trying to get loose so she could kill him. “You bastard. I’m going to
kill you. You bastard.” She repeated the words over and over again, the whole
time looking at Jase, who no longer moved.
Turner picked up Jase’s gun. He opened the barrel, apparently
satisfied when he saw it was loaded. He flicked it shut and grinned at her.
“Is that so? I didn’t know he meant so much to you. You said
you could shoot a dime from a hundred yards away? Prove it to me. All you have
to do is shoot something.” Keeping Jase’s gun trained on her, he loosened the
bindings on her feet, not completely, but just enough that she’d be able to work
her way out of them. He looked around, grinned then crouched down next to Maria
Nelson’s unconscious form and put something small on her shoulder. Something so
small Carrie couldn’t even see what it was.
Rising, he once again stood directly next to her. He motioned
to Carrie with the gun. “Work yourself loose. You’re going to stand on that side
of the room and shoot that fragment of glass from her shoulder. You do that. You
prove to me how perfect you are. And I’ll let him go. I’ll let both of them go.
I promise.”
She calmed at his words and sat absolutely still. This was it.
This was her chance.
It took her five minutes to work her feet free. Stumbling to
her feet with her hands still tied, she shot a quick glance at Jase. Blood
pooled from beneath his body, and she prayed he was still alive.
As Turner followed, she moved to the side of the room he
directed her to. Then she waited for him to untie her and hand her his gun. When
he didn’t, she frowned. “Well? Are you going to untie me? And I need something
to shoot with, don’t I?”
“The rifle from your car,” he said, gesturing with his chin.
She turned and saw her sniper rifle leaning against some cabinets. Seeing the
rifle gave her strength. She gathered her fear for Jase and bundled it inside
her heart, knowing that it would overwhelm her if she let it. Right now, she
needed to focus on Turner.
She’d kill Turner. She’d save Maria Nelson. And she’d save
Jase. And if she failed? Well, only then would she let the grief out. Let the
grief consume her and swallow her whole. And take her to a place where she’d
never feel pain again.
* * *
A
T
FIRST
, J
ASE
THOUGHT
he was being eaten alive. That a thousand
carnivorous bugs were crawling on him and feasting on his body. He struggled to
get away from them and forced himself to open his eyes. The world came into slow
focus, and he could barely make out Carrie standing with Turner across the room
from him. He saw the vacant chair in which she’d been sitting and various
lengths of rope lying nearby.
Why wasn’t she trying to overpower him? What was going on?
Because he didn’t know, he remained quiet. Quiet but watchful. He did everything
he could to fight off the pain, sharp razors that sliced through his leg. His
vision wavered, and he feared he was going to pass out again.
No! Gritting his teeth, he took several deep, silent breaths.
No. He could hang on.
Remember what you told Carrie. Rowing and
sports aren’t just about strength. They’re about creativity. Upward motion.
Overcoming your fears. Stamina.
He pictured Carrie as she’d been that night at the restaurant.
A little tipsy on wine. More open than he’d ever seen her.
You’re certainly strong,
she’d said
to him.
And he was. Strong enough to push back the approaching
darkness.
Carrie would make her move. When she did, Jase would be
ready.