___________________________
On the back of a phone call, Mason Stone showed up fifteen minutes later, looking like he’d run it all the way across town. I’d broken the incredible news about Rae and he’d broken every speed limit getting here.
I hadn’t tackled him about Bishop’s claim – not yet. With the sudden turn in events it didn’t seem vitally important right now.
“Tell me this is some kind of sick joke,” he said as he blustered into the autopsy room.
“Take a look for yourself,” I said. “And then tell me I’m joking. This isn’t Rae’s body, Stone. It’s a guy called Bridges. He was my case manager at the Fed Med.”
Stone was staring at me like I was speaking backwards. “The body we found in Rae’s house, it’s Frank Bridges?”
“I know it sounds farfetched. And I’m still having a hard time believing it myself, but I’d recognize these rings anywhere.” I showed him the three rings in the plastic dish, rearranged to spell the word GOD. “Bridges wore them with pride. Jangled them in everybody’s face every opportunity he had. He was a believer and wanted everyone to know it.”
Stone was shaking his head. “Frank Bridges. Bloody hellfire.”
It was slow going in. Even slower digesting all the ramifications. None more so than the giddying fact that Rae hadn’t died in her house overlooking the Pacific.
“Take a look for yourself, Stone. This body is the right size and shape. The rings are definitely his. The dental records will come back and say the same thing. This is Frank Bridges.”
Stone examined the body on the plinth like it was an alien autopsy. “How the bloody hell did he end up here?”
“I asked myself the same thing, at first. Then I remembered something. Before I left Springfield, Bridges mentioned he was coming home for the holidays. Said his folks had a place in Pasadena. It wouldn’t be impossible for Cornsilk to intercept him and –”
“Hold that thought,” Stone interjected. “Why on earth would Cornsilk kill Bridges? There’s no connection. What’s his motive? How did he even know about him?”
Trust Stone to throw a wrench in my works.
I drew a speculative breath. “Right now, I have no idea. But this is unquestionably Cornsilk’s work. Positioning the body in the lotus position, leaving a hotel keycard in the left hand, setting the victim alight – that seems to be his signature lately.
“It’s an exact copy of the Akhiok homicide. We know Cornsilk is targeting me and we know he’s threatened to kill anyone who stands in his way. I’m the link to Bridges. It’s possible Cornsilk found out I was hidden away in the Fed Med. Maybe he kept an eye on me. Made a note of who I interacted with, then added them to his hit list.”
Stone’s brow was scrunched up. “Tenuous doesn’t even come close, Quinn. Cornsilk has no reason to go after Bridges, or anyone else not directly involved in his payback scheme.”
“I didn’t say it was perfect, Stone. I’m thinking on my feet here.”
“Then think harder. Killers kill for a reason. Not just to piss you off.”
I sighed. “Look, Cornsilk is a prize nut job. Just because his choice of victim makes no immediate sense to us, doesn’t mean it isn’t important to him, or where he leaves it.”
“Added to the fact your timeline’s all out of kilter. Just take a step back and look at this, Quinn. Everything’s too tight. It doesn’t feel right. I don’t buy for one second Cornsilk had time to get down here from Alaska, kill Bridges and then set Burnett’s house on fire in the tiny window of opportunity you’re giving him.”
“You’re right. And I’ve already been thinking about that. From the get-go, Rae and I assumed Cornsilk had fled Kodiak after we’d discovered his room at the Kodiak Inn. He used his credit card to purchase the two-leg flight from Kodiak to LA. But he wasn’t on either. According to the airlines, the eleven-thirty arrival at LAX was the only flight out of Anchorage heading this way last night. Cornsilk used it as a decoy. Now I’m thinking he eyeballed us the night before, on Christmas Eve, when Rae and I first booked into the hotel. He left Kodiak then, not the next day. He’s been here all along.”
Stone was wearing his trademark look of weary skepticism. I was throwing theories in the air like clay pigeons and he was happy to shoot them down all day long.
“It still doesn’t add up. If Cornsilk arrived in LA yesterday morning, why throw you a bone by booking the fake flight? It doesn’t make sense. The decoy led you straight back here. Why not leave you thinking he was trapped on Kodiak?”
I hadn’t thought it through that far. Stone’s argument made more sense than mine. “He knew we’d come rushing back to LA. Bridges was here. For some reason we don’t yet know, Cornsilk wanted him dead, on his timescale, and he wanted me to find the body.” I looked at Mason Stone, sudden fear welling in my chest. “Maybe it’s all about putting me in the crosshairs, so that he can finish what he started down in Florida. He wants me to burn alive, on his terms. And that’s why he didn’t kill Rae. He abducted her instead. He’s going to use her as bait.”
___________________________
In any abduction scenario, time is of the essence.
Stone got on the phone and instructed his underlings back at base to expand the scope of our manhunt to include kidnapping. The nationwide APB was updated to include Rae’s description, with copies of her Bureau photo ID circulated to every agency. The spotlight of our task force would now concentrate on the safe recovery of an abducted agent, with everyone working double shifts until she was safely returned to the fold.
The manhunt had shifted up a gear, increasing its impetus. Only a miracle would keep Snakeskin out of sight and undetected. And I didn’t believe in miracles.
Rae was alive!
My brain was banging around in my skull like a boxing speed ball struck by a world champ.
Now that I knew the victim’s true identity, I had to believe Rae still lived. The more I thought about it, the more I could feel the positivity in every fiber of my being. Our invisible tether. Unbroken. If Snakeskin had wanted her dead he’d have done the deed in her own home, wouldn’t he?
Rae was alive!
At pace, Stone drove us away from Boyle Heights in his shiny black Ford Mustang, blinking grille lights forcing slower vehicles aside.
I was convinced Snakeskin had taken Rae for one reason and one reason only: to lure me to my own fiery fate. Exactly how that would all pan out, I had no clue. Not yet. At this point, it was impossible to fully predict Snakeskin’s end game – other than my cremation – but Rae would definitely play a part.
Somehow, I had to turn the tables and beat Snakeskin at his own game.
But I was fearful over Rae’s welfare.
In the back of my mind all I could picture was the guy in the Santa suit, sent on a suicide mission for all the world to see. What if Snakeskin had something equally horrifying in store for Rae?
We were racing northbound on the Santa Ana Freeway when Stone’s cell chimed. I dug out my own phone and dialed Rae’s number, while Stone took his call. I heard Rae’s phone ring, and started to feel giddy. Then a
not in service
message kicked in, and deflation pressed the air out of my lungs. The FD investigators hadn’t found her cell in the debris of the bedroom, nor anywhere else it was likely to be. They had found her burned purse on the kitchen counter, with her fire-damaged FBI ID still inside. No cell and no firearm. I had thought Cornsilk had taken them as trophies, but now I was thinking maybe there was a small chance Rae had hidden them on her person. Maybe Snakeskin had bitten off more than he could chew.
“That was the SID,” Stone said as he hung up. “Forensics managed to pull information from the keycard. It resolves to the Imperial Motor Lodge in Springfield.”
“That’s right across the street from the Fed Med. Why there?”
“That’s what I need you to find out.”
I shot him a glare. “You mean you want me to go back to Springfield? Forget it, Stone. There’s no way that’s going to happen. Right now, saving Rae is my number one priority. You’ve got to appreciate that. Rae needs me here. She’s my partner. You made it that way. Delegate and send somebody else.”
I could no sooner deny Rae my whole undying attention than a flower could turn its back on the sun.
“This isn’t a request, it’s an order. I’m sending you, Quinn, and that’s the end of it. Whether you like it or not, Bridges is your responsibility by way of association. You might not agree with that, but that’s the way it is. I need you to go and find out why Cornsilk is pointing us back to Springfield. Don’t worry about things at this end; I’m quite capable of holding down the fort here.”
He swung the Mustang across two lanes of traffic and took the next exit. The sports car thundered through the Bill Keene Memorial Interchange and out onto Harbor Freeway, southbound.
“Don’t do this, Stone. And don’t make me beg.”
He put his foot down. The engine responded with ease.
“Here’s my concern: if I let you stay here you’ll play straight into Cornsilk’s hands. And that could end badly for Burnett. I know you, Quinn. You’re the definition of a bull in a china shop. If you’re right and Cornsilk intends using her as bait, he’ll have no choice but to keep her alive until you’re where he wants you.”
In other words, if I stayed out of town it would buy Stone and our task force more valuable time to track down Cornsilk.
Keeping me at a distance was the best choice right now – for Rae. Didn’t mean I had to like it.
“I’ll release an updated press statement,” he continued. “Say we’re investigating a lead in another part of the country and that you’re personally overseeing it.”
Stone wanted me out of the way.
Maybe so he could rescue Rae and catch Cornsilk for himself.
Add another glittering accolade to his trophy cabinet.
Maybe because there was something deeper.
I looked sideways at the Brit, wondering about Bishop’s claims as we passed a sign for the airport.
___________________________
A messy patron had spilled sugar on the tabletop, and a slapdash waitress had overlooked it. He tapped the Zippo against the wood, watching the grains dance and take flight.
In his line of work, he knew a thing or two about abduction situations.
From the outside, the van windows appeared blacked-out. But the vehicle wasn’t soundproofed. He couldn’t risk his prisoner kicking up a fuss and rousing attention.
He knew he had to keep her quiet and compliant, and that meant keeping her system topped up with strong sedatives. The kind veterinarians used to tranquilize big game worked best.
Luckily, he’d had the foresight to bring plenty with him.
He rubbed the lucky Indian head motif with his blunt thumb.
They had a long journey ahead of them.
Other passengers to pick up along the way.
She had to remain submissive, zombielike.
He kept his eye on the white van parked by itself out in the diner’s parking lot as the sloppy waitress took his order.