She paid for the food and handed Nick his bag and coffee. He gave her a hesitant smile. “Thanks. I’ll try not to coddle you anymore.”
Admittedly, Jackie knew she wanted nothing more. Anything to protect her from the bottomless hole that had opened in her gut, and the despair and loneliness that gnawed at her insides. She dug the sandwich out of her bag and began to eat before they had pulled back out onto the road. Crap that it was, it tasted damn good.
“I’d appreciate that,” she said. “We’re both professionals here, and we have a job to do. So let’s get to it.” At least she sounded confident.
She watched him lay a hash brown between the biscuits with the sausage and take a huge bite. After a moment, he washed it down with coffee. “I was thinking about what Drake did when he left the scene.”
Jackie had not even considered that fact in the time since. Drake had just vanished, and at the time, just the fact he had gone was all that mattered. There had been more important things going on. She shoved the images out of her mind. “He just up and vanished. Shelby got off a couple shots on him, didn’t she?”
“Too late by then. He’d already stepped through to Deadworld.”
“This is bad because?”
“It’s bad because I had thought for all this time that you couldn’t do that, that crossing over was basically it. Once in Deadworld, you were pretty much dead.”
God how she hated that name. Why couldn’t he call it something else, like “the other side” or “Ghostland”? “So he can go over and come back whenever he wants to?”
“Apparently.”
This did not sound like it would help them much. “Can you go there?”
He shrugged. “Never tried. I think it must require a lot of blood to hold the door open like that.”
“Great. Then how can we catch the bastard?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. He can do that at will, but I have no idea how we can.”
“Lovely.”
They reached the scene of victim number four under a cloak of ashen, threatening skies and the whirling flash of lights from a dozen law-enforcement vehicles. Jackie pulled her Durango into the parking lot of the Julietta Marconni Assisted Living Community and turned off the engine. She stared at the bank of blinking lights and yellow strands of crime-scene tape cordoning off the front of the building. Her mouth went dry, and clammy hands worked nervously on the wheel. To her horror, Jackie realized she was afraid to get out of the truck.
Nick opened his door. “You ready, Agent Rutledge?”
Jackie could not make her hands let go of the wheel. She licked her lips and said nothing, her blank stare reflecting the orange, red, and blue flashing lights. She wanted Laurel there with her. Not having her there felt completely and terribly wrong.
Nick’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. “You okay, Jackie?”
She shook her head. “No.” So much for sucking it up and dealing with your shit.
“Hey,” he said, his voice both calm and demanding. “Look at me.” When she refused, he gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Jackie, look at me.”
Jackie forced her head around, tearing her gaze away from the overwhelming scene in front of her. “What?”
His eyes locked on to hers, and this time she could not look away. That soft glow and intensity held her. “You can do this. You are strong, capable, and more than able to work on your own.”
She sighed and let go of the wheel. “I know. It just feels all wrong.”
He nodded. “I know, and it will for a while. It’s hard, but you can do it. Trust me.”
Jackie shivered and sucked in a deep breath. “Goddamn, this sucks. Okay, let’s get this over with.”
Nick let go of her and stepped out of the truck. Jackie could feel the lingering imprint of his fingers on her shoulder, and she wondered if he had just pulled one of his voodoo mind tricks on her. Did it matter? The paralyzing fear had subsided into the background, and for the moment it was all she needed. She got out and followed Nick toward the chaos.
Inside the front door, Jackie stepped right into Pernetti and his flappy-lipped grin. “Looking good there, Jack.”
Before she could open her mouth to reply, Gamble walked up behind him and cuffed the back of his head. “Shut the hell up, Pernetti.” Gamble smiled at her, a poorly disguised look of sympathy on his face. “Can’t tell you how glad I am you’re here, Jack.” He thrust out his hand to Nick. “Mr. Anderson. Thanks for coming to help out. We appreciate it.”
Nick shook his hand. “Yeah, no problem, Agent Gamble.” He looked around the lobby, shaking his head. “I should’ve guessed. Plain as goddamn day.”
Everyone turned to try to follow his gaze. Gamble looked excited for a moment. “What? You see something?”
“This place. I should have thought of it. My company funded this place. It’s named after my mother.”
Jackie stared at him. “No shit?” She was getting annoyed, as they were all ignoring the fact that she was supposed to be in command of this case.
“Corporate profits put to good use,” Nick replied with a wan smile.
She had no energy for a snappy retort. “So we know why he picked this place. Great. Tell me what we’ve got here, Gamble.” Standing around was getting on her nerves.
Gamble waved them forward through the lobby and led them toward a door on the far side. “She’s in here. Cleaning crew found her this morning about six. Same as the others, looks like. Scene looks pretty clean, from what I can tell. She’s got some kind of rag doll tucked under her arm, which I’m guessing has some kind of tie to Nick.”
The room was filled with the faint, sickly sweet scent of death, which had Jackie pausing as she entered the room, the image of Laurel on the stainless-steel table filling her head. There were numerous chairs and tables in the room, most of them filled with what looked like baskets of yarn and sewing needles. There were quilts full of color and detailed with intricate patterns and needlework hanging on the walls.
Nick looked at the elderly woman sitting in a rocking chair in the corner of the room. One arm dangled down, a thin, dark trail of dried blood running from elbow to fingertip. She looked otherwise like she might have slumped over from a stroke or heart attack, if not for the small hole in her arm.
“This some kind of quilting or crocheting class?” Jackie wondered.
“Yep,” Gamble said. “All sorts, apparently. They make the quilts to raise money for community projects. I guess they sell pretty well, from what the director said.”
“I have a couple of them myself,” Nick added quietly. He reached down and gingerly took the doll from under the woman’s arm. “The doll is my daughter’s. My mother made several of them for her.” His shoulders visibly slumped as he held the doll in his hands. “This one was her favorite. They went everywhere together.”
Jackie felt a pang of sympathy for him. He had been forced to relive his own horrors again and again. She had not truly understood the sadistic nature of the vengeance being exacted upon Nick. “She’ll be next then, right? Some representation of your daughter?”
He turned and looked at Jackie, nodding once. The look on his face pained her. “Yes, my daughter will be the last, an eight-year-old girl, probably strawberry-blond hair, brown eyes, thin as a cornstalk.”
Gamble pulled out a pad of paper and scrawled down some notes. “Shit, Nick. I’m sorry, man. I can’t even imagine. We need to get moving. I really want to nail this fucker.”
“Okay,” Nick said. “What leads do you have on this?”
“Nothing yet. Nobody saw anything. Parking-lot video shows nothing, so he carried her up here from somewhere. I’ve got some guys checking the grounds-”
Nick shook his head. “They won’t find anything. He didn’t walk here.”
“So he just popped in out of thin air?” Gamble took a step back in disbelief when he realized Nick was being serious. “Christ. This is so fucked up. Jack? You can take over anytime now.”