She stepped away, taking the call. “Jess, it's me, John.”
“ What's is it, J.T.? Any good news? I could use some good news.”
“ Unfortunately, SquealsLoud has gone through with it, Jess. The Montoya woman was handed over to Kenyon, and the other madman filmed the entire thing. It's a horror movie beyond anything I've ever seen.”
“ And it's playing on Cahil's website?”
“ As we speak, and God knows where else. You can access it if you want to, but I'd leave it alone, Jess.”
She looked across at Sorrento and the captain. “He's already killed his captive. We're too late to help her.”
Sorrento wrapped his arms about himself and rocked. The captain took in a deep breath of air and bit his lower lip, shaking his head.
“ It's on the computer as a graphic film. The entire event, according to my partner in Quantico.”
“ Are you going to open it? Take a look at it?” asked Sorrento.
“ I hate giving the bastard the satisfaction, but we might draw some clues from it,” she replied angrily. She went to her laptop, opened it and logged on to the Internet. She found his E-mail waiting.
Sorrento stood beside her, placed an arm on her shoulder and said, “Steady yourself.”
“ I'd like to see what kind of a maniac we're chasing as well,” added Quarels.
Jessica opened the media E-mail, and the three of them watched the scene unfold in stark dread. From the wheel, First Mate Joe Konrath watched his controls but intermittently looked over his shoulder at the computer screen as well. When the bone cutting began, Jessica looked away. The men remained fixed on the sight, disbelieving it at the same time that they witnessed it.
“ My God in Heaven,” said Quarels.
“ Poor woman,” added Sorrento. “We've got to nail these two bastards.”
In all her years with the FBI, Jessica had never seen anyone actually executed before her eyes. She had never even gone to a federal or state prison to watch an execution. This murder brought about by Swantor was meant to shock, and it did.
“ If he reaches Grand Isle and finds his wife, he'll do the same to her,” Jessica projected. “We need to contact police there. Have someone get the ex-Mrs. Swantor out of there if she's on the island.”
She shut down Swantor's horror show. She then asked Sorrento to contact this man Potter at Grand Isle and attempt to get word that Swantor was on his way there, ending with, “And warn Mrs. Swantor to leave at once.”
Sorrento explained that the island was police free, but that it was serviced by a Sheriff Danby Potter, a one-man police force from a small town on the mainland, Lewistown. “Station house is the size of a phone booth. The isle gets mail service from Lewistown, too.”
“ Just summerhouses, recently developed land,” said Quarels.
Jessica said, “We've got to get the wife's phone number. Warn her he's coming for her.”
Sorrento got on his phone and contacted Lewistown police, reminding Sheriff Danby Potter of who he was and asking, “Is Mrs. Swantor on the island?”
“ She is… or was when I went out there yesterday, yes.”
“ We're chasing the Skull-digger, Sheriff.”
“ My Lord…” “And we fear Mr. Swantor is involved. I need the phone number to the house on Grand Isle.”
“ I always said that Jervis Swantor was some kind of puddinghead. I'll get that number for you.”
Sorrento heard Potter ferreting through paper for the number. “I got the number!” He read it off to Sorrento and quickly added, “I'm damn confused by you people. I checked out the place early this morning, a second time. Mrs. Swantor was there, so far as I could tell alone, no sign of that Dr. Swantor or his yacht. You asked me to ascertain his whereabouts, but the missus, she claims not to know or care so long as her check's on time.”
“ We believe he is on his way there now, Sheriff, and to say that she may be in danger is an understatement.”
“ So you fellas suspect Swantor's the Skull-digger now. I can't believe it, but you know, I can at the same time.”
“ Please, listen, Sheriff. It's a little more complicated than-”
“ I know what he looks like. Used to come into town for groceries and the hardware. Maybe I should go back out there to the island and sit with Mrs. Swantor till you-”
“ No, don't go out there alone, Potter. We think she has time to get out, and we're going to call her to warn her from here. We're on a Coast Guard cutter only a few hours away.”
After he hung up, Sorrento telephoned the number Potter had provided for the Swantor summer home, but only an answering machine responded. He left his name and number for Mrs. Lara Swantor to get back to him as soon as possible-a matter of life and death.
Jessica took Sorrento aside, saying, “Perhaps we ought to ask the sheriff to organize a few deputies and go out there to the house, cover Mrs. Swantor until we can get there.”
“ She's not answering her phone,” he replied. “Let me give it another shot.” Still no answer. “She must not be there.” “Or she may be unable to answer her phone.”
He nodded. “OK, I'll call the sheriff back.” He did so, only to get a recording stating that Potter was out and would return within an hour. The tape gave them another number in case of emergency.
“ Damn, I hope that old fool hasn't gone out there alone. He doesn't know what he's dealing with.”
“ Try the other number,” Jessica suggested.
Sorrento dialed this number, getting the sheriff on his cell phone, the sound of rain splattering a hard surface like static in Sorrento's ear. “Sheriff Potter, it's Agent Sorrento again. You're not to go out to the house alone. If you must go, do so with a team of men.”
“ Ahhh, yeah, I'm getting a posse together right now.”
“ Good… good. There's more danger than you realize. Let me set the stage for you.”
Real static obliterated anything Sorrento might have said. He turned to Jessica. “He's on his way out there. Claims to have gotten help.”
“ Claims or did?”
“ I'm not sure.”
The cutter made its way deeper into the black shaft of the canal. 7.00 P.M.
Inside the expansive house on Grand Isle, Mrs. Lara Swantor and her newfound lover, James Harris, drank wine and played with massive bubbles in the large, oval bath. They played with one another as well, fondling and kissing, when the phone rang. “Now, who knows I'm here? Who could be calling?” she slurred her words while glancing at a clock that read 7 P.M. Outside the storm shook the house, and its intensity frightened Lara, but James, a psychiatrist, said the best way to overcome such a fear was to enjoy oneself in the midst of adversity. It sounded good, but what he really meant was that he wanted to bathe with her.
Besides, the latest newscasts had the brunt of the hurricane heading toward Mobile now. All the same, each lightning strike shook her to the bones. Only James's attentions took her mind off the storm.
When the phone rang, James had said, “Let the machine get it,” as he held on to her, caressing her in the way she could not resist.
“ All right… good thinking,” she replied. “Hmmm… baby.”
She heard the sound of someone she didn't recognize leaving a message she could not make out. “What did the man say?” she asked James who, being younger, must surely have better hearing, she thought.
“ Didn't catch it. Likely a neighbor worried about the storm.”
“ Old Mrs. Philbin, I suppose.”
They continued with their bathing of one another. A second time the phone rang, and James got up and walked naked and bubbly to the phone, but it quit ringing-no message this time. He lifted it off the hook and put an end to it.
“ Get back in here, you!” she called out to him.
“ On my way!” he called back. “Just going to get us another bottle of wine from the pantry. Are you hungry?”