Just like that gun-pointing guy was driving. Dell grinned as things fell into place. Unless Webster had three guys on his ass, the guy in the Navigator was the Red Dress Killer himself. Dell put down the camera and pulled out his BlackBerry, doing a reverse search on the Navigator’s plate. Then frowned at the name that popped up.
Donald Donner. Where had he seen that name before? Oh, yeah. That was the name he’d seen on the door behind that douche Jeremy Lyons’s desk at Marshall.
“I don’t think so, Dr. Donner,” he murmured. “I saw him first. He belongs to me.”
But first, headlines. He couldn’t write them, but he’d make damn sure someone else did. He dialed a number he’d found in Buckland’s contact list. “Hi. I have a tip for you…”
Wednesday, February 24, 9:55 p.m.
Eve was cold despite the car heater Noah had left running at full blast.
She’d seen four dead bodies tonight. She included Katie in that number, the sight of the body bag fresh in her mind. I saw her Sunday, called her a bimbo du jour. Eve wondered what Katie had done to warrant Dell’s wrath. Or if the man had simply lost it.
He killed his father. And tried to kill me. And David. She groaned. She needed to call David. He’d be worried sick. She dug her cell from her computer bag, wincing at all the calls she’d missed.
“I’m sorry,” she said before David could snarl. “I’ve been busy. This guy who hurt you-”
“I know. Olivia called me. She’s stepped up security here at the hospital.”
Eve’s blood ran colder. “She thinks he’ll come after you? He was trying for me.”
“She said she’s not taking any chances. Are you okay?”
“Physically, I’m fine. Emotionally… I’ve seen four bodies tonight.”
“Webster let you?” He sounded outraged.
“He won’t let me out of his sight. What he sees, I see.”
He grunted at that. “Tom told me you had a dinner thing. How did it go?”
Eve found the one side of her mouth lifting despite everything. “Not bad.”
“A glowing endorsement coming from you. I’m glad. You deserved it.”
“Get some sleep. I’m safe.” Hanging up, she reached into her bag for her laptop and her hand brushed the hard bulge in the zippered pocket. The image of Harvey Farmer flashed into her mind, dead on the floor of his living room, a hole in his chest. Dell was out there, somewhere. The gun she carried would do her little good in her computer bag unless she intended to hit him with it.
Lifting her head, she looked both ways out the window before slipping her gun from the bag to her coat pocket and suddenly felt much safer. She opened her laptop to make sure Natalie and Kathy were safe as well. They were, Kathy’s avatar on her Ninth Circle bar stool and Natalie’s still at the poker table.
Natalie was losing big. Dasich, conversely, had a mountain of chips. So not fair. Guy’s a damn cheat. Eve watched the next hand go to Cicely, the avatar who always sat next to Natalie’s. Once she’d had Greer bump into her to get her screen name, to determine if Cicely was one of her subjects. She wasn’t.
At least not that you know of. A new chill chased down her spine.
“Shit.” I have a dozen avatars. Any one of them could, too. She could have red-zones she’d never identified. And at the moment she had no idea what to do about it.
A roar from the casino had her looking down. The Cicely avatar had won a hand she shouldn’t have. It was extraordinarily lucky, totally skillful, or totally cheating.
Natalie agreed, filing a formal complaint. A brawl was building. More fun and ga-
Eve was yanked from the action by a knock on the car window that had her stifling a yelp. She rolled down the glass, drawing a breath. “Captain Abbott, you startled me.”
He didn’t smile. “Did Web tell you that we’ve arranged a safe house for you?”
Eve smiled, brightly. “He did. Thank you for your concern.”
Abbott opened her car door. “I’ll take you there now. Come with me.”
Eve leaned back, shaking her head. “I’ve made alternate arrangements.”
“You can’t stay here. This is a crime scene.”
Eve looked up at him, keeping her expression bland although in her mind, her eyes were narrowing suspiciously. “I’ll leave as soon as my ride gets here.”
Abbott’s jaw clenched. “What are your alternate plans?”
The hairs on the back of her neck lifted. “I’m staying with Sal and his wife,” she lied.
“I cannot have Webster distracted. This mess with Jack is bad enough.”
“How is Jack?” she asked, changing the subject before he decided to call Sal.
“They’ve pumped his stomach, but he’s not out of the woods. Don’t change the subject, Eve. I don’t want Noah to miss a threat because he’s looking after you. It could mean his life. Or yours.”
Put that way, Abbott made sense. “I understand.”
“Then you’ll back away from him until this case is resolved.”
Eve studied his face, harshly illuminated by a streetlamp. “I will not be a distraction.”
He glared at her, knowing she had not agreed. “See that you don’t.”
He closed her car door and had started to walk away when Noah emerged from the Bolyards’ house with Micki Ridgewell, both looking grim. Eve muted Shadowland, so she could listen to what was being said outside the still-open car window.
“Time of death?” Abbott asked Noah.
“Between seven and eight,” he replied and Eve’s heart sank. That would have been when they’d been kissing in the backseat of his old car.
“Any indication of what they’d planned to tell you?” Abbott asked.
“No.” Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “But they did make a phone call at 7:47.”
Micki pointed to a local TV news van that was just slowing to a stop. “To them.”
A woman approached wearing a stylish coat and high heels. “I’m Regina Forest,” she said. “Can you tell me what’s going on here?”
“This is a crime scene,” Noah said. “You’ll have to leave.”
Forest’s expression became a deliberate mix of horror and interest. “Mr. Bolyard?”
“No comment,” Noah said, but before he could step away Regina came closer.
“Stuart Bolyard called our office. Talked to one of our staff members.” Her eyes narrowed, catlike. “I’ll tell you everything I know if I get an exclusive.”
“Depends on what you know,” Noah said. “So what do you know?”
“Mr. Bolyard said he’d seen the Red Dress story on the news and recognized one of the women. That he’d seen her at a coffee shop and that he’d called the police for a meeting. I asked why he just didn’t tell the police everything when he called and he said his wife was ‘into celebrities.’ She wanted to meet Jack Phelps. Where is Phelps?”
“Not on duty right now,” Abbott said. “What else?”
“So you already knew all that?” she asked. “He also said he saw a man leave just after them.” Her smile bloomed, cagily. “And that he didn’t tell you.”
Noah’s smile was unpleasant. “Ma’am, we have an ongoing homicide investigation, as you’re well aware. Please don’t play games with us.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. The staffer called me to the phone and when I introduced myself, Mr. Bolyard said his wife wanted to meet me, too, and be on TV. I told him I’d need to hear more. He told me he’d seen the man again, in the same coffee shop. Said he was a professor at one of the local colleges. Fifties, horn-rimmed glasses and a bow tie, and that his hands shook when he drank his coffee.”
Donner, Eve thought. To his credit, Noah didn’t blink.
“Do you know him, Detective?” Forest asked shrewdly.
“Did Mr. Bolyard approach this man?” Noah asked instead of answering.