He had to hurry. The TV news reporter had probably already shown up at the Bolyards’ house to get the interview he’d promised from Stuart’s home phone, only to find Webster’s crime scene instead. Pretty soon this place would be crawling with cops. They were supposed to find the house empty, because he’d taken Donner.
He went straight to Donner’s bathroom and frowned. Both toothbrushes were gone, as were several toiletries, leaving gaps in the row of bottles and cans on the bathroom shelf. The Donners had gone away for more than the evening.
In Donner’s kitchen, however, he had to smile. There was a lone highball glass on the table. He sniffed at it. Donner had been drinking bourbon. He’d make sure the sixth of his six victims had a bottle in her house. He dropped the glass in a plastic bag.
Donald Donner had never been a real suspect in Webster’s eyes, but even Webster wouldn’t be able to explain away hard evidence.
As for Donner’s whereabouts… On a hunch he hit redial on the kitchen’s cordless phone and hung up before the number could connect. Committing the number to memory, he took out his BlackBerry, connected to the Net and did a reverse call lookup.
Ah. The number belonged to Adele Donner, Donald’s mother. He’d confirm it, of course, but instinct told him this was where Donald had retreated.
He dialed 411, let it connect, then hung up when the operator answered. He’d knocked Adele’s number from the last-called spot so the cops couldn’t do what he’d just done. They could get the number from Donner’s LUDs, but that would take them time.
Time was something he didn’t have a great deal of. He left the way he’d come, and none too soon. As he rounded the block, a squad car entered the neighborhood, lights blazing but siren silent. Sorry, boys. Dr. Donner has left the building.
Wednesday, February 24, 11:00 p.m.
“Nice place,” Eve murmured. Brock and Trina lived in a brick house with a chimney from which a cozy stream of smoke billowed. Just looking at it made her queasy.
“Nice people,” Noah said quietly. “Why are you nervous?”
“It’s serious when you meet family.”
“You know them from the bar.”
“This is different. This is… personal.”
“Damn straight it is. You introduced me to Tom tonight,” he noted.
“I know.” Her face still heated in embarrassment at the stern way Tom had studied Noah, as if Tom were the father and she were an errant teen. “Kid’s a pain in the ass.”
“He loves you. You’re his family. And I passed muster,” Noah added with an arched brow, then he smiled. “Trina already likes you. Why are you nervous?”
“I don’t know. Maybe my spider senses have been on tingle mode so long today, my nerves are shorted out. I don’t know how you cops cope with all the excitement.”
He came around to open her door. “Normally it’s not this exciting. Normally it’s all paperwork. Don’t forget your phone.”
Her computer bag had fallen on its side and the phone had slid out of the front pocket. Out of habit she flipped it open. “I’ve got a million missed calls.”
“You’ll have time to catch up inside,” he said, a little impatience in his voice.
She made her feet move. He had work to do and she was distracting him again. “Sorry. I procrastinate when I’m nervous.”
“Well, stop it. You don’t need to be.” He put his arm around her shoulders and she leaned against him, hip to hip, her head on his shoulder as he walked her to Trina’s front door. “Feels nice, doesn’t it?” he murmured in her ear and she shivered.
Because it did. And that made her nervous, too.
He sighed. “Just enjoy it, okay?”
She realized she was holding her breath. “God. This shouldn’t be so hard.”
“Try to relax. I’m the least of your worries right now.”
“That’s what you think,” she muttered, then jumped when the cell phone in his pocket vibrated against her leg.
“Eve, relax. Trina doesn’t bite. Not anymore, anyway.” He was smiling until he looked at his caller ID. “It’s Abbott.” He stopped on the front porch and took a step back, turning his face away as he listened to his boss.
Eve didn’t want to know what was happening. The day was catching up to her and she was suddenly overwhelmed. No more. Not tonight. But Noah’s call wasn’t quick and too much energy had her flipping her phone open to look at the incoming calls.
Oh God. It was the same number that had sent the text. She lifted her eyes to Noah, who was now pacing the width of the driveway as he talked with Abbott in low tones she couldn’t hear. Her hand trembling, she hit the speed dial for her voicemail and put the phone to her ear.
“Didn’t your parents teach you not to get into cars with strange men?”
She was breathing hard, the cold air hurting her lungs. Her knees gave way and she sank to the edge of the porch, numb. It was him. Him. It couldn’t be. He was dead.
But it was. The voice that taunted her nightmares until she woke screaming. Her phone slid from her fingers, hitting the porch with a clatter that brought Noah around.
He ran to her, dropping to one knee in the snow. “What?”
“Him.” She shook her head hard, trying to clear it.
“Dell Farmer?”
“Yes. No. God.” She was hyperventilating and she pursed her lips, made herself breathe through her nose. “It was a voice message. Winters’s voice.”
Stunned, Noah did a fast take. “Are you sure?”
She ground her teeth. “Fucking sure. I hear that voice in my dreams. Dammit.”
“Sshh,” Noah soothed. He took her phone, punched in the numbers to replay the message. And his face grew grim. He pocketed her phone and helped her to her feet. “I’ll tell Olivia. We’ll find him.”
“How did he get it? How did he get his voice?” She heard the hysteria in her voice, tried to battle it back. “How did he know?”
“I don’t know. Maybe from an old interview. I found a few on the Net this morning. Try to breathe, honey. It’s just words. Winters can’t hurt you now.” His arms were around her, holding her up. “He can’t ever hurt you again.”
She thought of Harvey Farmer and Katie. And Kurt Buckland and David. “But Dell can. He wants to. He won’t give up.”
“Breathe.” He pounded on Brock and Trina’s door, loud enough to wake the dead. But nobody answered and he pounded again, harder. “Open the damn door.”
It opened only a few inches, Trina’s face peeking around the edge. “Noah,” she said brightly. “Eve, what a surprise.” Then she frowned. “Go,” she mouthed. “Now.”
“Goddammit, Tree, I don’t care if you’re both naked and having sex from the damn chandeliers. Move.” Noah knocked the door open with his shoulder.
Trina’s words hadn’t matched the look in her eyes, Eve thought numbly. Slowly, the look in Trina’s eyes sank in. Run. Pulse shooting like a rocket, Eve backed up, but it was too late. Trina was yanked from sight and Eve heard a loud thud a split second before a hand grabbed her arm, dragging her inside.
“No,” Noah thundered, trying to yank her back. Eve thrashed like a wild cat. But it was too late. She went still when a gun was shoved against her temple.
Noah had gone still as well. “Dell Farmer,” he said quietly.
What a shock, Eve thought, her mind racing now, even as her body was motionless.
An arm locked over her throat, squeezing. “The great and powerful Noah Webster,” Dell scoffed. “You couldn’t have found your own ass in the dark.”
“I seem to have found you,” Noah said calmly, his focus on Dell’s face.