Tomorrow, he’d have the look on Webster’s face when he gazed up into Virginia’s face. The sight of her remains would remain in the cops’ minds for a very long time. They would feel responsible. They’d been so certain that they understood him, that they could predict him. That they’d warned the potential victims.
They knew nothing. It would eat at them, taking apart their confidence brick by brick.
It had been a good night. Once he cleaned up, he could go home and sleep. He was tired, but it was a good tired. The sixth of his six was finished. The Hat Squad would be exposed for their hubris and incompetence. And he would relax and enjoy the show.
He pulled back the concrete slab and frowned. He’d have to lay off for a while after this. Apparently too many bodies at the same time slowed the process. He grimaced at the sight of Jeremy Lyons’s hand poking up out of the layer of dirt and lime.
He cut the ropes binding his latest prey, then stopped, staring at her face. But it wasn’t tonight’s dead hooker he saw. It was… Sunday’s. Wild dogs. He’d told her she’d be torn apart by wild dogs. Her eyes had been blue, the roots of her hair auburn.
His mind clear, the association clicked. He’d seen that face. Tonight. Where?
In the hospital. She’d looked tired and… terrified. Leaving the dead hooker where she lay, he went to the drawer next to where he kept all the old cell phones. It held dozens of wallets and driver’s licenses. He found the license from Sunday’s whore. Lindsay Barkley. He found her cell phone in the next drawer and turned it on, clicking through the photos she’d stored there. There she was. The girl he’d seen tonight.
Why was she at the hospital? He thought hard, remembered the tall young man who’d been with her, and drew a breath. The young man knew Eve Wilson.
Perhaps the girl knew nothing. But he would not take that chance. He looked at Lindsay’s license. He knew where she’d lived. He’d swing by on his way into morning meeting. Have a little chat with the girl. He’d take care of her easily.
He grabbed tonight’s hooker by the ankles and dragged her to the pit. It was pretty full, but he thought it could accommodate two more. Lindsay’s sister and Eve were both tall, it was true, but both were slender. They wouldn’t take up too much space.
And then no more for a while, he told himself. Which was not a problem. Once this endeavor was complete, his stress would recede to a manageable level and in a few months when he hunted his next prey, so would have the pit.
Thursday, February 25, 3:30 a.m.
Olivia’s cell phone rang, rousing her from what had been a very pleasant dream on the cot in the break room at the station. Dell Farmer was a tough nut to crack. Kane and Abbott had taken a turn questioning him while she caught a few winks. Blinking hard, she flipped her phone open. “Sutherland,” she said, swallowing a yawn.
“It’s Tom. Tom Hunter.”
Olivia sat up and turned on the light next to the cot. “Is David all right?” Of course he was. He had to be. The hospital would have called her if there’d been any issues.
“Yeah. I talked to him around ten and he was going to sleep.” On the other end, she heard Tom sigh. “This is going to sound so paranoid and you’re going to be mad.”
“I’ve got security on your uncle,” Olivia said as kindly as she could. “He’ll be fine.”
“Olivia, I was out tonight. With Liza.”
Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Define ‘out.’ As in ‘on a date’? Or as in ‘hunting bad guys’?”
“The second one. Wait,” he inserted before she could explode. “We found what we were looking for. That guy the prostitute mentioned last night, Jonesy, we found him.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this to me?”
“You would have yelled because we were out looking.”
“Damn straight I would have yelled,” she yelled. “Your mother asked me to watch out for you, Tom. You’re making trouble for me.”
“I’m twenty,” he said quietly. It wasn’t bravado or posturing. Tom Hunter had been forced to be a man, to defend his battered mother, before his seventh birthday.
“All right,” she said, just as quietly. “You found Jonesy. Had he seen Liza’s sister?”
“Yeah. He said he’d been watching the cars picking up hookers, writing down license plates. If they were rich…”
“He’d blackmail them. Wonderful. So he saw Lindsay getting in a car?”
“Yeah, but he said he didn’t have the list anymore, that he’d sold it, and he didn’t remember what kind of car, but he remembered the date and time. I didn’t believe him, but I got him to tell me who he’d sold the list to.”
Olivia sighed. She knew Jonesy. “How much did you pay him?”
“A hundred.”
“Tom.”
“I know,” Tom spat, frustrated. “He said he sold it to some guy named Damon. Another hundred got me Damon’s ‘business address.’ ”
A shiver tickled down her spine. “You’re on thin ice, kid. Damon is a major dealer.”
“I figured that out. I found him, told him what I wanted. He looked at his list. And this is the paranoid part. He said he saw her get into a black SUV. Lincoln Navigator.”
Olivia blinked, wondering how many Navigators could be on Twin City roads.
“You know,” Tom said when she said nothing. “Like the one that hit David.”
“Yeah, I got it. That’s weird, but not impossible.” Besides, they’d gotten Dell Farmer. But not his SUV. He’d been driving a beat-up old Corolla and had just laughed uproariously when she’d demanded to know where he’d parked his Navigator.
“I know and I almost didn’t bother you with it. But I figured better safe than sorry.”
“Damon didn’t happen to share the license plate, did he?”
“No, and frankly I didn’t want to push it. He scared the bejesus out of me.”
“That’s the first smart thing I’ve heard you say all night. Dammit, Tom, he would have stabbed you as easy as breathing. I’m shocked he told you anything at all.”
“He’s a basketball fan,” Tom said wryly. “I had tickets in my pocket. If you don’t pick him up sooner, I know where he’ll be sitting come game time on Sunday.”
Olivia massaged her temples. “Your mother is going to kill me.”
“My mother and Dana taught me. All those years in the shelter, the new identities, transporting women and kids in the dead of night… No way Mom can yell at you.”
“Good point. Okay. Here’s the deal. I don’t tell your mom what you’ve been doing and you don’t go out with Liza alone anymore.”
“She’s not going to give up until she finds her sister. Or her body.”
Sisterly bonds. That Olivia understood. “Tomorrow I’ll go with you. Where’s Liza?”
“I dropped her off at her apartment. I walked her to the door,” he added defensively.
“You’re a good man. Maybe too much so. No more sleuthing by yourselves. Deal?”
“Deal. Thanks, Olivia.”
“Tom, wait. Where are Liza’s parents in all this?”
“Her mom’s sick, and Liza doesn’t want to worry her yet. No dad in the picture.”
“Okay. Let me see what I can find. Get some sleep.” Troubled, Olivia hung up, then placed a call to an old friend in narcotics. Hopefully they’d have enough to bring Damon in and she could find out what he really knew.
Chapter Twenty-two
Thursday, February 25, 4:00 a.m.
He was so tired. He parked his car next to his wife’s BMW and was tempted to go to sleep right there in the garage, but his wife would wonder where he was when she awoke to an empty bed. He didn’t hate his wife. They had a mutually beneficial relationship. She received a generous allowance for her support, showed up on his arm at all the right functions, never expected sex, and conscientiously kept his secret.