I tapped the button, allowing FaceTime, annoyed at the prospect of having to look at McGlade while talking to him.
But it wasn’t McGlade staring up at me.
It was a pale man with black hair.
Someone I hadn’t seen in quite some time.
Someone I’d hoped to never see again.
The repulsion was so intense that part of me—a very large part—was tempted to hang up and throw the phone away. But that’s not what cops do.
Luther smiled into the camera.
“You’re looking very pregnant, Jack.”
“You’re looking ugly as ever. Wouldn’t this be better in person? I’ve got some friends who are itching to say hello to you.”
“All in good time. I’ve got a little game for you. If you win, you save a man’s life. Interested?”
“I’m not playing any game with you, Luther.”
Luther pressed the second camera button, and the video on my iPhone switched from Luther’s face to an image of another man in a nice suit, unconscious, a strip of duct tape over his mouth, and his wrists and ankles zip-tied.
I’d played a sick game like this before with a serial killer who sent me pictures of people she was about to kill. But those were just still shots. This was live video.
“Can you still hear me, Jack?”
I didn’t answer. I felt like vomiting and then running away to someplace where this lunatic could never find me.
“Answer me, Jack, or I’ll cut out this man’s eyes.”
“Yes. I can hear you, Luther.” I was going to add, “Let him go,” but I knew that would be pointless. Luther had something in mind, and my only option was to wait and see what happened next. “Where did you come up with this idea?”
“I learned it from a mutual friend of ours. You remember Alex Kork. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
“Alex was a monster,” I said. “Like you.”
“Birds of a feather. Here’s how the game works, Jack. It’s very simple. I ask you one question. If you don’t have an answer for me, I’m going to murder him. Ready? Do I have your full attention?”
“I can’t play your game right now, Luther. I’m in an emergency room.”
Now I hit my camera button, showing him the waiting room. Then I looked frantically around for Phin. If I could let him know what was happening, he could find Herb and maybe we could figure out where Luther was.
Luther said, “Blessed Crucifixion? Is it the preeclampsia again?”
If his knowledge of my condition was meant to unnerve me, it worked. I took in a quick breath through my clenched teeth to steady myself.
“How about we do this another time? Let that guy go. You can always find someone else to kill later on.”
“That won’t do. It has to be this man, at this time. But he has one chance. You. If you hang up, he dies. If you don’t want to play, he dies. If you get the wrong answer, he dies. Are you ready? Tell me you’re ready, Jack.”
Phin still wasn’t back. I set my jaw. “I’m ready.”
“Where am I?”
“That’s the question?”
“That’s the question.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ve been giving you clues, Jack. If you’ve been paying attention, you should know where I am right now. I’ve practically spelled it out for you.”
I closed my eyes, thoughts racing so fast I felt dizzy.
My feet and hands tingled.
My blood pressure was probably off the charts.
But I focused. I focused hard.
I considered the two previous murders.
The data points I’d written out this morning.
The similarities and differences.
“Where am I, Jack?”
Where was he?
“You have ten seconds.”
The first murder had occurred at the Kinzie Street railroad bridge.
The second was at the aquarium.
What did they have in common?
“Oh, look who’s awake.”
The camera switched from Luther back to the suited man on the floor, whose eyes were bugging out.
“Mr. Roe, let me introduce former Chicago police lieutenant Jack Daniels. Jack Daniels, this is Mr. Peter Roe. Peter, if Jack doesn’t answer this question correctly, you’re going to die. How’s that sound? All she has to tell me is where we are.”
The man screamed through the duct tape and writhed on the floor.
“Six seconds, Jack.”
The first two murders had taken place outside.
But this was inside.
“You have four seconds, Jack.”
Jessica Shedd was killed at the Kinzie Street bridge…
Reginald Marquette was killed at the Shedd Aquarium…
Marquette.
Is he killing people at locations based on the last name of the previous victim?
“Two seconds, one second, and—”
“Marquette,” I screamed into the phone.
“—we’re all out of time.”
The man on the floor was nodding violently.
“What was that, Jack?” Luther asked.
I thought about locations in Chicago with the name Marquette, and could only come up with one.
“Marquette Park.”
Luther smiled. “Epic fail, Jack. Does this look like a park to you?” He panned the camera around what appeared to be an office. Diplomas and certificates on the walls. “Do you see any pigeons or squirrels running around? Were you really a lieutenant? Don’t they make you take some sort of intelligence test for that?”
Shit. Of course.
“The Marquette Building,” I said. “You’re in the Marquette Building, downtown, on Dearborn.”
Luther nodded, looking off to the side. “Yes, but that wasn’t your first answer. We’ll have to go to the judges, see if it’s acceptable. Can we accept that answer?”
The camera switched to Mr. Roe, nodding so frantically that he was probably giving himself whiplash.
“Looks like the judges will allow it. Which means that now we have the bonus question.”
I heaved myself onto my feet and started through the waiting room. Where the hell was Phin?
I said, “You told me you’d let him go if I got it right.”
“I said no such thing. I told you I’d murder him if you got it wrong. And that applies to this question as well.”
“Is this the last one? Or will you just keep doing this over and over until I get one wrong?”
“We’ll make it three questions total. If you get all of them correct, Mr. Roe will live to see the fall. Here’s number two. Precisely what time was Reginald Marquette killed?”
I passed the check-in window and spotted Phin hunched over a water fountain at the end of the corridor.
“How precisely?” I asked, stalling for time.
“Down to the minute.”
I was practically jogging down the corridor now, waving an arm, trying to get Phin’s attention, but he was taking the longest drink of water ever.
“Hello, Jack? You seem distracted. Are you walking around?”
“Stretching my legs a bit,” I said, breathing heavily.
“Switch cameras. Show me what you’re looking at.”
I stood next to Phin, and then hit the camera change button, showing the waiting room. Into Phin’s ear I whispered, “Luther is killing a guy named Roe at the Marquette Building.”
Phin nodded and whipped out his phone.
“Okay, Jack, switch back to your chubby little face, and hit me with that answer.”
“I’m thinking.”
“You either know it or you don’t.”
Time of death.
Time of death.
Marquette.
Dropped at the aquarium around two.
Come on, come on.
I pictured the page of notes.
“Ten seconds, Jack.”
Jessica Shedd’s murder pointed to Marquette’s death. Her name was the next location—the Shedd Aquarium. So then what clue predicted the next time of death?
“Seven seconds.”
The book itself?
No, too broad.
The dog-eared page. It had to be.
The dog-eared page found in Shedd’s stomach was from chapter thirty-one of The Scorcher.
“Five seconds.”