Slowly, she gathered the prints together.
Shook open the sack, slid them inside.
“I’ll get these over to the lab. Have forensic check them out. Could be, apart from Mace’s dabs, some little thing—fibers, DNA, soil deposits—that might give us a lead. We gotta catch him, Leigh…”
“Don’t I know it!” Leigh choked back a sob. “That’s my daughter out there, Mattie. Sure… we’re gonna catch him, all right. But I can’t just wait here! God, Mattie,” her voice rose, “I can’t just do nothing!”
“What can you do, Leigh? We got trained people out there. We know what he’s up to—given his family history an’ all. He’s tracking down his sister… Meanwhile, he’s… Christ, we’re talking serial ki—” She broke off, embarrassed. “Sorry, Leigh—shouldn’t have said that. Anyhow, we brought Ava Sorensson in on the job. Maybe she’ll come up with something.”
“Ava Sorensson?”
“Yeah. She’s a criminal psychologist. Best in the business. If she can’t crack Mace, nobody can.”
“Well, if she can help…,” Leigh murmured doubtfully. Then: “Mattie, it’s time Warren knew the story behind all this.” She gave him a hesitant smile.
“It might help,” he put in wryly.
“Sure,” Mattie said. “That figures. Let it roll, Leigh.”
Warren settled back and listened.
SIXTY-TWO
Deep in thought, Warren left for home, leaving Leigh with Mattie. And a team of cops. Wishing they’d move their asses, get out there, comb the countryside or whatever it was they were supposed to do. But just find Deana.
He prayed she was still alive…
Christ, she’d better be. If I knew where the hell to look, I’d find the bastard myself… Warren sat at the dining table, head down, scanning a map of the West Coast, hoping some divine hand would guide him to where Deana was hidden…
He wasn’t having much luck.
Frowning, he traced a finger around the Bay Area, up to Mill Valley, then San Rafael, then down again to the Santa Cruz Mountains… Sighing impatiently. Knowing he hadn’t a hope in hell of finding Deana this way…
“I know where your girl is, Warren… At least, I think I do.”
His head came up. He threw Sheena a sharp glance.
Standing there, her back to the picture window, she looked pale and somehow disoriented.
“Well?” he asked tersely. “Tell me. Right now, Deana’s probably being beaten up, abused—Christ only knows what else the bastard’s doing to her. She’s in real danger, Sheena, so whatever you think you know, let’s have it, before it’s too late.”
“Y’ain’t gonna like it, bro.” Sheena’s pallor made him wonder what the hell she’d “seen.” Usually, he didn’t set much store by her “feelings,” but right now, any lead was better than none—and by the way she looked, she may, just may, have hit on a clue.
“She’s in a dark place… could be underground. Whatever, wherever, she’s in a dark, enclosed space. And,” she added quietly, studying his face, not liking the haunted look in his eyes. “She hasn’t long to go, Warren. She knows it, too.”
Warren leapt up and raced to the window. He grabbed her shoulder.
“Can you tell me where this… dark place is? Can you see any landmarks—anything?”
She shook him off. Going quiet again, before resuming her story. “I keep getting these deep, desperate fear feelings. It’s dark, and I can’t see… I just know she’s in danger. Someone’s aiming to kill her. But not before he’s… done things to her…”
“Christ—anything else?”
“She’s in the wilderness, Warren. Metaphorically and physically… D’ya know what I mean?”
“Jesus, sis. We’ve gotta tell Mattie about this!”
“She’s a cop?”
“Sure. She knows the sicko who’s doing all this stuff to Deana. In fact, Leigh, Deana’s mom just told me the whole story. Sounded far-fetched, but it’s all kinda linked in with Deana’s disappearance.”
“A story, huh?” Sheena frowned. “A ‘far-fetched’ story… You better tell me about it…”
“So Ma Payne got rid of her kids? ’Cept Charlie. Jess turned into Mace and now Mace wants to kill Deana, because he can’t find sister Tania—meanwhile, any black-haired gal, but especially Deana, will do.
“Jess, aka Mace, can’t forgive Mom for killing Pa—and for giving him away like that… Am I right?”
“That’s about it, sis. This guy Mace is one fucked-up psycho. He does things to women. Then carves them up, apparently. Leigh said she and Mattie found a scrapbook at his apartment with pictures and press cuttings of his gruesome deeds… God only knows what he’s doing to Deana right now. At this very moment…” He faltered. “Maybe you can figure it out, Sheena. I certainly can’t!”
Warren paced up and down. Working things out. He’d go find Deana himself. But first, he had to decide which route to take.
Sabre sat, ears pricked, watching from the doorway.
Sheena’s eyes leveled with Warren’s. Sending him a cool glance, she said, “I know how this Mace character feels, Warren.”
“You WHAT? What the hell are you saying, Sheena? You can understand why this sick fuck is doing the things he does?”
“No, not that, bro. All I’m sayin’ is, I understand this Mace character hatin’ his mom for givin’ him away. Remember, Warren, I’ve been in the same position myself. I was adopted, too, don’t forget!” She turned, stared out the window, her anger showing. He could tell that by the way she squared her shoulders, held her back ramrod straight.
Sure, he remembered she’d been adopted. They both had. Just that he’d never felt the need to discuss it with her before. Far as he was concerned, Sheena was his big sister. Had been for as long as he could remember. And they’d both been treated equally by Mom and Dad—that had been their way.
Sheena turned from the window, her face harsh with concern. “Understandin’ the feelings of this guy is the only thing that strikes me right now, bro. I’m sorry, believe me. And sure, if you think it’ll help, I’ll talk to your Mattie woman.”
SIXTY-THREE
The door opened.
Deana flinched, twisting away from the blast of light.
She stumbled, tripped. Fell backward onto the mattress.
“That pleased to see me, huh?”
“Mace. I need water. Please lemme me have some water…”
“Hey. That’s nice. I like to hear my li’l girl saying pretty ‘please.’”
“Screw you, Mace.”
“Now, now. Don’t you go blottin’ your copybook. Say sorry, Deana—or do I have to smack your butt?” He put down his holdall and swaggered slowly toward her. A vague gray light snaked in through the dirt-streaked window, lifting the gloom, filtering across the grimy mattress. Deana crouched back in the shadows, hands clasping her drawn-up knees. Hugging them tight to her chest.
Mace bent down. He peered at her, smiling, his teeth a white slash against the dark of his face.
“Saw your mom today.”
Her eyes widened. Her breath quickened.
“Wanna know how your mother is, sweetheart?”
She gulped back a sob.
“How is my mother, Mace?”
“Frightened, sugar. Your mom’s one very frightened lady.”
Tears welled up. Hearing him say “mom” like that made her want to cry.
Mom, oh Mom… You gotta come an’ get me. Please!
Despair, and a seering desolation swept over her. She broke down, blurting shuddering sobs into her hands.