“Probably a different social, but my people at the FBI think it’s the same Alastair Holmes based on probabilities and location. Holmes is originally from Del Rio, which isn’t far from here. He served three years for forcible rape in Oklahoma City, and then got ten years, served five, for a series of three violent rapes in Baton Rouge. He’s on the registry in Louisiana and Oklahoma, but he never registered in Texas.”
“He got smart,” Lucy said. “Instead of targeting just any woman, he buys them from Dobleman. Women who won’t say anything.”
“You’re probably right.”
“But he’s escalated.”
“What makes you say that?” Adam asked as they climbed into his sheriff’s Bronco.
“Dobleman doesn’t want Marisol to live. Why give her to someone who will only hurt her? He’s going to kill her. I’ll bet it’s not his first murder.” She glanced at Noah. “Do you have his file?”
“Nuts and bolts.”
“You said violent rapes.”
He didn’t look at her. “Yes.”
“Age?”
“College age.”
“How?”
“You don’t need to-”
“How, Noah?”
“He raped them with foreign objects.” He paused. “If you want the details, you can read them, but I’m not going to talk about it here.”
“I’m trying to get into his head, Noah. You know that.”
“He enjoys hurting women.”
“And my guess? He’s now hurting women until they die. And that’s why no victims have come forward, because they’re dead. And he pays Dobleman for the privilege. Or Dobleman pays him to get rid of their problem women, like Marisol.”
It was Thursday morning. Holmes had her for the last thirty-six hours. She could already be dead. How much could she have endured? Giving birth a week ago. Walking twenty miles. And now being raped and tortured by a sick pervert.
“Five years,” Adam mumbled. “Pathetic.”
They didn’t know what they were facing at Holmes’s place. One of Adam’s units did a drive-by and then called in.
“House appears quiet. Drapes pulled, no lights. Street is quiet, houses far apart. Target is a single-story ranch, and my knowledge of this neighborhood is that the homes all have basements.”
Adam thanked him then said, “How do you want to proceed? If the guy is on the registry, we have the right to inspect his property, talk to him about any crimes in the neighborhood.”
“He won’t answer the door, and that puts Marisol in danger.” If she isn’t already dead.
Noah was about to speak, but Lucy interrupted. “A female cop needs to go to the door. Not in uniform. Ring the bell. Get access to the house.”
“I’ll have Officer Gorman change,” Adam said. “She’s with one of the units I deployed.”
Lucy shook her head. “I met her last night. She doesn’t fit his profile. She’s close to fifty. I can get him to open the door.”
Noah didn’t say anything.
And Lucy was not going to tell him that she was fine. She was sick and tired of telling people that she was okay.
“Villines?” Noah asked.
“Fine with me.”
“We walk in,” Noah said. “Dunning and me, two of your people. As soon as he opens the door to Lucy, we go in. Do you have a wire?”
“I’ll keep my phone on an open line. If I get a feeling, I’ll let you know.”
“A feeling?” Villines said, his nose wrinkled.
“Instincts,” Lucy said. She almost smiled, but she had no humor inside. “Not a psychic.”
“Sometimes I wonder,” Noah said. “You got this, Lucy.”
Lucy took off her blazer and hesitated, then unbuttoned her blouse.
“You don’t-”
She glared at Noah. He stopped talking.
She had on a tank top under her Kevlar vest. She took off the vest. She rarely wore jeans for work, but her black slacks had been stained with blood, and the jeans were all she had with her. She took her hair out of her braid and shook it out, then put it in a loose, sloppy ponytail. She took off her holster and handed her gun to Nate, then checked her ankle holster. No way was she going in without a weapon. Anything could happen. She slipped her badge in her back pocket.
“You look five years younger,” Noah said.
“That was the goal.” She stretched her jaw and smiled, trying to loosen up. She dialed Noah’s phone, he answered, and she put him on speaker then locked her phone so that she couldn’t accidentally hang up on him. “Put yours on mute so he can’t hear anything on your end.”
She got out of the Bronco at the end of the street, out of line of sight of the house. Shook off her nerves. It was hot already and she was sweating, not just from her nerves.
Don’t be nervous.
Holmes’s house looked like every other house on the street. None of the houses looked like anyone was home, but they were all small, unfenced, and set far apart from the street, lined with scraggling trees. The problem was there was no easy way for Noah and the others to approach the house. Not until she got him to open the door; then they could come around from behind.
She glanced behind her and saw that Nate and Noah were running parallel and behind her through the backyards.
That meant Adam and one of his people were approaching from the other side, though she couldn’t see them.
She stopped in front of the house. Looked around as if she were lost, then walked up the narrow cement walk. Holmes’s yard was immaculate. The lawn was a sickly green color from the drought, but it was cut short and there were no weeds. The small porch had been swept, and matching pottery with cacti framed the door. The house was well maintained-the roof, for example, had a few new shingles, neatly patched.
Fastidious. Methodical.
She knocked on the door, then rang the bell. It buzzed loudly, which surprised her.
She had the distinct impression that she was being watched. At first she dismissed it as Noah and Nate getting into position, but she stepped back a foot and glanced around, not like she was intentionally looking for something, just casual.
But she saw the camera mounted under the narrow eave of the roof.
Holmes was watching her.
She wiped the sweat off her forehead, then stretched, which had the added effect of stretching her tank top tight over her breasts. Her cotton shirt was damp, which made her uncomfortable, but it would intrigue Holmes. She fanned herself and rang the bell one more time.
He was inside. Why wasn’t he coming to the door?
Then she heard footsteps. “I’m so glad someone’s home,” she said for Noah’s benefit. She kept her voice light, young.
The door opened. The security screen was still locked. She couldn’t see into the dark house, and the screen made it difficult to make out any details. “Hello?” she said. “I’m sort of lost. I mean, not really, I know I’m in the right neighborhood. My grandpa moved in last month, and this is the first day off I’ve had in forever. He told me his address was 11678 Diablo. But two street signs are missing. I’ve been to four houses, no one answers. Do you know where Diablo is?”
He didn’t say anything for a second. “I think I do.”
“Oh, thank you. I’m so hot. I can’t wait for winter, you know?”
He still didn’t open the screen. He said. “I think Diablo is the street two over from here.”
“Two over which way?” She turned, not completely putting her back to Holmes, but trying to get him to step out and point. “Two streets over parallel? Perpendicular?”
“Go to the corner, turn left, two blocks.” He looked around. “You don’t have a car.”
“I parked under a tree down the block, hoping someone was home to help.” She fanned herself. “Thanks.” She coughed.
“Hey, you want some water?”
“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you.” She coughed again.
“No trouble. Come on in.” He unlocked the screen and opened it.