The doorway suddenly filled with the dark shape of a man. Kevin’s finger tightened on the trigger. What . . . what if it wasn’t Slater? A bum, maybe.
The form stood still, as if staring at him. If it moved . . . If it even flinched, Kevin would pull the trigger.
Blood pounded through his head as if pumps had been shoved in his ears and were trying to suck him dry. Whoosh, whoosh.He couldn’t move other than to tremble slightly in the dark. He was eleven years old again, facing the boy in the cellar. Trapped. That’ll cost you your eyeballs, punk.
A metal object clanged against the front door. Sam!
The figure didn’t flinch.
Now, Kevin! Now! Before he runs. Pull the trigger!
Clang!
“Why would I do something so senseless as blow up an old abandoned warehouse?” Slater’s voice asked.
“It’s so nice to meet you again face to face, Kevin. I like the dark, don’t you? I thought about bringing candles for the occasion, but I like this better.”
Shoot! Shoot, shoot,SHOOT!
“We’ve only been at this three days and I’m already tired of it. Practice is over. We start the real game tonight,” Slater said.
The sound of steel against steel echoed from the front door.
“We’ll be seeing you.”
The figure moved.
The pressure Kevin had exerted on the trigger finally sprang the hammer at the same instant. The room ignited with a brilliant flash chased by a horrendous thunder. He saw Slater’s black coat as he cleared the doorway.
“Aaaahhhh!” He fired again. A third time. He scrambled to his feet, leapt for the opening, and spun into the hallway. A door at the end of the hall swung closed. The man was gone. Darkness surrounded Kevin.
He whirled around, grabbed the railing, and stumbled down the stairs.
“Kevin!”
The door burst open to daylight before Kevin reached it. Sam jumped clear and he spilled out onto the sidewalk.
Sam had her weapon drawn. She took one look at Kevin and spun into the doorway, gun extended.
“He’s gone,” Kevin panted. “Out back. A window or something.”
“Wait here.” Sam ran to the corner, shoved her head around, and then disappeared.
The ground felt uneven under Kevin’s feet. He gripped a telephone pole and steadied himself. Why had he waited? He could have ended the whole thing with one shot, right there in the room. On the other hand, he had no proof that the figure was Slater. Could’ve been an idiot playing . . .
No, it was Slater. Definitely. You spineless punk! You let him walk. He was right there and you whimpered like a dog!Kevin grunted and closed his eyes, furious.
Sam reappeared thirty seconds later.
“He’s gone.”
“He was just there! Are you sure?”
“There’s a fire escape with a ladder. He could be anywhere by now. I doubt he’s hanging around for an encore.” She glanced back, considering.
“There’s no bomb, Sam. He wanted to meet me. That’s why the riddle was so easy. I saw him.”
She stepped up to the door, looked inside, and flipped the switches. Nothing happened.
“How did the door lock?”
“I don’t know. I was just in there and it slammed behind me.”
She stepped just beyond the door and looked up. “It’s rigged. He used a pulley with a string . . .” She followed the string with her eyes.
“What is it?”
“The string ends by the counter. He was down here when he pulled the door closed.”
The revelation struck Kevin as absurd. “In the lobby?”
“Yes, I think so. String’s pretty well hidden, but he was here. I don’t want to contaminate the scene—we need to get some light in there.” She walked back out and opened her cell phone. “You sure it was him?”
“He spoke to me. He stood right there and asked me why he’d be so senseless as to blow up an abandoned building.” Kevin’s legs felt like putty. He abruptly sat on the sidewalk. The gun hung from his right hand.
Sam eyed it. “This is what you found wandering your old neighborhood this morning?”
Kevin set the gun down. “Sorry. I can’t just let him push me around anymore.”
She nodded. “Put it back in the trunk or wherever you had it stashed, and please, don’t use it again.”
“I shot at him. You think maybe I hit him?”
“I didn’t see any blood. But they’ll find evidence of the shots.” She paused. “They may want you to surrender the gun. I don’t suppose it’s legal.”
He shook his head.
“Just get it out of sight before the others get here. I’ll talk to Jennifer.”
“Others?”
She glanced at her watch. “It’s time for her to take over here. I have a plane to catch.”
18
THERE WAS NO BOMB and Slater had met his objective forty minutes early. They had solved their first riddle within the allotted time, but it still had served the killer. He’d made contact with Kevin in person and escaped without a trace.
Sam had called Jennifer with the details while waiting for her cab to arrive. She was still unsettled about something—was even a little reluctant to call Jennifer, but she said that she had no choice. Of all the authorities, she trusted Jennifer the most. No cops until the ninety-minute mark had passed; that much she’d insisted on.
Jennifer was on her way with an FBI team to begin the investigation. Sam would be lucky to catch her flight; Kevin watched the cab’s taillights as it sped down the street and around the corner.
Yes indeed, they had solved the riddle. Or had they? He should be swimming in relief about now—he’d come nose to nose with a madman and survived. Chased him away with a few shots to boot. Sort of.
But his head still felt like it was caught in a vise. He agreed with Sam; something wasn’t right.
What was it about this appointment in Houston that was so important to her? And why wasn’t she forthcoming on the actual nature of the meeting? She knew the Riddle Killer was here. What was there in Houston?
And why wouldn’t she just tell him? Here in Long Beach the city was terrorized by the man the media had dubbed the Riddle Killer, but Sam was off on a tangent in another city. Made no sense.
A black car swung onto the street and roared toward him. Jennifer.
Two other agents climbed out with her, one with weapon drawn, both armed with flashlights. Jennifer spoke quickly to them, sending one around back and the other for the front door, which still stood open in a splintered frame. Sam had taken the car jack to it.
Jennifer approached him, dressed in a blue suit, hair flowing around her shoulders in the warm breeze. “Are you okay?” she asked.
She glanced at the warehouse, and for a brief moment Kevin imagined that her question was only a courtesy—her real interest lay in whatever awaited her prying eyes beyond the door. A new crime scene. Like all of them, she loved the crime scenes. As well she should—the crime scene led to the criminal, in this case Slater.
She turned her attention back to him.
“As okay as I can be, I suppose,” he said.
She walked up to him and looked into his eyes. “I thought we understood each other.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “What do you mean?”
“I mean we’re on the same side here. I mean you tell me everything, or did our conversation yesterday not make an impression on you?”
He suddenly felt like a silly schoolboy standing in the principal’s office. “Of course we’re on the same side.”
“Then make me a promise you can live by. You don’t disappear unless we agree for you to disappear. In fact, you do nothingunless we agree you do it. I can’t do this without you, and I certainly don’t need you following someone else’s lead.”
An unreasonable sorrow swept over Kevin. He felt a knot in his throat, as if he might cry, right here in front of her. Again. Nothing would be so humiliating.