By reason of insanity

8

Two months later

The Avenger of Blood waited patiently for Marcia Carver, a woman who was perhaps the proudest grandmother in all of Hampton Roads, Virginia, to return from the Princess Anne Country Club, where she had just finished showing off the twins. Her husband, of course, would still be at the office, figuring out some new trick for springing the rapists and murderers and drug dealers who paid for his three-million-dollar mansion at the north end of Virginia Beach.

The Avenger crouched in the shrubs, checking the handheld device that used GPS signals to track the small transponder attached to the frame of Marcia Carver's Lexus. She was less than ten minutes away. Her husband's car, according to a similar device the Avenger had appended there, had yet to move from the office parking lot.

Two weeks ago, Marcia's son Bobby and her daughter-in-law, Sheri Ann, had returned from China with the heirs to the Carver family legacy. Twins! According to the young couple's Web site, they had told the adoption agency they would be open to twins but hadn't found out until they arrived in China that they would indeed be the proud parents of two thirteen-month-old twins-a chubby little round-faced girl named Cail Ying and her brother, Chi. The American names were predictably presumptuous-Callie Ann Carver (a takeoff on her new mother's name) and Robert Carver III.

The Avenger assumed that the Carvers had paid somebody off and bought the twins with a hefty bribe. Adoptions of twins were rare in China, especially when one of the twins was a boy. The Avenger wasn't fooled by the sweet little adoption journal Sheri Ann Carver had put online for the world to read. Or the blow-by-blow description of their tour around China so the Carvers could better appreciate their babies' homeland. Or the hundreds of photos of the twins, showing Callie Ann constantly smiling, toothless, and bright-eyed, her brother wearing a perpetual look of confusion, his little mouth forming an O as he clutched a tattered blanket.

Sheri Ann was a spoiled Southern belle, not the kind of woman who could tolerate mommy duties for long. As a result, the Avenger could have taken the kids when they were in the care of their nanny much of the past ten days, during Sheri Ann's many absences for her tennis matches or gym workouts or pedicures. But that wouldn't drive home the point the way this plan would. Grandma and Grandpa needed to share the pain. Blood money had bought them all this happiness. Justice demanded that it also bring them pain.

Breathless, the Avenger hunkered low behind the shrubs as the Lexus approached. The automatic driveway lights, normally triggered by the headlights from the car, did not illuminate. The Avenger wondered if Marcia would notice.

Marcia parked the car and climbed out the driver's side. She opened the rear door and started cooing over her grandkids. It was almost too easy. Staying low, the Avenger came up behind her, put a gloved hand over her mouth, and twisted her neck, at the same time driving a needle into the small of her back. From behind, the Avenger held Marcia in a chokehold until she went limp, then lowered her to the pavement.

The Avenger glanced in the backseat of the sedan at the twins and worked hard to stay unemotional. The little girl smiled at the Avenger, extending her arms as if the Avenger might free her from the car seat. The little boy looked confused, clutching his blanket and contorting his frightened little face as he began to cry. The Avenger shut the car door, drowning out the noise at least temporarily.

Quickly, efficiently, the Avenger dragged Marcia into the bushes and raked over the footprints. Popping the trunk, the Avenger threw the rake inside. Then the Avenger fired up the Lexus and climbed in, trying to ignore the little boy's loud crying as the car backed down the driveway.

Later that night, the Avenger watched the Carvers' televised pleas for the return of their babies. The Avenger shrugged off the million-dollar reward the Carvers immediately offered for anyone who had information that might lead to a safe rescue of the twins. This wasn't about money. Justice demanded this.

A package arrived at Robert Carver Sr.'s office two days after the kidnapping. It contained a note from the kidnapper and a piece of Chi Ying's tattered blanket. DNA tests would confirm that the bloodstains on the blanket belonged to both Cail and Chi.

For strategic reasons, the police insisted, and the Carvers agreed, that information about the blanket and accompanying note should not be released to the public. They continued the manhunt as if the babies might still be alive, though the Carvers had already begun the grieving process.

The note was generated by an HP inkjet printer and contained a quote from the Bible, complete with a reference:

For I, the Lord thy God, am a jealous God, visiting the iniquities of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me. Exodus 20:5.

At the bottom of the note, the kidnapper had typed a signature-a biblical allusion that ripped at the heart of the parents and grandparents. The Avenger of Blood.