I Can See You

Chapter Seventeen

Wednesday, February 24, 3:10 p.m.

That’s him,” Eve said, looking at the police artist’s computer screen.

“I’ll get this out,” Olivia said, taking a copy of the assailant’s face from the printer.

“Your sketch made my job a lot easier,” the artist said. “It’ll give us an edge.”

“If Looey’s still alive.” Eve’s blood went cold whenever she thought about the look in his eyes as he’d come across the bar. It could have been me.

Officer Michaels had found blood in the real Kurt Buckland’s apartment. He’d called it in as a possible homicide and Olivia had picked it up.

Olivia’s partner Kane was taking Rachel Ward’s picture to the late-closing area bars alone. While Eve knew the murder investigation should be the highest priority, she couldn’t help but feel relieved that Olivia was handling Kurt Buckland’s case.

“Eve.” Olivia walked across the bullpen with an ashen older man. “This is Jim Rosen, Kurt Buckland’s boss. Come on, let’s have a seat in here where we can talk.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rosen said. “The paper had no knowledge of this man’s actions.”

“You printed his story about Martha’s suicide on Monday,” Eve said. “Why?”

“Kurt called me on Sunday. Said he was following up on a tip, that there was a large police presence at the home of a woman who’d hung herself and that one of her neighbors, a Sarah Dwyer, said the police indicated it had been more than a suicide.”

That had been the article that had first pushed her across Noah’s path. “But you only printed that it was a suicide, and back in the Metro section.”

“Kurt’s Metro editor and I agreed that without formal police corroboration we’d print it as a suicide. Then Monday, Captain Abbott gave a statement that Martha Brisbane had been murdered. By then Kurt had sent me emails saying he had proof on two other victims, Samantha Altman and Christy Lewis, statements from their parents saying the police had spoken with them. I’ve known Kurt for years and I trust him. I ran the story.”

“Did he bring the story to you personally?” Olivia asked.

“No. He emailed it as an attachment. But like I said, I’ve known Kurt for years.”

“Did you talk to him after Sunday about the Brisbane murder?” Olivia asked.

“No. I thought he was sitting at his desk in Metro. His Metro editor thought he was with me. I can’t believe this.” He looked genuinely devastated. “Is Kurt dead?”

“We’re investigating,” was all Olivia would say. “Have you seen this man?” She showed him a copy of the man Eve had described to a sketch artist.

Eve’s cell vibrated in her pocket, but she ignored it, waiting for Jim Rosen’s answer.

“I don’t think so,” he finally said. “I’m sorry.”

“If he contacts you again,” Olivia said, “play along. Then call me, right away.”

“I will.” He rose and gave Eve a pained look. “I understand this man hurt you last night. The Kurt Buckland I know never would have hurt a fly. He didn’t have an aggressive nature. We certainly don’t condone tactics of that kind for any reason.”

“Thank you,” Eve said. “I hope Mr. Buckland is found, safe.”

Rosen nodded stiffly. “If you’d like, we’ll put that sketch on the front page.”

“Let’s keep it quiet for now,” Olivia said. “If he knows we’re on to him, he’ll bolt. If he thinks we still believe he’s Buckland, he’ll get bolder. If I hear anything, I’ll call you.”

When he was gone, Eve searched her face. “Buckland is dead, isn’t he?”

“Based on the amount of blood we found in his apartment? Yeah.”

Eve shuddered. “I didn’t feel scared last night at Sal’s. Not with so many cops around. But I feel scared now.”

“Good. You should feel scared. I don’t want you going anywhere alone, okay? I don’t care how much of a pain in the butt it is.”

“I’m not arguing with you. Did you get any usable prints from his business card?”

“Not yet. I asked Micki to send somebody from Latent to Sal’s to dust the bar. If he touched it, maybe we’ll get something from there.”

“I polished it last night, like I do every night. I doubt you’ll get anything.” Eve stiffened when her cell vibrated again. She pulled it from her pocket. “It’s Noah.”

“Take it,” Olivia ordered.

“Hey,” Eve said, injecting a bright note in her voice. “I’m fine.” Then everything inside her went cold once more as she listened. David. “Where did they take him?”

“Northwest General,” he said. “I talked to the paramedics who responded. They say he’s stable, he just took a hard hit to the head. Eve, he was driving your car.”

Eve sucked in a breath and seemed incapable of forcing it back out. Breathe. “I know. I’m here with Olivia at the station. They think the real Kurt Buckland is dead. They found blood in his living room. A lot of blood.” Her voice was shaking and she couldn’t make it stop. “Noah, he killed Buckland. He just tried to kill me, too.”

“Let me talk to Olivia,” he ordered tersely.

Wordlessly Eve handed Olivia the phone. David was hurt. Stable, but hurt. He was in my car. He’s hurt because he was in my car. That was supposed to be me.

She could hear Olivia’s voice, steady and capable, but it had faded to a whisper, overwhelmed by the pulse pounding in her head. “It was supposed to be me,” Eve said.

Olivia squeezed her arm. “I know. Get your coat. I’ll take you to Northwest General.”

Wednesday, February 24, 3:45 p.m.

He sat drumming his fingers on the steering wheel of his own car, having parked the SUV. He’d have to get that headlight repaired forthwith.

He’d missed. It hadn’t been Eve Wilson in her car. It was Hunter. He hadn’t known until he was right up against him. He’d been so surprised, he’d jerked his hands on the wheel, keeping him from delivering the ramming blow he’d planned.

The small car had veered off the road, flipping once, but it hadn’t been the fiery ball it should have been. I missed. The only bright spot was that Hunter wouldn’t be able to identify him. The tinted windows of his SUV had prevented his face from being seen.

Now getting to Eve would be impossible. He doubted the police would let her out of their sight. So now he’d have to resort to a more tried and true method.

He’d have to shoot her. Webster wouldn’t like that. If the rumors were to be believed, there was a great deal more going on between Webster and Wilson than met the eye. Webster wouldn’t rest until her death was avenged. No matter. He’d shoot Webster, too, eventually.

But after he’d taken the sixth of his six. This would be the victim that defied everything they’d suspected. The victim who didn’t follow the rules of the game.

Wednesday, February 24, 3:45 p.m.

Olivia followed Eve and a nurse to a small room where David Hunter lay, his eyes closed. His face was bruised, one eye swollen shut, and he had a big bandage on his temple. One arm was immobilized in a splint, but other than that, he looked whole.

Olivia let herself breathe. Beside her, Eve did the same. Eve had held herself together remarkably well. Better than I might have, under the circumstances.

“See,” Olivia murmured with more calm than she felt, “I told you he’d be okay.”

“Is he conscious?” Eve whispered to the nurse.

“Yes, he is,” David said. He opened one eye, squinting. “Ow. Bright light.”

Eve grabbed the bed rail and held on. “Where are you hurt?”

“Cuts, bruises, and a fractured arm. They’re checking my back and neck, but so far, so good.” He looked past Eve and his open eye flickered with surprise. “Olivia.”

Olivia moved next to Eve, keeping her smile friendly. “Long time no see.”

“How are you?” he asked soberly and her heart did a slow twirl, as it had the first time she’d seen him.

“About the same. You, on the other hand, have looked better. Last time I saw you, you were wearing a tux with a carnation in your buttonhole, making every woman in the church wish you’d escort them to their seats and making them swoon when you did.”

“You didn’t see me the morning after Mia’s wedding,” he said. “I think my head felt almost as bad as it does now, although my face wasn’t so ugly.”

“Too much champagne will do that.” She watched his eyes shadow and wondered how much he remembered of that night, of the things he’d said. And done. “But I wouldn’t worry about your face,” she added lightly. “You were way too pretty before.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly, then glanced at Eve. “She drove you down, kid?”

Eve nodded. “She kept me calm. You had me scared. No, terrified.”

“I’m just glad I had the car and not you.”

“Oh, yeah.” Eve attempted a scoff, but it came out more like a sob. “Mr. Mario Andretti of the virtual world. More like Mario Brothers.”

He looked mildly annoyed, which was encouraging. “I’ve raced in the real world, too.”

“When you had your body shop,” Olivia said quietly. Before you gave it up for the fire department. She remembered every word he’d said that night, but she could see she’d surprised him again. “You told me you rebuilt classic cars and drove them too fast.”

“The secrets champagne unlocks,” he said gruffly. “I guess I’m lucky you didn’t cite me for speeding.” He closed his eye. “You realize he was gunning for you, Evie.”

“Yes,” Eve whispered. “I’m-”

“If you say you’re sorry I’m going to kick your ass,” David said. “After I’m able to stand up. What’s Webster doing to catch this SOB?”

“Webster’s not on this case,” Olivia said. “I am.”

David opened one eye again. “Okay. What are you doing to catch this SOB?”

“Right now I’m trying to understand this SOB’s motives. Why Eve? Why now?”

“I think he’s really gunning for Noah,” Eve said again. “I’m just in the way.”

Olivia wasn’t so sure about that. “If that’s true, I still don’t understand why Noah.”

“You don’t think that’s why?” David asked. “That Eve’s just a byproduct?”

“I might have before this. And before we found the real Buckland went missing. The guy that came after Eve isn’t a reporter. We think he assaulted the real Buckland, maybe killed him.”

David paled further than he already had. “Oh my God.”

“We’ll make sure Eve’s safe,” Olivia said. “But I didn’t want to lie to you.”

“Thank you.” He glared at Eve. “You better not go to the john without protection, kid.”

“I’ll do what they say, David. I promise.” Tentatively Eve brushed the hair from his forehead. “I’ll call your mom. Let her know what’s happened.”

“No,” David said firmly. “That will stir up the whole family. They’ll drop everything and come out here. All of them. It’ll be like Chicago, without the Cubs.”

Eve hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. “All right. If the doctor says you’ll be fine, I won’t call your mom. I did call Tom. Got his voice-mail. I’ll keep trying.”

“Thanks. You’re not planning to work tonight, are you?”

“No. Callie’s taking my shift. I’m… I’ve got plans.”

David’s eye narrowed shrewdly, then his gaze lifted over their heads.

Olivia looked over her shoulder. Noah was here, making the room instantly smaller, and if she’d doubted how he’d felt about Eve before, there was absolutely no doubt now. It was written all over his face. Poor guy had it real bad. I can sympathize.

“I need to talk to David,” she said to Noah. “Can you get Eve a cup of coffee?”

“Of course.” Noah put his arm around Eve’s shoulders, tenderly. “Come on.”

Without argument Eve leaned against him. “I’ll be back later, David.”

When they were gone, Olivia pulled a chair next to David’s bed and took out her notepad. “Okay, tell me what happened. Everything you can remember.”

David’s shoulders sagged wearily. “There’s not much. I was taking Eve’s car to get a few parts. I was going to tune it up. I had Hank on the radio and I was singing along.”

She looked up, her lips curving. “You gotta sing to Hank. I think it’s a country music law or something. What next?”

“The road was only one lane each way and I was going the limit. This black SUV acted like it was going to pass me, then it swerved and hit me. Just once.”

“Did you see the plate?”

“No. He hit his front right to my back left. I did see a broken headlight. I went into a ditch, rolled and ended up upside down. I want Eve to get protection, 24/7.”

“I’ll see to it. You have my word.”

“Your word is good. I… I’m glad it’s you, looking for this guy. Thank you.”

His hand lay on the edge of the bed, just inches away and she wanted to touch him. Touch that face nearly every woman he’d ever met found impossible to resist. Including me. But because she remembered every word he’d said that night, she knew the one woman who’d somehow failed to fall at his feet was the only one he’d ever wanted.

Because she had her pride, Olivia kept her hands to herself. “We’ll take care of Eve,” she said briskly. “I’ll leave my number with the nurse. Call if you remember anything.”

She’d turned to go when he stopped her.

“Olivia, wait. There’s something else you need to know.”

Eve hadn’t needed anyone to tell her Noah had entered David’s room. She’d felt him watching her, just as he’d watched her all those months. When they were in the hall, she turned to him, her hands slipping under his coat, holding on to the warmth of his back. His arms closed around her like steel bands and he held her, saying nothing.

Her cheek pressed against his chest, she rested. He laid his cheek against her head and she felt him settle. This is what I’ve missed, she thought. This is what they found. Caroline, Dana, Mia. They found a place to rest. To be safe. To not be alone.

Deep down Eve wished it could last. Deep down she let herself hope, just a little.

“I was scared to death when you didn’t answer your phone,” he murmured. “Please don’t do that to me again.”

Having someone worry over her was nothing new. But having someone like Noah worry was very new. It should feel constricting. Debilitating. But it didn’t. It felt warm, welcoming, like a cozy fire on a cold day.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I was talking to the real Buckland’s boss.”

“I know. Olivia told me.”

She pressed her face harder against him. “What could make him hate you so much, hate Looey so much? My God, Noah, Looey’s probably dead.”

“I know,” he whispered. “We’ll figure it out. Until then, you don’t leave my sight.”

“Okay.” She held on to him until Olivia came into the hall and cleared her throat.

“He wants to talk to you, Noah,” she said. “Come on, Eve, I’ll get you that coffee.”

Noah rested his hands on the rail at Hunter’s side. “You don’t look too bad.”

Hunter was lying back, eyes closed. “If it had been Eve in that car, she would be dead. She doesn’t have the strength in her hand to have fought with the wheel.”

Noah blew out a breath. “I know. I also know Olivia’s a damn good cop. She’s on it.”

“Last night I asked Eve if anybody’s looking at this guy for the Shadowland murders. I said the timing was too coincidental. She said it was in your mind.”

“It is. And I know it’s in Liv’s, too. We’ll be working this together.”

“Well, here’s another piece. I just told Olivia. Monday night when you came by, I’d put in those baby monitor cameras.”

“The pink ones. I remember.”

“Eve thought it was because of the Shadowland thing, that I was being overzealous. I didn’t tell her this, didn’t want her to worry any more than she already was. She told you she’d been having issues with her landlord?”

“She said her roof leaked.”

“Yeah, well, he’s pretty much let the place go to pot. When I first got there, when I was waiting for her to come back? I went up on the roof to check out the damage. The holes I found were man-made.”

Noah stared down at him. “You think her landlord’s behind all this?”

“God, I don’t know. I almost didn’t say anything because it sounds so crazy.”

“No, it’s good you did,” Noah said. “Olivia and I will check it out.”

“Olivia said Eve would get police protection.”

Grimly Noah recalled the terror that had ripped him inside out until she’d answered her phone, until he’d heard her voice. Known she was all right. “Yes.” Me.

Hunter met Noah’s eyes with his open one. “Other than you?”

“Yes. If that’s what she wants. Otherwise, it’ll be me.”

“Okay. I told her to give you a chance, but I want it to be her decision. I don’t want her to feel for-” Hunter froze. “What is this ring?”

Noah looked down at his own right hand on the side rail. “My college ring. Why?”

“I never saw his face, but I saw his hands. I looked over as he was coming up on me and I saw his hand on the steering wheel. He had tinted windows on the sides and back, but not on the windshield, so I could see him. Just barely.”

Noah’s pulse jolted. Something they could use. “I take it he wore a ring like mine.”

“Yeah,” Hunter said grimly. “Just like that one.”

“It’s a common design, but a place to start. I’ll tell Olivia and see where we end up.”

“Excuse me, Detective.” A nurse pushed in front of him. “Mr. Hunter has to go up to get his CAT scan now. You can wait in the waiting room.”

“Okay,” Noah said, then leaned over the rail. “Don’t worry. She’ll be safe with me.”

Eve handed Noah a cup of coffee from the vending machine when he rejoined them. “Extra sugar. Probably not sweet enough, but the best you’ll get from a machine.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Come on, let’s find a place for the three of us to talk.”

“Eve,” Olivia started when they’d found a quiet corner of the waiting room, “I know you think he’s got Noah in his sights and you got in the way, but we have to look at the possibility that you could be the target.”

“Look at it all you want,” Eve said. “It’s not me.”

“Still,” Noah said, “we want you to make a list of everybody that might want to hurt you or has a grudge against you. Include your landlord.”

Eve’s eyes widened. “You’ve got to be kidding. Myron Daulton? If David said that, he hit his head harder than we thought.”

“You’re blocking Daulton from selling that building and making a bundle,” Noah said.

“I know, but…” Eve sighed. “Okay, I’ll make a list. But that guy posing as Buckland is not Myron Daulton, I can tell you that right now. Myron’s about fifty and built like Homer Simpson. What about prints? Did you get any from what I gave you?”

“He’s not in the system,” Olivia said. “We ran the prints on that business card and the copy of that old photo you brought me, Eve. They matched prints we found in Looey’s place, so we can put him there, but no match in AFIS.”

Noah’s brows shot up. “You were busy today,” he said to Eve.

“I’ve had my moments,” Eve said dryly. “I want to know why he impersonated Looey to start with and if this is personal about you, Noah-which it is-what did you do to this guy? Or what does he think you did? I’ve seen a killer bent on revenge up close, and this guy was all about revenge. About showing you up and making you pay.”

“You and Jack should go back through your old cases,” Olivia said. “For the record.”

“If Jack and I arrested him, he would have shown up in AFIS.”

“Not if he was a juvenile at the time,” Eve said. “Or the revenge is for someone else.”

Olivia and Noah shared an amused glance. “You want my job, Eve?” Olivia asked.

Eve smiled sadly. “You have no idea how much. But bum hand, so no can do.”

Olivia patted Eve’s knee. “It’s overrated. And you can’t chase your own demons. You gotta be satisfied with chasing everybody else’s.” She looked back at Noah. “It’s almost time for Abbott’s five o’clock meeting. What should we do with Eve?”

“She has to come with us,” Noah said.

“Excuse me,” Eve said. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here, with David.”

“The doctors won’t let you stay with him,” Noah said. “They’ll watch him overnight and they’ll make you leave. Plus you’re having dinner with me.”

Night off. Callie. “What about my friend, Callie? He has her cell phone number. He may know where she lives.” She heard the panic in her voice and swallowed it back.

Olivia frowned. “How did he get her cell phone number?”

“Jeremy Lyons. He didn’t believe me yesterday morning so he told the reporter-guy how to get in touch with my friends, who’d give him the real story.”

“Where’s Callie now?” Olivia asked.

“Taking my shift at Sal’s.”

Olivia nodded. “Then she’s safe where she is. I’ll make sure the word gets out that if he shows up at Sal’s, they should keep him there. I’ll have someone escort her home. As for you, we’ll leave you here if you do not leave the waiting room. We’ll give hospital security a copy of the artist’s sketch, so they’ll be watching for him.”

“I’ll stay here where it’s safe,” Eve promised. “I’m not stupid.”

Wednesday, February 24, 4:55 p.m.

“Is Eve okay?” Jack asked when Noah sat next to him at Abbott’s small round table.

He and Olivia had arrived for Abbott’s five o’clock update to find everyone already gathered around the table except for Ian, who was in the middle of an autopsy.

“Yeah. She was here at the time, actually,” Noah answered, “working with a sketch artist to identify the guy who’s been impersonating Kurt Buckland.”

Jack’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Somebody’s been impersonating Kurt Buckland? When were you going to tell me this?”

Noah let out a sigh. Somewhere in his frazzled mind, he thought he had. “I’m sorry, Jack. We haven’t had much time to talk today, what with us driving separately.”

Abbott cleared his throat, moving over to give Olivia a seat. “Let’s share all that in turn,” he said frowning at both Noah and Jack. “Anything from last night’s scene?”

“We got the composition of both the accelerant he used,” Micki said, “and the flame suppressant. Both are common brands, available anywhere. No way to trace them. We’ve combed four scenes now, including Samantha Altman’s after the fact. We’ve found no prints, no hairs, nothing to track this guy forensically.”

“He’s probably shaved himself all over,” Carleton said. “It’s common with serial killers. The really successful ones know how not to leave a trail.”

“Thank goodness they’re overachievers,” Abbott said sarcastically. “What about Rachel Ward? Do we know where she met this guy?”

“At the Last Call Bar,” Kane said. “We should thank Eve, by the way. Her narrowing the list to the later-closing bars saved me a lot of time.”

Carleton turned to Kane. “Did Rachel Ward normally hang out at the Last Call?”

“No,” Kane said. “The bartender said he’d only seen her last night. She was waiting for a man, and got drunker the longer she waited. He took her keys and called her a cab. I confirmed with the cab company. By the time the cab arrived, Rachel was gone.”

“Security cameras?” Abbott asked.

“Broken. Probably for years,” Kane replied. “No help there. I can go back tonight and see if any of the regulars spotted anyone hanging out in the parking lot.”

“Do that.” Abbott drew a frustrated breath. “Let me get this straight, so that I don’t misrepresent us when I give the commander his evening update. We have no forensics at any of the scenes. Donner’s alibied by his wife and Girard is alibied by us. Jeremy Lyons is still missing. Everyone else has a solid alibi, including the brother of the latest victim, or the first victim, Amy Millhouse.”

“I thought you said you checked all the suicide reports,” Carleton said.

“We did. But we missed it because her brother cut her down and changed her clothes. Cleaned her face and everything,” Noah said.

“I take it you brought the brother in, then, Jack,” Olivia said. “But he’s alibied, too?”

Jack nodded. “He’s in Interview Four with his lawyer. He was flying back from a business trip in Chicago and I confirmed that he was there this morning. I thought if Millhouse wasn’t in any meetings this morning that it would have been possible for him to drive there after he killed Rachel Ward, then fly back, establishing an alibi.”

“It would have been a clever thing to do,” Carleton allowed. “Very much in keeping with this killer’s profile. It would have been good thinking, Jack, had it worked.”

Jack sighed. “Thanks. But Millhouse was in meetings from 8:00 a.m. right up until the time he left for the airport and he was in his hotel at seven. There’s no way he could have made it from here to Chicago, even if he’d driven straight from Rachel Ward’s house. He’s not our killer, even though he works with glue. It would have been perfect.”

“Did he say anything about his sister Amy playing in Shadowland?” Noah asked.

“No. He hasn’t said a word. Called his lawyer right away.”

Abbott scowled. “Ramsey says the most they’re willing to charge him with is disturbing a corpse, and they probably won’t do that. We’ll talk to the brother once more when we’re done here, then cut him loose.”

“What about Amy’s residence?” Noah asked, but Jack shook his head.

“New tenants already. I doubt we’d find anything after all this time. Building manager said they overhauled the place, painting, cleaning carpets. It’s a shi-shi neighborhood.”

“So do we know what the scene looked like?” Micki asked.

“Only that they changed her clothes,” Jack said. “That’s all Mom said earlier and brother Larry hasn’t spoken. Ian will call us with Amy Millhouse’s autopsy report. Amy was cremated, so we couldn’t exhume her if we wanted to.”

“Thanks,” Noah murmured.

Jack jerked a nod. “Sure.”

“We do have a little good news,” Abbott said, but his expression didn’t show it. “Axel Girard’s financials show he was issued a credit card two months ago and it was mailed to a post office box in St. Paul.”

“That seems way too obvious,” Noah said, “like catching Girard’s car on the surveillance video while he waited for Christy Lewis. It seems too simple.”

“Because it is,” Kane said. “I went to the box in St. Paul with a warrant but it was empty. There was a forwarding order-all mail was sent to a mailbox store downtown. Which was forwarded to another P.O. box right across the street.”

Abbott pointed to his window. “You can see the post office branch from here.”

“That box,” Kane said, “was full. Mostly junk mail, but the credit card was there.”

“So far no charges have been made to the card,” Abbott said.

“He never intended to use it,” Olivia said quietly. “He set this up, just like he’s set up the scene of every crime, to divert us.”

“And he was successful.” Kane shook his head. “Had me running all over town, all afternoon, when I should have been talking to Rachel Ward’s coworkers.”

“How is this good news?” Micki asked.

“Because it adds to the profile. He’s playing with us,” Carleton said sourly. “He hasn’t missed a step.”

“Yet,” Noah said grimly.

“Yet,” Carleton repeated. “This man, and it’s almost assuredly a man, exhibits a compulsion for order and control. Every scene, just right, exactly the same. The clues you’ve found are of his design-the dress, the shoes, the scene itself. No hairs, no fibers left behind. He knows what you’ll look for and how you’ll search.”

“He could just watch a lot of television,” Jack grumbled.

“Perhaps,” Carleton said. “Or he could be trained.”

Abbott leaned back, troubled. “He could be a cop?”

“Perhaps,” Carleton repeated with a slight frown. “The need for order and control are often characteristics seen in law enforcement. No offense intended, of course,” he added quickly when everyone around the table frowned. “I see a contempt for women, in the way he lures them away from their homes, and there is a cruelty as he forces them to experience their worst fears. This is also another show of control.”

“Why contempt for women?” Abbott asked. “Does he hate his mother or something?”

“Not all men hate women because they hate their mothers, Bruce,” Carleton said, “but it is the most common factor. We all had mothers of some kind. It’s entirely possible his contempt for women stems from a poor relationship with his mother. It could also stem from abuse. I’d say that’s more likely given the hands-on violence with which he kills them.”

“Why glue their eyes?” Micki asked and Carleton sighed.

“He wants them to look at him, to know who it is who dominates them.”

“But he doesn’t sexually assault them,” Jack said. “Why not?”

“He doesn’t feel he needs to,” Carleton said. “He’s stronger than that.”

“No. He’s afraid of them,” Olivia said and everyone turned to look at her, surprised.

Carleton’s brows lifted. “Excuse me?”

Olivia moved her shoulders restlessly. “No offense, Doc, but to have them nude and tied in a straitjacket and not assault them? He dresses them up, paints their faces, gives them sexy shoes… Leaves them looking like whores.”

Noah considered it. “He picks lonely women who haven’t had physical sex with a man in some time and makes them whores in every way but the most physical way.”

“And then he hangs them and waits for them to be found,” Jack finished. “He never starts on the next victim until his last has been discovered.”

“That’s the compulsion for order,” Carleton said. “Your theory is an interesting one, Olivia, but I don’t see fear here. Just intelligence, power, and control.”

“And arrogance,” Kane added. “Setting up a post office box right across the street.”

“I’ve met very few arrogant killers that were patient,” Noah said thoughtfully. “All of his victims were discovered within a few days of their murder except for Martha. She hung there for more than a week. I wonder if he got impatient while he waited. What might he do, Carleton? If his order was disturbed?”

“I think that depends on why he’s doing this,” Carleton replied. “He’s taunting you with clues that lead you to nothing. Maybe he just hates cops.”

“Or fears them,” Olivia added stubbornly and Carleton smiled.

“Or fears them,” he allowed. “I’ve researched case studies and found nothing similar. This killer is unique.”

“Three cheers for us,” Abbott said sarcastically.

“Captain?” Faye peeked around the door, entering when Abbott waved her in. “We just got a call from somebody who saw the story on the TV news. She says she saw Martha Brisbane on February 13.”

“The night she died,” Noah said. “Who is this woman?”

“Priscilla Bolyard. She was sitting with her husband in a coffee shop and Martha sat next to the window for a long time, obviously waiting for someone, then left at 9:15.”

“How did she remember the exact time?” Noah asked.

“Because her husband wanted to get home to watch a fight on pay-per-view, so they left right behind Martha. Here’s their contact info- Priscilla and Stuart Bolyard.” Faye made an apprehensive face. “Mrs. Bolyard specifically requested ‘that handsome detective on the MSP cover.’ They’re saving all the details for you, Jack.”

Jack slouched in his chair, his face darkening. “Wonderful,” he muttered.

“We’ll talk to them,” Noah said.

“Wait,” Abbott said when Noah started to stand. “Nobody leaves yet. The Buckland case. Sit down, tell us what you know, and how it connects.”

Wednesday, February 24, 5:15 p.m.

Eve settled on a vinyl sofa in the waiting room and started up her laptop. David was still getting scanned, so she had time. Logging in to Shadowland, she was relieved to see Kathy Kirk wheeling and dealing from Ninth Circle. Eve made a note to ask Noah to provide Kathy protection tonight. None of her female red-zones were safe, but Kathy’s condition made her particularly vulnerable.

She jumped at a sound behind her and looked over her shoulder to the door. “Sal.”

“Are you all right?” Sal demanded. He came around the bank of chairs to search her face. “I just heard what happened to your friend. That could have been you.”

“Was supposed to have been,” Eve corrected. “I’m sorry, Sal, I should have called you to warn you about this guy again.”

Sal’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you worry about us. I posted the sketch of this asshole at the bar, so if he has the balls to come back, we’ll take him down.”

Sal didn’t often take a belligerent tone but Eve knew he was scared. And grieving. “I’m sorry about Looey.”

He cleared his throat gruffly. “Looey was a good guy. Never would hurt a soul. Jeff Betz is crawling the wall, wishing he had his hands on that guy again. Eve, what’s going on here? This is craziness.”

“Yeah, I know,” Eve said glumly. “You be careful, okay? If he comes back…”

“If he comes back, it’ll be the last thing he does.”

“Sal,” Eve said, gripping his arm urgently. “Promise me you won’t do anything-”

“Anything what, Eve?” he asked, too quietly. “Stupid?”

Eve felt a shiver of apprehension. “Dangerous. Sal, you’re important to me.”

He sighed, wearily. “Dammit, Eve. I hate that he put his hands on you in my bar.”

“I know.” She hesitated. “You and Josie… you’ve been so good to me. Like… parents. Don’t flip out on me and get yourself killed. I’d never forgive myself.”

He was quiet a moment. “All right. Callie’s on tonight. We’ll watch over her.”

“Thank you. Sal, he was in your office last night. He put something in my computer bag. You should check the back door, make sure you’ve thrown the deadbolt.”

He made a frustrated sound, a growling in his throat. But when he spoke, it was calmly. “I will. You want me to sit with you?”

She shook her head. “I’d feel better if you were watching Callie. Olivia’s got all the security guys here watching for him.”

He rose. “All right then. Call me if you need me, honey. I’ll be here quick.”

“Thank you.” Eve watched him go, praying he’d stay calm. Half wishing this Buckland imposter would go back to the bar where fifty cops could bag him, and not too gently, but hoping he stayed far away from the people she loved.

Too antsy to sit still, Eve brought up a search screen and typed in Noah’s name before she realized she’d planned to do so.

Nothing Olivia said had changed Eve’s instinct that this “reporter’s” vendetta was against Noah. But why? And why now? Noah’s name brought back a page full of links to the MSP article on the Hat Squad. That was new, the article. Out in the last few weeks. Three weeks. Amy Millhouse had died three weeks ago. Coincidence? Unlikely.

Eve considered it. The article had brought the detectives a lot of attention, most of it unwanted. Some people, like Sal and me, were proud of their detectives.

But there was another element that might not take so kindly to positive press for the police. Who? Noah put away dangerous people. Any one of them could hate him.

“Evie? Oh my God, Evie.”

Eve looked up to see Tom Hunter rushing into the waiting room. At his side was a tall young woman. She was pale, her eyes bleak and red-rimmed, and even from across the waiting room Eve could feel her desperation. Eve put her laptop aside and rose, grabbing Tom’s hands. “He’s all right,” she said. “Take a deep breath.”

Tom shuddered out a breath. “I just got your messages. I’m sorry.”

“Where were you?” Eve asked, then leaned forward. “And who is she?”

“This is Liza,” Tom said. “She’s a friend. Where is David?”

“Getting a CAT scan. Relax,” Eve said. “It’ll be fine.” She stretched out a hand to Liza, who stood awkwardly to the side. “I’m Eve.”

Liza shook her hand, but tentatively. “Tom’s told me about you.”

Eve held on to Liza’s hand, studying her drawn face. The girl looked as if she were about to pass out. “Liza, when did you last eat?”

She winced. “I can’t remember.”

Tom gave the girl a look of mild reproach. “I told you to buy food.”

“I did. I forgot to eat it,” she said rebelliously.

“The cafeteria is on the second floor,” Eve said. “Get her some dinner.”

“Okay. You want anything?”

“No, I ate lunch. And if David doesn’t need me, I have a… dinner… thing.”

Tom’s eyes widened. “A dinner thing? Is that, like, a date?”

Eve felt her cheek heat. “Yeah, like, a date.”

“Well, it’s about time. Who is he? Can I meet him?”

“I think he’d like that. He’s kind of a fan of yours. You two get food, then come back and let me get to know your friend.”

She watched them go, speculatively. Eve had seen terror and despair in her own eyes for years and Liza’s were filled with both. She also knew of Tom’s penchant for helping those in need. She hoped he hadn’t involved himself in anything dangerous.

Not, of course, that I can talk. David was getting a CAT scan because Eve had gotten herself involved in the Shadowland murders and then with Noah, and by association, this maniac that wanted to hurt them.

With a sigh Eve sat, continuing her search of articles about Noah. There’s something here. I just have to find it.