I Can See You

Chapter Twenty-three

Thursday, February 25, 11:10 a.m.

It’s that damn list,” Eve said, sitting at Noah’s desk. Olivia and Kane stood ready to haul her off to the safe house at Abbott’s command. Not yet. I need to think.

“But the Fox woman isn’t on the list,” Kane said.

“Exactly. It’s to throw us off,” Eve said. “He knew we had the list.”

“There is no ‘we.’ ” Olivia frowned. “There is us, and there is you. You are not part of this anymore, Eve. You’re in too much danger already.”

“And I’ll continue to be until we catch him. Where is Jeremy Lyons?”

“Still missing,” Kane said. “No credit card activity or contact with family and friends.”

He could be dead. Or he could be a killer. “You’ve checked the grad students’ alibis. Donner didn’t do it, because you’ve got one more and he was dead when it happened.”

Olivia and Kane shared a look. “Eve, you’re leaving,” Olivia said calmly. She pulled Eve to her feet but Eve yanked her arm away and sat back down.

“Let me think. Virginia wasn’t on my list, but she and Natalie were friends. Sit down, Olivia. Please. I need to do this. There is something here.” Eve stared at the list on her laptop screen. But the answer wasn’t here. She logged back in to Shadowland as Olivia gave in, pulling a chair behind her with a frustrated sigh.

“Abbott’s gonna have my ass in a sling,” Olivia grumbled.

Eve didn’t respond. She was pulling up user accounts.

“What are you doing?” Kane asked standing behind her.

Eve rubbed her forehead. “Don’t ask, don’t tell. I hacked in, okay?”

“Cool,” Kane said, impressed.

“Don’t encourage her,” Olivia hissed, then sighed. “What are we looking for?”

“I’m not sure. This here is Virginia Fox’s account. And this is her poker avatar, Cicely.” She pointed to the screen. “Cicely used to sit next to Natalie’s avatar at the poker table. But Virginia’s got other avatars. This one she bought from Pandora. From me, I mean.” Eve’s eyes narrowed and her heart started to beat harder. “No way.”

“No way what?” Kane demanded, hulking over her shoulder.

Eve clicked on the Pandora avatar. “She changed the face. She changed my code.”

“Like the killer did to his victims’ avatars,” Olivia said.

“Is it like a fingerprint?” Kane asked. “The code change?”

“No. I mean, I use software packages for design like everybody else does, so my code’s not unique. But the pattern and placement of the change is the same as what we saw with Martha and Christy’s avatars. Either Virginia showed him how to change Pandora’s faces or he showed her.”

“How can you figure out which?” Kane asked.

Eve went to the messaging area. “You can talk in the World, or you can send private messages, avatar to avatar. So nobody knows your real name or account name.”

“Virginia sent messages to somebody?” Olivia asked, leaning forward. “Please?”

“Yeah, she did.” Eve clicked through them. “We’re lucky she kept them. Here’s the message where she sends him the text to cut and paste to make the changes.” She looked over her shoulder, met Olivia’s eyes. “Three weeks ago.”

“When all this started,” Olivia said. “Who did she send the message to?”

Eve clicked the message header open and was unsurprised. “What a shock. It went to Dasich. Damn it, I knew something was wrong with that guy. Virginia’s Cicely and this Dasich were thrown out of the casino last night for cheating.”

“So how do we find a live body for this Dasich avatar?” Olivia asked.

“I access his account,” Eve said, already typing.

“How, if you don’t know who he is?” Kane asked.

Eve hesitated. “Accessing an account starting with the avatar takes the highest authority. After all, sometimes you want to go where no one knows your name.”

“Do you have this authority, Eve?” Olivia asked quietly.

“Yes. I kept upping my privileges until I’m executive level, but I haven’t used it yet. I didn’t need it before, because I knew the victims’ real names from the study, and Virginia actually registered with her real name. When I go backward, from the avatar to the account, I may raise flags at ShadowCo.” She turned to look at Olivia again. “I don’t want this coming back to hurt Noah or any of you.”

“What about you?” Olivia asked.

Eve shrugged. “They could prosecute. Then again, if we save the day, who knows? At a minimum, I’ll be a goddess to hairy-palmed hackers everywhere. But it’s too late. I already did the search, and… we have a winner. The Dasich avatar is owned by the account of Irene Black.”

“So Irene Black is a man?” Kane asked.

“Irene Black could be anyone. I told Abbott that nobody uses their real name when they register. That Virginia did is a surprise. I didn’t.” She opened Irene Black’s file. “These are all the avatars this gamer owns, five of them. Looks like he bought all but one from Pandora’s shop. See, here is Dasich, the poker player.” Eve clicked on each one, then abruptly sagged back in her chair. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Olivia leaned closer. “What?”

“That avatar. It’s Drink Guy. He trolls Ninth Circle, asking females if he can buy them a drink. He hit on my Greer avatar every time I went through the bar. That’s how he hunted.”

“All right,” Olivia said urgently. “If nobody uses their real name, how do we find him?”

“Follow the money,” Kane murmured. “That’s what Web was doing, when I went all over town tracing Axel Girard’s credit card. Can you access Irene’s financial info?”

Eve clicked, then frowned when a scolding message popped up. “ ‘You do not have access to this information. Account blocked.’ ” She looked up at Kane, frustrated. “Apparently, there’s a super-executive access for credit card info. And I probably just shot a big ole flare to ShadowCo that I’m here.” Rapidly she logged out. “If they’re any good, they already know where I’m sitting. Dammit.”

“We’ll deal with the fallout,” Olivia said. “We have one name. Irene Black.” She pushed her chair away and pulled Eve to her feet. “Put on your coat. Kane, get her out of here and into that safe house before Abbott gets back and kicks our asses.”

Eve buttoned up her coat. “You’re not coming?”

“No, I’m going to call Abbott with this, then I’m going to have another go at Dell. I’ll visit you, bring you a cake with a file in it,” she joked soberly. “This will be over soon.”

“I hope. Tell Noah…” Eve’s cheeks warmed. “Tell him to be careful.”

“You bet. Now get out of here. You’re safe with Kane. I trust him with my life.”

Blinking away her fatigue, Olivia watched them go. Six dead women, two Lincoln Navigators, a lunatic Farmer, and a drug dealer named Damon. And now they’d added one Irene Black to the mix. She’d pulled out her cell to call Abbott when it rang in her hand. It was the DA’s office. “Sutherland.”

“It’s Brian Ramsey. I’ve got a little good news. I’m authorized to deal with your dealer, Damon. Meet me in Interview in twenty. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Olivia set out to meet Ramsey, calling Abbott on her way.

Thursday, February 25, 11:30 a.m.

Eve’s mind was still racing as she and Kane went down in the elevator to his car. “All right, so we have Irene Black, but it still comes back to the list. Whoever did these murders had access to that damn list.”

“Jeremy Lyons did and he’s missing,” Kane said.

Eve sighed. “Donner did and he’s dead. I guess knowing he was sick puts some of his responses into a different light. He was running out of time.”

“He wanted to leave a legacy,” Kane said quietly. “Most people do.”

“True. I wonder if he really believed we were testing often enough or just convinced himself we were. I tried to tell him that we were affecting people’s lives, but without the personality testing scores, he wouldn’t believe me.”

“I doubt it would have mattered.”

She looked up at him as the elevator doors slid open. “What do you mean?”

Kane shrugged. “He was dying. Desperate. Desperate people do unexpected things. It’s possible he would have ignored the results even if you’d done the tests.”

“No, he couldn’t have ignored them. He wouldn’t even have seen them. The results went straight from the independent third-party therapist to the committee. It was part of the checks and balances. If personality tests started showing huge swings, as they would have done with the red-zones, the committee would have stopped the study.”

“My car’s on the right,” Kane said as they walked through the parking garage. “So who was this third-party therapist?”

Eve stopped. “I don’t know. I wasn’t supposed to know, just as I wasn’t supposed to know the subjects’ real names.”

Kane had stopped, too. “Would Donner have known who it was?”

“Yes.” She let out a breath. “And what Donner knew, Jeremy knew. He told me so.”

“And would that person have had access to the list?”

Eve opened her mouth to reply, then watched in shock as Kane dropped to the cement floor of the garage like a rock. She looked up, stunned.

Between two parked vehicles a man wearing a fedora was sliding a club into his coat pocket. In his other hand he held a gun with a silencer. “I’d say he almost certainly would have access to that list.”

She stood, staring into a face she knew. But that she had never quite trusted. Then instinct surged. Run. Eve swung her computer bag at his arm, knocking the gun from his hand. His grunt echoed as the gun skittered a few feet away.

She turned and ran as fast as she could. Then stumbled to her knees on a cry of pain when fire bored through her thigh. Goddammit. He shot me. She pushed herself to her feet and had gotten a little farther when he came from between two parked cars and dragged her backward. His arm was over her throat, bending her backward, cutting off her air.

Eve grabbed at his arm over her throat, trying to breathe, trying to drag in air to scream. Then she felt a prick on the side of her throat. In seconds her body went limp, her vision blurred. From far away she heard his voice in her ear, distorted and slow.

“Eve. Didn’t your parents teach you not to get into cars with strange men?”

Thursday, February 25, 12:10 p.m.

Noah burst into the bullpen, followed by Abbott and Micki. His heart was pounding out of his chest. Eve was gone. “What the fuck happened?”

Kane sat at his desk, an ice bag on his head. Olivia stood at his side, pale, but her eyes were clear and focused.

“Status?” Abbott demanded. He’d barked orders into both his cell and the radio the whole way back from Virginia Fox’s house while Noah drove like a bat out of hell.

“Garage is locked down,” Olivia said steadily. “BOLO is out, cars all over the city are on alert. I put a watch on the interstates and roadblocks at the major arteries out of town. State patrol is en route with air support.”

Abbott’s nod was tense. “Good work.” He gave Kane a visual once-over. “You didn’t see him?”

Kane shook his head miserably. “No.”

“What happened?” Noah bit out.

Kane looked up, pain in his eyes. “One minute we were talking, the next I was waking up.”

Olivia sat next to him. “Kane came to about seven minutes later and called it in. I looked at the security video right away. Somebody came up behind him and hit him with a club. Eve slung that computer bag of hers at him and ran. She knocked the gun away, but he got it back.” She hesitated and Noah’s heart stopped.

“What? What happened?”

“He shot her in the thigh, then dragged her away.” Her hands were shaking. “A different camera showed him put her in a black BMW, plate registered to Donner.”

Noah wouldn’t think about what he’d just seen, the grotesque butchering of Virginia Fox’s eyes. He wouldn’t think about what a killer was doing to Eve, right this minute.

Except it was all he could think about. Don’t hurt her. Just don’t hurt her. But he would hurt her. He would kill her. Stop it. Be a cop, for God’s sake. Noah clamped his fingers into his head and made himself look up. “How badly was she bleeding?”

“Not gushing,” Olivia said, “so it’s unlikely he hit anything vital.”

He hit something vital. He hit Eve.

“I’m sorry, Web,” Kane said hoarsely.

“Not your fault.” Numb, Noah sank into a chair. “What did he look like? He was on the camera, for God’s sake.”

Olivia shook her head. “Not when he was hitting Kane. He came up between a minivan and an SUV. All you can see is Kane dropping. Once he’d shot Eve, he kept between the cars and when he dragged her he was bending over. He’s on the short side. I’m guessing he’s five-eight. He was wearing a beige overcoat with the collar up and a black fedora so you couldn’t see his face. I already asked for the video to be sent up, so we can look at it again. I put everything we have in the BOLO. Everyone is searching.”

“How did he get out of the garage? How did he pay?” Noah asked desperately.

“He was there less than thirty minutes,” Olivia said wearily. “He put his ticket in the slot and the arm went up. No charge. God, Noah, I’m sorry.”

“Then he’d parked here before. He knew if he was there less than thirty minutes that he’d be able to exit without needing a credit card or going through the attendant booth.”

“I thought of that. Right now security is checking the tapes for that BMW on other days that it might have parked here.”

“And I put a team in the garage,” Micki added, “in case he left something behind when he struggled with Eve.”

He nodded numbly. “Dell. He knows something. We need to make him talk.”

“We tried all night,” Olivia said harshly. “He won’t talk.”

Let me talk to him, Noah thought viciously. He’ll talk to me.

“Don’t even ask,” Abbott warned.

Noah looked away. Think. “What did we find on Dell? In his vehicle?”

“The GPS tracking screen,” Olivia said. “Kurt Buckland’s cell phone and a couple of untraceable cell phones. A copy of MSP. Newspaper articles about you and Jack going way back. All your cases. Transcripts of times you’d testified in court.”

“Lots of pictures,” Micki added. “Going back months. We found cameras in both Dell’s and Harvey’s cars, so they were both surveilling.”

“Let me see the pictures,” Noah said, his voice flat.

“Noah, just go home,” Abbott said. “We’ve got eyes all over the city searching for his car. Everyone understands the urgency. We will find him.”

“Let me see the fucking pictures,” Noah repeated, hostilely, and Abbott shrugged.

“Fine, let’s see them. Faye,” he called, “get the head of security up here with a copy of the tapes. I want to review them myself.”

As a group they moved to Abbott’s office and Micki dumped a stack of photographs on Abbott’s round table. “I don’t know what you’re looking for, Web,” she said.

“Neither do I. Where are the cameras?”

“In the evidence room,” Micki said. “I’ll get them.” She left as Olivia’s cell rang.

Olivia grimaced at the ID. “Ramsey’s waiting for me in Interview with Damon.”

“Go,” Abbott said. “Good luck.”

Noah didn’t look up when she left. He was sorting photos with single-minded focus. There was something here. There has to be.

Thursday, February 25, 12:10 p.m.

Didn’t your parents… Eve couldn’t breathe. She could only stare up into Winters’s face as he grabbed the twine and pulled. Can’t breathe. Going to die. Again. Didn’t your parents- No. I won’t go there again.

She opened her eyes with a hard jerk and found herself looking into the amused face of Dr. Carleton Pierce. He smiled at her, patting her face mildly. She tried to bite him but when her head turned it moved slowly, as if through molasses.

“What did you give me?” she asked him, her words slurred.

“Ketamine. Don’t worry, it’ll wear off. And it’s not addictive, although that doesn’t really matter. You wouldn’t be living long enough to care if it were.”

“Noah… will find you.”

Pierce laughed out loud. “No, he won’t, my dear, but you go on thinking that if it makes you feel better. How’s your leg?”

“Shot,” she said, her teeth clenched. She was lying on the backseat of his car and her thigh burned where his bullet had pierced her flesh.

“Well, I’ve bandaged you up,” he said, mockingly benign. “Don’t want you to bleed out. I’m not done with you. In fact, I haven’t even started.” He smiled and Eve tasted true fear. She’d seen that smile before, on Winters’s face… before he killed me.

“Very good,” he said. “I can see the fear in your eyes. Did you like my message?”

Pain mixed with fear to back the breath up in her lungs. “I thought it was Dell.”

“And it suited me for you to think so. But now, I find I want the credit.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out another syringe and she twisted hard to roll, move, anything to get away. But his knee clamped over her thighs. “It’ll hurt less if you don’t fight me.” He plunged the needle into her neck. “That will hold you until I get you where we’re going. Listen, Eve.” He put a microrecorder near her ear and clicked a button.

And once again Eve heard Winters’s voice. “I stabbed her, eight times. She tried to claw at me. Feisty little thing she was. So I slashed her hand, then her face.”

“Why her face?” another man asked. “I mean, you’d already all but killed her.”

“Because she thought she was pretty. Because I wanted to. Because I could.”

She was fading fast, faster than before. She blinked hard, and clicking off the recorder, Pierce leaned close. “I’ll kill you,” he whispered, “because I can. Because I wish it. Because it will give me pleasure. But it won’t be quick. You’ll wish you were dead, but I won’t make it as easy as Winters did. Don’t worry, Eve. You’ll see.”

He stepped back, drawing sweet cold air through his nostrils. This was going to be so good. He’d been in a constant state of arousal since he’d forced Eve to the back of his wife’s car. The knowledge he’d been carrying his wife and Liza in the trunk all this time… This was going to be so good.

He wouldn’t limit himself to killing her only once. Eve had died twice before. I’ll let her relive that, moment by moment, again and again. He had visions of his hands around her throat, taking her almost to death. Then letting her come back. And letting himself go. Again and again. It was going to be an amazing experience.

He slid from the backseat and looked both ways. No one was coming. He’d pulled to a side road, well outside the city limits, a smart move given the chatter on his police scanner. They were searching the city and the highways, but they’d never look for him way out here. Still, he needed to hurry. He was only another twenty minutes from his place.

He prepared another syringe to administer to Eve just before he took her into the house. She was tall, and stronger than she looked. She’d nearly gotten away, back in the garage. Bitch. He rolled his shoulder gingerly. That computer bag of hers had been as hard as a brick. That’s why he always went for the petite types. They took far less effort to subdue, leaving him more energy for the main event. He didn’t want to fight with Eve again until he had her tied to the narrow bed in his basement. But when he was ready… He liked it when they fought on his terms. It made it so much better. Eve was going to be the kill of his life.

He went around to the trunk to check on his other passengers. His wife was still quiet. Being dead did help that. And Liza was still in a stupor. She wouldn’t give him much trouble. She’d been bordering on catatonic since she’d realized she was riding with a dead woman. She probably still thought it was her sister. That made him smile.

“You shouldn’t have come looking for your sister,” he murmured. “And she shouldn’t have been a hooker. But she was, and you did, and now you’re mine.”

He closed the trunk and headed for his place. Arranging the details to explain his wife’s upcoming extended absence had taken most of the morning. It was only sheer luck that he’d been back to his car in time to hear police scanner chatter about the discovery of another homicide. He couldn’t let the opportunity to watch Webster’s horror at his final “Red Dress Kill” pass by unenjoyed. And it was good that he had not. Good to know Donner was dead before he set him up any further.

Of course the best thing to come out of his visit to Virginia’s this morning was the news that Eve was going to a safe house. Once she’d been so ensconced, it would have been nearly impossible to get to her without arousing suspicion.

Taking her in the police garage had been a necessary risk. And, he had to admit, an awesome thrill. But even better thrills were to come.

Thursday, February 25, 12:45 p.m.

Noah put his head in his hands. Eyes all over the city and no one had seen anything. She’d been gone an hour. Time enough for whoever took her to be miles away. “Where’s Pierce? We need a better profile.”

“I’ll call him,” Abbott said and Noah began searching each pile of photos again as Micki returned with two cameras, both with a long-range zoom.

“Here it is,” she said. “And I think I found out what he meant by ‘he almost got you.’ ”

She showed Noah the view screen, pointing at the shadowy interior of, surprise, a black SUV. “Whoever that is had a gun trained on you and Eve.”

“Thanks,” he murmured.

“Farmer’s got pictures here of you in front of Jack’s house last night,” she went on, “but most of the rest of what’s on this memory card he’s already printed out.”

“So we keep looking,” he said, and started searching again. Everyone at the table picked up a stack, even though none of them knew what they were looking for.

Abbott rejoined them. “I left Carleton a message. Give me those pictures, Noah. You’ve looked through them twice already. Look at something different.”

Noah handed him the photos from Martha Brisbane’s and picked up a new stack. They were from Christy Lewis’s house. Monday night. He put the pictures in sequential order, trying to remember what had happened that night three days before.

They’d arrived first, he and Jack. There was a picture of him taking Eve out the back of the patrol car and the officers uncuffing her. He’d put her in his own car and then the rest of the team had arrived in waves-Ian, Micki, and Carleton.

That was the night Jack was afraid of the snake. Noah saw the picture of Jack leaving the house, getting in the car with Eve. Then Ian left, he remembered, followed by Carleton. Noah frowned, not knowing how to order some of the pictures. He squinted at one, unsure of even what or who it was.

“This is Eve’s car parked in front of Christy’s,” he said. “But who is this?” He angled the picture toward the light. It was a man, hunched over near the hubcap.

“That’s Carleton,” Micki said. “I’d recognize those Bruno Maglis anywhere.”

“Is it always the shoes, Micki?” Abbott asked, exasperated.

“Christy’s shoes might be important,” she insisted stubbornly, “no matter what Dr. Pierce said. Noah, are you okay?”

Noah had brought the picture to an inch from his eyes, still squinting. “Is this still on the memory card of Farmer’s camera?”

“Yes.” She began scrolling back through the pictures Farmer had taken. “Why?”

Noah could feel each beat of his heart. “Just enlarge it. I want to see his hand.”

Noah took the camera, willing his hands not to shake. “He has a ring like mine.”

“So?” Abbott said. “He showed us his ring yesterday.”

“Those are Eve’s keys in his hand. Somebody stole Eve’s keys that night.”

Abbott frowned. “You can’t be serious, Noah.”

“Eve dropped her keys. Micki, you said CSU combed the area and didn’t find them.”

Abbott still shook his head. “Assuming those are her keys, just because he took them doesn’t mean anything.”

“They’re hers,” Noah said stubbornly. “When we were searching for her keys, she said she had a police whistle on her key ring, and there it is. Somebody broke into her apartment that night while she was here, with us, but there was no sign of forced entry, because he used her keys. Later that night I changed her lock, and a few hours later that person came back. We assumed it was Buckland.”

“You mean Dell,” Abbott corrected.

“Whatever. Listen to me. When I got to the Bolyards’ last night, my first thought was how did someone know to kill them? Could it have been one of us?”

“That’s absurd. Bolyard confronted Don…” Abbott’s voice trailed. “He never talked to Donner. Donner was being set up. Whoever made that call to the TV news, lied.”

“Exactly. Bolyard might have told someone else, but the only person that would benefit from their murder was the one he’d seen in the coffee house. It wasn’t Donner. Also, Pierce was at Christy’s scene Monday night because he was here when I got Eve’s call. He was at Virginia Fox’s this morning, but he wasn’t here when Natalie called. How did he know to come to Virginia’s house? Did you call him, Bruce?”

Abbott slowly shook his head. “I thought you did.”

Micki and Kane were shaking their heads as well. “Liv didn’t,” Kane said. “We were together until I…” He swallowed. “Until I took Eve to the garage.”

Noah nodded grimly. “So none of us called him and Virginia’s name wasn’t on the list. But he knew we’d go there. Sonofabitch wanted to watch us.”

“I can’t believe this,” Abbott said. “It is too incredible. I’ve known Carleton Pierce for years. Years.”

Noah leaned in close. “Think about it, Bruce. He was there at Virginia’s when you said Kane was taking Eve to the safe house. Then he was gone. Twenty minutes later, Eve is gone.”

Abbott pursed his lips. “He was more upset about Donner’s suicide than Virginia Fox’s murder. He set Donner up, but didn’t know he’d killed himself.”

Kane went still. “Right before he hit me, Eve and I were talking about her study. She said Donner had appointed an independent third-party counselor in case anyone in the study became unstable or suicidal. She didn’t know who that was. I’d just asked her if that person would have access to the subject list.”

Abbott’s jaw twitched. “Donner knew. Who else would know?”

“Jeremy Lyons,” Noah said. “But he’s missing. Where is he? Did we get his LUDs?”

Abbott riffled through the papers on his desk. “Yeah. Faye gave them to me before my meeting with the brass, but we rushed to Donner’s.” He handed the papers to Noah.

“These are home LUDs,” Noah said. “We asked for Jeremy’s cell, too.”

“Cover letter says no cells in his or his wife’s name,” Abbott said.

“They had pay-as-you-go phones,” Kane said. “Mrs. Lyons said they were counting pennies.”

Noah scanned their home LUDs and a number jumped out. “This is the same number that called Eve’s cell-twice. One was a text, the other a voicemail.”

“That number called the Lyonses’ home phone at least once a day up until Monday, right at 5:00 p.m.,” Abbott said, looking over Noah’s shoulder.

“When Lyons picked up his kid from day care,” Kane said. “That’s Jeremy’s cell.”

“What text and voicemail did he leave for Eve?” Micki asked.

“Rob Winters’s last words,” Noah murmured. “Eve’s worst fear. We thought it was Dell Farmer, but it was Jeremy Lyons.”

“It was Jeremy Lyons’s phone,” Kane corrected.

Noah looked at Kane. “You think Jeremy’s dead.”

Kane looked miserable, but he nodded. “He was a weasel to Eve, but everyone swore he loved his kid. He never picked her up on Tuesday and never called home.”

Noah stood up. “I’m going to his house. Pierce’s house.”

“And then what?” Abbott said. “A shoe next to Eve’s keys isn’t enough for a warrant.”

“I don’t care.” Noah grabbed his hat, but Abbott grabbed his arm.

“Sit down, Noah.” His voice was like a whip. “We’re not going to run off half-cocked. We’re going to call Ramsey, see what we need to get a warrant. In the meantime, Kane and Micki, go to Marshall, serve the warrant on Donner’s office, see if he mentions Pierce anywhere. A known association would get us a warrant for Pierce’s house and office. See if anybody saw Pierce with Donner. Take his picture in a six-pack of mugs.”

“I’m not going to just sit here,” Noah said. His voice trembled and he didn’t care.

“Yeah, you are. But we’ll call Donner’s wife. See if he had a calendar or diary. We’ll ask if she’s seen Pierce with him. We’ll follow the law. Mick, you drive. Kane still looks a little dazed. Call me when you find anything, even if it’s nothing. Go.”

Thursday, February 25, 1:05 p.m.

“That was good work,” Brian Ramsey said as the officer led a grumbling Damon to a cell. “I didn’t have to deal as low as I wanted and you got what you needed.”

Olivia looked at the license plate number Damon had provided. “I hope it’s legit.”

“Well-heeled gentlemen venturing to the wrong side of the tracks for tricks make good blackmail victims. Nobody wants their wives to know they’ve been trolling.”

“Thanks, Brian. I’m going to call this in, see who it belongs to.”

He put his briefcase back down. “Have to say I’m curious.” Then he rolled his eyes when his own cell rang. “I miss the days of bad reception.”

Olivia moved to one side of the room to give him privacy. “Hey, Faye, I’ve got a Wisconsin plate for you to run.”

“You need to get back here, girl,” Faye said. “It’s a zoo.”

Olivia straightened, her already queasy gut churning. “Why? Is it Jack? Eve?”

“No. No news there. They looked through those pictures and think it’s Dr. Pierce.”

Olivia sank back against the corner of the steel table. “What?”

“You heard me. Carleton Pierce. So give me the plate. I’ll run it.”

Stunned, Olivia did and felt the table shudder when Ramsey sat on his corner. She turned to find him looking at her, looking as poleaxed as she felt.

“It’s Abbott,” Ramsey said. “He wants us both in his office.”

Keeping her phone to her ear, Olivia made her feet move and was in the hall when Faye came back. “Got a name for you. Black, Irene, age sixty-two. The address is a PO box, Eau Claire, Wisconsin. Mean anything to you?”

“Yeah. It does.” Irene Black got around. “Give the info to Abbott. We’re coming.”

Ramsey glanced at her as they jogged to the exit. “Who does the SUV belong to?”

“Our Shadowland hunter.”

“So now we have an address?” he said, but she shook her head.

“A PO box. He’s done this before. It’s a shell game. I’ll meet you at Abbott’s.”

She was three steps from her car when her cell rang again. “Sutherland.”

“It’s Tom Hunter.”

He didn’t know about Eve. Neither did David. Dammit. “Not a good time, Tom.”

“Wait. I tried to call Liza, but she’s not answering her phone. I got worried and called the school, but she never showed up today.”

Olivia rested her pounding forehead against her car. “I’ll send a car to her address.”

“I’m here now. Olivia, she’s gone and her neighbor says her mom died last year. She was living all alone with her sister.” She heard him suck in a panicked breath. “I knocked on every door in her building, showed a picture I took from her apartment. One old lady said she saw her getting into a car with a man. She said Liza looked sick.”

Olivia felt sick. “What kind of car?”

“Black BMW.”

Bile burned and Olivia swallowed it back. “Meet me at my office. Don’t ask questions. Just get in your car and meet me as fast as you can.”

“You know something. What? What do you know?”

“Tom, you need to stay calm. I need you calm. Eve’s gone.”

He sucked in another breath. “Does David know?”

“Not yet. Meet me at my office. Now.”

Thursday, February 25, 1:20 p.m.

Eve shuddered out a breath. It had been harder the second time, waking up. The images had been more intense, Winters’s voice more real. Because I wanted to. Because I could. She’d been helpless, unable to move, unable to scream.

Just like that night five years, eleven months, and eleven days ago, she thought and with sudden clarity realized she’d never screamed. Not once when Winters was killing her.

I never screamed for help. I lay there and let him do that to me. Today, in the parking garage, she’d run, but she hadn’t screamed for help. If I’d screamed…

Awareness was returning slowly, the fog clearing from her mind.

Back then, it wouldn’t have mattered. Back then, Dana’s Chicago apartment had been in such a bad part of town that nobody would have helped her. But today… Dammit. I was in a police parking garage and I never made a sound.

And none of that mattered right now. Her breathing had quieted from harsh pants to slow drags of air. The air was cold and dry. It stung her nose, burned her throat. Her mouth was like cotton. She smelled sweat. Vomit.

I’m cold. She let out a breath, struggling for calm when panic speared. I’m naked. Her wrists were tied behind her head. Her ankles were tied, together and to the bed.

She kept her eyes closed, afraid of what she’d see.

Next to her she heard the sound of metal clashing. Scraping. Swishing. She’d heard that sound before. Panic became a live thing when she realized from where.

He was there. Sharpening a knife.

“I really like your tattoos,” he said companionably. “It’s like a paint-by-numbers set.”

She kept her eyes closed. Why? she wanted to scream, but he’d already told her that. Because he wished it. Because it gave him pleasure. He knew her worst fear and was using it. He knew how. He studied the mind, behavior, phobia.

“You used their worst fears against them,” she said, her voice cracking from the dry air. “Martha and Christy and the others. Why? Did it make it more fun?”

“It did. And knowing yours will be even better.”

She flinched when he came close. She felt his heat, then smelled the metal of his knife beneath her nose. “Open your eyes, Eve, or I’ll open them for you.”

She remembered Christy Lewis’s eyes, glued open. Eve forced her eyes to open, holding her cringe inside. His face was inches from hers, his eyes bright with anticipation. He brandished the knife in front of her eyes, then trailed the tip down her face, over her old scar. She couldn’t feel it, but she wouldn’t tell him that.

“It’s like a road map,” he said, amused. “I just have to stay on the lines. Or maybe I’ll make a few new ones.”

She fought for something to say. Something to throw him off-balance. Anything to buy her time. Noah and Olivia were searching. She just had to give them time.

“I know who you are.”

“I should hope so. I did give you my card.” He smiled at this.

“No, I know who you are in the World. How many times did you beg women to buy them a drink? How many times were you rejected?”

He looked bored. “Avatars, Eve. It’s all in the appearance.”

“Not entirely. There is substance and there is style. You had no style. Dasich.”

His eyes flickered and she could see she’d surprised him, but he recovered quickly. “So I played a little poker. Greer.”

He took a step back and she had to control another cringe. She was naked. So was he. But he never sexually assaulted his victims. Noah had said so. But Pierce was erect. Aroused. Why had he not raped them?

“You never assaulted your victims,” she said levelly and he paused, studying her.

“No, not sexually,” he agreed. “Not those victims.” He smiled again. “But they were special. A project, if you will.”

Eve swallowed, forcing herself not to stare at his groin or his knife. She would not give him power over her fear. Instead she focused on his eyes. “You left those women hanging in their homes. Why did you bring me here? Wherever here is.”

“Like I said. The six were special. The rest were not. Dregs of society nobody cared about. I brought them here and here they died.” He grabbed her hair, forced her head off the bed, forced her to look at the wall. “Look,” he mocked, “and try not to be afraid.”

The strangled sound she heard came from her own throat as she stared.

Shoes. The wall was lined with shelves and the shelves were lined with shoes. Her breath was coming hard again and all she could hear was the pounding of her pulse in her ears. He leaned close and tilted her head higher. “See anything familiar?”

My boots. He had them arranged side by side, the calf folded over at the end of the top row. She sucked in a breath that made her cough. He grabbed a water bottle, held her nose until her mouth opened, and forced her to drink. “Normally I don’t give my guests refreshment. But I think you’ll be here for a while.”

He set the bottle and the knife aside and hoisted himself on the bed, straddling her. He leaned in close and put his hands around her throat. She realized then that he’d taken off her choker and her throat was totally exposed.

“I’ve always wondered,” he crooned. “What was it like to die?”

His hands had not tightened. He’s playing with me. Like he played with Noah and the Hat Squad. Hat Squad. The MSP article had filled Dell Farmer with rage. Pierce’s first victim had gone missing at the same time. It made sense.

“What was it like when the cops got all that attention in MSP?” she asked. Contempt. He needed to hear contempt. “They collect men’s hats.” She lifted one brow. “You collect women’s shoes. Tough guy you are. Where did you get the hat you wore today? EBay? Because you didn’t earn it.”

She grunted when he hit her with his fist. She tasted blood and felt satisfaction.

Astride her, his chest rose and fell with his angry breaths, but he calmed himself quickly. A quick glance showed much of his sexual prowess had also calmed.

“You think you’re smart,” he said, sliding his hands around her throat again.

“I’m just a grad student. You’re the professional. You’re the shrink.” She made herself smile, with pity. “And you just did.”

Her head swung hard to one side as he hit her again, then his hands took her throat and tightened. She couldn’t breathe. White lights danced in front of her eyes. Can’t breathe.

His face loomed close, his eyes dark with fury. “You are nothing. I say if you live or die. I hold the power here. You are nothing.”

She held still until the panic overruled and she bucked, trying to throw him off. The pressure on her windpipe increased and the fringes of her vision went dark. It all went dark, and then abruptly he let go.

She gasped, dragging in air.

He sat back, his jaw cocked, his eyes hard. “You are tied to a bed in a place where no one can find you,” he said flatly. “You are mine. I will have your respect.” He leaned close, his thumbs on her windpipe. “Even if I have to kill you to get it.”

Glad he’d made her drink, Eve found moisture in her mouth and spat in his face. His eyes flashed rage and he raised his fist. Then he lowered it and lifted his brows.

“Unwise, Miss Wilson. I hold the power here and I know how to wear you down. I will enjoy wearing you down.” He climbed off her and went to the wooden staircase where he’d hung his trousers. From one of the pockets he drew a syringe and she stiffened. He smiled. “What shall I whisper in your ear this time?”

She didn’t care, because every time he sedated her was time he wasn’t strangling her and time Noah could spend finding her. Still, she didn’t want to look too grateful.

“Please, don’t.” She shrank back. “Don’t drug me again.” Do it. Do it.

He leaned in, jabbed the needle in her neck. “When you wake, I’ll be carving your face like a Halloween jack-o’-lantern. No one will ever look at you again.”

She thought of Martha and Christy as the room began to blur. And Virginia. He’d do it, she knew. And he’d enjoy it. Hurry, Noah. Please.

Disgusted, he grabbed the knife from the table and turned to the stairs, stopping when he saw a slight movement from the huddled form in the corner. He crossed the room and backhanded her, taking pleasure in the whimper she emitted.

“You’re next.” Then he grabbed his pants from the newel post and went upstairs, slamming the door behind him. Broodingly, he sat in his kitchen and looked out the window at the woods surrounding his place. I underestimated her. I let her unnerve me.

She would pay. He pulled his laptop closer, searched, and found a photo a Chicago tabloid had printed after Winters had carved her up. He printed it out and slapped it on the table. He was a man of his word. When he was finished, she’d look like that again.

Immensely cheered, he made himself a sandwich and sat down to watch the news. It was all about Virginia Fox and the Red Dress Killer. There would be a press conference later. He’d have to make sure he tuned in.

For now, he needed to regroup, clear his mind. Out of habit, he started to log in to Shadowland, then stopped. She knew he was Dasich. That meant Webster probably knew, too. They might be watching.

No matter. He’d create a new account, a new profile. It was, after all, the place you went when you wanted no one to know your name. He’d buy a new avatar, go back to the casino, and start anew. He liked the poker table, always had. He’d made a lot of money in back-room poker games over the years, enough to retire young. With his wife gone, he didn’t have to share. Now, what to call his new Shadowland persona?

He thought of the woman in his basement. Iblis, he typed, and smiled. He was certain a woman who named her guardian avatar “Greer” would recognize an ancient form of Lucifer. And just as Lucifer crushed his Eve, I’ll crush mine. As he’d crushed every woman he’d thrown into his pit or hung from a rope.

He thought of Irene, hanging from the tree branch, so long ago. He would have preferred she’d gone undiscovered for days, weeks, however long it took for the vultures to pick her bones clean. Unfortunately John had come home unexpectedly and found her hanging. Like the good son, John had called the sheriff. John had known he’d killed her. But his brother had said nothing. Because he hated her as much as I did.

But that was done. If nothing else, Irene had done him a service. She’d shown him how mind-clearing a good killing could be. And she’d taught him to play poker. So now he’d return to Shadowland and play, just for a few minutes. Just to clear his mind. And then he’d go back down there and… take what’s mine.