Killer Takes All

CHAPTER 59

Sunday, March 20, 2005

7:30 a.m.

Stacy awakened. She’d had strange dreams, ones populated with characters out of Alice in Wonderland. Ones that had disturbed her sleep and left her feeling fatigued and edgy.

Spencer hadn’t called. Which meant they hadn’t found Alice.

She’d given them their chance.

Today she joined the hunt.

Resolve set, Stacy climbed out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom. After starting the coffee she showered and dressed.

The coffee had brewed. She filled a travel mug, added sweetener and cream, grabbed a granola bar and headed out.

Stacy intended to search the mansion and guest house. Check in at Café Noir. City Park. Gaming stores. Any place Alice might be hiding out.

As she neared her car, Stacy saw that someone had left a flyer under her windshield wiper.

No, she realized when she retrieved it, not an advertisement.

A zip-style storage bag. With a note card inside.

Carefully extracting the bag from under the wiper, she opened it and slid out the card.

Her knees went weak; her hands began to shake.

A drawing. Like the ones Leo had received. This one of Alice.

Hanging from the neck. Face engorged and bloated with death.

She swallowed hard, forced herself to open the card.

Game in play. Clock ticking.

She stared at the message, mouth dry. Danson had been telling the truth. He wasn’t the White Rabbit.

Think, Killian. Take a deep breath. Slow down. Put it together.

If the White Rabbit held to history, the card meant Alice was still alive. That the White Rabbit either had her in his sights-or worse, in his grasp.

Clock ticking. He was giving her the chance to save Alice’s life. Game was in play and it was her move.

Her cell phone sounded and she jumped. She unclipped the device and answered the call. “Killian here.”

“Hello, Killian.”

A man. Voice deliberately masked.

The White Rabbit.

“Where is she?” Stacy demanded. “Where’s Alice?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

“Cute. Let me speak to her.”

He laughed and she tightened her grip on the phone. Whoever he was, he was enjoying this immensely. Sick bastard.

“If you want to see Alice alive, you’ll do what I say. No cops. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Take Carrollton Avenue uptown to River Road. There’s a bar at the corner of River Road and Carrollton Avenue. Cooter Brown’s. Go in. The bartender has an envelope for Florence Nightingale.”

“Let’s just cut to the chase here, shall we? What do you want?”

“To win the game, of course. Be the last man standing.”

“You think you’re good enough?”

“I know I am. You have thirty-five minutes. One minute late and it’s goodbye, baby.”

Esplanade to Carrollton Avenue at the river would take a good twenty-five minutes. Maybe more with traffic.

Which left her damn little leeway. She darted back into her apartment, retrieved her Glock and left the White Rabbit’s message on the kitchen counter for Spencer to find. Just in case.

Back outside, she grabbed her travel mug off the car’s hood, unlocked the door and slid inside. She started the vehicle, checked the side mirror and pulled into traffic.

The dash clock read 8:55.

Traffic heading uptown alternately sucked and sailed. She wheeled into Cooter Brown’s parking area in twenty-eight minutes. A mural on the side of the building boasted the bar was home to 450 different kinds of bottled beer. She slammed the SUV into Park and darted inside.

The interior was dark and smelled of cigarettes. A couple of biker types stood by the pool table, cues in hand. They stopped playing and watched her cross to the bar.

The bartender looked tough. Big, muscular, with a bald head and a full beard.

“You have something for Florence Nightingale?” she asked. “An envelope?”

He didn’t reply, simply crossed to the register, opened it and extracted an envelope. He handed it to her.

She glanced at it, then back up at him. “What can you tell me about the person who left this for me?”

“Nada.”

“What if I tell you I’m a cop?”

He laughed and walked away. She glanced at her watch. Thirty-two minutes. She tore open the envelope.

Inside was a phone number. Nothing else.

She unclipped her cell and punched in the number. He answered right away.

“You like to live dangerously, don’t you, Killian? You’re just under the wire.”

“I want to talk to Alice.”

“I’m sure you do.” She heard the amusement in his voice. “Patience is a virtue. But you never had any of that, did you? Your sister, Jane, on the other hand, she’s the patient one. And by the way, I love the name Jane and Ian picked for their baby. Annie. So sweet. Uncomplicated.”

Stacy went cold. “If you harm anyone I love, I swear I’ll-”

“What? I hold all the cards. You can do nothing but follow my directions.”

She bit back what she wanted to say and he laughed. “Take River Road toward Vacherie. Stop at Walton’s River Road Café. Cool your heels until I call you. One hour, Killian.”

“Wait! But I don’t know where I’m going! One hour might not be-”

He hung up before she finished. Swearing softly, she hurried outside and to her car, squinting as the sun stung her eyes. Moments later she was on her way.

Called River Road because it followed the contour of the Mississippi River, the winding road was alternately scenic and industrial. If what she remembered was correct, it wound its way to Baton Rouge, then up to St. Francisville, Natchez and beyond.

She wondered how far the White Rabbit intended for her to go.

She caught site of Walton’s River Road Café up ahead, a charming Creole cottage nestled in the curve of the road. A magnificent oak tree graced the front of the property, so large it shaded most of the structure and half the side parking area.

Her cell phone rang. Startled, she nearly swerved into oncoming traffic. She got to her phone, flipped it open. “Killian here.”

“Hello, there. You sound a little tense.”

“Can I call you back?”

Spencer’s pregnant pause said it all. “I’m in the bathroom,” she lied. “Talk to you in five.”

She ended the call and swung into the café’s shady parking lot. It’d been a small lie, she told herself, because in a minute she would be using the restaurant’s facilities. And from there, in case she was being watched, she would return Spencer’s call.

“Please say you called to tell me you have Alice,” she said when he answered.

“Sorry.”

“Any leads?”

“No. But every cop in the city has a picture of her. We’re canvassing the neighborhood around Tony’s. So far, no one’s seen anything.”

“You searched the mansion?”

“Last night and again today. No luck. We have someone stationed there, just in case.”

Damn it. She hadn’t expected better. But she had hoped, anyway.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Cooling my heels.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Behind the counter, a busboy dropped a pan of dirty dishes. She jumped.

“What the hell was that?”

“Dropped some dishes. Trying to keep busy, multitasking here.”

“Multitasking?”

She forced a laugh. “You didn’t know I could do that, did you? I have many talents.”

“Yeah, you do.” She heard Tony say something, though she couldn’t make out what. “Got to go. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Call my cell. I’ll have it on.”

He paused. “You’re going somewhere?”

“I might have to run out. You know how it is.”

“I know how you are. Stay put.”

He hung up, and she exited the ladies’ room. No one paid her any undue attention. She chose a table by a window that looked out at the parking lot. Being able to watch her vehicle made her feel less vulnerable.

The waitress, a girl not yet out of her teens, stopped at her table. Stacy realized that she was starving. “What’s wonderful on the menu?”

The girl shrugged. “Everything’s pretty good. People like our soup. It’s homemade.”

“What’s today’s?”

“Chicken noodle.”

Comfort food. A good thing, considering the circumstances.

Stacy ordered a cup and, continuing with the comfort theme, a grilled cheese sandwich.

That done, she sat back in her seat. She glanced at her watch, thinking of the White Rabbit and when he would call. Thinking of Alice. Worrying.

And acknowledging that he had her just where he wanted her.

Alone and unable to make a move until he was ready.