Hunting Fear (8 page)

He hummed to himself as he checked the seals, making certain there would be no leaks. Going over it meticulously, because he refused to make mistakes.

It wouldn’t be a true test of which one of them was smarter if he made any mistakes.

So he checked every inch, every detail, going over and over the plan until he was absolutely positive there was nothing left out, nothing forgotten, nothing wrong.

He polished the glass and metal until there was no hint of a fingerprint or even a smear, vacuumed the space for the third time, compulsively took apart all the connections so he could wipe down each component individually.

They would find only the signs he wanted them to find.

When he was done this time, he stood back and studied the room, playing out in his head how it would be. She was tough, so he didn’t think she’d be all that scared at first. Which was good for his purposes.

Once he’d figured out it was the fear that drew Jordan, he had chosen his lures even more carefully. He liked the tough ones, the ones that didn’t scare easily. Because that made it all the sweeter when they realized what was going to happen to them and how helpless they were to stop it.

This one, he thought, would be one of the best. When she finally broke, her terror would be extreme. He didn’t know if Jordan could feel it or smell it, but either way it would hit him like a punch to the gut.

To be this close.

To have an innocent taken from beneath his very nose.

To begin to really understand the game.

“Jesus, Sam.”

“What? What was I supposed to do, Luke? Ignore what I saw? Let that lady and her baby die?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, then. I gave him the calmest, most low-key warning I could come up with, spur-of-the-moment. I’m sure you could have done better in disguising the psychic origins of the information, what with all your training and experience in these things, but—”

“Will you
stop
with that shit? I didn’t make the rules, Sam. I wasn’t the one who decided that anything that smacked of carnivals or sideshows could never be part of what we are. But you know what? For the record, I agree with Bishop on that one. I have had to deal with too many hard-nosed, skeptical cops like Wyatt Metcalf not to have learned that we have to look serious and act serious if we have even a hope of being accepted for what we are and
believed
. So we can do our jobs.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re right. You usually are, after all.” She closed the take-out box and pushed the salad away. “Lost my appetite. Can’t imagine why.”

Lucas was sorely tempted to turn around and walk out but fought the impulse. Instead, he pulled the other chair out and sat down across from her.

“Please,” she said, “join me.”

“Thanks, I will.” He kept his voice even. “Do you think we can talk like two rational people for a minute?”

“Maybe a minute. Though I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“Jesus, Sam.”

“You already said that.”

What he said then was something he hadn’t wanted or intended to say. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Samantha laughed.

Lucas supposed he deserved that, but it didn’t make it any easier to take. “I didn’t. I know you don’t believe that, but it’s the truth.”

“As a matter of fact, I do believe it. So what?”

He wasn’t a man who was easily knocked off his balance, but he had to admit, at least silently, that Samantha always managed to do just that. “So can we stop fighting?”

“I don’t know. Can we?”

“Christ, you’re a stubborn woman.”

“That’s not even conversation.”

“Do I have to remind you again that I’m in the middle of a serial kidnapping and murder investigation?”

“
We’re
in the middle. I’m here too, Luke.”

“You being here is just—” He stopped, then slowly finished, “a fluke.”

Samantha didn’t say a word.

“Happenstance. A coincidence.”

She picked up her drink and sipped.

Lucas was aware of a second impulse to get up and walk out of the room, and he very nearly obeyed that one. Instead, he drew a deep breath, let it out slowly, and said, “The carnival isn’t in Golden because the next town on the schedule just hosted a circus. The carnival is in Golden because you wanted it to be here.”

“I didn’t
want
to be here, Luke, believe me. In fact, I would have gone a long way to avoid being here just now. But we both know some of the things I see simply can’t be changed. And unfortunately for us both, this is one of them. It’s the real punch line of the cosmic joke. In that vision where I saw you playing chess with the kidnapper, I also saw myself standing behind you. You can’t win the game without me.”

Lindsay stretched languidly and yawned. “God. Do we have to go back to the station?”

Metcalf eyed smooth flesh still clinging to its golden summer tan and reached over to touch her. “Somebody might wonder if we never come back from lunch,” he noted absently.

“Ummm. What lunch? I’ve lost ten pounds with these
lunches
of ours.”

“We can stop for a quick burger on the way back.”

“You always say that, but when it comes down to it neither one of us is hungry.”

“So we lose a few pounds and go back to work relaxed and destressed; I’d call that a good lunch break.”

Lindsay started to reach for him but saw over his shoulder the clock on the nightstand and groaned. “We’ve been gone almost an hour now.”

“I’m the sheriff. I can be late.”

“But—”

“And so can you.”

They were very late in returning to the station, and when absolutely nobody commented, Lindsay wondered for the first time if their “secret” affair was as secret as she’d believed.

People were very studiously not commenting.

They found both Lucas and his partner in the conference room. He was pacing with the wired energy of a caged cat; Jaylene was sitting on the end of the conference table, watching him meditatively.

“Sorry,” Lindsay said as they came in.

Lucas paused and looked at her. “Why?”

“Lunch. We’re late getting back.”

“Oh. That.” He resumed pacing. “I’m not hungry.”

Gesturing to two Styrofoam containers behind her on the table, Jaylene said, “I brought him something, but he’s been a little . . . preoccupied.”

“Has something happened?” Metcalf asked.

“No,” Lucas said. He glanced at Jaylene, then added, “Nothing’s changed.”

Metcalf looked at Lindsay. “Was that a qualified statement? It sounded qualified to me.”

“Don’t ask,” Lucas told him. “You won’t like the answer, believe me.”

“It’s Samantha,” Jaylene said. “She believes she’s meant to be here, to be involved in the investigation. To help Luke win the game.”

“Shit,” Metcalf said.

Lindsay asked, “Help him how?”

“If she even knows, she isn’t saying.”

“I don’t think she knows,” Lucas said. “Just that she’s somehow involved.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” the sheriff reminded them.

Lucas stopped pacing and took a chair. “Involved in the investigation. On our side.”

“Your side,” Jaylene murmured.

“Is there a difference?” he demanded.

“Maybe so.”

He gestured slightly as though pushing the comment away, then said, “Whether Sam’s involved doesn’t change the fact that we’ve got nothing to go on. No evidence, nothing to I.D. him or even point us in his direction. If this bastard follows his usual pattern, he’s already in another state and planning his next abduction.”

Lindsay said, “But Sam says his next abduction is here in Golden.” She frowned. “If we assume for a minute that she’s right, why would he change his M.O. now? I mean, why plan two kidnappings in the same area? Isn’t that asking for trouble?”

“Maybe it’s asking for Luke,” Jaylene offered. “Maybe part of the game was to eventually get us in position before the fact. It would be the first time.”

“And really the only way he could do it,” Lucas said slowly. “We’re here investigating his last abduction, so if he wanted us on the scene before his next one, he’d pretty much have to plan it here, while we were here.”

Jaylene looked at the clutter of files and photographs on the table. “So . . . if he got us here before the fact, and it’s part of his game, then it’s at least possible that he has left us a . . . clue, for want of a better word. Something that offers Luke at least a fighting chance against him. Otherwise, the game’s winner is predetermined. And there’s no contest.”

Metcalf scowled. “I hate to admit that Zarina had a point, but that comment about broken minds makes a certain amount of sense. I mean, can we reasonably expect this guy to play by any kind of rules?”

“He’ll play by his rules,” Lucas said slowly. “He has to. Being careful and meticulous has been a point of honor for him, so this will be too. The game has rules. And he will abide by those rules. The trick for us . . . is figuring out what they are.”

Jaylene said, “Which goes back to my point. He can’t reasonably expect you to play his game unless and until the rules are clear. So at some point they have to be. Maybe at this point. And since he didn’t send us a printed list, they have to be here.” She gestured to the paperwork spread out on the table. “Somewhere.”

Metcalf said, “You can’t be serious? It’s the proverbial needle in a haystack.”

“Not much of a haystack,” Lucas reminded him. “Even after eighteen months, we have very little in the way of evidence. We have cause of death; we have crime-scene reports but only from locations where the bodies were found, never where the vics were killed; we have the statement from the single surviving victim, which tells us only that he spoke to her, sounded intelligent and, in her words, ‘scary as hell’; we have statements from friends, family members, and coworkers of the vics; we have some minor trace evidence, hair and fibers that may or may not be connected to the kidnapper; we have ransom notes printed on a very common brand of ink-jet printer—and that’s about it.”

“Lotta paper,” Lindsay said. “But not a very helpful haystack.”

“Yeah, but it has to be,” Jaylene pointed out. “Doesn’t it? He’s here, we’re here. After following him around for a year and a half, we’ve apparently reached the next stage of the game.”

“If Zarina’s right about that,” Metcalf reminded them.

“Her name,” Lucas said, “is Samantha.”

“That’s not what the posters say.”

“Wyatt,” Lindsay murmured.

“Well, it isn’t. She goes by Zarina, right?”

“Only when she’s working,” Lucas said. “Wyatt, please. The problem with assuming about Sam’s prediction—either way—is that we have to wait. We won’t know if the kidnapper is still in this area unless and until he abducts another victim. Now, we can assume he’s already gone and wait for a kidnapping report somewhere in the East, or we can assume he’s still here and about to snatch his next vic—and wait for that to happen.”

“Our part of the game plan sucks,” Metcalf noted.

“Or,” Lucas continued, “we can expect him to grab someone by tomorrow evening or Thursday morning—Carrie Vaughn, if Sam’s right—and we can spend that time looking for his goddamned game rules and watching the potential target very, very closely.”

“We already know one of his rules,” Lindsay said. “When he takes the victims. Sometime between noon on Wednesday and noon on Thursday. Right?”

Jaylene nodded. “Right. Every single victim was snatched during that twenty-four-hour period.”

“Rule number one,” Lucas said. He reached out to draw a file folder close. “Let’s start looking for rule number two.”

Wednesday, September 26

Metcalf came into the conference room, saying briefly, “Carrie Vaughn has a detective in her living room as well as a patrol car in her driveway. She’s safe. She’s not happy, but she’s safe.”

Lucas glanced at his watch. “Just before noon. If he’s still in Golden and has another kidnapping planned so soon, he’ll move by noon tomorrow.”

“If we got that rule right,” Lindsay said.

“Yeah. If.”

Metcalf said, “Just for the record, I locked Zarina in her room.”

Lucas frowned slightly but didn’t look up as he said, “A sensible precaution, from your point of view.”

“I thought so. And she didn’t seem too upset about it.”

“Probably because you didn’t call her Zarina to her face.”

Shrugging, Metcalf sat down at the table. “I’m still surprised all her carnie friends haven’t shown up here.”

“She probably told them what she meant to do and asked them to stay away. They’re a tight group; they’d handle it however she asked them to.”

“You almost sound like you respect them.”

“I do. Most of them have been on their own since they were kids but still managed to carve out a fair living for themselves without breaking a law or hurting others. That puts them in the Decent Human Being column of my book.”