I Can See You (14 page)

“By a client or somebody who didn’t approve,” Jack
added. “We don’t know how Samantha Altman factors in, yet, although she had
been laid off recently. Maybe she was working for Siren until she got something
better.”

“We want Siren Song’s employee list. It could connect
Samantha and tell us who’s at risk for the next attack.”
Like Eve
, Noah
thought.

“I’ll call the DA,” Abbott said. “Get the subpoenas
started. Mick, what do you have?”

“All the prints matched the victim except for one set
we found on pipes, light fixtures, etc. I’m betting they belong to the
maintenance man.”

“Taylor Kobrecki,” Noah said. “He does all her
maintenance. He’s still AWOL.”

“Also, we’ve searched her computer,” Micki said.
“Looks like the drive was wiped.”

“Can you work your magic and save the day?” Jack
asked.

“Sugar’s working on it,” she said. “If anything’s
there, he’ll find it. That stool that you two recovered from the thrift store
this morning is a match to Martha’s. I haven’t traced the origin yet, and there
are no usable prints. On the other hand, both victims’ dresses and shoes came
from The Fashion Club, an online shopping network. Unfortunately they sold
hundreds of each this year, none to Martha or Samantha. If we get a suspect we
may be able to use the list to confirm, but I don’t see it being a beacon.”

“If this killer bought those dresses, he had to have
known his victims’ sizes,” Carleton said thoughtfully. “That’s quite a bit of
planning.”

“I agree,” Micki said. “Lots of planning and no
mistakes. No fibers or hair, except the cat hair in Martha’s carpet. She had
food and a box of litter, but no litterbox.”

“And nobody’s seen the cat,” Jack said.

“That’s not good,” Carleton said quietly. “Serial
killers often begin by killing animals.”

“Wonderful.” Abbott shook his head. “What about the
noose?”

“Ordinary rope,” Micki said. “Could have been
purchased at any hardware store. Same with the hook in the ceiling. Martha had
really high ceilings in that apartment. I don’t think she could have put the
hook in herself. She would have needed a ladder.”

“Or a handyman,” Noah said. “Taylor Kobrecki, again.”

“So the panty perv moves to the top of our list of
suspects,” Abbott said.

“Mrs. Kobrecki says Taylor’s out of town,” Noah said.
“I’m thinking that as soon as I left, she called him, so we put in for her
LUDs, cell and home phones.”

“He could be hiding in an empty apartment unit next to
Martha’s place,” Jack said.

“We called for a warrant,” Noah said. “We didn’t have
cause. Now we might.”

“I’ll push it with the DA,” Abbott said. “Carleton,
any thoughts on profile?”

“White male, twenties or thirties. High IQ. He plans
and he’s dramatic. He’s obsessive about detail.” He sorted through all the
photos until he found the ones of Samantha and Martha hanging in their
identical poses. “There is something about the eyes that’s important to him. He
made sure they’d stay open.”

“Which was very creepy,” Micki said under her breath.

“Agreed,” Carleton said. “Whoever did this thinks he
got away with it with Samantha. So he did it again with Martha. It’s
interesting that he used ketamine, and that he injected it in the neck. That
indicates a level of… confidence. Except for Ian, how many of you would be
comfortable shoving a syringe in a woman’s neck?”

“You think he’s had medical training?” Noah asked and
Carleton shrugged.

“Or practice.”

Abbott nodded. “Let’s find out if the panty pervert
ever played doctor. Ian, go through the hanging cases over the year. See if any
others have puncture wounds.”

“We’ll track down Siren Song and get an employee and
client list,” Jack said. “I can’t imagine they’ll fork over their clients
without a subpoena, so we’ll get that started, too.”

“And we’ll talk to tenants, including the three women
who filed a complaint. Somebody knows where Taylor hangs.” Noah winced. “No pun
intended.”

Faye stuck her head in the door. “Noah, call on one.
The woman said it was urgent.”

Noah pulled Abbott’s phone to the edge of the desk.
“Webster.”

“This is Eve Wilson. You need to come to 5492 Red Barn
Lane. It’s in Woodfield.”

Eve?
Her
voice didn’t falter, but he heard the underlying fear. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a woman here. She’s dead. She’s hanging from
her bedroom ceiling.”

His heart sank, both for the newest victim and for
Eve’s now undeniable connection. “Are you in the house?”

“No. I’m looking through the back window. Her name is
Christy Lewis.”

“Did you know her from work, too?”

“Yes,” she said, resigned. “Just hurry. Please.” And
she hung up.

Noah stood. “Victim number three.”

“I’ll get my team out there,” Micki said.

“I’ll meet you there,” Ian said. “I want to see this
scene myself.”

Carleton already stood, buttoning his coat. “So do I.
I’ll follow you up, Ian.”

Jack put on his hat. “Then let’s go.”

Abbott waved them out, then pointed at Noah. “You
stay. Close the door.”

Noah obeyed, knowing what was coming and dreading it.

“Who, how, and why?” Abbott asked.

“Eve Wilson,” Noah said dully.

Abbott did a double take. “From Sal’s?”

“Yeah. She was at Martha’s today. Said she knew Martha
from work. She just said the same thing about this victim.”

Abbott still looked stunned. “I never would have
picked her for a phone sex jockey. So she knows something. Find out what it is.
I’ll send a squad car to the address, just in case this guy is still around.
And to make sure Miss Wilson doesn’t leave.”

Monday, February 22, 4:55 p.m.

Eve sat in the back of a police cruiser, staring at
the handcuffs on her wrists, trying to stay calm and not think about the woman
hanging from a rope inside the house.

She hoped somebody’s wires got crossed, because she’d
been cuffed and pushed into her current seating assignment. It had taken a lot
of years, but she’d finally grown accustomed to a casual touch from a friend,
or a stranger in passing. But this… the cops had put their hands on her.
Pushed
me.
For a moment she’d been eighteen again and terrified, without enough
air to breathe.

Luckily she’d breathed her way through enough panic
attacks to know how to control the fear. She was still rattled, but she no
longer needed a paper bag to breathe into.

She’d gotten a text off to Callie before the cops had
arrived so somebody knew where she was. Then she’d been surrounded by cruisers,
ambulances, flashing lights. For Christy, Eve thought, the memory of her empty
eyes still fresh. And terrifying.

“Oh for God’s sake. You
cuffed
her? You weren’t
supposed to arrest her.”

Noah Webster. She looked up through the window and met
his eyes beneath the brim of his hat. She said nothing as he opened the rear
door and unlocked her cuffs.

“I’m sorry, Eve. A little miscommunication there.”

Eve rubbed her wrists gingerly. “Have you seen her?”

“Your friend? Not yet. Come.” He took her arm and
urged her to her feet.

Eve yanked away, panic still bubbling too close to the
surface. “Where?”

“To my car. It has dark windows. I don’t want the
press taking pictures of you.”

She followed, but when he opened the passenger door
the panic boiled up and over, closing her throat.
Didn’t your parents teach
you not to get into cars with strange men?

It was
his
voice. Winters, the man who’d left
her for dead, five years, eleven months, and eight days ago. His voice taunted
when she was panicked. Or stood next to a man’s car. Even a man she trusted.

“Are you all right?” Webster asked.

“I’m fine. Fine,” she repeated focusing on Noah’s
voice. He was real, in the here and now. She forced herself to get into his
car, flinching when he slammed her door.

“I need you to listen,” he said when he’d slid behind
the wheel. He stared straight ahead, his jaw hard. “We know about your work.”

She forced her face to remain composed.
How did he
know?
“Really,” she said.

“Really,” he repeated tautly. “You might be in danger.
Stay here while I check.”

The word “danger” gave her pause. “Don’t cuff me
again. Please.”

“I don’t plan to.”

“How did you find out about my work?”

He looked at her then. “I’ll ask the questions for
now. When did you arrive?”

There was disapproval in his eyes. Were it Donner,
she’d understand. But Webster had no cause to disapprove of anything she’d
done. She’d broken the rules, not the law. “About three minutes before I called
you,” she said stiffly.

“How did you know to come here?”

“Christy didn’t show up to work today. I was worried.”

“So you knew her well?”

“Well enough.” Which was true. Martha had been all
about the merchandise when she came into Eve’s Pandora store in Shadowland. She
came to buy face upgrades for her Desiree avatar, while Christy’s Gwenivere had
come to chat. Martha had been all business. Christy had just seemed lonely.
Within a few visits, Christy, through her avatar, had blurted her whole
real-world life story, including where she’d worked.

And now she’s dead
. “Her eyes.” Eve swallowed hard. “They looked unnatural.”

“I know. Do you know if Martha or Christy had problems
with anyone from work?”

“Besides the one who killed them?” she asked sharply,
then looked down at her hands. “No, I don’t know of anyone who would have done
this. I wish I could help you.”

“So do I. So far you’re our only connection between
three dead women.”

Eve’s chin jerked up. “Three?”

“Yes. The other was Samantha Altman.”

Eve tried to see the participant list in her mind.
They had over five hundred test subjects. Samantha Altman was not a name she
remembered. “I don’t know her.”

“She didn’t
work
with you?” he asked, still
disapproving. Disappointed.

“I don’t think so. If I knew, I’d tell you.” She met
his angry eyes. “I swear.”

That seemed to satisfy him, temporarily at least.
“Stay here. I’ll tell the officers to keep any press away. You’re our one link
right now. I don’t want any of this leaking.”

“Don’t worry,” she said grimly. “I’m in no hurry to
tell.”

He nodded and touched the brim of his hat. “I’ll be
back.”

Frowning, she watched him go.
What did he know? How
had he known?
And who was Samantha Altman? Quickly she pulled her cell from
her pocket and dialed Ethan.

“I can’t talk long. I don’t want them to see me
calling you.”

“Who is ‘them,’ Eve?”

“The police. It’s bad. Christy Lewis is dead. And
she’s not the first.”

There was shocked silence on the other end. “Oh my
God. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, if you don’t count the fact that I’ve been
cuffed and questioned.”

“They
cuffed
you?” he whispered fiercely, as if
he didn’t want Dana to overhear him.

“Detective Webster took off the cuffs. It was a
mistake. The cops that first got here weren’t supposed to do that. Did you keep
a copy of that file you sent me?”

“Eve,” Ethan warned. “What the hell is this all
about?”

“I really don’t know. If anybody catches me talking to
you, I’m asking you to get me an attorney. I probably won’t need one, but it’s
a believable story. Do you have the file?”

“Yes.”

“See if there is a Samantha Altman on the participant
list.”

There was a short silence as he searched. “No Altman
on the list.”

“I didn’t think so. Three women are dead. Two were in
my study, Altman wasn’t. They think I’m their only link, but I can’t be.”

“Don’t say anything else until we get you an
attorney,” Ethan said firmly.

“I’m not a suspect, Ethan. They’re worried I’ll be a
victim.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” he
gritted.

Two CSU vans had just pulled up, along with an SUV
from the ME’s office, followed by a sleek Mercedes. “Not really. If I get
arrested, you’ll be my one phone call, okay?”

“And until then?” Ethan demanded.

“Until then, I guess we wait. I gotta go. Don’t worry.
I’m perfectly safe here.”

Monday, February 22, 5:10 p.m.

Noah stared. It was déjà vu all over again.
Again
.
Christy Lewis hung from a rope on a hook in her bedroom. Her dress was the same
style as Martha’s and Samantha’s, as were her shoes. One shoe lay on its side
while the other stood straight up. The makeup, the upholstered stool, the open
window… Everything was the same.