I Can See You (65 page)

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.”