I Can See You (66 page)

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
.

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

“
So what do
you have?” Brian Ramsey asked, setting his briefcase on Abbott’s table.

Abbott had been waiting for them at the table. A very
pale Noah sat off to the side, watching the security video from the parking
garage on a small TV. He was hunched over, his face inches from the screen, a
remote clutched in one hand.

Olivia flinched at the image of Kane dropping to the
concrete and Eve’s stunned face. She’d watched that clip ten times, her gut
roiling each time Eve was shot, injected, then dragged away. She couldn’t
imagine what Noah was going through, but on some level he appeared to be
holding up.