No Escape (25 page)

He adjusted the binocs and swept the house. The luxury car’s headlights dimmed in the circular driveway, then the dome light flared on. Heath’s breath caught at the back of his throat as he watched Lauren step out of the car and walk up the steps leading to the house.

* * *

Standing at the window, fingers pulling the drapes slightly aside, Gibson stared down at his latest prey. She wore the same outfit she’d worn when she’d accosted the tour in the Agony House, only now she looked somewhat tawdry and bedraggled. She was still beautiful. There was no taking that away from her. Natural beauty always shone through.

His hunger to kill coiled like a dark thing at the back of his mind. He felt it sitting there, waiting to consume his senses when the time came. This time the hunger felt different, more alive and vital than it had before. It felt stronger, so much like it had felt the night he had killed the woman detective.

Only this felt much more pleasurable. The anticipation was almost sexual, and the desire turned physical.

She had offended him. She had seized the limelight that was supposed to have been his at the Agony House. The tour had been his to direct that night, and she had derailed his efforts.

And now, today...

He turned from the window and glared at the large computer screen on the inlaid desk that anchored his private sanctorum. The YouTube video of
Mistress Tereza
was frozen at the point that the woman was entering the ocean while flames clung to her legs.

The flames were an illusion, though. Gibson knew she had protected her flesh, and the fire only burned the fumes of the chemicals. There was heat, yes, but no scorching. Escaping the straitjacket while in the water was impressive, though. Gibson had never wanted to do something like that too much, though he’d done some of it in his early career. Escapology was too much physical labor. He preferred illusions, making an audience think they knew what they were seeing.

That was what made him great. That perception that others had of him.

The room was a trophy chamber of his successes. Framed pictures of performances and his meetings with celebrities filled the walls. This was his world now, not his father’s. He had gone much further than his father had ever believed he would in his career, and Gibson reveled in that knowledge, even though his father would never acknowledge his success. Knowing that there was so much of it to ignore made that success even sweeter.

At the computer, he brought up the closed circuit television system he had hidden throughout the house. He watched as the woman entered the villa on Roylston’s heels.

Gibson stood in the dark and awaited his call to tonight’s performance. The hunger coiled and uncoiled inside him.

* * *

Desperate, Heath threw himself from his car and went around to the trunk. He wore the .357 on his hip in a holster, but he’d stored the 9mm he’d captured from the woman in his hotel room in the trunk. Since then, he’d also gotten extra magazines and a shoulder holster from the kid who had sold him the revolver.

In the shadows under a palm tree, Heath strapped the
9 mm under his left arm, then pulled a black windbreaker on to hide the weapons. He shoved the extra magazines into the thigh pockets of his cargo jeans, then pulled on a black ball cap to cover his hair.

After closing the trunk, he jogged down to the beach and ran along the dark water. Trying to approach the villa across the light-colored sand of the beach would have made him stand out. Since the moon wasn’t up, the ocean was inky dark, and he knew he was nearly invisible against it. He jogged, his feet sinking into the wet sand with liquid crunching noises.

With someone in their midst, Heath felt certain that the villa’s flesh and blood security would draw closer to the core, leaving it to the electronic surveillance to watch the perimeter. Those systems weren’t fail proof. During the days he had scouted the villa, Heath had felt certain there were weak points. Trespassing would have made any evidence he’d obtained that way illegal, though. So he’d kept his distance.

Tonight, all bets were off. Lauren wasn’t supposed to have bearded the monster in his lair. They were supposed to have coaxed Gibson out.

He ran, his muscles warming up against the chill coming in from the sea.

* * *

The house had seemed large and ornate from outside, but once Lauren was inside, she was overwhelmed by the opulence. Chandeliers, art, plush furniture, woods, marble and window treatments that looked as though they’d been ripped from designer catalogues filled the rooms she saw as Roylston escorted her to the back of the house.

Lauren’s fear had grown when she’d entered the villa’s gates, and it was everything she could do to control it as she followed the bodyguard. She made herself think of Megan, but that was a double-edged sword because that memory was as filled with terror as it was with resolve to see her sister’s murderer caught.

She followed Roylston up to the second floor to a door. The bodyguard indicated the door. “Everything you need will be inside. Feel free to choose whatever you wish.”

“Thank you.” Lauren stepped through the doorway into a large room that contained a vanity and two large closets filled with women’s clothing.

“Sure.” Roylston pointed to an intercom on the wall. “If you need anything, just ring. When you’re ready, let me know and I’ll come get you.”

“All right. Thank you.” Lauren watched the man close the door, but she still didn’t feel alone. She took a deep breath and tried to release the tension that she felt inside her.

She couldn’t help wondering if this was what Megan had been treated to, as well. Then she knew that wasn’t the case. No matter what had happened between Gibson and Megan, Lauren knew her sister would never have put up with something like this.

Yet, here she was, prepared to put on clothes Gibson had provided for his “guests.” Curious, Lauren looked through the closets, wondering what kind of clothing Gibson had chosen, and wondering, too, at the women whom he brought back to the villa. During the time she and Heath had watched the villa, no one had brought a woman onto the premises.

Growing up in foster care, Lauren had endured her share of hand-me-downs, but this was a more exotic collection than she’d ever seen. The clothing wasn’t all “play” wear either, though there was an assortment of that, too: catsuits and wispy lingerie. But there was also a choice of casual clothing, beachwear and cocktail dresses. There was even a range of sizes and lengths.

Lauren picked a pair of snug-fitting skinny-legged jeans and a close-fitting pullover because that outfit provided the least amount of loose material that could be used against her if she had to fight for her life. She didn’t think that would be the case. Too many people knew that Gibson had bailed her out of jail. He wouldn’t dare hurt her, would he?

She took the clothing to the bathroom in the rear of the room.

* * *

Sipping from a snifter of brandy to hold the darkness in him in thrall for a while longer, Gibson watched the woman strip in the bathroom. Her body—her shape and her form and her nudity—wasn’t what excited him. It wasn’t even the vision of what he would do to it. What fascinated him most was the knowledge that he was about to have more power over her than anyone had ever had before.

Onscreen, the woman stepped into the shower but the heated water had fogged the windows to the point that she seemed like an illusion on the other side of the translucent glass.

He hummed in anticipation, knowing it wouldn’t be much longer now. She was going to pay for upstaging him.

Chapter 21

P
lastered up against the seaward wall of the villa and drenched in the darkness, Heath felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He slid it free, thinking that Lauren might be calling him from inside the house.

Instead, Jackson Portman’s face showed on the view screen.

Heath debated answering the phone, but this late in the evening with everything going on, he knew that his partner wouldn’t call unless there was serious need.

“Yeah?”

“I think I know who Gibson is.”

The information surprised Heath, but not the fact that Jackson had stayed with the search. “How?”

“I kept backtracking Sisco’s employment to a place called Blackheart Solutions. Heard of it?”

“No.”

“Don’t feel bad. Neither had I until I dug in. Turns out Blackheart Solutions is a company that specializes in computer software. They get a large part of government contracts every year. Providing encryption and stuff like that.”

Heath gazed up at the tall perimeter wall. “I got a thing here, Jackson. Maybe you could pick up the pace a little.”

“Blackheart Solutions is owned by a man named Julius Bleak. Guy knows congressmen and presidents by their first names. He also has a son, Terrence, who is forty-three years of age. Terrence has a history of violence against women. Two charges of rape and aggravated assault in Seattle. Both cases were dismissed with prejudice because Terrence Bleak’s daddy used his leverage to get the charges dropped. I had to really look for that information to get it. Terrence was nineteen and twenty-two at the time. Then Terrence vanished. No history. A few years later, Gibson starts hitting the magic circuit. How do you like that?”

“Less and less by the minute, buddy.” The anxiety inside Heath reached shattering levels. All he could think about was Janet and how he hadn’t been there for her. “I’ve got to go. I appreciate everything that you’ve done.”

“Let me know how everything works out?”

“Definitely.” Heath couldn’t tell Jackson his situation. His partner would have tried to talk him down, and Heath didn’t have the time for an argument. He hung up, then looked up Inspector Myton’s phone number and placed a call to him.

Myton was slow to pick up, and when he did he sounded half-asleep. “Hello?”

“This is Heath Sawyer.”

That perked Myton up immediately. “Where are you, Detective Sawyer? I have some questions I’d like you to answer. It seems your hotel room was trashed, and there was a shootout in front of the building that has me puzzled.”

“I’m at Gibson’s estate.”

“Really? What are you doing there?”

“I’m saving my friend. You need to hurry.” Heath hung up, turned to the security wall and walked to where the ocean lapped at the perimeter. Over the years of constant assault, the salt water had chipped away at the mortar holding the stones together, leaving hand and foot holds. He started climbing, hauling himself up as quickly as he could.

* * *

Lauren followed Roylston back down to the first floor, then to a library much like the one at Agony House, though designed on a less ambitious scale. The shelves held books and DVDs on magic, and glass display cases held dioramas of famous magicians performing legendary tricks and escapes.

Fascinated, she stopped in front of a display case that held a scene of Houdini talking to a gypsy woman seated at a table with a crystal ball. The magician had hold of the table and was yelling at the woman, who was terrified.

“Houdini didn’t believe in the spirit world.” Gibson had come into the room behind her without her knowledge.

“That’s right.” A chill passed through Lauren, but she suppressed it. She couldn’t help thinking that she was looking at her sister’s murderer, and that she was standing more or less helpless inside his house.

“Would it surprise you to know that I first got involved in magic because I wanted to speak to my mother?”

“I’ve never read that anywhere.”

“I’ve never told anyone.” Gibson gazed at the diorama. “My mother died when I was very young. I’ve missed her my whole life.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Gibson shrugged and smiled. “She chose to leave. Committed suicide.” He shrugged again. “At least, that’s what my father tells me. He’s a very powerful and influential man, so that must be true, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

With slow, deliberate steps, Gibson crossed the room to gaze intently at the diorama. “Who are you, Mistress Tereza—or should I call you Lauren Cooper, since you were booked under that name—that you would come into my world and seek so strongly to attract my attention? I feel that I should know you.”

Lauren was surprised to discover that Gibson still hadn’t recognized her from the encounter in the restaurant days ago. “I’m a struggling magician trying to make a name for myself.”

“And you choose to do this by confronting me on my turf?”

“I didn’t mean any harm.”

Gibson looked at her then. “Not even when you stole the show from under me at the Agony House?”

“I didn’t expect you to be so confrontational. I was going to use someone else in the audience to finish the trick, but when you stepped in so hard, it had to be you.”

Shrugging, Gibson lifted a hand, and a gold coin danced across his knuckles like a leaf flowing down a river, smooth and effortless. The deep yellow color of the metal winked in the light. “I couldn’t let you just steal the show like that. Then, I couldn’t stop you.”

“I thought maybe we could work together.”

“If you know anything at all about me, you know I don’t work with a partner.”

“I wasn’t trying to be a partner. Just a warm-up act.”

“And the death-defying leap from the ship into the ocean while in a straitjacket today?”

“That was to get your attention.”

“Was it? Because I think it was to capitalize on the success of the video currently going viral across the internet.” Gibson smiled, and there was no humor. Malice gleamed in his dark eyes.

“A little publicity never hurts.”

“This publicity? It’s going to hurt you.” With his other hand, Gibson snapped a card into the air.

The card whirled like a Frisbee as it crossed the distance to Lauren. Without thinking, she plucked the card out of the air.

“Very good reflexes.” Gibson seemed genuinely amused.

Lauren turned the card over and saw the white rabbit there.

“After the police find your body, I’m going to mail them that card.” As he strode toward her, Gibson’s hands came from behind his back. In one of his hands, he held a long knife.