Quinn (9 page)

“That won’t be necessary,” Slindak said gently. “I’ll have someone here later today if you think you won’t be too tired to do it.”

“I can do it.” He started back up the stairs. “It doesn’t matter if I’m tired. It has to be done.”

“One question, Mr. Bristol,” Joe said. “Was there any accent, any indication of where the caller might be from? Southern accent? Midwest? New York? Did he sound like anyone to whom she might previously have spoken?”

“I think Ellen would have told me if she’d recognized the voice. And she wasn’t concerned with accents. She was listening to what he was saying.” He was going slowly up the stairs. “I believe that’s all she’ll ever remember.”

“If you get the opportunity, would you ask her?” Joe asked.

“Don’t expect anything anytime soon. The doctor is going to keep her unconscious for a while, then bring her back very slowly. He’s hoping to keep her from having a complete breakdown.” He looked back over his shoulder at Eve. “I’ll pray for you. I can afford to do it now. But I don’t think it will do any good.”

“If I can help you…” Eve broke off as George Bristol turned the corner of the stairs and was lost to view. She turned to Joe, her eyes swimming with tears. “Why? Why would he call and taunt them?”

Joe didn’t answer. He turned to Slindak. “Did the newspaper or TV station he called manage to tape or trace the call?”

“No, the calls were made one after the other with no advance notice. They weren’t expecting it. He asked for the program director at CNN. At the newspaper he asked for Brian McVey, who wrote the article in this morning’s paper. McVey tried to put him on hold and stall, but he hung up.”

“Damn. But at least we can talk to them and ask the questions we can’t ask Ellen Bristol.”

“If they’ll answer,” Slindak said sourly. “They may want to protect their story.”

“They’ll answer,” Joe said grimly. “They’ll tell me everything I want to know.” He turned back to Eve. “Come on. I’ll check you into my hotel. Those reporters may be camped out in front of your house.”

He took out his car keys and tossed them to Slindak. “Get one of your officers to drive my car outside the subdivision to the gas station on the corner and leave it there. Eve and I will go out the back door, cut across the yard, and try to lose ourselves in the subdivision.”

Slindak nodded. “It’s your best shot. You’ll probably be seen, but we’ve ordered the media not to trespass on the Bristols’ property.” He made a face. “Not that they don’t break the rules when the stakes seem high enough. But it will give you a little time.” He gave the keys to the officer guarding the door. “You heard him, Dunigan. See if you can’t lose them if they follow you. Then report back here.” As the door closed behind him, he turned back to Joe. “This is nasty. But it may be a break for us. At least we’re not dealing with a phantom any longer.”

“No, I think that the Bristols would agree that it wasn’t a phantom that savaged them today,” Joe said.

“I’ll go out in front and give a statement,” Slindak said. “That should distract them until you get out of here.”

“Thanks.” He took Eve’s arm. “Let’s see if we can find that back door.”

She nodded. “The kitchen.” She was already moving down the hall. “There it is to the right.”

A moment later, they were on the deck outside the kitchen door. A chain-link fence. No back gate.

“We go over the fence,” he said. “Then cross the backyard next door and keep on moving. At the end of the block, we turn north one block and double back toward the subdivision entrance. Okay?”

She nodded and ran down the steps. “Stop planning and start moving.”

He glanced around, but couldn’t spot any media. That didn’t mean they weren’t under observation. But Slindak might have drawn them away. They might get lucky. He followed Eve, who was already across the yard and had entered the bed of daffodils bordering the fence.

She slipped and almost fell. “Be careful. Mud.”

He nodded. “Irrigation. There’s a price for these nice lawns and landscapes.” He helped her across the fence and climbed after her. “Run!”

*   *   *

JOE GLANCED OVER HIS
shoulder as he opened the car door for Eve at the gas station. “I think we made it. I’ll drive around for five or ten minutes to make sure that we’re not being followed.”

“I feel as if I’m in some Alfred Hitchcock movie. Jumping over fences, dodging from yard to yard,” she said as she got into the car. “This isn’t right. It’s not the media that we should be afraid of.”

“We’re not afraid.” He drove out of the gas station onto the street. “We’re just avoiding an unnecessary annoyance. And getting you to a place where you’ll not be hurt by their questions. You looked like a butterfly being stabbed by a dozen pins when they surrounded you.”

“You got me away from them.” She was gazing out the window. “I’m used to the reporters now. I was more shocked by what had happened to the Bristols than I was about being attacked by them. I was just too stunned to react. It was the last thing I expected.” She looked at him. “You didn’t answer me. He called those poor people and the media. He hadn’t done anything like that before. Do you have any idea why he would do it now?”

“Maybe. Ellen Bristol said that he sounded proud when he told her about killing Janey.”

Eve shuddered. “Horrible.”

“Yes, but it may be the key to why he made the call. He’s proud of his cleverness, he’s proud that he’s managed to kill and never been close to being caught.”

“Then why would he be this reckless and risk everything?”

“But you see, no one knows how clever he is. No one knows what power he has. It may have been enough for him to have this delicious secret for all these years. But now that his confidence has grown, and he thinks that no one can touch him, he’s ready to be admired by one and all. He even gave himself a name, Zeus, so that there’s no question of anonymity.”

“Power,” she murmured. “Who has more power than a god?”

“And Zeus was far from virtuous and completely absorbed in his power. The choice was logical.”

“Is that hunger for fame common in serial killers?”

“It’s not uncommon. Some are satisfied to stay beneath the radar for their entire career. Others get restless and want to thumb their noses at authority and show their power. My guess is that maybe when they found the remains of that little boy by the freeway, he got a taste of notoriety and liked it. Then when the news story appeared in the paper this morning, he was primed to exploit it and show everyone what a truly superior fiend he was. That call to the media wasn’t only to twist the knife in the Bristol family. He was hungry for more attention, more fame.” He shrugged. “But often that need for public attention only lasts for a limited amount of time, and they go underground again.”

“So he may not make any other calls?”

“As I said, it’s not predictable.”

“But if he did call again, you’d have a chance of catching him. The newspapers wouldn’t be caught off guard again, they’d be prepared. You could set up ways to trace him.”

“If.”

“But Slindak said this may be a break in the case. Dammit, stop being negative.”

“I told you I’d never lie to you. Any change in the status quo offers opportunities, but it’s not a sure thing. I’ve briefed you on all the theories and my experience with them, and that’s all I can do.”

“So what are you going to do? Are we still going to that shoe factory downtown?”

“No, I’ll give that job to one of Slindak’s men. I have to go and question Brian McVey and that program director from CNN.” He added emphatically, “And you are not going with me. I want answers, and all I’d get would be questions from them if you were within viewing distance.”

“I’m not arguing. I realize I’d be a distraction.”

Since the moment he’d seen her. “As I said, you can check into the Hyatt. The media may still track you down, but we won’t make it easy for them.”

She shook her head. “Too expensive. I’ll be fine at the house.”

“I’ll put you on my expense account.”

“You wouldn’t do that. You’re too honest. Which means you’d probably be paying for it out of your own pocket.”

“One night. Just enough time to take the heat off,” he coaxed. “Otherwise, I’d feel obligated to camp out in front of the house. It’s worth paying for your room just to make sure I get a good night’s sleep.”

“It’s not worth it to me.” She paused. “There’s a cheap motel about two miles from the house. I’ll check in there with my mother for tonight. I don’t need the Hyatt.” She made a face. “I’m no fancy Easterner who has to have room service and a concierge.”

“Yeah, guys like me need a lot of care and nurturing. Otherwise, we just wither away. Where is this motel? I’ll take you there, then go to your house and pick up your mother and have her choose some clothes to pack for you.”

“I can call her.”

“Where is the hotel?” he repeated.

“It’s the Rainbow Inn on Piedmont.”

“Sounds very whimsical.”

“Not very. You’ll turn up your nose at it.” She leaned wearily back in the seat. “Ask me if I care.”

“After my stint in the Middle East, it takes a lot to make me turn up my nose. If it has a shower, I’m good with it.”

“It has a shower.” She was silent for a moment. “Mr. Bristol said he’d pray for me. I’d rather he prayed for Bonnie. But he doesn’t think she’s alive. When he was talking, I was having trouble … I still have a chance. Things were different in her pattern from the other children who— I have a chance.”

“George Bristol is a man in pain. He probably doesn’t realize what he’s saying.”

“He knows.” She was silent again. “We’ve got to find that monster, Joe. For all those children, their parents. For Bonnie. He mustn’t be allowed to be proud of killing any more children. He’s got to be stopped.”

For Bonnie.

She was getting closer and closer to accepting that her daughter could be dead.

“That’s what we’re trying to do.”

“Not ‘trying.’ We’ve got to do it.”

She didn’t speak again until they arrived at the Rainbow Inn.

He gazed at the small one-story economy motel skeptically. It appeared in fair repair but had probably been built at least thirty years before. “Definitely no whimsy. You’re sure it has a shower?”

“I’m sure.” She got out of the car. “And telephones. Will you call me after you talk to CNN and Brian McVey?”

He nodded. “Or I’ll tell you in person after I’ve finished with them, and I bring your mother here.”

“I’ll call her and tell her to come in my car. I might need it.”

“No, she might be followed, and all this would be for nothing. I’ll make sure we’re not tailed. Do you need anything besides a change of clothes?”

“Tell her to bring my notebook and that box of missing person’s reports. I have to go over everything again. There has to be something there that we missed.” She moved toward the office, and there was a touch of despair mixed with the frustration in her voice. “He’s being so damn reckless. He has to have done something that will give us a lead.”

Joe backed the car out of the lot after the door shut behind her.

He couldn’t blame Eve for the exasperation that been founded on fear. Today had been a bad day for her, a complete roller-coaster ride. She had identified with the Bristols, and George Bristol’s certainty that Bonnie was dead had come as a shock. No matter how often she told herself that was a possibility, she couldn’t accept that it might be true.

How the hell would he handle it when she could no longer deny that the distant horror was a reality? And he could see that nightmare hovering on the horizon. Eve was taking comfort in the exceptions, the differences. He was seeing the similarities, and his experience and instincts were scaring him. He could try to prepare her, but at some point she would block him out and stop listening. It would be a purely self-defensive device.

Stop worrying about something he couldn’t change. He’d face that problem when he had to. He checked the address and phone for the
Atlanta Constitution
.

Now his problem was Brian McVey.

*   *   *

“I DON’T HAVE TO ANSWER
your questions, you know.” McVey leaned back in his chair. “I gave Detective Slindak a statement, so I’m not impeding the progress of the investigation. I could send you back to him.”

“You could,” Joe said. “But you’re a young reporter on your way up. You don’t want to antagonize anyone if you don’t have to. You’re going to have enough enemies.”

“You think so?” McVey chuckled. “That’s what journalism is all about. A lot of people don’t like the truth.”

“Particularly in stories like the one you wrote about the hunters finding Janey Bristol’s body. It was pretty grisly.”

“But all true.” His smile was cocky. “I was the first one to get the story, and I ran with it. And the public loves a little blood with their morning coffee.”

“You’d know that better than I.”

McVey’s smile faded. “Don’t be so patronizing. I’ve done my research on you. I may write about it, but I don’t kill. While I understand you were absolutely terrific at it. Who stinks the most, Quinn?”