So Close the Hand of Death (19 page)

“I won’t do it. I refuse to be chased off because some lunatic has it in for me.”

“Has it in for
you?
It’s your commenters he’s killing. Your livelihood. Without the fans, would your blog be anything? Of course not. Really, Colleen. Listen very carefully. You’re playing with fire. You’ve got too much to lose. This man will stop at nothing to get what he wants. You are disposable. You don’t matter to him. You’re a means to an end, and he will use you then kill you when you’re no longer necessary to his little games. In the meantime, a lot of innocent people are going to be caught in the crossfire. I’m telling you, we need to take the blog down.”

“No. Absolutely not. I won’t be bullied into submission by a lunatic, or by the police. If I take it down, it will send a clear signal to everyone in this industry that they can be scared out of business. I have to stand up for all of us.”

Jackson paused for a moment, then threw up her hands. “Fine. I’m sorry you feel that way. I suppose we’ll just have to take it down for you.”

Colleen rose from her chair. Fury coursed through her. “Don’t you even think about—”

“It’s already done.” Jackson nodded to the door, where the handsome Detective Ross stood, a small frown on his face. “How—”

“Detective Ross is one of the finest forensic detectives in the country. He’s taken the site down, set in motion a system to contact your commenters and alert them to look after their safety.”

“You can’t do that. It’s illegal. Client confidentiality.”

“Once they leave a comment in the ether, it’s public domain.”

“No, no, no. It’s not. It’s a private domain. They have to register for the site. It’s only open to commenters who have opted to give me their information, and those are the only ones who can participate in the comments. I have a strict privacy clause in place, drawn up by an intellectual-property-rights attorney, that they must agree to, not to mention the rights of the hosting company and the content management system I use. There is an expectation of privacy by joining my group. You can’t contact them without my permission, or a warrant.”

Jackson got right in her face. “Please. Give me a break, Colleen. It’s just a blog. And if it’s that private, the killer is on that list of people. We need those names.”

Colleen started to sputter, but Jackson held up a hand. “Don’t bother getting outraged. You’re lucky we aren’t charging you with obstruction. We need to be serious for a moment. Sit back down, take a deep breath, relax and start talking. You came to me for help, remember? Quit wasting my time if you don’t have anything to add to the discussion besides bullshit.”

Colleen stayed on her feet. “You’re a bitch.”

Jackson laughed, short and knowing, then grew serious. “Maybe I am. But I’m much more worried about saving lives than us being girlfriends. Okay? Can we stop playing around and get down to business? People are dying, Colleen. You, and your son, are in grave danger. If you won’t do it for me, think of Flynn. Think about what Tommy would want you to do.”

Colleen was defeated. She recognized the feeling. She’d just been outplayed. She didn’t like it, but she had to respect the gamesmanship. For Jackson to use Colleen’s dead husband and her living child against her was low, but it had served its purpose. She tamped down her own anger, sat back at the table and pulled a notebook from her bag. Flipped it open. Started to read aloud. Enjoyed the look of pure shock on the lieutenant’s face as she started reading off the victims’ names and her website numbers, and the Pretender’s victim pool grew exponentially larger.

T
aylor left Colleen in the conference room alternately vocalizing her anger with Taylor and casting coquettish glances at Lincoln. She found a quiet corner at the end of the hallway. The industrial fluorescents were over-bright. Or maybe she was overtired. She glanced at her TAG Heuer watch, it was nearly morning. The interview had taken almost an hour, with Colleen fighting her every step of the way. She had enough information to go forward, but something was missing. Specifically, why Colleen had been targeted in the first place. There were plenty of true-crime blogs on the web. Even a couple of other national sites that were run out of Nashville, according to Colleen. So why her? There was something missing, a piece they were overlooking, but damn if she could see what that was.

Taylor leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. What kind of game was Ewan Copeland playing? Was he responsible for the murders in New York, San Francisco and Boston? There was no way he could possibly be in all three places at once—he could have committed one of the series, but not all three, on two separate coasts. There was only one conclusion: he’d
finally actualized his training from the Snow White Killer and recruited a group of apprentices to work alongside him, even going so far as to bring his own sister into the mix. The thought sent chills to her very marrow.

But more people meant more opportunities for leaks, for mistakes. And that might bring her the chance to end all of this sooner rather than later. All it would take to end her nightmare was a twitch of her forefinger. One clean shot, and the world would breathe easier.

She revisited her ongoing fantasy, thought about how she could lie in wait, and kill Copeland the moment she had confirmation that it was really him. She envisioned the setting—Copeland begging for his life, his pleas falling on deaf ears as she stood over him and shot without hesitation. The end.

Getting away from Baldwin and her team to enact such measures wouldn’t be difficult. Deception was a part of her job, misleading statements, sleight of hand. She was a magician with real handcuffs.

Everything up to now has been a dress rehearsal, you bastard. I won’t let you hurt anyone else I know
.

God, she was tired.

“Are you okay?”

Taylor’s eyes flew open at Baldwin’s voice. He’d managed to sneak up on her. Good grief, had she dozed off standing, like a cow in a field? She nearly laughed at the image.

“I’m fine. You scared me.”

“Sorry about that. I thought you might have a headache. Your forehead is all squinched up like it gets when something hurts.” He ran his thumb softly across the two little wrinkles that appeared between her brows when she was frustrated or concentrating. Her railroad
tracks, he called them, miniature furrows in her otherwise smooth skin. Her mother had good skin, and her grandmother before her. Lots of collagen. They’d both aged well, she hoped she’d get the same chance.

Something hurt, all right. The bleeding edge of her soul where she’d taken the knife and sliced off a piece the moment she’d decided on revenge as the only path to sanity. She tucked it away. There was plenty of time to wallow later.

“I’m good. Just thinking. What’s happening with you?”

“Waiting on a bunch of call backs. It’s rather frustrating not to be able to
do
anything.”

“You’re here. That’s doing something.” She pushed off the wall. “Want a coke?”

“Nothing cold. I need coffee. It’s freezing in that interrogation room.”

“I need a coke. Sorry you had to suffer. I keep it cold in there on purpose. Makes the bad guys ’fess up quicker. I have a hard time keeping a straight face when I’m in court and they play video of the interrogations. Watching the suspects try to warm their hands with the cuffs on is a source of great amusement for me.”

“Taylor, my dear, you are a first-class sadist.”

“You know it.”

They started walking, shoulders touching. Taylor took comfort in the contact. It reminded her that even though she was alone in this, she had someplace to turn if she backed out, or if she truly needed a safe place to run to.

“How’s Colleen Keck?” Baldwin asked.

They reached the soda machine. Baldwin peeled a dollar out of his wallet and put it in, chivalrously handed
the Diet Coke to Taylor. She accepted it, cracked the lid and took a long drink before she answered.

“I had to have Lincoln take the blog down, but that’s as far as I can go. Colleen is not cooperating the way I’d like. She’s more worried about protecting her sources than helping us stop the Pretender. Without her permission to scan the personal information of the blog commenters, I’ll have to get a warrant, and warrants take time. I lied a little, told her we were already contacting them, but she’s no dummy, she knew we couldn’t do that without securing paper first. I left Lincoln in with her, she seems to have developed some rapport with him. If that doesn’t work, I thought I’d let you have a go at her, see if she’ll soften up.”

“What is she hiding?”

“I wish I knew. She’s certainly aware of the situation, and she’s given me enough so I can start calling the other jurisdictions. She’s holding something back, and damned if I know what it is, or why.”

“What other jurisdictions?”

“Boston and New York, so far. I just got a call from Paul Friend at Fox News, they’re putting the story together. It’s only a matter of time before the whole world knows.”

“Do we need to bring Hall and the North Carolina guys in on this, too?”

“According to Colleen. She’s profiled the cases and feels they’re all connected.”

Baldwin was silent for a moment. “She’s probably right.”

“Hell, I know that. Copeland’s sister in North Carolina, and some of his other little buddies scattered across the country? He’s showing off, telling us how much control he has. And he’s two steps ahead of us.
That’s the problem. What in the name of all that’s holy is a
blogger
doing putting together the pieces of my case before I get a chance to?”

“Your case. You’re assuming jurisdiction of the case?”

“Of Keck’s portion of it, yes. Keck is my responsibility now. We need to find out how he knows her online persona as Felon E, and fast. I think she’s just being used as a tool, because she has a direct connection to me. I was her husband’s training officer. Only for a couple of weeks, but that’s long enough. I passed the sergeant’s exam, got transferred into plain clothes, and he was picked up by another officer. Two years later, Tommy Keck was shot in the line of duty, doing a drug stop out on Interstate 40. The shooting is on video. Keck walked back to the car he’d pulled over, and the driver laughed as he shot him. Car took off, left Keck lying on the side of the road, drowning in his own blood. It was all over the news. Colleen had given birth just a few weeks earlier. He was just back from paternity leave. It was terrible. Just…senseless.”

“And now Colleen Keck has become a pawn in Ewan Copeland’s game. We should look into her past as well, just in case. Where is she from?”

“I don’t know. What bothers me is he’s decided to start pulling ancillary people into the game. Tommy’s been dead for a long time, and though I’ve met Colleen, it was only a couple of times, and at his funeral. I didn’t even recognize her when she showed up. She looks…different.”

“Grief does that to a person.”

“Of course it does. But that was four years ago. I wasn’t on Copeland’s radar then. It wasn’t until Snow White reemerged that he caught wind of me. We’ve
always agreed that he saw me on the television at the beginning of that case.”

Baldwin tapped his forefinger against his front teeth. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ve been assuming that. Assumptions are very dangerous things. Once we add the Kecks into the equation…I don’t know, Taylor. You could have come across him much earlier than that.”

“No. No way. How?”

“I don’t know. But I think we should do a records search, see if we find anything.”

“Search what records?”

“All of them. Everything Metro and the FBI has. I think we should go back through your arrest record, and I’d like to put together a ViCAP query as well. You’ve been his target all along. He’s showing off for you. Haven’t you ever asked yourself, why?”

“Every day.”

“I think we need to think differently about this. We need to pull all the minds together, in one place. Let everyone have a hand in.”

“Your team and my team? Or are you thinking a task force?” As she said it, she felt her heart drop. Was he starting to get the idea that she was planning to hunt the Pretender down, was trying to distract her with procedure? She must be more transparent than she thought. Task forces meant layer upon layer of accountability. Accountability took time. Time was a luxury she couldn’t permit. Not if she was going to finish things herself.

“Multiple jurisdictions, multiple cases. That might be the easiest way to coordinate. We let them worry about the other states so we can focus on Tennessee. On you.” Crap, he
was
getting suspicious. She played with
the tab on the top of the Diet Coke. “I don’t know, Baldwin. Besides, that’s out of my hands, I can’t make that call. Task forces cost real money. It’s way above my pay grade, and you’re on suspension, so it’s out of yours, too. I’m going to call Emily Callahan up in New York, see if she knows what’s going on with the case up there, then report to Commander Huston and drag A.D.A. Page out of bed. Let Julia handle Colleen’s privacy protestations.”

“Callahan. I’ve always had a soft spot for her, considering. Tell her I said hello.”

Considering the fact that instead of honeymooning in Italy, they’d spent a couple of days in New York with then-detective-third-grade Emily Callahan from the 108th precinct of Long Island, trying to solve the case of the Snow White, the bastard who was the Pretender’s maker. He was dead and gone, now, a victim of his creation. She hoped the Pretender would soon follow in his mentor’s footsteps.

They reached the break room, and Taylor decided to change the subject.

“Enough of all this. What have you been doing? I thought you’d pop in on me and Colleen.”

Baldwin sighed heavily. “I’ve been on the phone with Kevin. He’s been working on Ruth Anderson’s hard drive. If there’s something to find, he’ll get it.”

Taylor had always wanted to get Lincoln Ross and Kevin Salt in a room together and set them to work on the same impossible task, just to see who could finish faster. She’d put money on Lincoln, but Salt was worth every penny Baldwin paid him.

“Can you do that? I thought you were suspended.”

He gave a rueful laugh. “I am. Couldn’t be better timing, either. My team is working directly with SSA
Hall. They flew the evidence from North Carolina to Quantico. Garrett is in charge of things for the time being, but Kevin is keeping me informed. Right now, I’m afraid I’m a man without a country.”

“Hmm. A man without a country, yet Kevin was happy to give you the particulars…”

Baldwin smiled. “Well, to his credit, he snuck the call in from the bathroom. I may have to promote his ass when I get my command back. Anyway, it’s going to take more time. Ruth Anderson has been in contact with an awful lot of people.”

“Surely Ewan Copeland is in her system? Can’t we find out where he is from that?”

“They’ve been covering their tracks for years. It’s going to take more than a couple of hours. Kevin’s a genius, but he’s only one man. And as far as we can tell, Copeland hasn’t used that name since he was eighteen and got spat out of juvie. He completely dropped off the radar.”

“Right.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t we head back to the house, take a shower, catch an hour’s worth of sleep. You’re dead on your feet, I can see your molars every time you yawn.”

“I’m not yawning,” she said, just as her jaw spontaneously opened, wide enough that her ears cracked.

“Yeah, right. Make your calls, then I’m taking you home for a couple of hours.”

She had to admit he was right. These were the in between hours, when paperwork created lag time, research was under way and information was barely trickling in.

She decided to be smart. She might as well take advantage of the momentary lull. She had no idea when
she’d get another chance to rest. They’d call if they found anything relevant.

“It’s going to take Julia Page a while to secure the warrant, I’ll have Marcus or McKenzie type it up. Callahan won’t be in the office for a couple of hours, no sense dragging her out of bed so early. And she’s on eastern time, it’s an hour later there. Let me tell the boys I’m taking off. A couple of hours of sleep wouldn’t hurt. I’ll meet you in the parking lot in five.”

She watched Baldwin walk away, waited until he was out of site, then started down the hall to her office.

Maybe she could parade through the lot, or wander up the street, see if he took a shot? He wasn’t in the building, and so long as she was safely ensconced in the CJC, he couldn’t get at her. She needed to be outside, out in the open, marking her scent along the trees, drawing him closer and closer.

If only it would be so easy. No. She’d been in Nashville long enough now that if he were here, he’d know she was back and gunning for him. It was time to start hunting.