The Eyes Die Last (35 page)

“If I had the time I’d haul both of your asses in for obstruction, lock you up, and throw away the key.” 

“Well now, it’s lucky for us you’re pressed for time.”  Nick sounded smug and he was still smiling.  Damn the man. 

Wilder turned to Elvis.  “You get a good look at the man I was chasing?  Could he be the man at the casino taking pictures of you and Priscilla?” 

“I’m not sure.  He sort of looks familiar.  But I’m really not sure where or if I’ve ever seen the dude.” 

“That man is my campaign manager, John Tully.”  Nick offered, “You may have seen John on TV with me.  We’ve been on camera quite a bit lately.” 

Wilder, his breathing back to normal, asked, “Mr.  Campenelli, how can we reach your campaign manager?  There are several questions we’re going to need answered.” 

Nick scribbled down a few notes on the back of a business card and passed it over.  “Try calling these numbers.  If they don’t work, I’ll call my assistant and she’ll get you John’s address.  He lives in Summerlin, I believe.” 

Wilder pocketed the card.  “Kenny, I think this stakeout is a bust for the day.  I’ll take Elvis to Metro, go through some of the mug shots and get that picture of
St. Louis
in front of him.  We’ll see if he spots anyone.” 

“No thanks to these two.”  Into her mic Kennedy said, “Might as well head in, Alli.” 

Taking
in a deep breath, the killer let his body relax as relief washed over him.  He was confident no one knew his identity.  He’d watched as the cop tried to pass herself off as a hooker.  She’d actually played the part quite well, just not well enough to fool him.  And Detective O’Brien, hanging back in the alley, he’d been up close and personal with her.  Her face and body were embedded in his mind.  Threads of excitement raced through him as he recalled her voice and her scent.  He grew hard just thinking about her. 

Of course he’d stop the killing.  They’d catch him sooner or later if he didn’t.  But the pounding of his heart, the way his blood rushed through his veins, it was such a thrill.  Maybe someday when things settled down he’d be able to indulge from time to time

Detective O’Brien would be the ultimate kill, his
la
st
.
Of course, killing the detective wasn’t part of his original plan, but she’d be one hell of a grand finale.  He could see the headline.  Prostitute Killer Unstoppable or maybe Prostitute Killer Bests Cop.  The media was going to love it and the viewing audience was going to eat it up like piranhas. 

“Tried to set a trap for me, Detective?”  He admired her for it.  “Good try.” 

Wilder
and Elvis turned to leave, and Nick grinned when he heard Wilder muttering.  “You’re gonna turn the freakin’ blinky lights off before we get to Metro.” 

He caught a glimpse of a smile cross Kennedy’s face as well.  He moved to stand at her side, his hands in his pockets, as they watched the two men disappear around the corner.  “That jumpsuit’s something else.” 

“Elvis is something else.  I’m not sure what, but definitely something else.”  “You need a ride home, Detective?” 

I planned on hitching a ride with Wilder.  Guess I should have thought about that before I let him take off.”  She shifted from one foot to the other. 

“I’ll even splurge for coffee if you’d like.” 

She shrugged.  “Sure, why not.” 

“Just like that?  You’re not going to tell me to go to Hell or threaten to blow off any part of my anatomy?” 

“Hey, if you didn’t want me to accept your offer, Campenelli, you shouldn’t have asked.” 

“I’m glad you accepted my invitation.  You think you can keep from accusing me of murder long enough to enjoy the coffee?” 

“Sure, for a decent cup of joe, I’ll be on my best behavior.” 

“That’s all it takes to keep you in line?”  Every now and then he caught a peek at her sense of humor and liked it.  Hell, he liked a whole lot of things about her, especially the passion she had locked away somewhere inside.  He knew it was there, he’d felt it when he kissed her. 

Nick
placed a hand at the small of Kennedy’s back and guided her inside the upscale coffee house.  People stared, seeming to make Kennedy uncomfortable and by the curl of her lip and the narrowing of her eyes, Nick would guess pissed.  Really, really pissed. 

“Campenelli, I’m under-dressed and all in black.  I look like a fucking cat burglar.  Everyone is looking at us.” 

“You’re just prettier than they are.  Don’t get your panties all in a twist, Irish.” 

She took the seat he offered, and crossed her long, lean legs.  Kennedy smiled wickedly.  “Who says I’m wearing panties?” 

Nick struggled to keep a straight face as his dick went on Red Alert.  It was a challenge to keep his voice low and even.  “Christ, woman, you’re killing me.” 

Kennedy’s face glowed.  He leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the flushed cheeks and smile that made her extraordinary.  He liked this side of the cop. 

Unfortunately, her relaxed mood didn’t last long. 

She shifted in her seat, uncrossed her legs.  “Tell me, Campenelli, what was your campaign manager doing in Hooker Haven this afternoon?” 

He waited until the waitress set their mugs of coffee down and left, giving himself a little time to adjust to Kennedy’s change of focus.  “I honestly don’t know, but I intend to find out.  I have to admit, I was surprised to see him there.” 

She blew on her coffee, the act sexy as hell.  “Where was John Tully on the nights of the murders?” 

“How in the hell would I know that?”  But he did know John wasn’t where he was supposed to be on at least one of the nights.  The night Phoebe Mixer was killed, John had been missing, wouldn’t answer his phone.  “You’re way off base here.  He’s not a killer anymore than I am.  I’ve known him for over ten years.” 

“Sorry.  That holds no weight with me.”  She took a drink. 

He leaned forward, put his elbows on the table and crossed his arms.  “There’s that hang-up of yours again.  You just can’t trust people can you?” 

“I’m a cop.  I’m not supposed to trust people.” 

“That’s not a good outlook on life.  You need to learn to trust one of these days.”  He straightened and took his mug. 

“I trust the people who’ve earned it.  But you never know, maybe I’ll get all indiscriminate.  I’ll put it on my to-do
li
st
.
Right up there with dancing naked in front of city hall.” 

Now it was Nick’s turn to smile wickedly.  “Now that’s something I’d enjoy seeing.  I could get a closer look at that tattoo of yours.” 

“Forget it.  You’ve had your last look at my tattoo.” 

He put his mug down and tried to look pitiful.  “That saddens me.”  “Yeah, well get over it, Slick.” 

Nick checked his watch.  “If you’re ready, I’ll take you home now.  I’ve got a charity dinner to attend tonight.” 

“A charity dinner?” 

“You know, one of those deals where I donate lots of money and enjoy a tasteless meal.  Then I stand around and visit with other people and smile, looking like I’m glad to be there.  We discuss the charity we’re giving money to and talk about how delicious the bland dinner was.  Then I go home after making a quick stop at a fast food drive through.” 

“I know what a charity dinner is, Campenelli.”  She emptied her mug and picked up her purse, tossing the strap over
her shoulder.  “I have trouble
envisioning you eating fast food.” 

“I love fast food.  I’m a bachelor after all.” 

“Right.  Could you drop me off at Metro instead of my apartment?  I have a few things to do before I head home.” 

“No problem.” 

The
killer watched the detective through the window of the coffee shop.  His nostrils flared and he tightened his grip on the camera he was holding.  It whirred as he snapped several pictures of Kennedy.  How fitting.  He’d taken his first victim’s BEFORE photos at a coffee shop too.  It wasn’t as uppity as the one the detective and Campenelli were having their little get-together at, but it was still a coffee shop. 

Nighttime was rapidly approaching and a rush of light-headedness ran through him.  Tonight he would follow the detective.  He didn’t want to take her at her apartment, but he would if he couldn’t get to her any other way.  For now, he’d get a feel for how and when to approach her.  Preparation made all the difference. 

He could almost feel the firmness of her throat.  His hands grew warm and moist, and began to ache.  Her long, slender neck was made for his hands.  He grew hard again, thinking about how good it was going to feel to squeeze the life from her.  He stroked himself lightly.  Killing her would far surpass the others.  She wasn’t going to go down easy, no doubt fighting him till the end.  The detective would be a challenge. 

“We’re going to have such fun, love.” 

CHAPTER THIRTY

AT METRO, KENNEDY FOUND WILDER TALKING TO SPARKY AND JIMMY.

She heard a lot of ‘No way’s, ‘Your ass’ and ‘Bullshit’s flying around.  The men didn’t even notice when she joined them.

“What’s up guys?  Elvis gone?”  She moved to her desk and tossed down her purse.

Wilder smiled.  “That guy is so far gone...  I guess that’s not what you’re asking.”

“No, that’s not what I’m asking.”

“He left an hour ago, blinky suit and all.  He didn’t recognize any of the mug shots or the picture of
St. Louis
.”

“So he’s sure it’s not Campenelli or
St. Louis
?”

“Wrong.  He’s decided he won’t be able to recognize the guy who was taking photos.  Everybody looks the same to him.”

“No way.  He can’t do that.” 

“Actually, he can, and he did.”

Sparks and Tenuta’s heads bobbed in agreement.

“Crap.  So what’s all the bullshitting about with you three?”

”I’m trying to talk these two bozos into running checks on John Tully and Elvis.  We need to get back out on the street.”

“Elvis?”  The idea had crossed Kennedy’s mind earlier for about a nano-second.

“Sure, why not?” 

“You tell me, Wilder.”

“Why should we take his word about why he was in Hooker Haven today?  How do we know he’s telling the truth about the day the BEFORE picture was taken?  It’s pretty convenient that suddenly he isn’t sure about what he saw.”

“Maybe, but it seems a stretch.”  “Stretches pan out sometimes.”

Kennedy looked at Tenuta and Sparks.  “So are you two bozos going to help with background checks?”

“No problem,” Sparky replied with a grin. 

“You wouldn’t do it for me, but if Kenny asks you’re on board?” 

“There’s not too damn much I wouldn’t do for O’Brien.”  Sparky’s smile was wicked and his eyes twinkled. 

Kennedy sighed.  “Give me a fucking break.” 

Jimmy grinned.  “Too bad you didn’t get to wear the hooker clothes, O’Brien.  That would have been a sight to see.” 

“In your dreams, Jimmy.” 

Kennedy
re-checked Alli’s wire.  It was working fine.  Then she checked and double-checked her Sig and her backup piece before tucking them away.  She was fidgeting and she knew it.  She suspected Wilder knew it too. 

He confirmed her suspicions.  “What’s up with you?  You don’t normally get so worked up.” 

“I don’t know.  I just want this guy so badly.  He’s killed four women already.  It’s time to stop him.” 

“We will.  You ready?” 

“I guess so.  Think Alli would split the take with me if we decided to keep the money tonight?  How much money do you think she can make?”  She kept her voice serious.  “I need to pay for my car repairs.” 

“That’s real cute.  Better not let Tommy hear you talk like that.  He’d kick your ass.” 

Kennedy grinned.  “Nah, nothing I do ever shocks Grandpa.” 

Despite
Kennedy’s nerves, Alli seemed coolly professional.  She agreed to play along with the john and negotiate a deal.  After money exchanged hands, she’d go with the guy for a quick round of pork the prostitute, give the buyer time to whip out his pride and joy and see if the guy wanted it from the front or back.  If he was going in from the front, the rookie, playing her pimp, would step in and break up the coupling.  A couple of uniforms would pick the john up around the corner.  If the john wanted to go in from behind her, Wilder and Kennedy were there to see he went down a lot harder. 

After an hour playing hooker, no one had attempted to take Alli from the back.  So far the system was working well.  She’d had her first hit within ten minutes of claiming her corner.  Five minutes later, the john, a tourist, had his withered prick tucked neatly back in his pants and was on his way downtown.  Kennedy and Wilder passed the long night with the comfortable banter they always shared. 

“Hey guys, it’s hotter than hell out here.  My damn makeup is melting.  My feet ache.  And I’m hungry.” 

“Any other complaints, Alli?”  Kennedy asked.  “No, I guess that about covers it.  For now.”