The Killing Game (8 page)

“Then what?”

“I take strips of plasticine and apply them between the markers and build up to all of the tissue-depth points. When that's done, I start the smoothing and filling-in process.”

“It's incredible that you can come as close as you do with just measurements.”

“Measurements go only so far. Then technique and instinct have to take over.”

He smiled. “I'm sure they do.” He turned to her. “Have you gotten any more calls?”

“No.”

He glanced around the cottage. “Where's Quinn?”

“Outside somewhere.”

“He shouldn't have left you alone.”

“He hasn't left me alone more than five minutes in the past twenty-four hours. I told him to go take a walk.”

“He shouldn't have listened to you. It's not—”

“Where's Charlie?” she interrupted. “Joe's been trying to reach him since last night. He called Talladega and was told he'd left there, but he didn't show up here.”

“Sorry if you were nervous. I knew Quinn was guarding you and I had a car patrolling the area. I sent Charlie to take a report on Talladega to Quantico. He'll be here tonight.”

“I was too busy to be nervous. It was Joe who was anxious. But I'd think you'd make the reports yourself.”

“There are some advantages to being a senior agent. I try to avoid Quantico. I'd rather be in the field.” He smiled. “And Quinn is usually more than adequate. The Bureau was very sorry to lose him.” His gaze shifted back to the skull. “When will you be finished?”

“Tomorrow, maybe. I don't know.”

“You look tired.”

“I'm okay.” She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “My eyes sting a little. That's always the worst of it.”

“It won't be before tomorrow?”

She looked at him in surprise. “What difference does it make? I had to persuade you to even let me do the reconstruction.”

“I want to know. If it is John Devon, it will give me somewhere to start. That's more than I have now.” He paused. “This is a real nasty can of worms,” he muttered. “And I've got a feeling . . .”

She smiled. “One of those ‘spooky' profiler instincts?”

“So I get hunches occasionally. Nothing spooky about that.”

“I guess not.”

He walked over to the window and gazed out. “I'm worried about this killer. Those bodies were buried years ago and he was very careful even then. What's he been doing since that time? What did he do before Talladega? How long has it gone on?”

She shook her head.

“You know, I've often wondered what killers become if they're permitted to go on for a long time. Do they change? How often can you kill before you change from monster to super monster?”

“Super monster? It sounds like something out of a comic book.”

“I don't think you'll find him funny if you ever have to confront him.”

“You mean a killer becomes smarter over the years.”

“Smarter, more experienced, more arrogant, more determined, more calloused.”

“Have you ever dealt with one of these super monsters?”

“Not that I know about.” He turned to look at her. “But then, wouldn't a super monster take on the coloration of everything around him? You'd pass him on the street and never suspect him. If he'd been allowed to go on long enough, Bundy might have become a super monster. He had the fundamentals but he was too reckless.”

“How can you be this clinical?”

“If you let in emotion, you're at an immediate disadvantage. The man who called you wouldn't allow himself to become emotional if it got in his way. But he'd prey on your every emotion. It's part of the power trip.” He shook his head. “Don't let him feel your fear. He'll feed on it.”

“I'm not afraid of him.”

He studied her. “I believe you're telling the truth. Why aren't you afraid? You should be. Everyone's afraid to die.”

She didn't answer.

“But maybe you're not,” he said slowly.

“I have the same sense of self-preservation everyone does.”

“I hope you do.” His lips tightened. “Listen to me, don't underestimate this man. He knows too much. He could be anyone. He could be a clerk who works for the phone company or the cop who stops you for speeding or a lawyer with access to court records. Remember, he's been at this a long time.”

“How could I forget?” Her gaze shifted to the skull. “I have to go back to work now.”

“I guess that's my exit cue.” Spiro headed for the door. “Let me know when you finish.”

“I will.” She had already closed him out as she began to join the markers.

JOE QUINN WAS
waiting beside Spiro's car. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

“I didn't think you'd go very far.” Spiro followed him around the house. “You shouldn't have left her alone.”

“I didn't leave her alone. I was never out of sight of the cottage.” He left the driveway and moved into the shrubs. He knelt down. “See these marks? Someone was here.”

“That's not a foot imprint.”

“No, he cleaned the area. But the grass is bent. He tried to comb it, but he was in a hurry.”

“Very good.” Spiro should have known Quinn would pick up on any anomaly. He was sharp, and his SEAL training made him particularly formidable. “You think it was our man?”

“I don't know anyone else who would try to disguise his being here.”

“He's watching her?”

Quinn raised his head, his gaze on the woods. “Not now. No one's out there.”

“You'd sense it?” Spiro said mockingly. “ESP?”

“Something like that.” He smiled crookedly. “Maybe it's my Cherokee blood. My grandfather was a half-breed.”

And maybe it was that SEAL training again. Search and destroy. “You must have expected to find this or you wouldn't have gone looking.”

“He was ugly to her. He wanted to hurt her. I thought he might want to see her pain.” He stood up and moved back a step. “Or maybe he wanted to make sure he knew where she was. Either way, he'd come. Get a forensic team out here to see if they can collect any evidence.”

“Listen, we've got our hands full at Talladega. Get your own people to do it.”

“They won't do anything until they're sure they have to be involved, and they won't know that until Eve finishes the reconstruction. They won't dare not jump in at that point because of Eve's reputation.”

“But until then I guess you have to rely on me. In which case, it would behoove you to ask instead of order.”

“Please,” Joe bit out.

Spiro smiled. “You gave in too easily. I would have had a team out here anyway.”

“Bastard.”

“You needed taking down a notch.” He turned away. “Charlie will be here by dark. I understand you've been worried.”

Joe's gaze narrowed on his face. “You wanted me to worry. When I couldn't reach Cather, I called you. When you didn't answer your digital, I phoned the command site and Sheriff Bosworth said you were too busy to take the call.”

“He was right. It turned out that no aerial shots had been taken of the grave sites to determine if there's a pattern. It kept me pretty busy coordinating the photography.”

“Too busy for a two-minute phone call? You wanted to make me sweat.”

“Worry keeps a man sharp. You're going to need to be sharp.”

“And I'm not sure Cather's the agent to guard Eve. He doesn't impress me.”

“He's not standard FBI, if that's what you mean. He's not cynical and he's eager instead of methodical. I had a hell of a time getting him approved for the unit, but that doesn't mean he's not fully qualified. And a fresh eye sees things a jaded one doesn't. He'll do a good job. Besides, I've given orders for three other agents to do sentry duty and patrol the woods around the cottage. They'll report to Charlie. Satisfied?”

“Hell, no.”

“No, you want a battalion.”

“The fewer the guards, the more likely that maniac will come calling.”

Spiro looked him directly in the eye. “That's right. I'll supply enough men to keep her safe, but I don't want to discourage him.”

“You'd rather she run the risk?”

“Don't be ridiculous. She's valuable. She may be our only lead.”

“Answer me.”

“I have to catch this one, Quinn. I can't take a chance on him slipping away. You can laugh, but after these days at Talladega, staring at those graves, I sometimes feel—” He stopped and then shrugged. “He's mine.”

“And Eve?”

“She's only one woman. There's no telling how many more people he'll kill if we don't get him now.”

“You bastard.”

“Yes, but if you want that killer, I'm your best bet. I'll keep on going until I have him.” He started to walk away but stopped. “You know, I don't like Eve Duncan's attitude.”

“Too bad. She's working her butt off to get an identification on that skull.”

“No, that's not what I—” A frown creased Spiro's forehead. “She's not afraid of him. He's not going to like that. It will make him angry and more determined to break her. If he can't reach her, he'll try for someone close to her.”

“I twisted a few arms over the phone last night and got a twenty-four-hour guard on her mother.”

“Good.”

“But I didn't tell Eve and I'm not going to tell her about anyone watching the cottage. So make sure your forensic guys don't plod around here like elephants. She's working so hard, I doubt she'd notice if they did, but she's got enough to worry about.”

“You're very protective.”

“You'd better believe it. You might think about that, Spiro. Because if that asshole gets to her and it's your fault, she won't be the only victim.”

CHARLIE CATHER ARRIVED
at the cottage four hours later. “Sorry to be late.” He grimaced. “I meant to get here an hour ago, but I got a late start from Quantico. I hoped I'd get the analysis before I left, but they hadn't finished.”

Eve glanced up from the skull. “What analysis?”

“From VICAP. Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. It's a nationwide database that allows us to type in all the facts of a violent crime and then does a search for similar modi operandi on reported crimes during a given period.”

“I didn't know Spiro had authorized one,” Joe said.

“Oh, he did, and we've been giving VICAP the reports on the bodies to narrow their search. They've been waiting for the last report, but it got lost in a damn paper shuffle. I found it only right before I left Talladega, so I took it myself to Quantico.”

“And what given period did you tell the computer?” Eve asked.

“Thirty years. Just to be safe.”

She stared at him, stunned. Thirty years?

Charlie turned to Joe. “I told them to call me here with the results. I'll be outside in my car. Will you tell me when it comes?”

“Why not wait here?” Eve asked.

Charlie shook his head. “Spiro told me to be on guard duty outside. He wouldn't appreciate having me warming my tush inside.” He grinned. “I could have told them to call me on my digital, but I thought it wouldn't hurt to use the phone call to get me inside to defrost.” He walked over to the pedestal. “You've made a lot of progress, haven't you? How much longer?”

She shrugged. “It depends on how it goes.”

“They do a lot of computer imaging and stuff at Quantico, but this is kind of . . . personal.”

“Yes.”

“He looks so fragile. Poor little kid. God, it makes me sad. I don't know how you take it.”

“The same way you stand what you do. It's my job.”

“It makes you scared to bring a kid into this world, doesn't it? You know, some of the guys at the unit won't let their kids out of their sight. They've seen too much of what goes on to ever feel safe. I'll probably feel the same way after my baby is—”

“I'll let you know when you get your call,” Joe interrupted. “Eve has to get back to work now.”

The dismissal was pointed. Charlie's words had been thoughtless and Joe was stepping between her and possible hurt, Eve realized.

“Yeah, sure.” Charlie headed out the door. “I'd appreciate it. See you later.”

“You didn't have to toss him out,” Eve told Joe. “He didn't mean any harm.”

“He talks too much.”

“He's just young. I like him.” She turned back to the pedestal. “They probably won't find anything through the VICAP search. They haven't caught the bastard in over ten years.”

“Then it's time they did.”

Joe sat on the couch and picked up his book. “I'll give you another hour and then you stop to eat. No arguments.”

“We'll see.”

“No arguments.”

She glanced at him. He was giving off the aura of the quintessential immovable object.

What the hell. An immovable object could be very comforting in this volatile world. “Okay. No arguments.”

LOGAN CALLED WHILE
Eve was at dinner. “I got your two messages. I was running around the island, closing up shop. I'm flying out to Monterey tomorrow.”

“You didn't tell me you were leaving the island.”

“It's not the same now. Time to get back to the real world.” He paused. “Are you working on the skull?”

“Not the little girl. A boy we found.”

“You said you were going to work on—Why the hell are you still there?”

“Things happened.”

“You're not telling me everything. Hell, you're not telling me anything.”

She knew darn well if she told him what had been happening he would be on his way immediately. “I'm going to get the little girl's skull. I have to work on this one first.”

Silence.

“I don't like it. There's too much you're not saying. I'm going to fly out to Monterey tonight instead of tomorrow. I'll call you as soon as I arrive.”

“Logan, it's wonderful of you to want to help, but you can't do anything this time.”

“We'll see.” He hung up.

“He's coming here?” Joe asked.

“Not if I can help it. I don't want him near that killer.”

He frowned. “You're being a little more protective than I'd like.”

“Too bad. Logan's a great guy and my friend. You feel protective toward your friends.” She deliberately met his gaze. “Don't you, Joe?”

He grimaced. “Okay, you got me.” He changed the subject. “Want some dessert? We've got Rocky Road ice cream.”

ANOTHER CALL CAME
on Eve's digital phone at eight that evening.