Twisted (10 page)

“No one gets my purse,” said Mary. “All my shit's in there.” She stopped for a second, then lowered her voice. “Actually, I guess there's nothing in there that's worth dying for, but I was just pissed off. I hate not being able to walk across the park without someone bothering me.”

Now that was a sentiment Gaia could fully agree with. “You really think that guy had broken ribs?”

Mary grinned broadly. “I sure hope so.”

Gaia half smiled. There was a distinct possibility she could like this girl.

But she wasn't making any promises.

THE BLACK MERCEDES PULLED UP
behind a long line of police cars, the early morning sunlight glinting against their windshields. A few of the officers standing by gave it a glance, but no one moved to order the car away. Slowly the rear window rolled down.

Loki looked out. It was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. There had to be at least fifty policemen in the park. They were everywhere, from uniforms standing guard by the gate to technicians literally up in the trees.

Loki couldn't stop himself from laughing.
It was all so silly.
If there ever had been any clues in this place, this herd of cattle had destroyed them. Not that he expected the police to catch the killer. Not this killer.

Loki raised his window and pushed open the door. “I'm going to go over and take a closer look.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” asked the woman in the front seat.

“No. Wait here. This shouldn't take long.”

“Yes, sir,” said the woman.

Loki climbed out and started toward the park.

A tall, African American officer blocked his way. “I'm sorry, sir. No one is admitted to the park this morning.”

“Official business.” Loki reached into the pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a badge case. He flipped open the case and held an
FBI identification card
up for the policeman to see. It was a fake, of course, but it was a very good fake. It came from the same machines that produced badges for actual FBI agents.

The officer looked from the card to Loki and back again. “Maybe I should get my lieutenant,” he said uncertainly.

“There's no reason to do that,” said Loki. “Just move out of my way.”

The policeman stepped aside.

Loki moved on up the path. The day had started out overcast, and low clouds still blocked the rising sun, but as he approached the actual crime scene, Loki put on a pair of dark sunglasses. There were still a few men left in the NYPD who had once worked with him as a young government agent. It was many years in the past,
and even that identity had been false,
but in case any of those men happened to be on the murder investigation team, Loki didn't want to be part of an uncomfortable reunion.

The crime scene was in a grassy field near the corner of the park. A pleasant enough place, with benches, trees, and gray squirrels that dodged around the policemen's feet.
Pleasant, but utterly boring.

Loki ignored several other policemen who tried to talk to him and walked straight to where the body lay crumpled on the ground. It was a young girl, as expected, with long blond hair splayed out in a fan around her head. There was blood matted into the hair.
More blood on the ground.

“Can I help you?”

Loki looked around and saw a plainclothes officer. From the man's cheap coat and old-fashioned hat, he had to be a homicide detective.

“I'm Frank Lancino, Connecticut state police,” Loki said. He reached into his coat and produced another identification card.
Just as fake. Just as good
. “I've been called in to consult on this one.”

The detective nodded. “I heard they were talking to your guys.” He jerked his head toward the body. “What do you think? Same asshole you had up your way?”

Loki knelt next to the body. The girl had been killed with a knife, but not with a single wound. There were cuts on the arms. Cuts on the legs. Puncture wounds that went all the way through the body
and a long slice that cut halfway around her neck.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, this certainly looks like the work of our boy.”

The detective sighed. He jammed his hands into his tweed overcoat. “What are we going to do about this? Any ideas?”

Loki straightened. “First you need to talk to your
technicians.” He pointed at the ground. “If they can't do a better job outlining a body than that, who knows what else they missed.”

“That outline's not from this body.”

“It's not?” Loki looked at the detective curiously.

“That's from the previous victim,” said the detective. “It looks like the killer did this one on the same spot as the one from the night before.”

Loki had to fight back a smile. It was a nice touch.
A very nice touch.
He squinted at the trees around them. What were the odds that the subject of this investigation was out there right now, watching them? Loki thought it was very likely. Every artist wants to see the reaction to his work.

“Can I ask you some questions about the cases you've seen?” asked the detective.

“Later,” said Loki. “I need to get to the station house. I'm sure I'll see you there.”

Loki quickly retraced his steps and retreated to the car. The woman hustled around to open his door for him, then jumped back behind the wheel to steer the big sedan away from the curb.

“It's going to be interesting,” said Loki.

The woman's green eyes were reflected as she glanced at him in the rearview mirror. “When do you think they'll meet?”

“Soon.” He glanced out the window at the passing scenery. Rushing pedestrians. Colorful awnings. A
man hosing down the sidewalk.
It was another world.
“Even now they could be moving toward a meeting.”

“And when they meet?”

Loki gave a quiet laugh. “It will be one unbelievable fight.”

“What if she dies?” the woman asked, her voice tight

“Well, then, she's failed,” Loki said. If she couldn't handle this, she was of no use to him, anyway.

“She has more training,” the woman said. “You've seen how she can fight.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed. “But he has another advantage. He knows what he is. He knows what he's capable of.”

“What is he capable of?” asked the woman.

“Anything.”

GAIA WOKE UP, THEN WISHED SHE
hadn't.

She rolled over and sat up in the bed with a groan. Even before she peeled back the covers, she had a good idea of what she was going to find, and the real thing didn't disappoint.
Her right leg was bruised from thigh to ankle. Her knee was one big scab, and every color of
the bruised-and-abused rainbow
decorated her leg—all the way from battered purple-blue to super-sickening yellow-green.

There was still a lingering whole-body soreness from her adventures the night before, but it wasn't as bad as she had predicted. Gaia was relieved to find that despite how awful her leg might look, it wasn't too stiff. She could walk without a problem, but it was going to be a while before she was up for another run like last night's.

She grabbed a pair of scuffed jeans from the back of a chair and carefully worked them up her injured leg. Then she pulled a hooded sweatshirt out of the closet and slipped it on. One glance in the mirror told the story. Gaia Moore, girl geek.

Why should today be any different from every other day?

She started toward the bedroom door, then had a startling thought. Today was different from every other day.
Today she had a date.

Gaia groaned, limped back to the mirror, and took a longer look. She wasn't encouraged by what she saw.

Would there be time to change after school? Maybe. But what if David saw her in school? If he saw her like this, he would want to cancel.

Which would probably be a good thing. She
shouldn't have said she'd go out with him in the first place.

But that thought hadn't even made it across her brain before another one chased it.

What was wrong with going out with a guy? Couldn't she just
allow herself to be normal
for five seconds?

Gaia shook her head. It was too early in the morning to start arguing with herself. It was
always
too early to argue with herself. She half expected a little devil and angel to pop up on her arms and start debating.

“I'm going,” she said aloud. “I'm going, and that's it.”

“If you're talking about school,” said a voice in the doorway, “then it's about time.”

Gaia spun around and saw Ella standing in the doorway. As usual, Ella looked like she was dressed for an evening at the clubs. Even at eight in the morning the
über
-bitch looked ready for dancing.
or an affair.
Probably whichever option presented itself first.

This morning her ensemble was a short, glossy leather skirt topped off by a green blouse with a neckline that showed the top of her breasts. Her scarlet hair was swept back from her face, worked into an elaborate coif that Gaia couldn't have reproduced given an entire week.

“Ever heard of knocking?” Gaia asked.

Ella arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Not in my own house, I haven't.” She waved a lacquered nail at Gaia. “What are you doing up here talking to yourself? School starts in ten minutes.”

“Then I'm not late yet.”

Ella gave a sigh that held
all the exasperation in the world.
“Just don't expect me to give you a ride. I have a business appointment this morning.”

Gaia nodded. “Getting started a little early today, aren't we?”

The comment brought a frown to Ella's cherry red lips. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” said Gaia. “It's only that I noticed that you had a . . .
business appointment
last night, too. One that kept you out pretty late. Seems like you've had one every night since George went out of town.”

Now Ella's lips pressed together so hard that Gaia was sure she'd have to reapply her lipstick. “Careful, Gaia.” For a moment Ella looked almost dangerous. “George has done a lot for you. Your father meant the world to him. It would be ungrateful to insult his wife.”

Gaia was about to make a reply to that when she noticed something odd about Ella's choice of words.
“'Meant'?”

“Pardon?” Ella replied.

Gaia took a step toward her. “You said my father
meant
something to George.” Did Ella know something about him? Had something happened?

“Did I?” The sarcasm in Ella's voice was so acid,
it could have eaten through steel.

Gaia was amazed to find that her throat was getting tight. She had trouble speaking. “Yes, you did.” She was angry at herself. She'd shown Ella too much vulnerability.

Ella gave a sly smile that would do any cat proud. “Just a slip of the tongue, I'm sure.” She turned away. A few seconds later, Gaia could hear the tapping of Ella's pointed heels down the stairway.

For several long moments after that, Gaia could only stand there, trying to catch her breath and get her thoughts under control. Her father had left her. He didn't care anything about her, so why should she care about him? Still, the tightness in her throat didn't want to leave.

“He's not dead,” she told herself.

Ella was just trying to screw with her. That was all.
Superbitch
in action.

Gaia looked again at the girl in the mirror. Now she saw not only a beast with tree trunk legs and lumberjack shoulders, with tangled hair, dressed in tasteless clothes. Now the beast had bloodshot eyes, too.

There wasn't much Gaia could do about the legs or shoulders, at least not in ten minutes, but she could try to do something about the clothes. She stripped off
the worn jeans as fast as she could without
descabbing
her knee and tossed them on the bed. The sweatshirt followed. Then she confronted the dreaded closet.

The trouble with Gaia's wardrobe was that nothing inside the closet looked much better than the things she'd been wearing. Gaia had a pair of capri pants, but they did nothing but accentuate her
she-hulk
hips and legs. There were a few dresses wrapped up in drycleaner plastic. Gaia hadn't worn them in years.

Besides, any sort of skirt was out. Unless she wore it with jet black hose,
the Technicolor glory
of Gaia's bruised leg was bound to show. Even with black tights there was the possibility of blood and ooze and . . . nope. No skirt.

Gaia finally settled on a pair of drab olive drawstring pants. They weren't too attractive, but at least they were clean—and they hid her legs. Gaia fumbled through crumpled sweaters and sweatshirts before settling on a slightly less baggy black sweater.

She studied the results in the mirror.
Lumberjack shoulders. Tree trunk legs. Tangled hair.

Unless the grunge look came back before first period, Gaia was as fashion-free as ever.

But serial killers were different. They weren't run-of-the-mill killers who happened to get away with it more than once.

ED HAD DONE STUPIDER THINGS
in his life—most of them on a skateboard, surfboard, or other so-called extreme-sport implement, but this was high on his list of “I can't believe I'm doing this” moments.

He was skipping first period—cutting school—to see a guy who had stolen his old girlfriend. Worse than that,
he was cooperating with a guy who obviously loved Gaia
. Ed wasn't an idiot. Sam could spout that “oh I only want to help her” bullshit all day and into the next, but the truth was that Sam was seriously into Gaia. Worst of all, Ed knew that Gaia was seriously into Sam. The whole situation tied his intestines in knots. Big ones.