Killing Hope (Gabe Quinn Thriller) (52 page)

‘You killed Harry.’ I breathed again.

I was having difficulty computing.
Believing.
All this time I’d been ignoring the truth – since the moment Agent Wong had handed over the evidence bag with Harry’s license inside. Ignoring the obvious – like I had the whole time.

‘Why?’

‘To get your attention. To focus you.’

While I’d been chasing down the surfer dude from Huntington Beach,
The Undertaker
had been killing Harry. My stomach twisted into a knot.

‘Consider it your invitation to the circus.’

My blood was so cold it burned. Does that make sense?

I saw Sonny come back. Gesture to her ear. She’d gotten the Feds into tracing the call. I didn’t know how. Maybe it was just a matter of throwing a switch at Langley and they could triangulate from over a thousand miles away. I had to keep him talking. Didn’t want to keep him talking. Didn’t even want to hear his mechanical breathing. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to rip his head off, physically and verbally.

Through red mist I saw Sonny motioning for me to breathe. To put my personal anger aside. Keep the upper hand. Stay in control. Easier said than done.

I put the killer on speakerphone.

‘Congratulations.’ I managed through clenched teeth. ‘You killed Federal Agents in Jackson. That’s put you at the top of the FBI’s Most Wanted list.’

‘I’m flattered.’

‘Don’t be. Killing armed Federal Agents isn’t like murdering a bunch of drunken and defenseless kids in their sleep. They were just kids, dammit. Kids with the world at their feet.’

‘Spare me the melodramatics.’ The voice thundered back. ‘No one is innocent. We are all flawed. All sinners.’

‘Is that why you mark them with ash?’

‘You’re the detective; you tell me.’

‘I’m through playing your games.’ I said.

‘If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.’

‘Try me.’

‘No.’

‘No? Want to hear my theory? You believe you can see the future. You think by killing a few innocent people you can prevent a greater loss of life somewhere down the line.’

I heard the killer breathe. It sounded like I had my ear pressed against an air-con unit.

‘And even if you’re right, you wouldn’t understand.’

‘Indulge me.’

‘So you can keep me on the line long enough to trace the call?’

‘You’re too smart to get caught that easily.’ I said, trying hard to sound indifferent. Trying to keep the rage out of my voice. ‘Humor me. Then you can hang up. Crawl back under your stone and stay there for all I care.’

The line went dead. I looked at the hand piece. Ears buzzing in the silence. Then my cell phone warbled. I saw Sonny dart back out of the room.

I let it squawk. Waited until she returned, with Agent Cherry, before answering.

‘Do you think the killing of one man is justifiable if it stops him committing mass murder?’ The Darth Vader wannabe said in my ear.

‘You mean The Hitler Dilemma?’

Another moment of mechanical breathing.

I stepped into the gap: ‘See, I’ve been doing my homework too. Chapter’s got you on plagiarism.’

‘If you were in my shoes.’

‘I’d let the authorities handle it.’

‘And if your repeated warnings fell on deaf ears?’

The Undertaker
had already warned the authorities, I realized. Somewhere there was a series of filed reports about impending doom by Ethan Davey Copes.

 
‘You tried it, didn’t you?’ I said. ‘They thought you were a crackpot, didn’t they? You warned them but they ignored you. So you decided to take matters into your own hands. Did it ever occur to you that you could be wrong?’

‘No.’

‘So what’s your story? Do you hear voices? Believe God speaks to you? Or do you just read tea leaves?’

I saw Sonny shake her head. I was losing control. I knew it. But I was past caring. I just wanted to scream blue murder down the damned phone. Let the killer know his days were numbered.

‘You know nothing about me.’ The killer of my best friend said with a finality that chilled to the bone.

‘I know where you live.’ I said. ‘And I know your name. Soon I’ll be coming to get you. You hear me, you psycho son of a bitch? I know your name and I know where you live. And soon I’ll be coming to get you.’

The Undertaker
cut the connection.

148

^{___________________________}

The cardinal rule when chasing killers is never to reveal how much you know about them to the killers themselves. I should have known better.
I did know better.
But I wanted to unsettle the smug bastard just as much as he had done me.

‘Gabe …’

‘Sonny, he’ll call back.’ I snapped. Then apologized.

‘We almost had him.’ Agent Cherry said as he pressed a finger to his ear: listening to a techie in his earpiece. ‘He’s definitely here in Vegas. If he does come back online, you need to keep him talking. At least one more minute.’

It was the most I’d ever heard Cherry say in one mouthful.

‘He’ll call back.’ I said. Wasn’t sure if it was for their benefit or mine.

I stared at the cell phone. Stared. Then … it sprang into life.

‘See.’

Deliberately, I let it ring a dozen times before accepting the call. Burning away precious seconds.

‘A name and an address do not constitute a relationship.’ The killer’s disguised voice rumbled in my ear.

I had him on the back hoof. I could sense it. Even his Darth Vader monotone couldn’t mask it.

I delayed answering; using up valuable seconds:

‘Pretty soon I’ll know everything about you.’ I said, pressing home the advantage. Speaking slowly. ‘Where you went to school. Which teachers gave you a thumbs-down on your report card. Where you work. What jobs you got fired from, and why. Which girlfriends shunned you, and why. What the doctors thought about your psychosis. Which medications you should be taking, but aren’t. Isn’t that right, Ethan?’

It felt strange speaking the killer’s name out loud – especially to
him
. Like a bad omen. A curse. I have long believed that certain phrases are capable of conjuring evil. This was one of them.

‘You can’t hide behind your anonymity anymore.’ I said as my caller choked on his silence. ‘I’m coming to get you, Ethan Davey Copes. You hear me? I’m coming to hunt you down and make you pay for what you did to little Jenny, to Harry, and to all the other innocent people you’ve murdered along the way. You hear me?
I’m coming to get you!’

Cherry was holding up both hands. The Feds needed just ten more seconds. Ten crucial seconds to catch a killer. I had to keep this psychopath distracted – anything to guarantee we had a fix. There was a government satellite somewhere over the Mid-West realigning itself, homing in on the killer’s signal. Suddenly, sweat was coursing down my sides.

I heard
The Undertaker
laugh like a wood chipper.

‘While you’re at it,’ he whispered back, ‘get your sniffer dogs to check out the ground beneath the seed silo back in Jackson. I left it there specially for you. Enjoy your wake-up call. Catch me later.’

With a click, the line went dead.

Desperately, I stared at Agent Cherry.

Sonny was doing the same.

The tension in the room of the
Treasure Island
could be sliced with a cutlass.

The Fed was listening intently to the voice in his earpiece.

My gut was holding my throat hostage.

I saw Cherry shake his head and our shoulders sagged.

149

^{___________________________}

Sonny barked orders into her radio and rumbled all available police personal within a ten block radius to converge on
Treasure Island
. Even as we were running out of the room I could hear the wails of sirens careening our way in the distance.

I had no idea where we were heading or what we’d do once we got there. But I was convinced
The Undertaker
was somewhere near. He was close to home. I could
feel
it.

Within seconds, Sonny had the entire complex shored up. Tighter than a rope round a pirate’s neck. No one allowed in or out without having their IDs checked and double-checked. If
The Undertaker
was here, he was about to get marooned by his own ego.

We fell into an elevator and hit the ground floor button. Sonny got out her firearm. Checked it. Automatically, I did the same. Adrenaline pumping. A steely determination in Sonny’s eye I found oddly reassuring.

‘We don’t want to underestimate him, Sonny.’ I said as the floor numbers dropped away. ‘He’s dangerous and smart. And that makes for one hell of a lethal combination.’

‘Then it’s a good thing we’re smarter,’ she said.

Sonny’s radio bleeped as we emerged into a throng of conventioneers heading for the breakfast buffet. She took the call.

150

^{___________________________}

Bongos were banging behind my ribs as we barged across the busy lobby toward the main entrance.

I didn’t know what to expect.

Was I about to meet
The Undertaker
, at last – face down on the wooden sidewalk, bound and cuffed? Would his face fit that of the monster I had lurking in the back of my mind? Would I carry out the wishes of a grieving mother?