Should Be Dead (The Valkyrie Smith Mystery Series Book 1) (17 page)

“They must have put it together by now,” Riley said. “The FBI must have a team working on this.”

“Do you think so? Tell me, after the killings last weekend, how many feds have come looking? Besides me, of course.”

“That’s not fair. If you weren’t here already, Diekmann might have called them himself.”

“Maybe, but I can guarantee that nothing would have come of it. They wouldn’t know about the previous murders. It would take weeks for them to trace his steps and build a profile, and by then he would be long gone. Don’t you see, Riley? There is no one else to do this. If I don’t do it, he goes free. He just keeps on killing.”

“How does he choose them?”

“The victims? I have no idea.”

“So there’s nothing they all have in common?”

“Not that I’ve found.”

“But serial killers always look for specific victims, like young blonde women, or men who look like their father.”

“Maybe, but if there’s a connection I haven’t found it yet.”

Val’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen, and then turned on the speaker. “Go ahead, Matt,” she said, staring it Riley.

“I found it!”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. I hacked into SatCom and tracked the ID tag on that satellite receiver. It has a two-way radio, so I activated the radio through the satellite and tracked it back to the source. It took a while, because the signal was lousy, but I can tell you where the receiver is. Within two hundred yards or so, anyway.”

“That’s good enough for me,” said Val. “Send the coordinates to my GPS.”

Valerie retrieved her pistol and tucked it back into her holster. She took her cane to the door, lifted her jacket from the hanger, and glanced back at Riley. “Are you coming?”

Riley gulped. He hesitated a moment and then rose to obediently follow her out the door.

Chapter 22

Maddie ran for her life. Her body ached, her lungs burned, her naked feet cried out as the sharp rocks ripped into her flesh, but still she ran.

She had a good lead on Odin. The killer had taken longer to get out of the house than she had expected. Maddie didn’t realize the reason for this until Odin took his first shot at her. He’d gone back for the shotgun. She was halfway to the tree line, just two hundred yards from the shelter of the woods when Maddie saw a flash of light illuminate the fog behind her, accompanied by the thunderous
kaboom
of Frank’s old twelve-gauge. She cried out and dropped to her knees, certain that he’d hit her.

Maddie knew how the shotgun worked. Odin couldn’t possibly have missed her. Yet, as she collected her wits, Maddie realized that he had. She moved the palms of her hands across her torso and lower back, finding only smooth flesh. Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her, and she forced it down. She glanced back down the slope and saw Odin’s dark, fog-shrouded silhouette standing beside the greenhouse. He lowered the gun and broke into a run.

In a heartbeat, Maddie was back on her feet. Encouraged by the lead she had on her captor, she pushed herself into a sprint. She ignored the thorns jabbing into her feet, the dry sage slapping at her naked legs and torso. Cuts, bruises, and scratches, that was all. She would live. She had survived worse. They had already done far worse to her…

Maddie hit the tree line a few seconds later, just as Odin fired a second shot. She ran into the shadows with her head held low. She promptly tripped on a branch and went sprawling in the darkness. Maddie cried out as something sharp pierced her midsection. Her face hit the ground, and she saw stars. For a few seconds, she didn’t move. Maddie was reeling with shock.

In the distance, she could hear the sound of Odin tearing his way through the sage, stomping up the hill towards her. That sound was enough to get her moving. She pushed to her feet and went blindly stumbling through the darkened woods. She held one hand out in front of her, searching for obstacles in her path. The other went to the wound at her side.

Maddie knew it was bad. She could feel the piece of wood that had penetrated her flesh, and broken off inside her. For the moment, it didn’t hurt. Perhaps it wasn’t as bad as she thought. Or perhaps it was simply the adrenaline that kept her moving.

As her eyes adjusted, Maddie noticed shafts of moonlight here and there, cutting through the fog and the darkness to illuminate small patches of ground. She headed for the nearest one and then stood there, examining her wound. A shaft of wood three inches long and as big around as a man’s thumb protruded from her gut. Maddie touched it, moved it slightly, and cried out as she felt it groping through the flesh inside of her.

Darkness closed in at the edges of her vision. She fought to maintain consciousness. In the distance, Odin called out to her:

“I know you’re in there, shield-maiden! Where are you? Do you hear me? Lord Odin is calling for you!”

Maddie settled down on the mossy ground with her back against the trunk of a redwood. The world spun around her and the forest seemed to alternate from light to dark, matching the beat of her pulse. Her hand was warm, slick with blood oozing from her wound.

“Shield-maiden, you fought bravely! I will reward you with a just death!”

Maddie held her breath. She gripped the piece of wood in her fist and yanked on it as hard as she could. An involuntary scream rolled out of her. She felt the wood splintering, tearing, tugging at something inside of her. Then it came free with a gush of blood and a searing, crippling pain. Her head fell back against the tree.

Odin stood at the edge of the forest, gazing into the darkness. He heard Maddie scream, and tilted his head.

“Is that you, shield-maiden? I’m coming for you!”

Chapter 23

For two long excruciating hours, Loki waited in the parking lot. For the first hour, he hid himself in the shadows and kept a sharp watch on the front door, hoping to catch the waitress leaving at the end of her shift. Then it occurred to him that the restaurant had a back door -a door in the far corner near the kitchen- and if his intended victim left that way, she might escape!

Loki became frantic at the thought. He hurried to the other side of the restaurant to check the door, and upon finding it closed, moved around the building once again, desperate to catch a glimpse; desperate to verify that his prey had not already flown the coop. Eventually, he saw her, but he was in a state of near panic by then.

From that moment on, Loki was restless and anxious. Every sound startled him. Every time another customer or group left the building, he had to rush back to verify that she was not among them. Since Loki couldn’t watch the front and back of the restaurant all at once, he had to keep moving, and that was not only exhausting but dangerous. It would only take one suspicious witness to notice him and call the police, or one overzealous security guard with a watchful eye.

By midnight, Loki was a nervous wreck. He felt so wretched with anxiety that he was nauseous. It had been nearly an hour since the last of the customers left. In that time, Loki had seen the beautiful waitress wiping down tables in the dining area and disappearing into the kitchen several times while handling her end-of-shift duties. He was out front, watching through the windows when he heard the back door open, and heard her voice.

Loki stealthed up to the corner and caught a glimpse of the woman heading in the opposite direction, down the boardwalk. He hurried back the way he had come, sneaking along the shadowy edge of the parking lot, making his way cautiously towards the boardwalk to head her off and wait for her.

It was the greatest of luck, he decided, that she had chosen to walk in that direction. He could wait for her in the shadows. In that chosen place, he would be only a short distance from the stolen Mercedes. It would be all too easy to snatch her out of the darkness, to silence her with a knife blade to her throat, and then lock her in the trunk of the car.

All too easy…

The girl left the restaurant still wearing her apron, but now also a light denim jacket. Her hair was white in the moon-drenched fog, a glistening raiment that fell over across her shoulders, the rest of her form a sleek shadow whispering through the night. She was everything Loki could have hoped for, all he ever could have wanted.

The door at the back of the building opened, and a beam of light stretched across the back patio, brightening the fog. The girl paused, turned in that direction as a shadowy figure appeared in the doorway. A man stepped out.

“Lisa! Do you want me to walk with you?”

“Only if you hurry. It’s cold out here.” The man turned, closed the door behind him, and hurried in her direction. Loki blinked, his eyes still adjusting to the quick change in lighting. From what he could tell, the man was of medium height, five-ten or so, but well built. He had long hair pulled back in a tail. He wore an apron also, as well as a white chef’s shirt. That explained why Loki didn’t recognize the man. He was the chef. He had been hidden inside the kitchen all night.

Loki went slinking back towards the car, scratching his head, mumbling softly to himself. This changed everything. This was different… He turned, looking the man up and down, watching the couple stroll up the boardwalk towards the hill. A horrible feeling came over him, a terrible fear that he was about to lose her forever. Loki shook his head. He formed a fist with his right hand and punched it into his palm. This wouldn’t do. This would
not
do. Perhaps he should follow them, find out where the girl lived… but what if she lived in an apartment building? Or worse, what if she climbed into a car and drove away?

No, Loki couldn’t let that happen. He’d been too patient, waited too long for this opportunity. He couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Soon, Odin would notice he was gone. Soon, the police would find out about the ranch house they’d broken into, the old man they had killed…

Loki made his decision. He straightened his body and headed towards the couple with a purposeful stride. As he walked, his right hand snaked around behind his back, drawing the thin-bladed boning knife from where he had tucked it into his belt.

They didn’t notice him at first, but as Loki came within striking distance, the rustle of his jacket and the jingling sounds of his zippers alerted them to his presence. The girl turned, and screamed. The cook instinctively threw out an arm, pushing her back.

“Call 911!” he shouted at her. He lowered his stance and ripped off his apron, wrapping it around his wrist.

Loki snarled, brandishing the knife so the man could see it. For some strange reason, the man didn’t move. In the face of this unexpected courage, Loki was somewhat shaken. He turned that confusion into rage. He rushed forward, knife poised to strike.

“I’m going to kill you,” he snarled, slashing at the chef. The man danced back out of reach, his apron-wrapped arm held out defensively. He didn’t say anything. He just kept moving, dancing to the right and left, making himself into an impossible target.

Loki slashed at him again. He came closer this time. The knife blade slashed across the apron. Several layers of the heavy cloth separated. Unfortunately, the cut hadn’t gone deep enough to bite into flesh.

Loki lunged at the man again, bringing the knife up in a quick stabbing motion aimed at his target’s rib cage. The chef blocked the attack and shoved the knife blade aside. He inexplicably stepped forward,
into
the attack. Loki’s eyes widened. He faltered as the man pushed him off balance. The chef’s right hand appeared out of nowhere and smashed into Loki’s nose.

Loki stumbled back, stars flashing through his vision. He felt warm blood gushing down his lips and he tasted it with his tongue. Over the man’s shoulder, Loki could see the girl backed up against the handrail. She was talking into her cell phone. Talking to the police…

Loki made one last desperate attempt to salvage the situation. He turned the knife in his hand, gripping the handle backwards with the blade down. He raised his arm and brought the knife down in a vicious overhead attack. The chef took a step back. He stumbled on the edge of the boardwalk and tripped. He threw his arms out to catch himself, but still ended up on his back.

Loki pounced. He gripped the knife handle in both hands and brought it down in a tight arc aimed right for the man’s chest. The chef raised his arm in a attempt to block the blow. This time, Loki’s blade found home. The killer snarled as he drove the knife through the apron, all the way into the man’s arm. Loki felt the telltale vibrations of the blade sliding against bone and then it broke through, erupting out the other side.

Loki expected his enemy to relent at that point, to flee in fear or perhaps go catatonic, waiting for Loki to end it all. That was how the other victims had always behaved. Instead, the chef cursed, and a wild rage came over him. Before Loki could make any sense of it, the chef brought his knee up and rammed him hard between the legs. Loki doubled over, dropping to his knees, the knife torn from his grip.

The chef scrambled back out of reach. He jumped to his feet and ripped the blade from his arm with a guttural cry. Lisa helped him rearrange the apron on his arm, trying to stem the flow of blood.

Loki regained enough composure to sit upright. He tried to push to his feet, but this movement was enough to attract the chef’s attention. He stepped forward and delivered a blinding kick to the side of Loki’s head. Loki fell back, crashing into the pavement at the edge of the lot. He moaned, clutching at his head, howling miserably at the blinding pain. In the distance, the wail of a siren came drifting out of the fog.

Icy terror gripped Loki’s chest. He pushed to his feet and ran for the car with a lurching, stumbling sprint. As he ran, he dug blindly through his pockets, searching for the keys. Just in time, he produced them. Loki leapt into the driver’s seat of the Mercedes, started the engine, and flew out of the parking lot with the tires screeching. He was in such a frenzy that he didn’t even think to turn on the headlights until he was a mile out of town.