Sight Unseen (36 page)

Weapons. He’d said she’d had no weapons. But what about that strange blade she’d taken from Wallach and tucked in her jacket pocket. She’d completely forgotten it in all the action that had followed. Was it so slender he’d missed it? She started to try to manipulate her tied hands toward her pocket. Keep him busy and talking.

“Why did you try so hard to interview me?” she asked. “Was that part of your thrill sport? To go face-to-face with me in front of a national viewing audience, gambling that I wouldn’t recognize you?”

“Not at all. Actually, I was never willing to take that chance. I knew you wouldn’t consent to that interview. You’ve turned down every request over the years, many from journalists much more respectable than I. But I knew you and the FBI were checking out all the journalists and others who had visited Colby. I decided to put myself in front of you on my own terms. I chose the video footage you saw of me, and I made bloody sure it was from a distance and angle that couldn’t relate to the dashing, fake, police officer you saw. So although my name would inevitably come up on the list of Colby’s visitors, they would know you had seen Bobby Chatsworth on the DVD my producer sent. I was sure they’d think it would be unlikely I’d push for a face-to-face interview if I had anything to hide. That’s why I sent my producer to try to woo you.”

“She has no idea she’s working for a monster.”

“Oh, she knows I’m a monster. Just a different kind. It became necessary for me to frequently disappear, of course, following story leads that would never quite pan out, so that I could pop back and forth to San Diego and play my game with you. But it was worth the effort.” He paused. “It’s interesting you could tell I was suppressing an accent during our brief conversation the other night … But it wasn’t a Southern drawl, it was my distinct West Country British accent I was trying to hide. A few more words, and a few more minutes of conversation, you might have pinned it down. Still, I chalk that up as a victory.”

Kendra tried to clear her head. She was still woozy from the anesthetic, but she needed desperately to focus on checking for that needle knife.

And also focus on unsettling him, knocking him slightly off balance. Undercut that sense of control serial killers craved. She had an idea that Chatsworth had an intense desire for both control and self-aggrandizement.

“You didn’t do too shabbily that night. But lately, you’ve been getting sloppy. My mother and my friend, Olivia, are still alive and doing fine.”

He chuckled. “Of course they are. I never intended to kill them.”

“Seriously? ‘I meant to do that’ went out in the fourth grade.”

The knife was still in the pocket! She could feel the outline half-in, half-out of the lining. Now to get it out and work on those ropes.

“Oh, Kendra. I had every confidence at least one of them would find their way out of that house. You see, I had a small problem. Adam Lynch had you squirreled away in that magnificent bunker of his, and when you’re not there, you’ve been almost constantly under his watchful eye. I needed to do two things, draw you out and draw him away from you. The attack on their mountain retreat was enough to draw you and the entire San Diego FBI field office out here. I knew you would feel compelled to accompany your dear, sweet mother to the hospital, but I knew that the disappearance of Lynch’s mercenary compatriot would also leave your protector in the woods for the next few hours.”

“You killed Martlin.”

“Oh, he was very tough. But the thing about tough guys is that it’s harder to be tougher than a bullet. Especially if it’s aimed by someone of superior skill and intellect. No one will find him until at least daybreak.”

Kendra felt as if she were going to be sick again. Another life lost.

“So you see, with a bit of planning, problem solved. I was waiting for you near the hospital before you even left San Diego. I have to credit Colby. He taught me the value of planning several steps ahead.”

“Colby only used you.”

“It was a mutually beneficial relationship. I did some things for him on the outside, but he had funds he could tap to help things along, and he was incredibly resourceful. We were able to move things back and forth through the prison’s food service vendor, a contact Colby cultivated himself. Those items included the blouse you found at that young woman’s house. There were things with his DNA at each of the crime scenes, but Colby insisted that they be difficult to find. I think he was hoping you’d be the one to find them. Which you did on the first crime scene after you joined the case. Well done.”

“I don’t want your praise.”

“But I feel that I have to pat you on the head. You’ve made the game so enjoyable. However, you should really praise me, too. I’ve explained how brilliant I’ve been. Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

“Just one question. Now what?”

“Can’t you guess? Why, Kendra, of course you’ve made the logical deduction.” He was silent a moment, then he whispered, “Now I finish Colby’s work for him.”

CHAPTER

15

Mount Laguna

“GET OVER HERE, LYNCH,” GRIFFIN SAID.
“I’m at the helicopter. I have something you’ve got to see.”

“Ten minutes. I’m waiting for a report on the searchers in the west quadrant.”

“Now,” Griffin said. “We may not have ten minutes.” He hung up the phone.

Shit.

Lynch didn’t hesitate. He didn’t like the sound of Griffin’s tone. In four minutes, he’d left the woods and was striding toward the helicopter, where Griffin was standing with Metcalf. “So what’s so urgent?”

“Reade sent me a sketch by Dillingham that he told her he’d been working on for Kendra. Did you know about it?”

“Yeah, she told me she’d asked him to try to do a mock-up of Myatt without disguise.”

“He did it.” Griffin handed him his laptop computer. “Take a look.”

“Holy shit.” Lynch’s hands tightened on the computer. “This is Bobby Chatsworth.”

“Clearly,” Griffin said.

“Incredible,” Lynch said.

Metcalf took another look at the sketch. “According to Reade, the sketch artist has never seen Chatsworth before. This was just a concept sketch based on disguises Myatt might have used.”

“Brilliant,” Lynch murmured.

“Reade got hold of Chatsworth’s producer. The team left for England this morning. Everyone except Chatsworth. He’s still here.”

Lynch tensed. “Have you called Kendra?”

Griffin and Metcalf exchanged glances. “That’s why I wanted you to drop everything and get over here. She’s not answering her phone.”

“What?”

“And she’s not at the hospital, either,” Metcalf said.

Lynch asked slowly and carefully, “Then where the hell is she?”

“No one knows.”

“Don’t tell me that. Chatsworth has her. You know it and I know it.” Saying the words made that truth more stark and terrible. “Now tell me how we’re going to get her back. Chatsworth has to have his own phone. He won’t get rid of it if he doesn’t know that we’ve zeroed in on him. Have you started the trace?”

“Reade started that trace before she sent me the sketch. We’ll have it very soon.”

“Soon?” Lynch started cursing as he started walking toward the burning embers of the house.

“Where are you going?” Griffin called after him.

“I’m taking Nelson’s car.”

“Where?”

“I’ll start with the hospital, unless you can find me a more productive place to go.” He stared at him over his shoulder, and said with icy softness, “And you’d better find me that phone location in a damn big hurry. Or I just might be more angry with you than I am with Chatsworth. You don’t want that, Griffin.”

Jurupa Mountain

Riverside County, California

STILL, DEATHLY SILENCE.

There was nothing else to hear after Chatsworth cut the engine. They had left the paved roads fifteen minutes before, and Kendra had been aware of a slight incline ever since. A slight odor of pines had found its way into the passenger compartment, destroying her previous belief that they were heading for the desert.

Chatsworth climbed out of the vehicle and opened the rear door. He yanked the tarp off and dragged her out of the car by her jacket collar. It was still nighttime, but the full moon bathed the area in a bluish glow.

Chatsworth cut the ropes around her ankles. “Do you know where you are?”

Kendra looked around while she tried to steady herself. They were on a hilltop, at the end of a forest. “Should I?”

“I believe it will come back to you. It’s one of your best efforts.” He motioned with a long knife. “But it didn’t happen quite here. It’s up ahead. Come along. I can’t wait to show you.”

*   *   *

“BAD NEWS,” GRIFFIN SAID
when Lynch answered. “Chatsworth has dropped off the network.”

Keep cool. “Entirely?”

“He hasn’t pinged a cell tower in over thirty minutes. Either his phone died, or he decided to yank the battery. Maybe he doesn’t want to leave tracks.”

Lynch pulled off the road and stared at the map on his tablet computer. “It looks like he was heading toward Riverside County, or maybe San Bernadino.”

“That’s a lot of territory.”

“Unless…” Lynch’s mind was racing. “Think about your bulletin boards of Kendra’s old cases.”

“What are you getting at?”

Lynch stared at the map for another long moment. “I have an idea where he’s taking her. Griffin, get your helicopter in the air. Quick.” He muttered a curse. “I’m close, but I may not be close enough.”

*   *   *

“YOU’RE NOT MOVING FAST ENOUGH.”
Chatsworth pushed her down the path. Kendra stumbled, her hands still bound behind her. She’d managed to whittle at the ropes while in the SUV, but it had been slow going, and she’d only managed a partial cut. She was tempted to try to break the ropes now and make a move, but the timing had to be right, or it could be disaster. If the ropes didn’t break, she might not have a second chance.

“Tell me something, Kendra. Back there at the hospital … Something tipped you off to me. It was like a light went on. You suddenly knew with whom you were dealing. What was it?”

“Your fingers.”

Chatsworth held up his hand. “My fingers?”

“Yes. You have small, dark bruises on the fingers of your right hand. I knew that your victim at the club, Danica Beale, bit her attacker on his right, gloved hand. There were brown leather slivers between some of her front teeth. Not many men wear any kind of gloves around here, nor have them readily available if needed. Much less brown leather ones. But I guess they’re more common where you’re from. I saw part of a brown leather glove poking up from your jacket pocket.”

He smiled. “Very good.”

“Also, there were only four cars in the hospital lot. Three had condensation on the windows, meaning they had been there for a while. The one that didn’t was obviously yours. It was an Infiniti SUV. That’s the engine I heard starting and driving away the other night at Corrine Harvey’s house.”

“You never disappoint, Kendra.” He stopped and grabbed her arm. “Here we are.” He gestured to the bottom of the hill at an abandoned, water-filled quarry, its sides cut in straight, vertical sheaths. “Now do you remember?”

She inhaled sharply. “Jurupa Quarry. Mary Delgado.” She turned. “And those trees…”

“It’s where Burton McNair tried to hang his final victim. He murdered and hung three others in the forests around here: equidistant north, south, and east of the spot where the sheriff’s deputies killed his father a year before. Here, due west, you kept him from completing his work and killing Mary Delgado.” He smiled. “Tonight, you’re going to help me complete it for him in a much more satisfying way.”

“You’re going to kill me and hang me from one of those trees.”

“By George, I believe she’s got it.”

“Oh, yes, I’ve definitely got it.” Keep him talking; she had the ropes frayed and was pulling gently on them.

“As you saw each of your cases re-created, you had to know this was how it would end. My final re-creation must feature you as the victim. It’s the final movement of my symphony.”

And he was getting ready for that symphony to end with a giant crescendo.

Time was running out for her. She had to make her move.

He took a step closer, his knife ready. “I’m almost sorry, Kendra. I know there will be others, but none I’ll enjoy as much as you. You are unique.”

She looked down, and her shoulders tensed as she prepared to jerk with all her strength on the ropes.

He nodded. “Unfortunately for you, sometimes history can be rewritten.”

“And sometimes it can be repeated.”

The ropes flew from her wrists!

She leaped forward and jabbed her carved-bone blade into Chatsworth’s stomach.

He swung with his own knife. Kendra ducked, and jammed her blade into the middle of his back. But he was moving, and it was a glancing blow.

Not deep enough. Not deep enough.

But it was deep enough for agony. He howled in pain and tried in vain to reach the protruding blade.

Kendra ran a few yards away before turning. “Not a large blade but sufficiently lethal.”

Chatsworth felt his stomach and stared incredulously at his bloody hand in the moonlight. He glared at Kendra. “You think you’ve won?”

She backed away. “It’s not a game.”

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a handgun.

Shit.

She dashed into the forest as he fired two shots at her.

She ran deep into the dense foliage, trying to avoid anything that resembled an actual path. His footsteps pounded behind her, crunching leaves and snapping branches.

Another gunshot. A tree branch exploded near her head. She turned sharply, threw herself to the ground, and rolled a few yards down a gentle slope. Hell, that blade in his back had barely slowed him down.