Strings of Fate (Mistresses of Fate) (21 page)

“Okay, then, surveillance.” Ryan turned to the crew of FBI agents who had been placed in charge of reviewing the surveillance from cameras throughout Rome. “Let’s add the city of Fate to the list and see what we can find. We’re looking for vans or motor homes going frequently in and out of the city. Also, let’s get the plates and descriptions of Martha Cooper and her car to the team.”

“Not much going in and out of Fate,” chimed in a young woman who looked like she’d joined the FBI a week ago, she was so fresh-faced. “I used to live nearby. Surveillance is bound to be light going in and out of town, it’s pretty rural. The city itself might have surveillance around city hall and the local credit union, but the deputy’s office in the circle is your best bet for catching anything in that area.”

“Let’s do it,” Ryan ordered. “Coordinate with Cherokee County on getting the video from the past two weeks.” The deputy from Cherokee joined the girl at her monitor, but his face said that he doubted the endeavor would be that productive.

He gave voice to his doubts a few minutes later. “Forgive me, Agent Helmer, but we’ve only got two deputies working that office in Fate right now, and one of them is posted outside Ms. Pascal’s residence.”

Ryan had gotten a text from Chris several hours ago, indicating that Raquel had arrived.

“Call him, ask him to get back to his office and see what he can figure out. Officer Raquel Weaver, Atlanta PD, is staying with Ms. Pascal tonight.”

“Will do.”

Ryan looked at Midaugh. “I don’t know where this latest killing fits. We’ve sent everything over to the BAU, they should have something soon, but if I had to guess . . .”

Midaugh shrugged. “Shit, you may as well.”

“It seems like a ploy, a way to distract us—from what, I don’t know.”

“You think he did this to pull our attention away from Fate, away from Ms. Pascal?”

Yeah. That’s what Ryan thought, though it seemed pretty thin when he heard it out loud.

“That’s what I think.”

“Anything in Ms. Pascal’s past, in her background, that might help us out?”

“Nothing concrete. She has one ex, but he’s clear. She’s been responsible for several arrests, so someone could be targeting her because of that, but according to the BAU, whoever’s doing this is psychotic; he believes he sees these strings, and that she is in some way special to him.”

“Then we’ll concentrate on Fate and hope you’re right.”

“Yeah, that’s usually when things go to hell.”

24

CHRIS GLANCED AT RAQUEL.
She’d fallen asleep on the couch. It was around midnight and Raquel had fallen asleep with her head tilted back and a laptop open on top of her stomach. She’d been helping Chris search, even calling the detective in charge of the Martin Hays case. He’d told her that they had interviewed the man and had been keeping him under surveillance, but so far no additional information had turned up.

Chris removed the laptop, shut it down, and set it on the coffee table. She found an extra blanket in the closet and spread it over her friend, hoping she didn’t get too cold in the living room.

Careful not to wake Raquel, Chris checked the locks on the doors and fussed with the curtains, trying to get them to stay completely shut.

She turned off the lights and retired to her bedroom, where she checked to see if Raquel’s cousin, Cora Scott, had responded and whether her Web search had found any hits on the image of Martha Cooper beyond the one she’d found earlier. Nothing yet.

She used her iPad app of police frequencies to monitor the radio bands out of Rome. They spoke mostly in code, but she understood some of it from asking Raquel. Roadblocks had been set up in Rome and the surrounding areas looking for a van.
Of course it’s a van. You need to kill someone and stay mobile? We have the large windowless vehicle for you.

Her phone beeped, indicating that she had a message, and she grabbed it eagerly, hoping for it to be Ryan.

Hope you’re sleeping.

Chris felt a giddy, stupid eagerness that was undignified in a woman her age, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

Was waiting to hear from you. Hope you’re safe,
she wrote, though she felt fairly certain that he was, at least for the moment.

U2. Go to sleep.

The man was forever giving her orders. She pinched her lips together and thought about telling him where to stick it, but figured he meant well, and since she was about to do something he really wasn’t going to like, she thought she could cut him a break.

I will. You get some sleep too.

I’ll try.

She reread the conversation three times, allowing his apparent concern for her to fill her with a sense of warmth and safety.

She knew that she was being ridiculous, allowing herself to feel this excited over a few inane texts from a guy she’d only known for a few days, but she couldn’t ignore her urge to touch him, kiss him, feel the weight of him on her.

She set her phone down and pulled up the
Mysteries of Fate
blog. The creep hadn’t added anything since the last post, but there was nothing stopping Chris from posting something—something that might bring the bastard out of hiding. She hadn’t done it yet because she’d known that Raquel and Tavey, and now Ryan, would be furious if she were to put herself in danger.

She would rather risk herself, though, than anyone else. The body count was already too high, and this creep needed to be brought to justice.

Beneath his last post, beneath new comments calling him a nutcase and a freak, Chris began to write, pulling from his previous posts to imagine the world as he saw it, to make it real, so that he would trust in what she said. To do that, she pulled from deep inside her subconscious, conjuring her memories of Summer, of playing in the woods, of running:

I know the girl in the woods. We played, she and I, in the deep woods, where a carpet of green moss and paths of fallen logs lead to the place where the world begins. We found where fairies sing and spiders spin the silk yarn of lives. We stole the silk, she and I. Thin and strong, beaded with dew like diamonds. I used it to tie her wrist to mine. Wearing that silk, she could see through my eyes, and we ran wild through the lovely dark forest.

I can take you there, if you find me. I can show you where the thread-makers dwell.

—The Creator

Chris stopped, her breath caught on a sob. Though the nightmare dominated her sleeping self, awake she remembered days when this version of events was true, when Summer would share stories, and they would play in the woods, and everything was magical and mysterious and lovely—a time when anything was possible.

She hadn’t planned on getting lost, on losing Summer among the trees, but she had; somehow she’d lost her friend, and she had yet to find her again.

She would, though, she vowed to herself for the thousandth if not millionth time, as she pulled up Facebook. She would find them all if she could, but first she was going to build a profile, one that she didn’t think he would be able to resist, and one that she didn’t plan on sharing with Ryan or anyone else.

Gender:
Female

Eyes:
Blue

Hair:
Blond

Age:
34

Name:
Summer Haven

Favorite Quote:
“Come and find me.”

25

CHRIS FELT LIKE
her bagel with cream cheese was glaring at her accusingly, those two holes staring at her like wide, angry eyes, a look that she’d see again soon when Ryan found out what she’d done.

“What time’d you go to bed last night, honey?” Raquel, looking gorgeous in a hot-pink tank top with her jacket thrown over it—hiding her weapon—was cheerful and rested despite spending the night on Chris’s lumpy couch.

Raquel didn’t work on Thursdays or Fridays because she had the weekend shift, so instead of heading home when she woke up at the crack of dawn, she’d decided to short-shrift Chris’s beauty sleep and drag her out for breakfast at the coffee shop on the circle, where they indulged in lattes and bagels (though Chris knew she would later regret the caffeine boost, given that she was already jittery enough today).

“Late, probably,” Tavey’s voice answered for her. She swung into the bench next to Chris, handing Raquel her purse to put on the opposite seat.

“Tavey.” Chris smiled, taking in the fitted yoga gear and jacket her impeccable friend was wearing. “You’re coming to class?”

“That’s right. I need to relax and stretch out.”

Clearly her two best friends were under the impression that she needed some assistance. “You guys don’t have to do this. I’m fine.”

Raquel raised her arrogant eyebrow—she was good at that; actually looked a little bit like her grandmother when she did. “Christina Pascal, you have a serial killer obsessed with your ass. How in God’s green earth is that ‘fine’?”

Tavey looked at Raquel. “What? I thought you were just hacked.”

Chris shrugged. “Apparently the unsub likes me.”

“Well, what are we doing about this?” Tavey wanted to know.

Their waiter, Charles as usual, came over before Chris could answer.

“I’ll have a black coffee,” Tavey ordered, and sent him on his way.

“They have lattes,” Chris pointed out, just to be contrary.

“Takes too long,” Tavey countered. “I need caffeine.”

“You’re as bad as your beagles.” Chris smiled, wishing she could just head out to Tavey’s house and play with the dogs. A puppy fix would go a long way toward decreasing her stress level.

“How so?”

“You smell coffee and go crazy. They smell food and go crazy.”

“Hmm,” she snorted, unable to deny it.

“So, what did you find out last night?” Raquel poured another packet of sugar in her coffee and stirred it.

It wasn’t so much what she’d found out as what she’d done, but she wasn’t going to tell them that. “I found out Martha Cooper may have been seen in Canton, that she loved her Chihuahua, and that Lobelia Curso had a cousin, Robert, that she was afraid of.”

Raquel nodded. “Send me the info, I’ll take a look at him when I get back to a computer.”

“Already done,” Chris confirmed, feeling very efficient.

“Good.” Raquel nodded. “But I think for the rest of this week you should refrain from looking for anyone and focus on staying off the radar.”

“I can’t do that,” Chris protested. “This guy is killing people and I can help stop him.”

“How?” Tavey demanded.

How? Well, shit.
“He’s been using my identities; I’ve already helped the Feds isolate some patterns and identify additional victims. Maybe I can find out who he’ll target next.”

“Have you considered that his next target might very well be you?” Raquel pointed a half-eaten bagel at Chris’s face.

“Yes,” Chris shot back, but she didn’t add that the Triplets had already indicated she would be his next target. Raquel was a big believer in the girls; she thought they were more accurate than Old Ninny. Chris also conveniently didn’t mention that she’d pretty much stuck her tongue out at the psychopath himself and said,
Neener-neener
.

“So what are we going to do? Are you coming to stay with me, with Raquel, what?”

“Neither,” Chris protested. “I’m fine. The county deputies are keeping an eye on my place when I’m alone and Ryan has been staying with me otherwise.”

“Ryan?” Tavey drawled out his name so that it was two long syllables, making Raquel choke on her bagel laughing.

Chris narrowed her eyes. “Yes . . .” she hissed. “Ryan.”

Tavey gave her a narrow-eyed look right back. “Seriously, Chris, you be careful. I want you safe.”

“I’m safe. He’s an FBI agent, for God’s sake.”

“You’ve known him, what? Two days?”

Chris didn’t care much for that question. She was not going to answer that question. Folding her arms over her chest, she mimicked Tavey’s arch look.

“Chris.” Tavey tried for a sober face. Chris was of the opinion that Tavey should be someone’s mother.

“Tavey,” Chris mimicked. And maybe Chris behaved like someone’s kid.

“All right, enough.” Raquel cut them both off. “Chris, I know you don’t like to take anything seriously, but face it, this is serious. Don’t fuck around.”