Vail 01 - The 7th Victim (35 page)
Vail shoved Hancock aside with a stiff forearm, then walked out of the house.
thirty-eight
H
e’d had the hardest time concentrating during class. All he could think about was his next bitch. And her eyes. He had bought a pair of night-vision binoculars at the local camping supply chain store and spent the last evening in surveillance of his new victim. It was a bit of a challenge, but what’s life without challenges?
e’d had the hardest time concentrating during class. All he could think about was his next bitch. And her eyes. He had bought a pair of night-vision binoculars at the local camping supply chain store and spent the last evening in surveillance of his new victim. It was a bit of a challenge, but what’s life without challenges?
First, however, he had to get rid of his last student. She wanted to finish her stinking vase. Jesus, she had to get it just right. He certainly understood the need for perfection, but he had more important things to deal with. He had to work extra hard to keep himself from doing something he’d regret later, because if she hadn’t left when she finally did, he would’ve had to take care of her. But she wasn’t the one, and killing her would’ve aroused suspicion. Others no doubt knew she had been at his class, and no one would’ve seen her leave. It was traceable back to him. So he had to keep his focus, keep thinking about his target.
Focus, challenges . . . nothing new in any of that. The rest of the evening—that was where things would be different. But he thought the thrill, the kill, and the aftermath would be well worth the uncharted waters. He’d know in a day whether or not he was right. But he suspected he would be. Because this was the one, the ultimate prize. Unlike the others, she knows what she does. And what she did.
He waited patiently for the right time, then felt the excitement. He was jittery. It was tough to get a full breath.
“It’s time! It’s time! It’s time!” He wanted to roll down the window and scream, but was able to control himself long enough to get out of the car and focus on his stealth approach to the house.
He moved through the forested cover and remained behind a row of hedges across the narrow road. Peered through his binoculars. Everything was quiet until one of the garage doors rolled up. He moved quickly through the brush, remaining low and scampering toward the house. The car backed out, then drove onto the long driveway. Front yard lights snapped on, illuminating the front of the garage with bright halogen spots. He sprinted along a row of bushes, using their cover to keep from tripping the side yard motion sensors. He clutched the cold, moist brick siding of the house and waited for the sectional wood garage door to begin closing.
As soon as it started lowering, the car drove off, its tires crunching on the rough gravel. He stepped over the sensors mounted along the floor of the garage’s threshold, then knelt down, a large black ball hidden in the corner shadows. The weak light from the small incandescent bulb barely lit the empty garage. The door thumped closed and he was alone. Just him and his stun gun.
And the bitch.
thirty-nine
A
fter leaving Linwood’s house, Vail drove aimlessly, moving along the winding Georgetown Pike before getting back onto 495. Though it wasn’t a conscious decision, she was headed home.
fter leaving Linwood’s house, Vail drove aimlessly, moving along the winding Georgetown Pike before getting back onto 495. Though it wasn’t a conscious decision, she was headed home.
When she walked into her house, her head was throbbing and her left knee was stiff from driving. She threw her keys on the table and trudged toward the bath. She felt dirty and wanted to strip down and relax in a tub of hot water with bubbles and a glass of cabernet. The perpetual stress over the past several days had reached a pinnacle, and she needed to find the release valve before the pressure cooker burst.
She started the water and heard a clunk in the bedroom. Her heart dropped. She shut the water and listened, but there was only silence. She moved toward her armoire, lifted her holster, and removed the Glock, then noticed her BlackBerry on the floor, its red light blinking. She picked it up and clicked through to the message: Bledsoe. The Dead Eyes code.
“Shit.” She reached him at home.
“Just got word,” he answered, not needing to ask who it was. The luxury of caller ID. “Thought you should know.”
“What’s the address? I’ll meet you—”
“Too risky—it’s one thing to work behind the scenes, but to show up at—”
“You only get one chance to see a fresh crime scene, Bledsoe. I need to see it, experience it. We’ll deal with the details later. And the fallout.”
“This one’s different, Karen.”
“If it’s different, it may not be Dead Eyes. That’s why I need to see it.”
“No, it’s different because of the MO, not the signature. He didn’t hit a middle-class professional. He hit a senator. State Senator Eleanor Linwood.”
Vail felt a swirl of dizziness shake her. She reached out, grabbed the edge of the armoire, and somehow hung on to the phone. Her vision was gray snow, her body spinning faster than a merry-go-round. Her headache was instantly worse, pounding at her temples like a pair of anvils.
“Karen, you there?”
“Here. I’m . . . here. I’m just, give me a minute.”
“I’ve gotta go, get over there. You want, I’ll call you from my car—”
“No, I’m coming,” she said, her head clearing. “I’m coming. I have to come.”
“Jesus Christ, Karen.” He paused a moment, then said, “Look, I don’t have time to debate this anymore. You wanna come, fine.”
“Was everyone notified?”
“Everyone, including Hancock, who’s probably at the scene anyway, and Del Monaco, who’s now on the task force. Chief’s going to be there, and probably the media—”
“I’ll worry about all that when I get there.”
“House is off Georgetown Pike—”
“I know where she lives. I’ll see you there.” Vail hung up, steadied herself again, and hit the number for Robby. “You heard?”
“Karen. Yeah, I’m out the door.”
“Pick me up on the way.”
There was a long silence. “You sure?”
“Dead sure. I’ve got something to tell you. I’ll be waiting out front.”
BARELY TEN MINUTES HAD PASSED when Robby stopped at the curb in front of her house. She got in and he pulled away in a hurry, barely waiting for her to close the door.
“So what’s so important that it’s worth committing professional suicide?” he asked.
“Eleanor Linwood is my mother. Was my mother.”
“What?” Robby’s eyes locked with hers.
“Watch the road, please,” she said evenly.
“When’d you find this out?”
“I confirmed it two or three hours ago. That photo we took from Mom’s—from Emma’s? I had it age-enhanced at the lab. It was her, it was Linwood.”
“That software isn’t always accurate—”
“I went to Linwood’s. I met with her, showed her the photo, told her what I’d found out from digging through records.”
“She ’fessed up?”
“Pretty much. Filled in some of the blanks, how she had the muscle to change identity. Refused to tell me who my father was, though. Afraid it’d ruin her career.”
“And now she’s dead.”
Vail glanced out the side window, watching the dark residences fly by beneath the occasional streetlight. “Now she’s dead.”
“Coincidence?” Robby asked.
She turned to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. Just seems funny. You find out she’s your mother and three hours later she’s a Dead Eyes vic.”
Vail sighed. “Don’t know. What would the connection be?” She flashed on the chase through Sandra Franks’s backyard, the feeling the offender was there . . . that he had been waiting there for them. For her?
“We’ve got to tell the task force,” Robby said.
“Hancock probably knows. I think he was eavesdropping.”
“Prick.” Robby drove on for a moment, then asked, “Any news on Jonathan?”
She shrugged. “Some improvement. Small steps, you know?”
“Some improvement is better than no improvement.”
Vail frowned. It was the same thing Gifford had said . . . but somehow, it sounded more genuine coming from Robby.
He accelerated and entered the interstate.
POLICE CRUISERS, their light bars swirling in a rhythmic pulse, were blocking the entrance to the senator’s street. Robby badged the patrol officer and drove around the barricade. They pulled off to the side and approached Bledsoe, who was talking to a uniform near the rim of the circular driveway.
In the harsh halogen security lighting bearing down on them, Bledsoe’s face looked weary and defeated. He nodded at Vail and Robby, then turned to Sinclair and Manette, who were approaching from his left. “Anything?”
“We got some shoe prints in the dirt over by the south end of the house,” Sinclair said, motioning with his Mag-Lite. “Looks like they come from the woods. I sent a tech out to track them, get a plaster casting.”
Manette said, “Means this guy came in on foot. Tells me he knew what he was doing, who lived here. That she’d have some kind of security.”
Sinclair shook his head. “Not
who
so much as
what.
Look at the neighborhood. The person who lived here had money.”
who
so much as
what.
Look at the neighborhood. The person who lived here had money.”
“Either way,” Bledsoe said, “he didn’t know about the security lights. Or he took a big chance no one would see him as he got close. Our guy’s a planner, he’d know about the lights.”
Vail looked toward the side of the house. “I was him, I’d approach along that line of bushes. Motion sensors would be blocked. Lights would never come on.”
“That’s exactly where the footprints are,” Sinclair said, “right along the bushes.”
“They have cameras?” Bledsoe asked.
Manette shook her head. “Hancock said the senator didn’t want to live like Big Brother was watching her. Didn’t think anything like this’d ever happen. Especially in this neighborhood.”
“Get anything back on that email?” Sinclair asked.
Vail’s gaze was still off in the general area of the house. “Nothing yet.”
“We really could use some help on that—”
“I know, Sin,” Vail said. “I know. I can’t make them work faster. I tried.”
Bledsoe held up a hand. “Keep it down. Let’s at least look like we all get along, okay?” He nodded toward the house. “Sin, why don’t you go check on Hancock.”
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