by Virna DePaul
Her body, her voice, her entire being was shaking, the vibration causing the tears in her eyes to spill down onto her face. “You macho bastard! How dare you judge him? You, who’ve never gotten a raw deal in your life. He fought for his country and what did it get him? He came back half the man he’d been, literally. With nightmares of killing. Innocent people. Women and children. Killing he should never have had to do.” Lana’s voice cracked, and she had to take several breaths before she could continue. “Maybe it’s the same for Darwin. Maybe he doesn’t want to kill. Maybe he just needs a chance, someone to see the goodness inside him.”
“Lana…” he began, needing to apologize. Needing to explain that bringing up Johnny had nothing to do with disrespecting the man but more about being jealous of him. And wanting the woman he’d foolishly left behind.
She shook her head. “You do your job, Simon, and I’ll do mine. I’m going to help Darwin, either before he’s brought in or afterward. I’m going to show you that compassion is just as valuable a weapon as a gun.”
She raced from the room, leaving Simon with an almost unbearable desire to run after her. But knowing that was the last thing he should do. For either of them.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
BRAD WANTED TO KILL that redheaded bitch. How dare she go on national television and pass off his work as The Embalmer’s?
She had to know better.
The police had found Bowers; his house was surrounded by crime-scene tape.
Plus, there was the fact Brad’s work was smarter. More layered.
Hadn’t she read the blogs? Hadn’t she figured out the connection between the murders and the movies? Obviously not, and her ignorance and stupidity were being played off as his.
When he’d first seen her at McGill’s he’d thought she was interested in her good-looking partner, Jase Tyler. He’d thought Jase was interested in her, as well.
But that couldn’t be right.
Special Agent Carrie Ward was nothing but a weakling posing as something more. A woman trying to survive in a man’s world when what she should be doing is popping out babies and cleaning out toilets.
Special Agent Jase Tyler, the name on the other business card she’d given him at the café, wouldn’t be interested in someone like her. No, he was too attractive. Too well dressed. If Brad looked like him, he’d go for someone like Lana Hudson, the cool blonde doctor who’d spoken to Brad with softness and sympathy, the one who looked a lot like the lady who lived in the apartment downstairs. Yes, he’d bet Lana would be attracted to Jase, too. Any woman would be.
Brad had seen the way Kelly Sorenson had wanted Jase Tyler, but when she’d handed him her card, he’d pocketed it without giving it a second glance. That was someone with confidence.
Power.
The connection throbbed triumphantly through Brad’s veins.
He’s the key, Brad thought. Good-looking. Powerful and strong. A cop but also a playboy. Someone men wanted to be. Someone women wanted to love.
Even Nora, his sweet Nora, had looked at Jase Tyler with something akin to worship when he’d talked to her at Steam.
She’d looked at Jase Tyler as if he was a fucking god.
The television interview, as much as it angered him, was another sign. He needed to look to the cops. Look to the blonde doctor. Look to them to defeat Jase Tyler, a man who would otherwise be undefeatable. Ideas began to spin through his mind.
To lay the trap, he needed to be smart. Smarter than the cops.
But that shouldn’t be too difficult. The fools thought their little television interview would sway or trap him; instead, it would lead to their own destruction.
He needed to pay a visit to the college’s Audio Visual Department. If they didn’t have what he needed, he’d pay for it. And he’d check out Bowers’s house, too. The doc had had a lot of high-tech stuff there. Stuff that could help him.
As soon as Brad did what he needed to, as soon as he proved he was stronger than Jase Tyler, the only god Nora would be worshipping would be him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
AFTER THE TELEVISION SPOT and a full day at work, Carrie didn’t return to Jase’s home. He’d made it plain as day when he hadn’t shown up for the filming that he wanted nothing to do with her any longer. She went back to her house, where she belonged, with no lover to distract her. Yet the whole time, she missed Jase. Her body and heart yearned for him. And that was only further proof of what a mistake it had been to get so close to him.
The following day, Carrie worked from home, then headed into the office at about 3:00 p.m. DeMarco was on the phone, but motioned for her to take a seat. “Okay, thank you very much. We’ll check it out.” He hung up and held up a handful of memo sheets. “We’ve been getting calls from everyone and their mother, either claiming they’ve seen The Embalmer or confessing to the crimes themselves. It’s a toss up as to which one of you has gotten the most marriage proposals. Lana’s pulled in front, but you’re not too close behind.”
She snorted. “Any promising leads?”
Shaking his head, he sighed and she felt his frustration. “No. None. But we’re not taking any chances. We’re following up on every single one. We’ve got patrol cars checking out the most promising of the bunch.”
An hour later, Carrie slammed the phone down in frustration, cursing the fact that she couldn’t find one solid lead in the stack of messages she’d received. So far, two men had confessed to killing women and cutting out their eyeballs. Several other people had called saying they had information about someone who was digging up corpses and having sex with them. Almost all of them had asked about a reward. And none of them had provided any useful information.
What, had she thought Darwin would call her and set up a meeting as if it was a playdate? Carrie rubbed the back of her neck, but straightened when Simon walked up to her desk.
“Any luck?”
She shook her head. “No. You?”
“No. None.” Simon looked at her closely, and she wondered if her eyes were as red and fatigued as his own. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s probably too soon to tell. Something could still come up.”
Carrie didn’t answer, appreciating Simon’s optimism but not really believing it. “Do you think he’s going to do it again?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. We haven’t picked up anything yet. But we can’t just hang around waiting for it to happen. Why don’t you get out of here?”
“No. I’ll stay.” When her phone rang, she picked it up. Simon walked away. “Carrie Ward.”
“I…uh…I know about Tony Higgs,” said an unfamiliar voice. “His car. Did you ever find his car?”
Carrie frowned. No, they hadn’t. His girlfriend, Ashley, had said he drove a black Corvette. There was an APB out for it at this very moment.
“Who is this?” Carrie asked.
“I saw his car. It’s outside a house in Daly City. 532 North Avenue. Watch out. The guy’s dangerous.”
Carrie frowned as the caller hung up. She pulled out a map and checked the address. It was only a few blocks from where the body of Darwin’s first victim had been found. Carrie reached for the phone and dialed SFPD dispatch. Given the brevity of the call, she had no hope of tracing the location of her anonymous caller, but…
“SFPD. How may I help you?”
“This is Special Agent Carrie Ward with SIG. I need to do a title search. The address is 532 North Avenue, Daly City. I need it stat.”
Five minutes later, she got a call back, which necessitated her making several other calls. One of those was a call to Jase, but she couldn’t reach him at home or on his cell phone. She called Commander Stevens and told him the situation. “I just got a call from an anonymous tipster who says he saw Tony Higgs’s car outside a house in Daly City. Property’s owned by a James Fishburn, an ex-marine trained in chemical and impact munitions. He had a clean record until about five years ago, when he was convicted of several crimes ranging from drug use to assault.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I checked and the SWAT team is handling service of a warrant at a crash pad known to house guns. I’d like to go in with a team from SFPD, one trained in munitions and entry. We can be there within the hour.”
“Where’s Jase?”
“I haven’t been able to reach him.”
“Any other SIG members available?”
“Simon. And me.” She couldn’t keep the challenge out of her voice, which was something Stevens didn’t miss.
“That’s enough for me, Agent Ward. Be careful.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Simon and Carrie arrived at Fishburn’s house with several officers. She spotted the black Corvette and confirmed that it was registered to Tony Higgs. The other officers set up ballistic protection and evacuated neighboring houses. Carrie then attempted to make contact with Fishburn via a bullhorn.
“James Fishburn. This is the police. Come out with your hands in the air.”
After several minutes with no response, Carrie ordered the officer to her right to begin entry. The officer shot several 12-gauge beanbag rounds at the upper corners of the windows to break the glass. He then shot several rounds of chemical munitions into the house. The chemicals would contaminate the interior and hopefully force anyone hiding inside out into the open.
Sure enough, within several minutes, the front door slammed open and a huge man wearing a stained shirt and boxer shorts stumbled outside. Carrie noted the pockmarks on the man’s face.
“Stop. Get down on the ground.”
“Fuck you!” the man replied, stumbling down the porch steps.
“Down. Get down.”
The man kept moving, coming at Carrie. “Fire baton rounds.” The officer next to her complied, shooting off five KO1 baton rounds that hit him in the legs and torso. It should have been enough to knock him off his feet. With almost superhuman strength, he flailed back momentarily, but didn’t fall. He screamed in pain and rushed even faster toward Carrie. Carrie Tased him. He fell to the ground as the two prongs hit him in the chest, his muscles contracting from the ongoing activation of the Taser.
Carrie signaled the arrest team to approach him with caution. The two officers neared Fishburn, covered by two other officers with their pistols ready. As they leaned over him, he heaved his body up and ripped the prongs from his chest. With one hand, he grabbed at one of the officer’s guns and tried to wrestle it away from him.
The officers withdrew their batons, hitting Fishburn’s arms and back in an attempt to force him down. Carrie ran to assist but heard the gun explode before she could get there. Fishburn’s body flopped backward as a red stain spread across his chest.
* * *
LANA DRAGGED HERSELF out of her office and toward the front lobby. Because of her confrontation with Simon yesterday, she’d been feeling decades older than she actually was. Guilt and desire weighed her down. Desire for him and guilt because of it.
On her way out, she waved at the receptionist, who was talking to an irate woman holding a screaming toddler. Stepping into the cool night air, she’d walked only a few steps when she heard someone crying. She stopped and looked around. Saw a man sitting on a low retaining wall, his shoulders visibly shaking. She approached him hesitantly.
“Excuse me. Do you need help?”
He looked up, and recognition seemed to flare briefly in his eyes. So quickly she thought she must have imagined it. But he did look familiar to her. Did she know him? For a moment, she struggled to remember. Then it struck her. He reminded her of Johnny. He had the same type of angelic baby face not in keeping with his tall, muscular body. Unlike Simon, whose face seemed carved out of granite. Thinking of both Simon and Johnny within the span of seconds made her feel dizzy with renewed confusion and guilt. She still missed Johnny. He’d been her friend since grade school, her lover since high school. When they’d married, she’d thought it would be forever. But she’d been so young and naive then. Lana paused for a moment, twisting her wedding ring back and forth.
Doubt twisted in her gut. Maybe she was doing the wrong thing by walking away from Simon. But what other choice did she have? She couldn’t live in constant fear that one day he’d kiss her and never come back. She’d had enough of that when she’d waited for Johnny to come home from battle. Even when he had, he wasn’t the same. Death had claimed him long before he’d shot himself. She couldn’t become involved with another man whose life revolved around death. She just couldn’t.
She turned her attention back to the young man in front of her. He tried to compose himself. “I…I came to see Special Agent Tyler. Do you know where he is? He said I could talk to him about my friend…Tony…he’s dead.” The boy broke down again, sobbing.
Yet another victim. And he was here to see Jase. “I’m sorry. He’s not here.”
He held out two cards to her. “He gave me his card. And the card of a doctor if I wanted to talk to her. Someone named Lana.”
Feeling more comfortable knowing that Jase had given this boy her card, Lana walked closer. She saw her card in his hand next to Jase’s. With a sigh, she sat next him, wanting to help him. Hoping to spare Jase grief. “My name is Dr. Lana Hudson. I’m sorry about your friend. I’m a psychiatrist. I’d be happy to talk with you for a while. Would you like that?”
The boy looked at her, grief plainly etched onto his angelic features. “Yes. Please.”
Lana nodded tiredly. She wanted nothing more than to go home. But something about this grieving boy called out to her. What harm would it do to have a cup of coffee with him and let him talk about his friend?
“There’s a place across the street. Why don’t we go there?”
He nodded and stood. For a moment, he loomed over her, and she instinctively stepped back. He simply looked at her. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head, shaking off her unease. He was a grieving boy. And they were in public. She’d talk with him for a while. Send him home. It was the least she could do.
They walked the short distance to a café and talked for about an hour. Eventually their conversation shifted from Tony to his own dysfunctional relationships. He talked about his foster father, a drug addict and an ex-felon who, he said, was probably at this very moment getting what he deserved. He talked about how his mother had abandoned him when he was young. And how he’d never felt love or acceptance from anyone. Except Tony.
When they’d finished their drinks, she made him promise to call her if he needed to. But as she walked toward her car, she put the young man out of her mind. Her thoughts returned to Johnny. And Simon.
When she got to her car, she unlocked the door and opened it. She put her purse inside. A force shoved her forward on the seat, the gearshift jabbing her in the neck. She felt the cold press of a knife against her throat.
“What’s up, doc?” a familiar male voice said, chilling her to her bones.
* * *
CARRIE WALKED OUT of Fishburn’s house and watched as the medics loaded his dead body into the back of their cab. Jase ran up to her. Although he didn’t hug her, his gaze quickly ran over her body, assuring himself that she was okay.
“Jesus, I got your voice mail. I was at the gym working out and I must have had spotty cell service. I didn’t even realize you had called until I was on my way to Steam to talk to Brad Turner.”
She looked just past his shoulder, trying to maintain some of the emotional distance she’d managed to attain in the last few hours.
“We searched the house,” she said. “Fishburn’s a druggie. We found dippers, more than a thousand in cash, crack and marijuana. He even owns an AK-47 assault rifle, something he was probably trained to use when he was in the Marines.” She pointed to Tony’s Corvette. “That’s Tony Higgs’s car. We found other evidence inside. Pictures of Kelly Sorenson. Before and after. A collection of bloody knives. It looks like Fishburn’s our guy.”
“But?”
Now she looked at him. How could he r
ead her so easily? How could he know, based on what she’d said, that she was feeling any reservations? “But I don’t think it is. It was too easy. It reeks of a setup.”
“Wasn’t that the whole point of the television spot? It was a setup to lure the killer to you. And that’s exactly what happened. Or at least, someone else saw the spot and gave you the information you needed, right?”
“Yes, that’s what we were hoping for. But I don’t know. This seems more like a diversion than a victory for us. I just—I just don’t want to wait until we have another victim to find out if I’m wrong or not.”
Carrie’s cell phone rang, and she checked the caller ID. “It’s Commander Stevens. Let me get this.”
“Is Jase with you?” Stevens asked.
She glanced at Jase. Dread pulsed through her. The last time Stevens had called looking for the two of them, Tammy Ryan’s body had just been discovered. “Yes, sir.”
“You both need to come in. He’s got Lana.”
Dread morphed into shock. Then horror. Then desperation. She couldn’t have heard Stevens correctly. “Excuse me,” she forced out. “Who has Lana?”
But she hadn’t misheard. The anonymous tip. Fishburn. It had all been a diversion.
“Darwin,” Stevens said. “I’m sorry, Carrie, but Darwin has Lana.”
Her mind began to spin and she felt herself fumble her phone. Distantly, she heard Jase curse and take the phone from her. “This is Tyler. Yes. We’ll be right in.”
He ended the connection and gently gripped her arms. “Carrie, are you okay?”
“He has Lana,” she said.
Grimly, Jase nodded. “Not for long. We need to go in. You going to be okay?”
He was still holding her. His touch, his steady gaze, his very presence seemed to infuse her with strength. Things had just turned horribly personal, but now wasn’t the time to fall apart.
