Pralgo had done this check hundreds of times in his career, but this was different. This was no ordinary human being, capable of love and being loved.
This was pure evil.
He turned toward the execution supervisor.
“Time of death—12:09 A.M.”
Breaker Drive
San Diego
KENDRA LOWERED HER PHONE. “Nothing. Dean’s not answering.”
Griffin nodded and tapped his earpiece. “A couple of the officers just caught some kind of flashing in the living-room windows. They think it could have been his mobile phone lighting up when you called it.” He ducked low and looked around the back corner of the armored van. “Move in when you’re ready,” he said into his headset.
Lynch pulled Kendra closer to the protective plates of the van, and they huddled closer to Griffin’s tablet and its night-vision view of the house.
The night suddenly exploded with action!
Within seconds, the front yard was swarming with tactical teams, and she heard the front door splinter open even before she saw it happen.
Silence.
She saw the flashlights playing against the interior windows as the teams checked out the entire house.
No shots fired.
No shouts.
What the hell was happening?
After another two minutes, some of the officers emerged from the front door. The swagger and bold athleticism was now gone from their strides; their faces were drawn, and something was definitely different now.”
“Clear!”
She heard the word several more times down the street. She turned to Griffin. “What’s happened?”
He yanked off his headset. “There’s a body inside.”
“What? Whose?”
“We haven’t made a positive ID yet. Give our guys a couple minutes, and we’ll—”
“Screw that.” She took off running for the house.
“Kendra!” Griffin shouted. He started after her, but Lynch grabbed his arm.
“It’s too late. You’d have to knock her out to keep her out of that house,” Lynch said. “What did they tell you on that headset?”
“Nothing good.”
Kendra ran across the front yard toward the front door.
The cops and response-team members looked somewhat dazed and made no serious effort to stop her.
But as she reached the door a young officer stepped toward her. “Ma’am, you really shouldn’t—”
Kendra pushed past him and ran through the splintered doorway. She stood in the foyer for a long moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dark living room. One of the officers helpfully, or perhaps cruelly, swung his flashlight to the middle of the room to show her what they had already seen:
Dean Halley’s decapitated head.
It was impaled on a tall pole in the center of the room. The pole was held upright by a small light stand.
She couldn’t breathe. Memories of that factory so long ago were there before her.
Heads on poles. Eyes glued open. Heads on poles.
“Oh, God…” She staggered backward, nauseous and dizzy. “No … No…”
“Kendra.” Lynch was behind her. His strong hands gripped her arms, propping her up.
“It’s Dean.”
“I know.”
“God in heaven. I can’t believe it…”
Lynch wiped away the tears she hadn’t realized were on her cheeks.
Only then did she look down at the oversized chair on the other side of the room, where Dean’s headless corpse was seated. It was positioned comfortably, with hands on the end of each armrest.
As police flashlights played across the corpse, Kendra could see that Dean’s shirt was unbuttoned.
Letters had been carved into his chest. A Latin phrase, she realized.
One of the cops crouched next to the corpse and tried to read it. “Meteor?”
“No,” Kendra said numbly. “It says ‘Mereor.”
“Mereor?”
“It means … ‘I win.’”
San Quentin State Penitentiary
Execution Chamber
WARDEN SALAZAR LOOKED DOWN AT COLBY’S FACE. Just as icy and cruel in death as in life, he thought.
The last of the witnesses had just left, and the execution team was prepping the body for transport to a waiting hearse.
“I want to see it,” he told Hoyle.
Hoyle shrugged. “Whatever you say, sir.” He stepped closer to Colby’s body and moved aside his open shirt to reveal Colby’s final message to the world.
There, scabbed and bloody, was scratched a single Latin phrase:
Mereor.
San Diego
1:33 A.M.
“COME ON.” LYNCH OPENED KENDRA’S passenger door. “I need to get you inside and give you a strong cup of coffee. I don’t like the way you’re looking right now.”
“I’m okay.” It was a lie. She felt frozen. The last hour she had spent at Dean Halley’s house had been a nightmare. She had not been able to concentrate enough to find any way to help with the investigation. All she could do was to keep trying to connect that grotesque headless corpse to the sweet, humorous man she had begun to care about. Memories kept flooding back to her of Dean at that Starbucks telling her about his family and offering her some of his pastry. Dean whisking her mother out of that classroom and taking over himself. “But I can use the coffee. I’m … cold.” She followed him to the door and watched him unlock it. “Though God knows I don’t want the caffeine to keep me awake tonight.”
“No, you want to block it all out.” He headed for the kitchen. “And that’s what I want for you, too. Just one night of rest and freedom before you dive into this horror again.” He gestured to the chair at the granite bar in the kitchen. “Sit down. I’ll have your coffee in just a minute.” He set the K-cup in the automatic coffeemaker. He didn’t look at her as he got down a cup from the cabinet. “You really liked him, didn’t you?”
“He was a good guy. Kind of funny and sweet…” She swallowed. “Mom thought he was the perfect match for me. Nice, solid, and steady. She was hoping he’d be able to persuade me to—” She stopped and drew a shaky breath. “How am I going to tell Mom about this? She thought the world of him, and now he’s—”
Head on a pole.
Headless corpse in a chair.
Mereor.
“You don’t have to tell her yet.” Lynch set the coffee in front of her. “Griffin is trying to keep the details of what happened from the media. You’ll have a few hours at least.”
“No more than that. I can’t risk her hearing it from someone else.” She took a sip of the coffee. It was hot and strong, and she needed it. “I just … don’t know how yet. How can I tell her that Dean Halley died because she arranged a blind date for me with him? Because that’s what happened, isn’t it? Myatt saw him with me at some time or other and decided that he’d be a perfect chess piece in this game he and Colby were playing with me.”
Head on a pole.
Back away. Don’t think of that unspeakable sight.
“Myatt thinks he’s won. He thinks he’s hurt me.”
“And has he?” Lynch asked quietly.
“Yes, he’s hurt me. No, he’s not won.” She took another sip of coffee. “I just have to be able to think again. It may take a while.” Her lips twisted. “But I may not be able to afford that time. He’s closing in on me, isn’t he?”
“Yes.” He took his own cup from the coffeemaker. “But I won’t let him get any closer. I have your back.”
“Do you?” She looked at him over the rim of her cup. “That can be dangerous. Dean wanted to protect me, too.”
“I have your back,” he repeated. “There’s no comparison between Halley and me.” He added bluntly, “If anyone’s going to end up on a pole, it’s not going to be me. Or you.”
Sledgehammer. But she welcomed that roughness at this moment. It soothed the rawness and shock and brought her back to what the
y were together.
“No, that’s not going to happen again. I’ll be sure—” Her phone rang.
San Quentin. Salazar.
She tensed. “It’s Warden Salazar.” On some layer of consciousness she had been expecting the call, but the night had been so full of horror that she had not been able to process it. Yet she knew that what was going on at San Quentin had been there, hanging over her through everything that had happened tonight. She punched the access button. “Kendra Michaels. Is it over?”
“Yes, Colby was pronounced dead at 12:09 A.M. I’d have called you sooner, but I had to make arrangements to get his body off the prison grounds as soon as possible.” He added sourly, “Those anti-death-penalty demonstrators at the gates were having too much fun mugging for the cameras and burning me in effigy because I obeyed the law.”
“Dead.” She felt weak with relief. “Thank God. I knew it was going to happen, but I was afraid the governor would change his mind and give him life instead.”
“That wasn’t an option he would have chosen,” Salazar said. “The voters would have sent him a clear message of disapproval at the next election.” He paused. “And I admit I’m glad to be done with Colby myself. My duty is not to judge but to enforce the law. But I stared down at that ugly face twisted by evil and death when they were putting him in the bag and I felt that justice truly had been done.”
“Not entirely. He should have died years ago. That’s what the father of one of his victims told me very recently. That I should have killed him instead of just wounding him in that gully where we captured him.”
“That’s between you and your conscience.”
“Yes, it is. But my conscience is screaming that I was wrong. If I’d killed him then, he wouldn’t have been able to influence Myatt, and we wouldn’t have had a whole string of new murders to deal with.” And Dean Halley wouldn’t have been one of them. He’d be riding his motorcycle and joking and living the good life.
“I was hoping your time with Colby would lead you to Myatt. I was sorry to have to ask you to Skype with him yesterday. I know it upset you.”
“You had to do what you had to do. It was my choice. Thank you for phoning and telling me about Colby. I appreciate it.”
“I wanted to bring you closure.” He paused. “I was considering not telling you about Colby’s last statement, but I decided you should know.”
“Statement?”
“Not a verbal statement. He carved it on his chest. Just one word.”
A chill went through her. One word.
“Mereor,” she whispered.
He was silent. “Yes. It seems I made the right decision. Good night, Dr. Michaels.”
She hung up the phone and turned to Lynch. “Colby died at 12:09 A.M.”
“Hallelujah,” he said softly.
She nodded jerkily. “Salazar said he wanted to bring me closure. Nice thought, but there’s no way. Not while Myatt’s out there acting like a Colby Wannabe.”
“We’ve cut off the head of the snake with Colby’s death.”
“Some freaky snakes have two heads. Haven’t you heard?”
“I’ve run into a few.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “One victory at a time. We’ll get Myatt, then I’ll mount that two-headed snake on our living-room wall.”
She smiled shakily. “But then we’d have to displace Ashley. All I want is to have him as dead as Colby.” She added, “But we have to get him soon. He concocted this horrible bloody plan tonight to give his hero a glorious send-off. Or maybe Colby concocted it. The same word was carved on Colby’s chest.” She was feeling a panicky urgency begin to ice through her. “We have to stop Myatt in his tracks. We don’t know who else is being targeted. Maybe I should go back to Dean’s house and go over the forensic evidence. I should probably have done it tonight before I—”
“No,” he said firmly. “Go to bed and get a few hours’ sleep.”
He was right. She was not much better mentally than she had been before.
And she still had to phone her mother and tell her that her good friend, Dean, was dead.
“I’ll be in touch with Griffin,” Lynch said. “If there’s anything new, I’ll wake you.”
She put her cup down on the bar and stood up. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” She moved toward the door. Her smile was bittersweet as she glanced over her shoulder. “Too bad Dean didn’t have an ironclad fortress like this one to keep that bastard out.”
“Yeah, he was probably taken by surprise.” Lynch stood looking at her. “I’m here for you if you need me. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know it,” she said wearily. “Thanks.” She moved down the hall. Rest for a while, then call Mom. It was going to be a terrible conversation. But she wouldn’t tell her right away about that horrible word that kept echoing in her mind.
Mereor.
* * *
“DEAR GOD,” DIANE WHISPERED. “I can’t believe it. Dean?”
“I can’t believe it either,” Kendra said. “I’m sick about it. I can imagine how you’re feeling.”
“I don’t know how I’m feeling. I think I’m numb.” She was silent. “No, I’m angry. I’m furious. That son of a bitch.”
“Yes.”
“I want to cut his throat,” Diane said. “Dean was … special.”
Kendra was silent.
“And you’re feeling guilty. I can feel it,” Diane said. “Don’t be stupid. It wasn’t your fault.” She was silent for an instant. “You expect me to ask you to bow out because I’m afraid for you. I’m tempted to do it. But that won’t help Dean, and it won’t help you. Myatt is going to keep going after you because that’s the nature of the vicious bastard. Anyone who would go after a nice guy like Dean just to punish you will just keep on until someone stops him.” Her voice was steel hard. “You stop him, Kendra. And if you can find a way, let me help. I’d like that, and I think Dean would like it, too.”
“You can help by staying safe and far away from Myatt,” she said unsteadily. “Is everything okay up there?”
Diane didn’t answer for a moment. “We’re protected and there have been no signs of Myatt. It appears he’s been busy in other areas.” She paused. “I’m going to hang up now. I’m going to have a good cry, then I’ll call Dean’s father and break the news to him.”
“Good night, Mom. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She hung up the phone.
The call had been as difficult as she had thought it would be. Her mother had not responded how she had thought she would, but she was always unpredictable.
But her basic instincts were infallible.
She had realized that the first order of business was to mourn the dead. Dean Halley deserved that Kendra as well as her mother think of him and his life first. His murderer who had taken that life should be second on the list.
She lay down, her cheek on the pillow.
Good-bye, Dean. We’ll miss you.
And she let the tears come.
CHAPTER
14
FBI San Diego Field Office
4:30 P.M.
“WHAT IN HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Griffin stood up from the desk at the front of the war room and strode toward Kendra, who had just stepped off the elevator with Lynch. “She was almost in shock last night, Lynch. Couldn’t you keep her away from here for a while?”
“You should know better.” Lynch put his hand on Kendra’s shoulder. “She insisted. Even at my place, she spent the entire day poring through the prison logs you e-mailed her.” He added dryly, “And here I thought my natural charisma and charm would be enough of a distraction.”
“Yeah?” Griffin said. “No wonder she couldn’t stop working the case.”
Kendra turned toward Metcalf, who was trying to discreetly roll away the bulletin board with Dean Halley’s grisly murder-case photos. “You don’t need to do that,” she said. “Believe me, those eight-by-tens are nowhere near as upsetting as it was to actually be there.” She paused. “Or the
memory that kept replaying in my mind all night.”
Metcalf stopped. “I just thought—”
“Let him take it,” Lynch murmured. “It’s okay for you to be human, Kendra.”
Kendra glanced at the board, but, in spite of her words, she found herself quickly looking away.
Dean.
Eyes glued open. Staring.
“You’re right, Metcalf. Thank you.” Kendra struggled to maintain her composure. Damn. This was even harder than she’d thought it would be. It was her duty to be here trying to do everything possible to stop that murderer, but Dean’s death was too fresh in her mind. “Maybe you should move it to another part of the room.”
Metcalf looked as if he wanted to offer some words of comfort, but he finally just turned and awkwardly moved the bulletin board away.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Griffin was frowning. “At least take another day or so. We have agents in the field following up on Colby’s visitors and call logs. I haven’t even received the preliminary forensics report on the Dean Halley crime scene. Go home, Kendra.”
“I can’t. I’d just go crazy. What are you and the team doing?”
“Not anything that’s promising.” Griffin checked his watch. “We’re about to go into a teleconference with a profiler from Washington. You’re welcome to join us, but you may find it as pointless as I will. I doubt he’ll tell us anything our own profilers haven’t already come up with.”
He was right, not very promising, Kendra thought. She had hoped for more. But she turned and followed Griffin toward the desk. “If it’s the only game in town, you can bet I’ll sit in.”
* * *
TRUE TO GRIFFIN’S WORDS, the meeting was a fairly pointless exercise, with few new insights. They were just wrapping up when a shrill, high-pitched beeping sound pierced the relative quiet of the war room.
A terribly familiar sound.
Lynch looked over at the large projection screen. “Is that what I think it is?”
Again, Kendra thought. The nightmare was beginning all over again.
“Shit!” Griffin abruptly cut the teleconference link. The agents around the long table bolted toward the front of the room.
Sight Unseen Page 26
