“You had some kind of episode. Does this happen often? What triggered it?”
“It-it’s what you said. ‘Up close and personal.’ ” Katherine’s eyes widened in horror. “He says that.”
“Who says what?” Was she delirious?
“The Sydney strangler, right before he kills the girls,” said Katherine, pressing the heel of her hand to her head.
“Do you have another headache? I can get you a cold washcloth. How about an aspirin?” Jack laid his hand on Katherine’s forehead and he felt helpless. She didn’t have a fever. “What about the strangler?”
“He’s close. He’s somewhere right around here. I don’t want to go out. Please.”
She struggled against him, and he held her close until she quieted. She turned pale and her breathing was irregular. She had him worried. He didn’t know what she needed from him. Food, water, sleep? A hug?
Jack expelled a breath and relented. “Okay, we’ll order up room service.”
She was shaking. Something was frightening her.
“You don’t have to be afraid, Kate. I’m here.” Jack pulled back the bedspread.
“Under the covers, now. You’re shivering.” He rubbed her shoulders. “We’ll do whatever you want to do. You need to eat something, rest. You said so yourself. You’re totally exhausted. What would you like to eat?”
“I can’t eat anything now,” Katherine said, biting her lip. “We need to get to the police station, right away. I’m afraid something is going to happen.”
Jack frowned and studied Kate. “What do you think is going to happen?”
“Something bad, to the girl.”
“You’re not making any sense. A minute ago you said you wanted to stay in,” Jack reasoned. “Now you want to go out to the police station. Why?”
“We’re running out of time.”
Chapter Five
“Can you give us something more concrete to go on?” asked Homicide Squad Commander Michael Jones, his skepticism evident by the pessimistic arch of his brows.
“He’s blond,” replied Katherine.
“That describes most of the population of Sydney,” said Jack, standing sphinx-like, mouth pursed, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the wall in the commander’s office.
The New South Wales Police had accepted her assistance because they were out of answers and a young girl was in trouble and needed help. And she wanted to help. But they wanted answers fast. She couldn’t turn her abilities on and off like a spigot. Her visions often came unbidden. She couldn’t control them any more than she could control the weather or the stock market.
“She can’t give you anything because she doesn’t know anything,” Jack said. “This is a major waste of everyone’s time. Now if you want my help—”
“I can see him,” Katherine hesitated, screwing her eyes shut, desperately wanting to help, furious at Jack for sabotaging her and calling her abilities into question before she even got started.
“Well, then maybe you can work with our sketch artist,” suggested Commander Jones.
“I’d be happy to.”
“You’re an artist, why don’t you just draw him yourself?” Jack suggested.
“I sell art. I don’t paint it.”
“Can you at least be a little more specific about what you’re seeing?” Commander Jones urged hopefully.
Katherine bit her lip. “He’s very handsome, sexy, smooth, and brash. And he’s a sharp dresser. They—the girls he’s stalking—go with him willingly,” Katherine continued. “He’s charming. He flatters them. He makes them want him, want to be with him. He’s charismatic, but normal looking enough to blend in, like a chameleon,” Katherine added. “But there’s nothing normal about him. He has a dark, evil streak.”
“One look at the crime scene photos will tell you that. Anything else?” asked Commander Jones, frustration etched on his tired face.
“Can we see the crime scene photos?” Jack asked. “Maybe that will trigger something.”
The commander handed Jack a thick file. Jack spread out the color photos on the commander’s desk, so Kate could get a good look at them.
“How many girls has he strangled?” Katherine asked, bile rising in her throat. She’d already seen flashes, brief snatches of what was in these pictures in her mind, but seeing them so brutally close—murder in Technicolor—was a different matter.
“Five, that we know of,” answered the commander. “Kylee Wilson has been missing for two days now. He usually dumps the bodies of his victims after three days. If he sticks to his pattern, Kylee doesn’t have much time left, that is, if she’s still alive.”
“May I see a picture of Kylee?” Katherine asked.
The Commander slid her a picture of the girl—a winning smile, dressed for a prom, her sheer white gown offsetting her white-blond hair, flawless complexion, a white orchid adorning her hand. She was the picture of purity and innocence.
The girl in this picture was most definitely still alive. But she was fighting the battle of her life. Katherine could feel her terror, hear the hitch of her shallow breaths.
“He wants them to taste fear,” Katherine said, slipping into a trance-like state. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to visualize Kylee, get into her mind.
The room went dark.
“I just want to get to know you, Kylee,” the strangler whispered, “up close and personal.” He slid the muzzle of his gun against her cheek, then down her neck to her naked breasts. Kylee was shaking, shivering like a frightened bird, trapped in the cage of a cold, dungeon-like room. Bound uncomfortably in a vertical position to a post. The rope chafed against her delicate skin, now raw, every time she moved. The man followed his weapon’s movement, his fingertips nuzzling Kylee’s face, caressing her neck and then winding their way lower.
Kylee moaned.
“Now don’t move or make a sound. You know what happens to naughty girls who make me mad. I really don’t want to have to hurt you.”
Kylee’s eyes glazed over. He had drugged her, but only slightly, so that she was responsive, still aware of her surroundings, still frozen with fear.
The strangler put down the gun and wrapped his huge hands roughly around Kylee’s throat as she tried to wriggle free. Her jerky movements only excited him. He squeezed until he almost shut off the flow of air from her windpipe.
Almost, but not quite.
The fun was just beginning. He was going to take it slower this time around. He had all the time in the world. It was loud upstairs. The party was in full swing. No one could hear her screams.
Kylee was fragile, very small. He’d played with small birds like Kylee before. His mother said he didn’t realize his own strength. He played too hard and, sometimes, the tiny birds died before he was finished with them. That made him sad when the birds died before their time. And then it made him mad. That had happened with the last girl. She’d left him before he was through with her. He wasn’t going to let that happen with Kylee. They had the whole night ahead of them.
Kylee was a virgin. He had picked her for that particular reason. He’d tested her to make sure. She was pure and he would initiate her. He could have any girl he wanted, any time he wanted. But there was no challenge when things came too easily.
The strangler picked up a can of cold beer and took a swig. He already had a nice buzz going. His tuxedo jacket was folded neatly on the couch. He’d had to put on a heavy wool sweater. It was cold down here. Kylee’s nipples were straining for his touch. Against her will. It was more fun that way.
The strangler laughed. He loved a good struggle. Despite the drugs, Kylee was feisty, and she had a lot of fight left. He had chosen well. Maybe he should untie her and see what she could do. See how far she could get. It wasn’t exactly a fair fight. He had all the advantages.
“Untie my hands, please,” Katherine pleaded. “I need to sit down.”
Kate was already seated and her hands were unrestrained. She was obviously in the thr
oes of a nightmare or one of her visions. The tears flowing down her face wrenched Jack’s gut. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt so protective of her.
“Kate,” Jack whispered softly.
Katherine’s eyes fluttered open.
“Kate, what’s happening?”
Katherine’s body strained against the invisible bonds. She continued to whimper.
“We need to wake her up, now,” Jack insisted, alarmed.
“No,” argued the commander. “She might have more to give us.”
“Stand back,” Jack threatened. Grabbing Kate by the shoulders, he gently shook her. “Kate, Kate, open your eyes. You’re safe now. You’re with me.”
“I was there. I saw them.”
Jack looked into Kate’s violet eyes. He could get lost in those eyes. “I know.” He wouldn’t have believed her if he hadn’t witnessed Kate’s visceral reaction first hand.
“Look, you don’t have to be afraid. I’m packing. It’s my job to protect you.”
“Have you ever used that thing?” Kate was staring at the bulge in his breast jacket pocket which hid his holster and gun. He’d screwed up once when he’d ignored her warning call about Ocean Rivers. He wanted to be sure she had no illusions about his ability to perform in a crisis.
“If you mean have I ever killed anyone, no, not yet. But I’m perfectly capable of using deadly force.” Just thinking about guns always made Jack think of his father. Officer Jackson Hale had been shot and killed in the line of duty and had been branded a hero. His father had also used deadly force, yet he’d still gotten himself killed. Ever since then, ever since Jack had decided to become a cop, he knew that an officer in or out of uniform had to be prepared to draw a line in the sand, to lay hands on. Even if that meant taking away someone else’s father, someone else’s husband.
“Do all cops have such big egos?” Katherine asked.
Jack ignored her remark. Cops had to have inner confidence. Most of the cops he knew had it. His father had had it, in spades. Would he be as brave as his father if the time came?
Dredging up unhappy memories suddenly made him tired, almost too tired to move. But he wasn’t going to let Kate or Commander Jones see it.
“What did you see?” the commander wanted to know. “Could you tell where he was holding her? Did you hear any noises, buses, church bells—anything that would give their location away? Were they near the water?”
Jack turned his anger on the commander. “Can’t you see she’s upset?” Jack accused, his eyes narrowing. “She hasn’t eaten anything since we landed. Get her something to eat and drink while she composes herself.” Jack looked around the room for a couch or something more comfortable than the straight-backed chair Kate was sitting in. “Is there somewhere she can rest for a while? She’s been through a lot.”
Katherine sat mutely on the chair, pressing a hand against her forehead.
Jack wondered how he had suddenly transformed into Kate’s knight in shining armor.
“We’re wasting time,” the commander railed, pacing around the room, flexing his right hand like he was ready to punch someone. “I’m going to get my sketch artist in here while everything is still fresh in her mind.”
Jack stood solidly between Katherine and the commander. “Now you listen to me. This woman is my responsibility. And we’re going to do this my way or not at all.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Commander Jones picked up the phone and barked out some orders. After he hung up the receiver, he led Jack and Katherine into a dimly lit reception area with an overstuffed green leather couch.
“She can rest here until the sketch artist comes. My secretary will bring up some food and something to drink.”
“Okay,” Jack said, flexing his shoulders. “Okay. How are you feeling, Kate?”
“It was horrible.” Katherine turned her pale face up to his. “Jack, we need to catch that man and lock him away before he can hurt anybody else. He’s sadistic.”
Jack rested a hand firmly on her shoulder. “We will. We will, don’t worry. I promise.” He knew his promise to her hadn’t been worth much in the past. This time it would be different.
“I’m afraid it might be too late for Kylee,” she stated.
Jack looked up when a young officer with a sketch pad followed the commander into the room.
“Kate cannot start until she’s had something to eat,” Jack insisted angrily.
Katherine placed her hand over Jack’s. “That can wait. This is too important.”
Jack frowned. He didn’t like it one bit. The woman had been through a lot. She had been on the verge of hysteria and now she was calm. Too calm. Highs and lows. Her mood swings had him worried. She needed to eat something. But he’d go along with her, for now.
The commander approached Katherine. “Miss Crystal, this is our sketch artist. He’ll work with you to help you flesh out any details you can remember about the man you saw.”
Katherine stood up and shook hands with the artist. Then Jack put his hands on her shoulders and guided her back into her seat.
She covered her eyes with her hands and began talking. She described in detail the exact shade of blond and the texture of the man’s hair, his magnetic blue eyes, his deceptively sweet dimples, his broad build, and his hands. His large, strong, bone-crushing hands.
“Was his nose about like this?” the artist queried.
Katherine opened her eyes and nodded.
“What about the room where he kept her?” the commander prompted. Can you describe it?”
After about half an hour, the sketch artist held out his sketch pad.
“That’s him,” Katherine said, pointing to the drawing, agitated.
Commander Jones walked around the table, took one look and exclaimed, “Miss Crystal, you’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“That’s the man in my vision,” Katherine insisted.
“I know that’s the man you think you saw, Miss Crystal, but Lucas Taylor is not the strangler.”
“Who’s Lucas Taylor?” Katherine asked.
“He’s the son of the Lord Mayor of the City of Sydney,” said the commander.
“Kate seems certain,” said Jack. “How do you know it’s not Taylor?”
“Because I know the Lord Mayor personally, and I know Lucas, and he’s not—”
“Not what?” Jack demanded.
“Not smart enough for one thing, sad to say. Handsome bloke, for sure, has a way with the ladies, but he’s not quite right in the head. Ever since his motorcycle crash. He was driving without a helmet. Well, he couldn’t pull it off. Wouldn’t.”
“Are you saying he’s not capable of doing something like this?” Jack nearly shouted, his irritation evident. He’d been around all types of killers and he knew with certainty that anyone was capable of murder. “Do you really think that all serial killers are geniuses? That serial killers have to be smart to be sadistic?”
Commander Jones frowned at Jack, fidgeted, and rubbed his chin. “That’s not it at all. Certainly he’s capable, physically. He’s strong as an ox, like yourself, but he’s privileged. He wouldn’t get his hands dirty. He could have any woman in town, if he wanted. He’s Sydney’s most eligible bachelor.”
“Just because a person is rich doesn’t mean he can’t be a sick bastard,” Jack countered. “Maybe if we paid the Lord Mayor a visit, we could let Kate meet this Taylor person and see for herself if she gets any kind of vibe or strange feeling.”
“I’m afraid that would be quite out of the question,” Commander Jones objected, raising his voice. “We can’t just walk into the Lord Mayor’s home and arrest his son on a feeling. We need hard evidence.”
“How can we gather evidence if we can’t see where the suspect lives?” Jack said.
“He’s not the suspect,” the Commander repeated.
“Yet,” said Jack. “I’m not telling you how to do your job, but—”
“It certainly sounds that way.”
“Where does t
he Lord Mayor live?” Jack asked.
“The Lord Mayor and his son live in inner-city Redfern in a converted warehouse. Very upscale. In fact, they’re having a party there right now. My boss is one of the guests.”
“Then get him on the phone,” Jack pressed.
“That’s out of the question.”
“Just find out if the son’s at the party. Kate and I could go over there. He doesn’t know either of us.”
“On what pretense?”
“You could get us invited.”
“On a fishing expedition?”
Jack pulled on his beard. “We’d need a warrant to search the place.”
“That’s harassment. We don’t know that the boy is even involved.” Commander Jones pulled a handkerchief out of his pants pocket and wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead. “It could cost me my job if we’re wrong.”
“And it could cost a girl her life if Kate’s right.”
“We’d be getting a search warrant based on a hunch,” the commander argued.
Jack pulled the commander aside, out of Katherine’s hearing range. “Look, I was the first one to think Crystal Ball Kate was a fake. But you saw her in there. What if she’s right? Are you willing to gamble on a young girl’s life? The papers will crucify you if we lose another one.” Like they did to me.
Commander Jones appeared to consider Jack’s position. “I suppose I could get a warrant to keep in my back pocket and drive to his house on an urgent matter I need to discuss with the boss. Then you and Miss Crystal can have a look around. If you find something, don’t be a hero. I’ll send some squad cars over for backup.”
“How far away is this warehouse?” Jack inquired.
“Not far from here. We’ll take my car,” Commander Jones said, barking orders as he flew into action, alerting his team, calling the judge about a warrant.
“Come on Kate,” Jack said, taking her hand and leading her out of the station as they followed the commander to his car. “Let’s go catch a killer.”
Chapter Six
Catch a killer? The reality of what she was up against hit her like a sharp slap in the face. She had no experience with crime or criminals. Jack Hale was right. She was out of her league. She wished she were anywhere but in the back seat of an unmarked squad car, sitting next to the macho cop who had absolutely no confidence in her abilities, hurtling her way into the dead of night to hunt down a serial killer.
Sixth Sense (A Psychic Crystal Mystery) Page 5
