“No sirens,” instructed Commander Jones to his team over the radio, slowing the unmarked car as he approached the vicinity of the Lord Mayor’s home. He pulled into the driveway and ordered the valet to make sure his car was accessible.
Jack, Katherine, and the commander got out of the car and approached a woman holding a clipboard in front of an open door.
“Michael Jones to see Chief Commissioner Williams on urgent business,” said Commander Jones.
The woman glanced over her shoulder inside the living room to where the commissioner was standing with a drink in his hand, chatting with the Lord Mayor. She shook her head and clicked and unclicked her pen, clearly unhappy about the unscheduled intrusion of unexpected guests.
“May I have your names again, please?”
“Commander Michael Jones and these are my associates, Detective Jack Hale and Ms. Katherine Crystal.”
“That’s Katherine with a K and Crystal with a C,” Katherine noted, stepping into the porch light.
Jack rolled his eyes. “Who cares how you spell your name? We’re wasting precious time.” He slung the reprimand like he was dressing down an underling, not a colleague.
“You’re not on the list,” the woman persisted. “Do you have some identification?”
“Is this a party or an interrogation?” the commander hissed, jerking his badge from his pocket and flashing it in the gatekeeper’s face. He pulled back his jacket to give her a bird’s-eye-view of his .357 Smith & Wesson revolver. “Allow me to introduce my good friends Mr. Smith & Mr. Wesson. I don’t leave home without them. Why don’t you check again? I’m sure we’re on the list.”
Flustered, the woman stepped back. “I don’t like to interrupt The Lord Mayor, but I’ll get Chief Commissioner Williams.”
“I would appreciate that.” The commander turned back to them and whispered, “Katherine, you and Jack get busy. Have a look around. Be inconspicuous.”
Jack and Katherine followed the commander into the house and had started to disappear into the crowd when Jack placed his hand on Kate’s shoulder to stop her.
“I’d like to hear this conversation,” Jack whispered.
Commissioner Williams walked over to the commander. “What are you doing here, Jones?”
“We’re looking into the possibility that the, uh, Lord Mayor’s son, that is, Lucas Taylor, may somehow be involved in the Sydney Strangler case.”
The commissioner’s face flared in anger. “Involved? In what way?”
“The psychic we brought over from Atlanta had a vision. She identified Taylor as the Strangler.”
“She had a vision? Is this some kind of a joke? And you thought you’d come to the Lord Mayor’s house, interrupt his party, and question him about his son? That’s outrageous! You don’t have a suspect and you’re grasping at straws.”
Jack nudged Katherine, herded her in with a cluster of guests, and planted her squarely behind an indoor ornamental tree to hide them from the commander’s view.
“I have a woman, the psychic, here, and she’s trying to see if she gets any—”
“Vibes? Is that the word you’re looking for, Jones? I know I authorized this psychic thing as a last ditch resort because you and your people have absolutely nothing to go on, but I will not allow anyone from my staff to insult the Lord Mayor this way. I think you’d better find this psychic person and go.”
“Yes, sir,” Commander Jones said, looking perplexed as he glanced around the room. The commander cleared his throat. “I...uh...seem to have lost them, sir.”
“Well, you’d bloody well better find them, then, Commander, if you fancy your job.” Commissioner Williams scanned the room, then straightened his tie. “I’m going to smooth things over with the Lord Mayor, and when I look up, I don’t want to see you here.”
Commander Jones surveyed the room and spotted Jack and Katherine behind the potted plant. The crowd was restless. Apparently everyone in the room had heard the argument. The Lord Mayor confronted the commander.
“Problem?” the Lord Mayor said.
“Just a routine police matter,” Commissioner Williams assured his host.
“Do you sense anything yet?” Jack asked, grabbing Katherine’s hand and ushering her into the next room and out of sight of the Lord Mayor.
“I’m not a crime-sniffing dog, for heaven’s sake,” Katherine barked.
“I know, but are you getting a feeling or whatever it is you woo-woo types get?”
“Woo-woo types? Katherine bristled. “Really?” She cleared her head, ignored the jackass next to her, the blare of the music, the smells wafting in the air, the jumble of conversations, and focused. That’s when she heard the scream.
She turned to Jack and grabbed his arm. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
Katherine closed her eyes again and concentrated. He was so close. He was here. Right here. Her skin crawled as she watched the strangler touch his latest victim.
“Kate, what’s wrong,” Jack asked, rubbing her hand. “You’re as pale as a statue and you’re as cold as stone.”
“Don’t hurt me again. Are you going to cut me?”
“Sssh. We’re just getting started. It’s going to be a long night, Kylee. Just relax and enjoy.” The strangler massaged Kylee’s neck. Kylee struggled against her bonds.
“Just practicing,” he said.
“I’m cold,” Kylee whimpered.
“Don’t fight me,” the strangler murmured as he stroked Kylee’s breasts and trailed his hand down to her thigh.
“Are you in a trance? Kate, Kate, wake up.”
Kate shivered and looked up into Jack’s face.
“What happened to you? Where did you just go?”
“I saw him. I felt his evil presence. He’s definitely here. We’ve got to find him before—”
Commander Jones was heading toward them.
Jack squeezed Kate’s hand.
“I’ve been looking all over for you two,” said the commander. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
“We can’t leave,” Jack said. “Kate is onto something. She says he’s here.”
“I’ve looked everywhere, at all the guests, and there’s no sign of the Lord Mayor’s son.”
Jack faced the commander. “Did you ask the Lord Mayor about him?”
“That’s one thing I can’t do. Chief Commissioner Williams instructed me to get off the property. He’ll have my job if we stay here any longer.”
“Commander, I know he’s here.” Katherine groaned. “We’ve got to stop him.”
“Does this house have a basement?” Jack asked.
Commander Jones shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Let me call the station and see if we can track down the schematics or blueprints for the house. Maybe there is a basement or a safe room of some kind. Meanwhile, I’ll alert my people to stand by at the back entrance.”
Commander Jones turned to look at Katherine. “Are you sure about this? Or is this just a hunch?”
“I bet against her once,” Jack interrupted. “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“All right. I’m going to call and see what’s holding up our search warrant.”
****
The backbeat of a band pulsed in Katherine’s ears, in contrast to a chorus of cicadas, singing in the Sydney spring night.
Commander Jones shone the flashlight onto the blueprints he had stretched out on his squad car in the darkness.
“Bastard’s soundproofed the basement, according to these plans, but there’s no extra security,” reported the Commander. “Bugger is confident no one will suspect him or find him in The Lord Mayor’s house.”
“His own house,” Jack asserted.
“You’d better be right, Kate,” Commander Jones muttered, casting a sideways glance at her before issuing the order to break down the basement door.
“I pray I am,” Katherine whispered. Her heart tripped as the door splintered and a small uniformed force bl
ustered into the room, weapons drawn. She wanted the strangler to be there, but she was afraid of what else they’d find.
“Lucas Taylor,” the commander shouted. “This is The New South Wales Police Force. We have a warrant to search your basement.”
“Keep back, Kate,” ordered Jack, who had also drawn his weapon.
“I’m coming in,” Katherine argued, trailing Jack.
“Then stay behind me.” Jack moved her forcibly out of the line of fire.
Katherine stepped over the threshold into a scene out of a horror movie. This basement bachelor pad was definitely the killer’s playground. Bloodstained sheets, shackles on the wall, and a limp, naked Kylee sagging against a steel pole, tools of torture spread out on a nearby table. Women’s clothing and underthings—frilly, fragile, and bloody—were scattered on the floor.
Jack checked the young girl’s pulse. “She’s alive, but barely,” as he used a Swiss Army knife to tenderly cut the ties that bound Kylee’s hands and feet.
“Christ,” sputtered a sickened commander, breathing deep to keep from heaving. “Where’s the sick bastard who did this?”
The SWAT team spread out and checked each room in the basement.
The toilet flushed. Lucas Taylor sauntered out of the bathroom, half-dressed, blond hair mussed and pale skin gleaming with sweat, singing, “Kylee, time to wake up again.” He froze when he saw the officers.
A second later Lucas sprinted into action and ran for cover in the bathroom, but Commander Jones was quicker. He stuck his booted foot in the door and pushed against the force on the other side before Lucas could lock it and barricade himself in.
“It’s over, Taylor. Come out or I’ll blow your fuckin’ head off.”
“Do you know who I am? My father—”
“I know just who and what you are, and I don’t care who your bloody father is, you’re going down. No more hiding behind Daddy.”
Together the commander and his team broke the serial killer’s hold on the door and pulled the bug out of his hidey hole.
Jack carried Kylee over to the couch and placed her head in Kate’s waiting lap. Kate covered the girl with a blanket she’d found tossed carelessly over a throw pillow and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder.
“You’re safe now, Kylee. You’re going home.”
Kylee wept a stream of silent tears. When she looked over at her captor, she started trembling uncontrollably and she couldn’t stop.
The commander read the Lord Mayor’s son his rights, jerked his hands behind his back, and cuffed him roughly.
“How do you like it now? You like it rough? I can do rough.”
“Commander, we’ll take him out the back,” Jones’ second-in-command said.
“No, we’ll be making a little detour through the house, to give Daddy and his party guests a good look at his freak of a son.”
“You can’t do this,” shouted Lucas. “I have my rights.”
“Let’s talk about your rights down at the station. I want this whole damn place swept for evidence. Make sure he doesn’t have anyone else down here.”
The commander walked over to where Katherine was sitting. “Great job, Kate.” He pressed her shoulder emphatically. “You should feel good about what you did here today. You saved this girl’s life.”
“You’re going to be okay now,” Commander Jones assured the girl gently. “We’ve got him. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Katherine held Kylee closer, both of them shaking. Nothing about this place made her feel good. She couldn’t wait to get home, away from this house of horrors. She’d never been so scared in her life. Scared for Kylee. Scared for herself. Her parents had been right about predicting the future. She had no business tampering with other people’s lives, messing with the unknown.
Chapter Seven
Aboard a Koala Blue jet en route to Atlanta
Katherine pretended to sleep while she squinted at Jack, who was half-hidden behind a newspaper, trying to get comfortable in his cramped airline seat. Turned out Jack wasn’t as big a jerk as she’d originally thought. In fact, he had been very protective of her in Sydney, and he’d been there when she needed him. He hadn’t apologized, but he wasn’t cracking any more “woo-woo” jokes or mocking her “magical powers.” So that was a step in the right direction. The fact that Flight Attendant Barbie wasn’t on the return flight was another plus.
“Kate,” he nudged her shoulder. “Are you awake?”
Kate smiled. The man wasn’t exactly subtle. She’d hardly had enough time to admire him surreptitiously or finish her in-flight fantasy about being tangled up in the satin sheets on the king-sized bed at the Shangri-La Hotel in Sydney, wishing Jack had not agreed so readily to sleep on the couch. She was vulnerable and thoroughly shaken up by the whole experience. She needed to be comforted. Hell, she wanted to do more than talk to Jack, as macho and insufferable as he had been. Maybe it was just the adrenalin, but she’d been having naughty thoughts about Jack throughout the flight.
“I guess,” she said. “What’s up?”
“You’re famous.”
“What do you mean?” Kate straightened in her seat.
“You’re all over the Sydney Morning Herald and The Daily Telegraph.”
Kate grabbed the newspapers from Jack’s hand. “Why did they have to mention me?” Katherine said, lips pursed when she saw her picture splashed all over the front page of the newspaper. Her parents had repeatedly warned her not to make headlines. She read a few paragraphs about her role in the Sydney Strangler case and the recounted story of how she had predicted the death of the son of Vince Rivers.
“What are you so steamed about? You’re the new ‘It’ girl. Apparently you single-handedly caught the Sydney Strangler.”
“I didn’t catch him. You and the commander did.”
“Information you provided led to his arrest.”
“Just a technicality.”
Jack took her chin in his hands and tipped her face up to him. “Kate, look at me. We couldn’t have done this without you. That’s a fact. So face it.”
“I don’t want to ever have to go back there,” she said.
“Hopefully, you won’t have to. But if we have to go to Sydney to testify at the trial, that’s a small price to pay to get that sick psycho off the streets. He won’t ever see the light of day, and if justice is finally done, we’ll execute him.”
“I thought the commander said Australia had abolished the death penalty.”
“We’re trying to get him extradited to Georgia, where we do have it. My team is busy trying to tie him to the Atlanta killings, refute his alibis. We have our people checking the Lord Mayor’s travel records. If we can match Junior’s DNA to the evidence we found on the dead girls at Atlanta College, and if the Lord Mayor was in Atlanta during the time of the killings and his son was traveling with him, then we’ve got him dead to rights.”
Katherine was still looking at the newspapers with a frown on her face.
“So what’s bothering you?”
“I just hope the Atlanta papers don’t run anything. I don’t want my name associated with another case.”
“Why not?”
“My parents don’t want me doing this kind of thing.”
“Saving lives? Isn’t your mother an attorney and your dad a federal judge?”
“Yes, but she and my father shun publicity. They’ll be furious if this gets out. They haven’t recovered from the swirl of publicity surrounding the Vince Rivers crash. They think this sort of stuff is somehow less than respectable.”
“Well, normally I’d have to say I agree with them. But in this case, I can’t discount what I saw or what you did. How do you feel about it?”
“Conflicted, I guess. I’ve had these dreams, feelings, welling up inside of me ever since I can remember, and I can’t go to my parents. My mother used to call my visions headaches. ‘KC, dear, are you having one of your headaches again?’ she used to say before she dismissed them
. The Vince Rivers case was the first time I acted on my instincts. It felt…good, right.”
“Better than selling paintings to socialites?” Jack said, barely hiding his amusement. “Do you plan to work at an art gallery selling somebody else’s work the rest of your life?”
Katherine looked up at Jack in disbelief. He was the most exasperating man. One minute he was signaling his approval and the next, dismissing her abilities. She was good at her job. Intuitively, she knew which paintings should go home with which patrons. But that knowledge was useless now, because no one except the super rich was buying paintings anymore, not in this economy, and they preferred dealing with Sotheby’s or Christie’s rather than a local gallery.
“Apparently not, since I just lost my job at the Freyer Gallery. I haven’t even told my parents yet.”
“You got fired?”
“Laid off. Nobody has any money to buy fine art anymore. I was the top salesperson, when people were in the market for my product. To answer your question, no, that’s not what I pictured myself doing for the rest of my life, but right now, that’s all I’ve got going. What about you? Planning to be a cop forever?”
“I’ve got a degree in criminal justice and I’ve almost graduated law school.”
“My mother says there are already too many lawyers,” Katherine said, snorting.
“But how many lawyers have police backgrounds? I know the justice system from the ground up. One day, I want to have my own detective agency. I’m covering all the bases.”
“Sounds like you know just what you want. I envy you.”
“I guess with your parents’ connections and money, you really don’t even need to work. Must be nice to have a safety net. Parents who believe in you.”
Jack fixed her with his searching blue eyes, and she flinched under his frank appraisal.
Jack didn’t know how wrong he was. Her parents were both realists who believed only in proven facts. They were both methodical and reserved, so it was frowned upon to show emotions in the Crystal Palace, otherwise known as her family home in Buckhead, the toniest section of Atlanta.
Sixth Sense (A Psychic Crystal Mystery) Page 6
