“Wha...? Meredith? Are you all right?”
“I’m scared,” she said.
“Of what?” He sat up and voice-activated the lamp on the side table, causing the threatening shadows to vanish. His hair was tousled and flat on one side, from the pillow. He looked worried about her, said, “You’re shaking. What’s wrong?”
He held her hand, and she began to feel better. She had always liked his strength, had always felt safe with him. What happened to Travis had not been his fault. It had been unlucky for their little boy, and unlucky for their little family.
“At dinner,” Meredith said now, “you said again you don’t like Riggio, but you couldn’t say exactly why. Something about his eyes, you thought, or his demeanor.” She paused. “You’re convinced he’s hiding dangerous thoughts.”
“That’s right, and I’ve never been wrong yet.”
“I woke up and I was lying here staring at the ceiling,” she said, “and I thought I saw a monster ready to attack. It had eyes like Riggio’s, looking at me with a hatred I’d never seen before, not from anyone. It terrified me. It wasn’t a dream, must have an illusion of light and shadows.”
“I’m sure that’s true.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly, and said, “I’m here with you now. I can protect you.”
“I know, and I’m glad you’re here. Really, I am.”
“We can be back together, then?”
Meredith smiled. “We already are, and I hope it stays that way.”
“So do I.”
Meredith cried softly. It had been a long time.
She grew calmer and finally fell asleep....
Unknown to her, Zack remained awake, peering uneasily into the shadows where his easels and paintings were, watching for any movement, and listening. The only sounds he heard were the regular breathing of Meredith, this incredible woman he had loved since the first moment he met her.
CHAPTER 33
All through the day and evening, Tatsy had remained awake and vigilant, afraid to fall asleep, lest her hated brother re-assert control. The body looked female now—her body—and that was a fantastic indication to her, suggesting it would be very difficult for him to come back, perhaps as difficult as it had been for Tatsy to defeat him. But the metamorphosis was all too new, and she could not be certain what the future held. She did not want to lose what she had gained, because of a momentary lapse.
It was perhaps two hours before dawn, and in the hours since Tatsy took control, there had been no indication that Riggio even existed anymore, no thoughts that she might tap into. The thoughts were all her own, yet she worried now that he might be the one doing the eavesdropping, as she had done before, that he was now the one looking for an opportunity.
She worried about her sisters, too. All three seemed to be gone, apparently sacrificed in the battle to get rid of Riggio. Three more reasons to hate him, very big ones.
Tatsy felt very much alone.
In a melancholy mood, she went to the window of the rented room and opened it, then pulled a chair up to it and sat there naked in the darkness, feeling a cool breeze wash against her face and upper body, a tactile sensation she had never known before.
Thankfully, old Mrs. Monroe had not knocked on the door or called out to her. Earlier, Tatsy had heard her upstairs, in her bedroom directly overhead, getting ready to go to bed. She probably read one of her murder-mystery books for awhile as she customarily did, and then fell asleep with the lights on. When Riggio went up there one evening, looking for her to ask a question about the kitchen, he’d seen her like that, and through his eyes Tatsy had seen the same thing.
Now she probed again for her sisters, calling to them by name across their paranormal link: Lizbeth, Callie, Anneya! Lizbeth, Callie, Anneya! Still no answer.
To take her mind off this, Tatsy turned on the light and went to a full-length mirror on the back of the hall door, and stood there before it. She enjoyed looking at her new body in the mirror, not wearing anything at all so that she could admire her perfect curves, her unblemished skin. She marveled at herself for several minutes, then opened the door. Only dim night lights illuminated the hallway. Still wearing no clothes, she tiptoed into the kitchen and selected the largest knife in the knife rack.
Then she made her way stealthily up the stairs, staying off to one side where they creaked less. She was not entirely certain if she wanted to kill the old lady, but knew she could do it if she chose to do so. It gave her a feeling of power. Tatsy liked killing people, but told herself she had nothing against Mrs. Monroe; the old woman had always been pleasant. Her dog had been the problem, growling at Riggio as if the animal could sense Tatsy hiding within—and she had gotten rid of the meddling beast.
On the second floor, she crept toward Mrs. Monroe’s bedroom. The door was slightly open, casting a sliver of light into the hallway. When she reached the doorway, the light made the knife blade glisten, and for a moment she found herself fascinated by the play of light on the gleaming steel, and her distorted reflection in it. Then she pushed the door open slowly, just enough for her to slide through the opening.
As expected, the old woman had fallen asleep while reading. Her eyeglasses were still on, and the book lay open on her lap, with her hands resting on the pages.
Tatsy slipped past her, more intent on the contents of the closet than on her. Surprising herself, she set the knife down on the carpeted floor. She could still stab her on the way out.
Though Mrs. Monroe was about her height and weight, the garments in the closet were badly out of style, many of the dresses with bright prints and hideous designs on them. Tatsy found a dark skirt and white blouse, a black belt, and a large black-leather purse, with a shoulder strap. She dressed quickly, examined herself in the mirror. Not too bad. The shoes didn’t fit, though, and she didn’t want to wear Riggio’s. Even though they did fit, people would notice her in them, and she didn’t want to stand out.
Tatsy picked up the knife from the carpet, hurried to the doorway and out, in her bare feet. She had not made enough noise to awaken the old lady; if she had, it might have been necessary to use the weapon. As it was, she had not been noticed, and she made her way out of the room and down the stairs.
From a practical standpoint it was best to leave the old woman unharmed anyway, because Tatsy didn’t want the police sniffing around here for clues, and put them on her trail. She smiled, realizing she shouldn’t worry about that; she looked entirely different now. Tatsy replaced the knife in the rack. She just needed to get away from here. But first she went in the living room and removed money from the purse Mrs. Monroe always kept by her favorite chair, then cleaned the money out of two other hiding places she knew about, and grabbed the remaining funds Riggio had on hand.
Tatsy took a coat from the front closet and stepped out of the house into the damp coolness of early morning. Dim street lamps illuminated the sidewalks and street, and she didn’t see anyone else out at this hour.
She knew exactly where she was going. She buttoned the coat up to fend off the cold, but on her feet she wore only a pair of heavy wool socks she’d found in the laundry room, and another pair of thinner socks underneath. They helped, but she would need to shop for clothes and shoes as soon as the stores opened.
A few minutes later, she stood in front of the townhouse with the brick front where Meredith lived. Tatsy had been here before when Riggio found himself standing out in front, not knowing how he’d gotten there, and worrying about feelings he was having that he wanted to harm Meredith.
Tatsy had not commanded him in sleeptrance to do that. Yet she’d planted enough hatred in his mind against Meredith that he’d gone out on his own. It had been a serious error on Tatsy’s part to plant that in his mind, because it had caused conflicting feelings that almost led him to suicide. She’d had to bring him back from the brink in order to save herself.
Now that was all in the past. With the purse strap over one shoulder, she had her hands in the coat pockets, trying to
stay warm while she stared at the two-story townhouse. All the lights were off inside. She had not walked far, but felt the cold of the pavement on the bottoms of her feet, where she was starting to wear holes in the outer socks.
Tatsy wanted a spectacular death for Meredith Lamour. If she were to break in, find another knife and stab her a hundred times, even that level of gore would not rise to the level she wanted. She brought an object out of one of the coat pockets, to see what it was. Just as she’d thought, it was a cigarette lighter. She pressed a button and a small flame jumped into the air.
She closed it, put it back in her pocket. It gave her an idea. If she burned down the townhouse, that would be spectacular enough. She let the thought sink in. Yes, that was the way to do it. She could envision her prey inside, in such a deep sleep that she would not wake up in time. Not until it was too late.
She needed to find something combustible to light. Maybe in the backyard. Tatsy went around to the side, started to climb a metal fence. It was not comfortable on her stocking feet, but she wanted to get this done.
“What are you doing there?” It was a man’s voice, behind her.
Tatsy turned to look back at him. A small man, dressed in dark clothing, except for white sport shoes. In the street lamp she saw him scowling up at her.
“I lost my key,” she said.
“You’re lying. I’m the landlord, and you don’t live here.” He reached up and grabbed her coat, pulling her down. She fell to the ground, hurting her left arm.
Enraged, she rose to her feet and glared at the man.
“You’re younger than I thought when I first saw you,” he said, stepping close. “Your clothes seem more appropriate for an older woman.”
Tatsy was taller than him. “And you’re a fashion expert?” She took a menacing step toward him.
He brought out a smart phone, started to speak into it to summon the police, but she grabbed it away from him. The man protested, but Tatsy tossed it aside, then knocked him to the ground and leapt on him, pummeling her with her fists. She had the physical strength of her brother, something she was glad to discover.
The little man flailed and cried out, but Tatsy was on top of him and wouldn’t let go. She squeezed his neck, and squeezed tighter, until he stopped moving.
Finally she rose from the body and stared down at his feet, at the white sport shoes. They were unisex and looked about her size. She pulled them off him, removed her thick wool socks and tried the shoes on. They fit perfectly.
She looked around, then ran into the night. She would get Meredith another way. Tatsy knew—from observing inside Riggio—exactly when Meredith was going to a place called Sun Under to inspect a resort project for her client Sam Howe, being built somewhere southeast of Seattle.
Tatsy would find an opportunity there, and would seize it.
~~~
But unknown to her, Riggio had not really disappeared. Her brother heard everything she said, saw everything she saw. He read every one of her thoughts.
He was like a sleeper trying desperately to awaken, yet unable to pull himself out of a horrific nightmare....
CHAPTER 34
Agent Jantz sat in the lobby of the Sacramento solarport, awaiting her flight to Seattle. Now that they had a new composite drawing of Riggio Demónt, and he was last reported in Seattle, she wanted to be at the center of the action, wanted to be there when he was captured. She’d discovered that Dr. Yordanius had provided an accurate description, because the drawing had been used to track some of his movements—though he had not yet been found.
The unusual scientist sat several rows away, restrained by electronic shackles, and accompanied by four plain-clothed guards. He was going to Seattle, too, and had even expressed a desire to go there, to see what he could do to help. Jantz felt some compassion for him, but didn’t entirely trust him.
It was late morning, and she was scheduled to board the solarplane in half an hour. It always perplexed her that it took considerably longer to fly from one place to another on Earth than it did to use a click chamber to cross the entire solar system. There had been talk of adapting the click system for on-planet trips, but thus far the technology had not been perfected. They had a name for it—“Earthclick”—but little more.
Sitting in a secure area where no one could look over her shoulder, the agent had her computer on, but was not reviewing any of her case files. A few minutes ago she’d been studying the new composite drawing of Riggio Demónt, noting the classically handsome features, the black hair with a slight wave in it, and his most distinctive feature, his sea-blue eyes. Riggio’s eyes were hypnotic, and she’d been staring into them, trying to guess what lay behind them in the universe of his mind... and when added to everything else she knew about him, she’d been trying to think like a killer.
Yet Jantz realized she had been overly consumed with this case. Working on it had been emotionally draining, and she’d lost a great deal of sleep over it. The new composite drawing had been publicized in Seattle, and people had called in, saying they’d seen the man, and that he’d been using the same given name, but a different surname. As it turned out, he’d been working for a risk-management firm in the Ballard district of the city, while living in a rented room in the nearby Wallingford district. But the police had not found him in either place.
Jantz had been going over the details ad nauseum, longed to capture him and bring him to justice.
She had not slept well last night, much worse than in recent weeks, and none of those nights had been very good. She needed a mental break, switched the computer to a game program, one that had been designed by the FBI especially for its agents, to relax their minds and maintain mental acuity. This particular program had many levels and facets, and she had it on a moderately difficult setting, a relaxing one in which she looked at a “perp screen” for a few seconds, showing her a dozen faces, names, and abbreviated rap sheets of fictional criminals, followed by other unrelated screens and tasks—only to return to the perp screen, which by that time had the faces and information jumbled. She then had one minute to match the correct information with each face.
She was just beginning to look at the jumbled perp screen when she heard her name called out over the computer, and the game site flickered off. The voice was familiar. Director Gilmore’s fleshy, jowly face appeared on the screen, and he said, “Agent Jantz, we have new information on the Riggio Demónt case. Another murder, this time in Seattle.”
Looking ill at ease, Gilmore went on to describe the murder of a landlord in the Wallingford district before dawn that morning, and said the killer stole the man’s shoes. Then he added, “Same fingerprints as the other Demónt murders.” He paused, appearing to be very upset.
“What is it, sir?” Jantz asked. Having worked with the Director for years, she knew that expression. He was not happy about something.
“A surprising twist... dammit, it can’t be true!”
“Sir?”
“We were originally contacted by a Detective Hagel of the Seattle Police Department, who’s been working on the murder case, taking the lead until we discovered it was a federal matter, not local. The perp’s fingerprints are the same, as I said, but the DNA we took from the prints is slightly different. It’s ridiculous, but the lab checked dozens of the killer’s prints, most of them with nucleated DNA, and—”
He stammered, took a deep breath. The Director seemed unable to say something.
“Sir, what is it?”
“This killer left behind evidence containing two X chromosomes, indicating the perp is female, not male. Can you believe it? Female!”
“Female? How could that be, with the same fingerprints?”
“It seems impossible, but our FBI lab has the custody of the evidence now, and has checked and re-checked it. They’ve found, with absolute certainty, that the DNA bears a striking similarity to the earlier samples, but there’s an important difference. Instead of an X chromosome and a Y chromosome indicating male, it�
�s suddenly two X chromosomes, making it female.”
“I’ve never heard of anything like that, sir.”
“Nor have I, but our lab manager says it could be something called chimerism, where one person has both male and female indicators.”
“Must be something to do with the weird procedures Yordanius was using in his laboratory,” Jantz said. “Looks like he’s created a serial killer that’s part male, part female, and looks male.”
“As good a guess as any,” Director Gilmore said. “We’ll have to check with him on that, and see what he says. There’s one more thing. The Seattle Police reports that Riggio Demónt made a 911 call yesterday afternoon. He was only on for a few seconds, and their call reader didn’t pick anything up. But Riggio Demónt was the name the caller gave. We don’t have voice ID information on him yet, so we can’t analyze the dispatcher’s recording and verify who called.”
“Why didn’t the call reader work?”
“Something to do with a routing problem. I don’t know. I only know they don’t have a source number.”
The agent could not believe what she was hearing. “I never thought this case could get more strange, sir, but it just did.”
“Yes, it did. And it’s the first male victim on this case.”
“A man killed all those women, and now a woman has killed a man? This is weird, and very disturbing.”
It was about time for Jantz to board the solarplane. Jantz excused herself from the conversation and put her computer in its case. Then she motioned for the guards to bring Yordanius over to her.
Remaining seated, she looked up at him and asked, “Do you have any idea how the DNA of your serial killer could have changed from male to female? There’s a new crime scene in Seattle, with the same fingerprints, but the DNA is a different gender. Some weird thing you did in the laboratory? Our people say it might be chimerism.”
The Unborn Page 19
