“No—for some reason, he did not,” Chiến said.
“Probably because he was on the run,” Seth said. “Didn’t have time to toy with her.”
“That’s likely,” Chiến said. “Do you have Davies’ DNA?”
“I think so,” Seth said.
“You should check,” Chiến said. “It could explain a lot.”
“Davies is his mother’s last name.”
“Yes,” Chiến said. “He didn’t take his stepfather’s name. He told the kids that he wanted to be easy to find when his father broke out of prison.”
“He would have been ten or so when his father was executed,” Seth said.
Chiến nodded.
“Did he know his father had been executed?” Seth asked.
“Oh, yes,” Chiến said. “He would tell the story, with every gory detail included. No, Seth, he didn’t change his name because he hated his stepfather.”
“I hated my father, but it didn’t make me a murderer,” Seth said.
“You’re not Ted Bundy’s son,” Chiến said. “With that, I will take my leave.”
He stood from his seat and gave Seth a deep bow.
“Thank you,” Chiến said.
“Thank you,” Seth said. He stood to shake Chiến’s hand.
“When I see you next, I will be Nguyễn Làm Chinh,” Chiến said. “Lieu Chiến died in that clearing.”
“I will still be Seth O’Malley,” Seth grinned.
Chiến shook his head and laughed. Seth walked him to the door.
“Until then,” Chiến said.
Seth watched as the man walked down the hallway and turned down the stairs. Chiến had intentionally left the teacup so that Seth could easily get his fingerprints and DNA. Seth grabbed the plastic bag liner from the trashcan and picked up the glass. While his instinct told him that Chiến was not the killer, he would ask Ava to test it when he got back.
His cellphone rang. He answered it without thinking.
“Seth?” Ava asked.
“Ava!” Seth said.
“You sound surprised,” Ava said.
“I was thinking about something else.” Seth looked at the clock and realized it was two in the morning. “Are you going to sleep?”
“Yeah,” Ava yawned. “I set up a bed in the office. Maresol dropped Dale off on the edge of the Lost Creek Wilderness. She’s going to stay with her son tonight.”
“Good thinking,” Seth said.
“This whole case . . . It’s starting to get to all of us,” Ava said. “You need to solve it.”
“I know,” Seth said.
“Hey, before we hang up: Leslie showed me the pictures she made,” Ava said. “She hasn’t shown them to the victim, so we can’t be sure they are exactly right, but . . .”
“It’s Davies?”
“Well, sure,” Ava said. “But we knew that. It’s the other guy I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Asian guy, about five-foot-six, fit?” Seth said.
“No,” Ava said. “It doesn’t look like that at all.”
TWENTY-SIX
“What?” Seth asked.
“The picture, the one Leslie drew after talking to your witness?” Ava asked. “It looks like that guy you were talking to in the backyard. You know, the one Maresol hates?”
“What?” Seth was stunned.
“I went looking for you,” Ava said. “I saw him through the windows. Then the doorbell rang, and a different old guy was looking for you.”
“And the picture Leslie drew?”
“Looks just like the guy you were talking to in the backyard,” Ava said. “Maybe ten years younger, sure, but a dead ringer for the smoking guy that Maresol hates.”
Seth felt time grind to a halt.
“Seth?” Ava asked.
He didn’t respond. The wheels of Seth’s mind began to move again.
“OK, I knew you’d do that,” Ava said. “Love you.”
She hung up the phone. Seth looked at the phone and set it down.
Major Cotton had been in the clearing that day. Mitch and Seth hadn’t reported in, so he’d come looking for them. He found them staring at the Rangers. He was the one who’d called in the CIA.
Seth blinked.
Seth had been so sure about Chiến that he hadn’t bothered to ask Soledad what the men looked like. He jogged across the room and pulled out the Major General’s file from where he’d stashed it under the box spring. He’d assumed the pages in the file on Major Cotton were about him and Mitch. He’d been so sure. He hadn’t even looked at them.
Seth set the file down on the desk and turned on the lamp.
Cotton was Davies’ stepfather. He’d married Davies’ mother when Davies was five years old. Davies’s mother died under suspicious circumstances after Davies had left for college.
Seth looked around the room for his cellphone. It was sitting on the table where he’d left it. He grabbed the phone and called Éowyn.
“O’Malley,” Switch answered the phone on the first ring.
“I know it’s late,” Seth said. “But I was wondering if I could ask Éowyn something.”
“Is it about that creep?” Switch asked.
“It is,” Seth said.
He heard Switch move across the apartment.
“He tried to get in here,” Switch said. “Came for her again.”
“What about Major Cotton?”
“Your old CO?” Switch asked.
“How did you know . . .?”
“Maresol,” Switch said. “I checked him out. He retired out as an option over a dishonorable, conduct unbecoming.”
“Retired?”
“Instead of conduct unbecoming,” Switch said. “I think he killed his wife—or . . . I asked the intel sergeant that’s what he said. Well, he said that it was likely a DV. They’d had a rash of that then—thin the ranks by getting rid of the abusers.”
“Did you tell Éowyn?”
“Not a chance,” Switch said. “You might like to bring this murder and mayhem home with you, but when I’ve got a gorgeous creature like Éowyn in my bed? I have other things on my mind.”
Seth chuckled.
“Hey, before I get her . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Would you mind if I ask her?” Switch asked. “You know, marriage?”
“You can ask,” Seth said. “But I doubt she’ll marry you, or anyone for that matter.”
“Damn, you know that’s right,” Switch chuckled. “I’m still going to ask.”
“I would if I were you,” Seth said.
“Just wanted to check,” Switch said.
He heard Switch call Éowyn’s name. They talked in the background before Éowyn took the phone.
“Seth?” Éowyn asked.
“I’m sorry to wake you,” Seth said.
“No, it’s fine,” Éowyn said. “Anything to help. Really.”
“I have a couple questions,” Seth said.
Seth heard the light click on. Switch’s deeper voice rumbled in the background.
“I have a pad in case I need to take notes,” Éowyn said. “Lawyer’s habit. Go ahead.”
“It’s about Brent,” Seth said. “Did he ever talk about his childhood?”
“He had this story about being Ted Bundy’s only son,” Éowyn said. “His mom was like fifteen when she had him. I always figured she got pregnant and left town.”
“You didn’t believe him?”
“No,” Éowyn said. “He got this weird thrill about possibly being related to that monster. I thought it was bravado and bullshit. Gross. Should I have believed him?”
“I don’t know,” Seth said. “I’m going to ask Ava to check.”
“God,” Éowyn said. “I can really pick them, can’t I?”
“Everyone has one or two they regret,” Seth said. “Ask Lizzie about her mom.”
Éowyn laughed.
“I have another question,” Seth said.
“Go ahead.
”
“Did you ever meet his stepfather?” Seth asked.
“No, but I saw a picture of him,” Éowyn said. “Brent hated his stepdad, just hated him.”
“Any idea why?”
“He was really cruel, abusive,” Éowyn yawned. “Brent has these scars on his thighs—little straight pinpricks and some lines, like dashes, around his thighs. Stuff you could cover with shorts. I thought they were a tattoo or whatever, so I asked him about them. Well, he freaked out. Broke up with me. Of course, I took him back. He told me that when he did something his stepdad thought was bad, like kiss a girl or one time he caught him jerking off, his stepdad would wrap his thighs in barbed wire and make him wear it for days at a time.”
“God,” Seth said as an exhale.
“I know, right? I guess, the barbed wire wasn’t so tight as to be constrictive. It cut into him when he moved,” Éowyn said. “Or sat down. He had to go to school, play sports, sit in classes with the wire on. Horrible.”
“Awful,” Seth said. “Did it happen a lot?”
“I think so,” Éowyn said. “And other stuff, but he didn’t ever say what. Torture. That’s what I told him, ‘Your stepfather tortured you for just being a regular kid.’ He told me his stepdad had been in Vietnam. Learned it there. Then, his stepdad killed Brent’s mother. The case was bungled by a local cop—at least Brent thought so. Cop ended up shooting himself, so . . .”
Seth blinked.
“What?” Seth asked.
“Oh, I was just saying that Brent thought the cop screwed up the investigation intentionally,” Éowyn yawned. “His stepdad was some big deal in military intelligence, I think. Anyway, it all happened when Brent was in college, so I always thought . . .”
This is personal.
The thought hit Seth like a ton of bricks. He had assumed the murderers were playing cat and mouse with him and the other detectives because they were well-known problem solvers. Cat and mouse was a side game. They were getting back at people they thought injured them—or, specifically—injured Major Cotton.
This was personal.
Éowyn was still talking and yawning.
“Hey, I need to go,” Seth said. “Sorry.”
“Did I help? I was trying to say everything I remembered . . .”
“In the morning, will you call Ava and put together a sketch of the stepdad?” Seth asked.
“With Leslie?” Éowyn asked. “Sure.”
“Thanks,” Seth said. “I may call later.”
“Okay,” Éowyn said. “Nighty-night, Seth.”
He hadn’t set the phone down when Everest’s face appeared before him.
Seth grabbed the Major General’s file. Everest wasn’t in there. He took out Martha Jessep’s collection of files.
There was nothing about Major Cotton in any of the detective’s files.
The Major General’s files held only vague references to Major Cotton’s violent behavior toward women. There was nothing concrete here.
Rick would never remember arresting the man, and his case file, as shared by Martha, reflected what he’d said tonight. Rick Lopez thought this was an average case of a predator preying on illegal immigrants in the desert.
Major Cotton had managed to walk like a demon in the shadows of this case.
Seth needed to talk to Everest. Groaning at the idea, he placed a call to the only person he knew who could effortlessly talk to ghosts.
“Seth!” Delphie yelled into the phone. A low male voice mumbled in the background. In a more normal voice, the oracle said, “Seth finally called.”
“Delphie!” Seth said.
“Seth!” she yelled again.
“These aren’t cans,” Seth repeated what he usually said at this point in the conversation.
“Oh, I know,” Delphie said. “But they do need a good shout now and then. Wakes them up! Just a second—I’ll get out of bed.”
Seth paced back and forth in his room while Delphie did her thing.
“I made some tea,” Delphie said. “You seem pent up, Seth. Are things all right with Ava?”
Seth burst out laughing. He could almost hear Delphie grin.
“Just wanted to get your attention,” Delphie said.
“It’s this case,” Seth said.
“I know,” Delphie said. “There’s a demon near you.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
“What?”
“Mmm, that’s not exactly right,” Delphie said. “It’s more like you’re looking into the eyes of a demon that’s been in your life for a long time. You just didn’t know it was there. No . . . that’s not exactly it, either, because you knew . . .”
“I’m looking at a scene from my life with new eyes,” Seth said.
“That’s it,” Delphie said. “You’re seeing the demon for the first time. What are you doing playing with demons? They can’t give you anything you want—no wisdom, no knowledge, no peace of mind. They are sheer mayhem and cruelty.”
“I didn’t realize I was dealing with a demon,” Seth said.
“This one is old, really old, something out of the jungle,” Delphie said. “And angry, very angry. He needs to go back to the jungle. Only the jungle can contain it.”
Seth blinked. Every conversation with Delphie was like this. He’d call to get a specific answer to a specific problem, and she had something different to tell him. He wondered why he bothered.
“What?”
“You have to contain the demon,” Delphie said. “Only you can do it.”
“Why me?”
Delphie gave an exasperated sigh, and Seth chuckled.
“Explain it to me,” Seth said.
“You know how music just pops into your head? How you say there’s a place where music lives, and sometimes it comes to visit you?”
“Sure.”
“That’s called channeling,” Delphie said.
“That’s what you call it,” Seth said.
“Yes, and the Queen of England calls it sheer brilliance,” Delphie gave a belly laugh. “I saw that and laughed my ass off.”
Seth smiled.
“Your capacity to channel is what will lock this demon into the body,” Delphie said. “After you kill him, of course.”
“What?”
“Well, what else are you really going to do? He’s going after Maresol. You have to kill him. Oh, Éowyn’s ex, too. No, he kills himself. Wait a minute, did I say someone was going to try to kill my dear friend Maresol?”
“You just did,” Seth said.
“Oh, Seth, this is terrible,” Delphie said. “Poor Maresol. It will scare her to death, and . . .”
“And?”
“You have to go,” Delphie said. “Now. Go now.”
“I won’t make it if I drive. It’s three hours,” Seth said.
“She’s at Luis’s,” Delphie said. “She’s having trouble with her son’s wife. You know—the one who moved into her house? She thinks she should solve it herself, but the wife hates her and makes her life hell. She’s not sleeping. That’s why she forgets things. Her son doesn’t know what to do because his wife is pregnant and . . . well, you know how that goes.”
“I do,” Seth said.
“She was going to just go home, be with her son, and whatever, but . . .” Delphie said. “They changed the locks and left her clothes in suitcases on the porch. They kicked her out of her own home. I mean, she bought that home with Manuel’s life insurance, but they act like she’s your whore or . . . whatever. It’s a big mess. You have to do something.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Seth said.
“No, you have to go,” Delphie said. “Now. Don’t take your truck. It’s too slow. Take Schmidty’s car. He’s right outside your door. Oh, Seth, you have to save her. You just have to.”
“And the demon?”
“You’ll know what to do,” Delphie said. “Listen to the music. Remember what you did the last time you saw him—you know, in the jungle. You’ll know what to do.”
There was a knock at the door.
“I’m on my way,” Seth said.
“Go,” Delphie said. “And Everest says you’re on the right track, but you should go now.”
“I will,” Seth said.
“I’ll call Ava,” Delphie said. “And call me to let me know what happens.”
“And Maresol?”
“Go, just go,” Delphie said. “They are already at Luis’s property.”
Delphie clicked off the phone, and Seth opened the door.
“Where the hell have you been?” Schmidty asked. His voice was harsh, but he smirked. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
“I need your car,” Seth said.
“Sure,” Schmidty said. “Where are we going?”
Seth grabbed his handgun and checked the clip. Surprised, he looked again. Chiến had left the clip loaded. He’d been sure the man had emptied it before he’d set it down.
“Where are we going?” Schmidty repeated.
“There’s no ‘we,’” Seth said. “I’m going to take your car to try to get to Maresol before a couple of guys who want to disable her and hack her up. I just saw one of their victims. It’s not pretty. You don’t want to be one.”
“I’m younger than you are and a better driver,” Schmidty said. “You’ve said so yourself. Plus, I took that series of driving classes you recommended. I’m good at high speeds. Where are we going?”
“There’s a demon that can infect you,” Seth said.
“I’m immune to demons,” Schmidty said. “I’m Jewish.”
Seth grinned.
“So are you,” Schmidty said. Seth groaned. “Are we leaving?”
“I can’t save your life.”
“You already have,” Schmidty said.
“What?”
“I’ll tell you on the way.” Schmidty turned in place and walked out of the room. “You promised to tell me what you were doing.”
Seth ran down the hallway. Schmidty kept up.
“I told you I wouldn’t lie to you about what I was doing,” Seth said.
“That’s right,” Schmidty said, as he followed him down the stairs. “This must be a gory one.”
“You didn’t want to know about the gory ones,” Seth said.
“I’ll stay in the car,” Schmidty said.
“And face the demon?” Seth asked.
Carving Knife Page 15
