The Killing Game ed-2

by Iris Johansen

"Is she alive?"

  "He says she is. Right now."

  "Don’t you move a muscle. I’m on my way over there." He hung up. Joe would come and some of the fear would go away. She didn’t have to face this alone.

  Yes, she did. From the beginning she’d known that she’d have to face Dom alone. He was planning on having her walk right into his trap and killing her and Jane. He would butcher Joe if he was anywhere around.

  Then flip his plan. Catch the hunter before the trap was sprung. "Sarah! Will you come in here?"

  Sarah appeared in the doorway. "What?"

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  She held up a finger. "One minute." She dialed Spire’s digital number. He answered on the third ring.

  "Dom has Jane, and I know where he’s headed. I want you to meet me there." She had to stop to steady her voice. "You wanted to use me as bait. Okay, let’s find a way to do it."

  EIGHTEEN

  8:45 P.M.

  Candles.

  Everywhere.

  Candelabras with tapers whose flames flickered in the wind. Lanterns. Oil lamps. Eve parked her car at the bottom of the hill and looked up at the tent site. Is this my welcome, Dom? Are you up there?

  She dialed Spiro’s number. "Where are you?"

  "We’re in a lay-by about two miles down the road to Jamison. We couldn’t get any closer without risking him seeing us. That hill has a view for miles."

  "I know. Can you see the candles?"

  "Yes. Remember, press the radio signal as soon as you determine Dom’s there, and we’ll come in."

  "You don’t move until I’m sure Jane’s alive and safe. He’s supposed to call me.”

  “Stay locked in the car until you’re sure. At least you’re safe there. Do you have a weapon?"

  "A revolver."

  "Did Quinn give it to you?"

  "No, I told you I didn’t want him to know about this. Sarah had one and lent it to me. It’s in my jacket pocket."

  "We could have used Quinn."

  "And chance having Dom butcher him? He’s done too much for me already.”

  “I should have known that protective streak would raise its head. Don’t hesitate to use that gun." He hung up.

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  She sat in the car, staring up at the candles on the hill. Five minutes.

  Seven minutes. The phone rang.

  "Are you enjoying my candles?" Dom asked. "I want to talk to Jane."

  "Do you doubt me? I told you I wanted you to die first.”

  “Let me talk to Jane."

  "Oh, very well."

  "Eve, don’t you do what he says," Jane yelled into the phone. "He’s a slimy creep and I—"

  Dom took the phone away. "Is that enough? It’s all you’ll get. I’ve been very patient with Jane since she woke, but she’s really beginning to annoy me."

  "It’s enough."

  "Then step into my parlor. I’ll be there in ten minutes."

  She pressed the off button and quickly dialed Sarah. "Ten minute-walk from here."

  “That could cover a lot of territory."

  "Find her. If he manages to kill me and escapes, you can’t let him get back to Jane."

  "We’ll do our best." Nine minutes.

  Stay in the car. Be safe for just a little longer. Sit and watch the flickering lights on the hill.

  Sarah put on her utility belt and Monty tensed.

  "That’s right, boy. Time to get to work." She let Monty sniff Jane’s T-shirt. "Find her." She started down the trail at a trot. She’d already scoped out the lay of the land and come up with the two most logical possibilities.

  He wouldn’t keep Jane out in the open. So there was the stand of woods near the base of the mountains to the west.

  Or there was the bush-covered ravine to the east. Either was a fast ten-minute walk to the plateau. Which direction?

  She’d make the decision when she got closer. Pray to God she’d make the right one. Monty was stretched out, almost running. Child…

  Ten minutes.

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  Eve opened the door and got out of the car. The air was knife sharp, cutting her to the bone. It was a moonless night, icy cold with a promise of snow.

  She started up the hill.

  Candles.

  Flames.

  Are you there yet, Dom? She reached the top. No one.

  Just the candles and the flames and the flickering shadows on the desolate earth. It wasn’t as brightly lit as she’d thought from down below. There was a patch of deep shadow at the far corner of the site.

  She moved farther into the circle of light. Was he watching her, or was it her imagination? She whirled around.

  No one.

  Or was there?

  Something in those shadows…

  She hesitated and then moved away from the light toward the patch of darkness. "Dom? You wanted me here. Come and get me." No sound.

  Decision time.

  Sarah paused to catch her breath. The woods or the ravine?

  Monty had already made a decision. He was tearing across the ground toward the woods. He stopped, sniffed, and took off again.

  He’d caught Jane’s scent.

  The substance in the shadow was no standing figure, Eve realized. Something on the ground…

  She drew closer.

  She still couldn’t make it out. A few steps closer.

  It was taking on a vague shape. She was almost on top of it. A body?

  Oh, God.

  Jane?

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  She screamed.

  The man’s body was tied spread-eagled to four pegs, and his eyes were wide open. His features were contorted in a silent howl of agony.

  Mark Grunard.

  "That’s how I staked out my father." She whirled to see Spiro behind her.

  He smiled. "A little welcome present. It was going to be the little girl, but I knew you wouldn’t come unless you thought you had a chance of saving her."

  "You," she whispered. "Dom?"

  "Of course it was me."

  A man who stared into the faces of monsters.

  But he was the monster himself. "God, what a fool I am. No trap. No FBI agents swarming in at the last minute to save me."

  "Unfortunately not." He stepped closer and was almost lost in the shadows. "Don’t put your hands in your pockets. I have a knife in my hand and I can reach you in a heartbeat, but I don’t want it to end that soon. It’s been a superb game, and I want to savor the win."

  "You haven’t won yet."

  "That’s what I admire about you. You never give up. But you should be more generous. I was very clever with every move. I deserve to win."

  "You were clever. You set Grunard up perfectly. You even gave me the characteristics of the serial killer so I’d be able to associate them with Grunard later. It never occurred to me that they might also apply to you. You associate with the police as Grunard did, but even more, you’re an FBI profiler. You could move from place to place. You liked to be in the field, you said.

  That means you were contacted by your digital phone and no one actually knew where you were at a given time. You could say you were in Talladega when you were in Atlanta."

  "I do regard the digital phone as one of the most helpful inventions. And it was a real challenge to become an FBI agent. Background checks that had to be foolproof, psychological tests that had to show me as completely normal. I prepared for almost two years before I applied. Setting up the personal interviews with people from my supposed past was the most difficult. It took finesse, bribery, and a psychological sleight of hand that would fill you with admiration."

  "No, it wouldn’t."

  "But it was all worth it. Who else would be in a better position to hide and change evidence? I The Killing Game – Eve D
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  had to keep an eye on where and when any of my kills surfaced so I could erase the records."

  "But the VICAP analysis uncovered the Harding kills.”

  “Most annoying."

  "But you led me here to find Debby Jordan."

  “I’m a fatalist. I saw that everything was leading back to my roots. I wanted you here to help me start again, to revive that splendid surge of power." He smiled. "It did do that. When I killed Grunard, it was almost like the old days. But he wasn’t you. It will be much better with you."

  "Did you always plan to kill Grunard?"

  "After I examined the situation and all the possibilities. I realized that his death would accomplish two ends, create a red herring and make our game more complicated. How could I resist? He would become Dom and disappear." He shook his head. "But that complication may cause me to have to move on and reinvent myself. Grunard’s background is pretty solid. There may be questions." He shrugged. "Oh, well, I’ll have plenty of warning and I’ve already set up an identity in Montana. It may be good for me. Being Robert Spiro made everything too easy for me. The kill, the cover-up… It may have been part of my problem."

  "You’ll move on and you’ll kill again." Her voice was shaking. "Over and over.”

  “Of course, that’s what I do."

  "How many?"

  "I really don’t remember. I was drunk with the pleasure during those first years. I went out every night. Later everything blurred. More than thirty years… A thousand? I don’t know.

  Maybe more."

  "My God."

  "But don’t feel bad. You won’t be like the others. I’ll remember you.”

  “You have me. Let Jane go."

  "You know I won’t do that. She knows my face and the little bitch would try to find a way to hurt me. She’s like you."

  "But you were wrong about her being like Bonnie."

  "But I set up an interesting scenario, didn’t I? It pulled you in. The bones and then sweet little Jane."

  "Whose bones were they?" He was silent.

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  "Tell me. Were they Bonnie’s bones?”

  “I could let you go to the grave not knowing.”

  “Yes."

  "But then you wouldn’t realize how clever I’ve been. How wonderfully I’d set you up."

  "They weren’t Bonnie’s bones." He shook his head. "Doreen Parker’s."

  "Then everything you told me about your conversation with Fraser was a lie.”

  “Not entirely. I did talk to him. It was remarkably easy, since I was an FBI agent.

  He was a copycat and he was claiming some of my kills. We had a nice chat, and I told him to back off. Since he had the good sense to admire me enormously, he agreed."

  "You knew about the ice cream. Did you find that out from the police records?”

  “No, I told you, we had a nice chat. He told me a lot about Bonnie. Do you want to know how he did it?"

  She clenched her fists as waves of pain washed over her. "No.”

  “Coward." His gaze narrowed on her face. "But you want to know where he buried her, don’t you? You’ve always wanted to find her."

  "I want to bring her home."

  "It’s too late. You’re going to die without finding her. That hurts terribly, doesn’t it? Your Bonnie is buried all alone in Chattahoochee National Park, and you’re going to be buried here, hundreds of miles away from her. It cuts to the quick, doesn’t it?"

  “Yes."

  "I can feel your pain."

  "And you love it, you bastard."

  "I have to squeeze as much as I can out of the moment. It’s going to be over too soon." He paused. "You haven’t asked me what color candle I’m going to give you."

  "I don’t care."

  "It will be black. Black was the color of my candles, and I’ve decided to share it with you. I’ve never done that before. You should be honored. The candles are lying beside Grunard’s head.

  Pick them up, Eve. Light them."

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  She didn’t move.

  "Pick them up or I promise you I’ll make it very hard for Jane before I give her candle to her."

  Eve hesitated and then walked over to Grunard. How the man must have suffered. His expression… "Pick them up and come back toward me."

  He was standing in the shadow. There would be no chance if he stayed in the dark.

  She picked up the black candles. “Now come toward me." She slowly started toward him. One step.

  Two.

  Three.

  “Hurry. I find I’m very eager for—" She hurled the candles at his face. “Eve!"

  She took off running.

  Out of the shadow into the candlelit center of the tent site. “Stop running. The game’s over, Eve."

  She glanced over her shoulder. He was running after her. Fast.

  Closing on her. Come on.

  Faster.

  Out of the darkness. Into the light.

  The single shot splintered the night.

  Spiro jerked, stumbled, and collapsed to his knees. The knife fell out of his hand.

  He looked down in disbelief at his chest, which was bubbling with blood. "Eve?" She turned to face him. "Now the game’s over, you son of a bitch." He touched his chest and brought his hand away. It was smeared with blood.

  "Who…"

  "Joe."

  "No, I—searched here before I lit the candles. There was nowhere he could hide…"

  "He was a sniper in the SEALs. He told me once that he can hit a target from a thousand yards.

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  you, Spiro."

  His eyes widened. "You knew…" He collapsed to the ground. She walked over and knelt beside him. "Where’s Jane?”

  “Screw you."

  "You’re going to die, Spiro. What difference does it make?”

  “It—makes a difference. How — did you know?"

  "You made that anonymous telephone call and had me thrown in jail. I was there for forty-eight hours. For the first twenty-four hours I was a basket case. You would have loved seeing me.

  Then I realized I was letting you win. So I spent the second night thinking. I thought I was going to find a way to locate Grunard. I tried to divorce myself the way I do when I work on one of my skulls and just examine the facts and events. I started with something that bothered me at the time I learned about it, but I forgot about when I saw the photo. Charlie said that Sung was excited and talking about shifts and spectrums and that he made a phone call before he said he needed to see me. He could have called Grunard, but if he recognized Grunard as the killer, why call him? No, it had to be someone else. So I asked Logan to check phone records and find out who Sung called. It was to Multiplex, one of the digital imaging companies on the West Coast.

  Sung wanted to verify his findings on the photo. It was the middle of the night, but there’s often a crew working at those big companies. You’d sent the photo out to Multiplex to have Grunard’s image implanted in it so I could ‘discover’ it. That was why you stalled giving us the photo."

  "Worked."

  "But you didn’t realize how sharp Sung was. State-of-the-art companies like Multiplex create their own software and the variance of the shifts in the light spectrums are almost like a finger-print. Sung recognized that shift and he knew the picture had been doctored. Multiplex might not have been willing to confirm the specific job, but they would have no reason not to confirm the general technical aspects of the software. Did Charlie call you from the lab after he called me?"

  "Of course. I trained him well."

  "And then you killed him. What would you have done if Joe hadn’t climbed down and retrieved that photo? Would that o
ther picture you supposedly sent to Quantico surface?"

  He didn’t answer. He was having trouble breathing.

  "But it was all guesswork, and I had to verify. Multiplex wouldn’t talk to me. You’d probably told them to keep the job confidential, and everybody obeys the FBI. So I took the photo and did some work myself. I didn’t have the equipment or expertise to do what Sung did, so I did a digital merge of the faces of your brothers." She smiled grimly. "And what to my surprise The Killing Game – Eve Duncan 02

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  appeared? I came up with you."

  "Lie. We look—nothing like each other."

  "You’re right and that was good. I was much more likely to pull up a completely distinctive face than if your brothers looked alike. I often use older family members’ features for age progression for children. When I was studying at the National Center for Missing Children, I used to play with merging different familial faces and seeing what I could come up with. Even when the family members didn’t look like one another, it was amazing how the similarities appeared when they were combined. The face I came up with didn’t resemble you exactly, but it was close enough, and after I aged the image, it was even closer. It made me go over everything that had happened."

  "I didn’t make—mistakes. I didn’t."

  "No, you were almost perfect. But you were always there beside me or in the background."

  "So was Grunard."

  “Yes, and I stumbled over that conversation with Dom while you were in the same room with me at Joe’s cottage. It was only later that I realized it wasn’t really a conversation. Dom made a brief statement and hung up. A taped alibi set on a timer. Very effective." She shook her head.

  "There were so many things that became clear once I accepted that you were Dom. All the times you misdirected and lied to me and Joe. Why should we have suspected? You were Spiro of the FBI.”

  “You’re so proud of yourself." His expression was full of malice. "You haven’t won. I won’t die.

  I’m feeling stronger all the time. I’ll live and they’ll say I’m insane."

  "You won’t live."

  She looked up to see Joe standing beside her, staring down at Spiro. "If there’s even a chance of you living I’ll put another bullet in you before the police get here," Joe said. "You’d be dead now if I hadn’t decided not to risk a head shot. You were too close to her."

  "Closer than you. Closer than anyone. She’ll forget you. She’ll never forget me." His gaze shifted to Eve. "The little girl will die. I’ve hidden her and it gets freezing cold up here at night. She doesn’t have a coat and she’s tied. You won’t find her in time."