sooner than she had. She looked up and realized the two of them were sitting there in silence, each absorbed in her own thoughts. “At least you were able to get away,” Vail managed. “A lot of women don’t have the fortitude to make the break.” She said it for her own validation as much as Linwood’s.
The senator was staring ahead, oblivious to Vail’s comments. “There’s nothing to be gained by making contact with him.”
“With all due respect, that’s not for you to decide.”
Linwood stood up and straightened her skirt. “I’m glad you came by, Agent Vail. It’s been nice visiting with you.” She turned the knob and held the door open. The universal sign for the end to an acrimonious meeting.
Vail remained seated. “‘It’s been nice visiting with you’? I’m your daughter, Senator, not one of your campaign donors.” Her voice was louder than she’d intended it to be—but she was tired, and angry, and her dreams of finding her mother had deteriorated into a nightmare. “Like it or not,
“I think it’s time you left.” Linwood’s voice was firm, its volume matching Vail’s.
“Don’t you have any maternal instincts?” Vail’s hand found the outer pocket of her leather shoulder case. She pulled a photo and held it in front of Linwood’s face. “You’ve got a grandson, too—but that probably doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”
Linwood looked past the picture and glared at Vail, her eyes cold and fierce. “Make sure you keep this information confidential. Or I’ll see to it you never work for any law enforcement agency again.” She turned and walked out of the room. Vail started to follow, but Hancock stepped in front of her, his arms spread like an eagle’s wings.
“I believe the senator asked you to leave.” He raised his eyebrows, expecting a sharp retort. But Vail was empty and numb. And sickened by the thought that Hancock was standing outside the door, listening to their conversation.
Vail shoved Hancock aside with a stiff forearm, then walked out of the house.
He’d had the hardest time concentrating during class. All he could think about was his next bitch. And her eyes. He had bought a pair of night-vision binoculars at the local camping supply chain store and spent the last evening in surveillance of his new victim. It was a bit of a challenge, but what’s life without challenges?
First, however, he had to get rid of his last student. She wanted to finish her stinking vase. Jesus, she had to get it just right. He certainly understood the need for perfection, but he had more important things to deal with. He had to work extra hard to keep himself from doing something he’d regret later, because if she hadn’t left when she finally did, he would’ve had to take care of her. But she wasn’t the one, and killing her would’ve aroused suspicion. Others no doubt knew she had been at his class, and no one would’ve seen her leave. It was traceable back to him. So he had to keep his focus, keep thinking about his target.
Focus, challenges . . . nothing new in any of that. The rest of the evening—that was where things would be different. But he thought the thrill, the kill, and the aftermath would be well worth the uncharted waters. He’d know in a day whether or not he was right. But he suspected he would be. Because this was the one, the ultimate prize. Unlike the others, she knows what she does. And what she did.
He waited patiently for the right time, then felt the excitement. He was jittery. It was tough to get a full breath.
“It’s time! It’s time! It’s time!” He wanted to roll down the window and scream, but was able to control himself long enough to get out of the car and focus on his stealth approach to the house.
He moved through the forested cover and remained behind a row of hedges across the narrow road. Peered through his binoculars. Everything was quiet until one of the garage doors rolled up. He moved quickly through the brush, remaining low and scampering toward the house. The car backed out, then drove onto the long driveway. Front yard lights snapped on, illuminating the front of the garage with bright halogen spots. He sprinted along a row of bushes, using their cover to keep from tripping the side yard motion sensors. He clutched the cold, moist brick siding of the house and waited for the sectional wood garage door to begin closing.
As soon as it started lowering, the car drove off, its tires crunching on the rough gravel. He stepped over the sensors mounted along the floor of the garage’s threshold, then knelt down, a large black ball hidden in the corner shadows. The weak light from the small incandescent bulb barely lit the empty garage. The door thumped closed and he was alone. Just him and his stun gun.
And the bitch.
After leaving Linwood’s house, Vail drove aimlessly, moving along the winding Georgetown Pike before getting back onto 495. Though it wasn’t a conscious decision, she was headed home.
When she walked into her house, her head was throbbing and her left knee was stiff from driving. She threw her keys on the table and trudged toward the bath. She felt dirty and wanted to strip down and relax in a tub of hot water with bubbles and a glass of cabernet. The perpetual stress over the past several days had reached a pinnacle, and she needed to find the release valve before the pressure cooker burst.
She started the water and heard a clunk in the bedroom. Her heart dropped. She shut the water and listened, but there was only silence. She moved toward her armoire, lifted her holster, and removed the Glock, then noticed her BlackBerry on the floor, its red light blinking. She picked it up and clicked through to the message: Bledsoe. The Dead Eyes code.
“Shit.” She reached him at home.
“Just got word,” he answered, not needing to ask who it was. The luxury of caller ID. “Thought you should know.”
“What’s the address? I’ll meet you—”
“Too risky—it’s one thing to work behind the scenes, but to show up at—”
“You only get one chance to see a fresh crime scene, Bledsoe. I need to see it, experience it. We’ll deal with the details later. And the fallout.”
“This one’s different, Karen.”
“If it’s different, it may not be Dead Eyes. That’s why I need to see it.”
“No, it’s different because of the MO, not the signature. He didn’t hit a middle-class professional. He hit a senator. State Senator Eleanor Linwood.”
Vail felt a swirl of dizziness shake her. She reached out, grabbed the edge of the armoire, and somehow hung on to the phone. Her vision was gray snow, her body spinning faster than a merry-go-round. Her headache was instantly worse, pounding at her temples like a pair of anvils.
“Karen, you there?”
“Here. I’m . . . here. I’m just, give me a minute.”
“I’ve gotta go, get over there. You want, I’ll call you from my car—”
“No, I’m coming,” she said, her head clearing. “I’m coming. I have to come.”
“Jesus Christ, Karen.” He paused a moment, then said, “Look, I don’t have time to debate this anymore. You wanna come, fine.”
“Was everyone notified?”
“Everyone, including Hancock, who’s probably at the scene anyway, and Del Monaco, who’s now on the task force. Chief’s going to be there, and probably the media—”
“I’ll worry about all that when I get there.”
“House is off Georgetown Pike—”
“I know where she lives. I’ll see you there.” Vail hung up, steadied herself again, and hit the number for Robby. “You heard?”
“Karen. Yeah, I’m out the door.”
“Pick me up on the way.”
There was a long silence. “You sure?”
