The 7th Victim

twenty questions.”

The offender moved in front of Vail, the light beating down on the pantyhose-covered head. Vail squinted at the figure before her, bracing for what might come next. Pain was a state of mind now, coming from nowhere . . . and everywhere. Her abdominal muscles, which seemed to be stretched beyond their limits by the weight of her lower extremities, were cramping. She needed to lift her legs somehow, to lessen the strain on her stomach.

But suspended as she was, there was little she could do to defend herself. Instead of harming her, however, the offender merely reached up and pulled off his nylon veil.

And in that instant, the profiler in her vanished. All thoughts, all emotions, all words left her mind. Seconds passed before the shock wore thin enough to speak. And even then, she was only able to whisper one sentence: “Oh, my god.”

eighty-three

How could this be?

The lighting was poor, her vision blurred by pain. But from what she was able to see, the offender’s hair was short, the face hard, the brow prominent, and the mouth drawn down into a scowl.

Vail finally summoned the strength to speak. “Who are you?” But the name was unimportant, Vail realized. The physical appearance, the hair color, the face, the eyes. . . . There was no need to ask who it was. The answer was obvious. Vail hesitated a moment, then said: “I . . . I’m a twin? I have a twin sister?”

“I’m not who you think I am,” the Dead Eyes killer said.

“You have to be,” Vail insisted. It was all coming together. The nightmares . . . could it be possible they weren’t merely dreams, but some kind of “psychic connection,” the kind documented between twins? She’d always doubted such phenomena, but now she wasn’t so sure.

Of course. “Nellie took me and left you with our father.”

Another snap of the whip, this time across the legs. “Does it hurt? Do you feel the pain? It’s just like the pain you caused. You. You’re the one responsible. You and that dead queen bitch. The lying Eleanor Linwood. Or should I call her Nellie Irwin?”

The bare bulb cast a harsh light on Dead Eyes’s head, causing deep shadows to fall across the remainder of her face.

“I can help you,” Vail said.

A laugh. A deep, guttural laugh. But no response. The killer moved out of the penumbra holding a Tupperware container. “Do you know what this is?”

Vail strained her eyes downward.

The killer removed the top and held the container up to Vail’s face. Inside was a left hand. A man’s hand.

Vail immediately recognized the thick scar across the knuckles. “Deacon—”

“An ugly SOB, if you don’t mind me saying. And mean—man, I tell you, it was a totally different experience. All those bitches were soft-talking sitting ducks. But your Deacon, he was a bit more challenging. I thought it would be fun to go to his house, make him think I was you. At first, it worked. He thought you’d come to fight, and he got nasty with me. Reminded me of father. So I gave him what he deserved.” Dead Eyes looked down at the hand and shrugged. “I took a little souvenir. A trophy, I think you called it in your profile.” She looked down at the container, tilted it in the dim light. “It turned out to be more satisfying than I thought it would be.”

Vail stared at the hand, embarrassed by her momentary relief over the discovery of Deacon’s death. She pushed the thought aside, realizing she needed to find a way out of this, for she had no desire to join him. “The eyes,” Vail said. “Did you stab the eyes because of how you think mother looked at you? Because she left you and took me?”

The killer forced a tight smile. “‘It’s in the blood,’ Karen. Do you get it now?”

“I got it. I thought the genetic reference meant father. The letter to Singletary threw us off.”

“Wasn’t that absolutely brilliant? I found some letters from Richard Ray in the house. He and the bastard were obviously good friends. But friendships only go so far. I knew if I sent Richard Ray a letter, he’d try to use it to save his sorry ass. Between that and the locket, I knew you’d end up here.”

“You killed father for revenge.” It was more a statement than a question.

“The bastard deserved it, for what he did. I wanted to do something special to him, but I knew his ‘suicide’ would be worth more. It gave me an opportunity. I had to control my desires so I could take advantage of the situation, use it for the greater good. It’s always about control, isn’t it?”

Always about control. In many cases, it was.

At the moment, Vail had to control the pain. Fight through it. Focus. “What was the greater good?”

“Going after you, of course. Once I killed the queen bitch, you became the ultimate prize.”

Vail leaned forward and locked eyes. “It didn’t work out, though, did it? I’m still here.”

A growl, then Dead Eyes swiveled away from the light, toward the shelf, and returned with a small, black, rectangular object.

Vail instantly knew what it was. A stun gun. And she now knew another thing: her earlier suspicions had been correct: Dead Eyes had used the device to get her here.

But it was not going to be the way she would die.

eighty-four

Dead Eyes studied the stun gun as if teasing her, then looked up at Vail. “My guess is that you already know what this is. But don’t worry, I won’t kill you all at once. You’re different than the other bitches. I’m going to have some fun first, play with you for a little while.”

If Vail was ever going to do something, this was the time. She had to override the pain and summon the strength to move.

“The longer I hold the probes against your skin, the more scrambled your brain gets. So I’m going to start with a few quick jolts to make sure your mind is clear. I want you to know what’s happening to you. I want you to feel it.” She smiled. “In a few minutes you’re going to beg me to kill you. And I’ll be glad to accommodate your wishes.”

Vail’s eyes were riveted to the stun gun. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Really! You read those emails, you know what the bastard did.” The killer jabbed her breast with the stun gun. Vail screamed.

“Don’t you understand?” Dead Eyes yelled. “It should’ve been you!”

Vail bit her lip, trying to contain her fear. She had to turn her thoughts inward, separate mind from body. She closed her eyes. There is no pain. I’m feeling no pain.

“Don’t shut your eyes on me! I want you to watch!”

Another jab, this one to the stomach. Her leg muscles twitched fiercely. She was starting to lose consciousness. No, fight. Think of Jonathan. Of Robby.

Another jolt. She opened her eyes.

On the shelf was a steak knife, the silver blade catching the orange incandescence of the bulb. Her eyes shifted to the stun gun as it again moved toward her—

And she drew her legs up, thrusting them outward and catching Dead Eyes in the chest. The killer reeled backward, her head slamming against the wall.

A growl. Blazing eyes. “Bitch!”

She righted herself and came at Vail. This was it—perhaps her only window of opportunity. Her mind screamed Now! as she lifted and spread her legs as far as the chain allowed. She forced her thighs over the killer’s head and slammed them onto her shoulders.

Dead Eyes writhed and pulled, grabbing at Vail’s legs, trying to loosen her hold. The weight of her body transferred from her wrists to the killer’s torso, relaxing the pull on Vail’s arms. Vail grabbed the overhead pipe with her right hand, giving her more control over the movement of her body. But Dead Eyes was putting up a valiant fight: Vail felt like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco, summoning every last ounce of strength to hold on.