'I mean to '' Christopher's mouth was a straight line of anger.
Dylan laughed and patted his firearm. He backed into a chair, stretching out his sinewy legs to meet a tattered, upholstered ottoman.
Emily tried to gather her wits. She willed her heart to slow its rapid pace. Where is all of this going? The scene was surreal with the three of them, guns drawn at each other in a bizarre stalemate. She and Chris both knew that if Jenna and Nick weren't in the cabin with Walker, they could be anywhere. The man with the perfect body and piercing, cold eyes was the only one who knew just where that could be.
'Where's my daughter? Where's Nick Martin?'
'Not here, if that's what you're asking. Look around'
With Chris covering her, Emily moved swiftly from the main room, to the kitchen, to the single bedroom. A window was open and she could hear the roar of the Pacific, but no sign of her daughter. Why is this happening? Why is God doing this to me? Emily fought to push all of the things that spoke to her being a mother to the back of her consciousness. Let the cop take over, she thought. Let the cop find the girl.
'Last chance. Where is she?' Emily's gun, once more directed at Dylan Walker, wavered just a little. She moved her finger on the trigger.
Chris looked at her with abject horror. Not again, Emily. 'Let's keep cool here, Walker,' Chris said, though his words were really meant for Emily.
Walker knew it.
'Tell that to Ms. Rambo'
Emily didn't say anything. She let Christopher take over. She knew she'd lost her perspective just then. She was a mother more than she was a cop.
'Let's all stand down, all right?' Christopher asked, his voice cool and commanding. 'No one needs to get hurt here.'
'Good idea. If I get hurt, Jenna dies. So I'm game. And if you don't think I can keep a secret, you don't know me at all. But I'm willing to talk. Maybe. Just point your guns to the floor' Dylan lowered his gun slightly, his eyes fastened on his adversaries, who both ignored his request.
Emily had wanted to kill Dylan Walker for all that he'd done. But trumping all of that, of course, was Jenna's whereabouts. Her safety. Sucking up to a monster could save her. It was the only thing she could do. But there was another presence in the room ... Kristi Cooper. Emily knew that Kristi was the reason for this horrific reunion.
'Where is she? Where is Jenna?'
'At first, I thought the Tuttle shooting was a godsend,' Walker said, ignoring her question. 'You'd killed an innocent man. I'd gotten away with something. Your murder of Tuttle made mine a perfect crime-'
'The shooting was an accident.'
'Incompetence, I'd say. But you call it whatever helps you sleep at night.'
'Where's my daughter?'
'Poor Kristi. And now, poor Jenna. I won't ask you again, lower your weapons'
Christopher moved toward Dylan, just a step or two. Just enough to let him know that he was unafraid.
'Where is your son?'
The words brought a smile, but Walker said nothing.
Christopher pushed harder. 'Are he and Jenna together? If you're here ... and they are off somewhere, doesn't that leave you without the prize?'
A blank look came over Walker's face. 'The prize?'
'Your son. All of this is about him. The smuggling of your semen? The babies by Tina and Bonnie. All about your legacy, right.'
Walker let out a long insidious laugh. It was the kind of laugh that chills a body to the marrow, Freon in the bloodstream. An evil laugh that had nothing to do with anything being amusing. 'For all of your reading about serial killers, all the stupid classes you've taken for your somewhat checkered career, you don't understand me one bit.'
'I do' It was Emily this time. 'I get you. You're all about control and power. That's why you pick on young girls, trusting women. You like to be in charge, don't you?'
'Ooooh,' he said, 'I like it when you act smart'
'Don't patronize me, Dylan. I know you. I can see through you. You're nothing but a guy who thinks the world revolves around him. You're a narcissist.'
Walker laughed again, this time it was brief like a release of gratification.
'As if that label would sting a little,' he said, sitting back. 'I'm a narcissist because I look good. People like me. Women like me'
'Not this one,' she said. 'Now, let's give this up. You can be reunited with your son. I can find my daughter. You can go quietly and safely.'
Walker looked confused. It was the first time he'd seemed out of sorts, as though what Emily said finally touched a nerve. Finally she was able to penetrate the facade, the mask.
'You don't get it, do you?' he asked. 'You don't understand me like Bonnie did-'
'Before you killed her?' Christopher cut in. The fire crackled and sent embers across the pine floorboards.
Dylan Walker was agitated. The coolness of his demeanor was draining before their eyes. 'Like Bonnie did. She was smart. Fat, but smart. Weak, needy, and smart. My favorite combination. She knew I was a mimic. She knew I didn't care one bit about her or anyone. Nick included. I didn't care whether any of them took their last breaths. That made her want me even more' The heinous grin returned, but this time it seemed fake. Practiced. Bravado.
'Where is Jenna Kenyon?' Christopher asked.
Just then, without warning, a shot pierced the small space of the cabin. Almost on instinct, Emily checked her own gun. Had it gone off? Had she pressed the trigger when she hadn't meant to? She wondered if that's what happened years ago with Reynard Tuttle. Had that been a serious misstep or an accident? All of that passed through her mind as the realization came that it was not her gun that had fired and that Dylan Walker had not been shot.
Dylan was standing, having jumped to his feet, his gun in his hand. Smoke curled from its shiny black barrel. Emily heard the sound of a body falling, a heavy thud. She turned.
Christopher Collier was on the floor, blood oozing from his chest. His life draining from his body, one red drop at a time. He was so pale; he looked like one of those Elizabethan courtesans, all white with a gash of red for his mouth. The blood was flowing. In the split second of the shot to the realization that Dylan Walker had shot Christopher, Emily Kenyon let her guard down. She could have fired back at Dylan, but she didn't. She'd been trained to do so. Officer down! Fire back! Stop the shooter! Everything she knew from the police academy failed her. The knowledge was there. The skill, too. But when she learned how to deal with a cop shooter, she hadn't been a mother.
She hadn't needed to know where a serial killer had stashed her daughter. The only link in the chain of evidence to save Jenna was the evil force with the gun pointed at her.
'What did you do?' She dropped to her knees and held Christopher.
His breathing was labored. His handsome face, pallid. 'I'm going to be all right,' he said. Christopher's voice was soft, but he tried to show confidence.
'Of course you are,' Emily answered, not sure who was lying just then. Her? Him? Both of them. She blinked back her tears. 'We need to get medical attention here'
'Not so fast' Dylan Walker now stood by the doorway. 'Aren't you forgetting something?' He hesitated. 'Someone?'
Jenna.
Emily pointed her gun. Walker smiled at her and in doing so, it rushed through her mind that he'd never been handsome in his life. Evil like that never could be. His features were symmetrical, classic, and well proportioned. He'd been likened to a 'Greek god' by magazine writers who fantasized for their readers what being with the ultimate bad boy, the King of the Serial Killers, might be like. The sexy mix of danger and good looks. So damned stupid. But just then, he looked hideous, a twisted kind of handsome.
'I'm going to leave just now. You can call 911. Detective Collier just might live. You might be able to find your
