“It shouldn’t take too long. You’ve been missed by now. I haven’t. I’ve been planning this for weeks, right under your noses. But Taylor will be looking for you. She’s a clever girl, she should be able to puzzle out where we are. I have faith in her, just like you do. So. We’re just going to have ourselves a little party while we’re waiting. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
The eyes closed again.
He wanted to talk. Now that she was awake, now that he had an audience…he wondered how Ruth was managing. He doubted he’d ever see her again, her or her creepy friend Harvey. The minute he smelled danger he’d probably taken off, out of town, a rat scurrying for the cover of darkness. The boy he killed wasn’t meant to be found, not during all of this, yet he’d managed to both screw that up and leave behind a clumsy, ill-timed red herring that no one had fallen for. Idiot. Why had he let Ruth bring the fool along? It was a mistake, one of the few he’d made along the way. He wasn’t perfect, after all.
No, he was going to be alone again, for quite some time. He wanted to enjoy the company while he had it.
“Samantha, tell me. What was it like growing up with her? Was she as strong as she is now? Or were you the strong one? Working with dead bodies all day, I have to wonder. You enjoy it, don’t you? Feeling inside them. The smell of the viscera, the weight of their testicles, all those holes. You become one with their bodies. You bring work home with you, too, into your family, your children. You share small bits of every human being you touch with all the people you care for. There is no amount of gloving and scrubbing that can erase what’s in your mind. When you fuck Simon, do you think about the blades cutting through the flesh? Do you like that feeling, Sam? The tugging, the cutting, the succulent tissue parting before you?”
The knife was poised above her abdomen now. He edged the tip through her sweater, a bit farther now, into her skin, just ever so slightly. Relished the gasp of air through her nose as the nascent pain ran through her synapses. A trickle of blood wept from the wound, just a scratch, really, and slid slowly over the edge of her slacks between her legs. He ran his finger along it, gathering the red droplets. He stared at the brilliant glow, felt himself become mesmerized. He had to force his eyes away. He wiped the blood on the table, replacing the smudge he’d removed earlier. It looked so much nicer fresh. Like wet paint.
He really loved this woman. She wasn’t struggling, or begging. She was stoic.
Hmm. He decided to see just how brave she really was.
Forty-Four
T aylor ran back to the front desk of Forensic Medical, where Kris was waiting for her.
“Nothing. She’s not down there. Do you have her schedule up yet?”
“Yes, and I called the doctor-she hasn’t shown there. Here, look.” Kris got up and let Taylor sit in her chair, pointed over her shoulder at the computer screen.
“It was a normal day. We had intake of three new cases, late afternoon. She was going to post them overnight, began the night shift staff meeting at ten, that’s when she realized her car was crapped out. She was going to grab dinner beforehand, and it wouldn’t start, so she decided to have someone from staff run out and get something for her. It was a typical twelve-hour shift.”
“Was Stuart in last night?”
Stuart Charisse was Sam’s favorite assistant in the morgue, a quiet, smart man who was devoted to Sam.
“Yeah, he was in. I think he got off at two o’clock.”
“Call him.”
Kris wasted no time. She moved to the right and grabbed her phone. She obviously had all the staff numbers programmed in, she simply hit a single button and put the phone on speaker. A sleepy voice mumbled, “Yeah?”
“Stuart, it’s Kris. I’m here with Lieutenant Jackson. We’re looking for Sam. Have you seen her?”
He yawned loudly. “No. Not since I left. She and Iles were going to get something to eat. She missed dinner.”
“Barclay?” Kris asked. “He was in last night?”
“Yeah. Something about his performance review. They decided to do it over Subway, I think.”
“Thank you, Stuart,” Taylor said, then cut off the phone. Kris’s face had gone white.
“Kris, what’s wrong?”
“Barclay isn’t in Nashville this week. I was talking to him when you got here. He’s in Florida. His mom is sick, he went down to help. He goes down there a lot.”
Barclay fucking Iles.
“Kris, how long have you and Barclay been dating?”
Kris was wringing her hands, the knuckles white from the force, her eyebrows touching across her forehead as she frowned. “Almost a year now. He’s a great guy. You know him, Lieutenant. I recommended him to Sam-he seemed like he’d make a really good ’gator. He went to med school for a while, he’s really smart. The rest of the staff all like him, too. He loves Sam. He loves you, too-he talks about you all the time. You’re his hero. He wants to be just like you. I actually got a little jealous once, but that was silly. I was just being insecure. But why would he lie to me? What’s going on?”
What’s going on indeed? Taylor ran back through her memories of Iles. She’d worked with him the first time not too long ago, but he’d been around the department, at the crime scenes, for months. Access. He’d have access to everything-personnel files, schedules, home addresses.
Son of a bitch.
“Kris, listen to me very carefully. I think Barclay may be someone else, someone very, very dangerous. I need you to give me every bit of information you have about him. His phone number, his address. Every picture you have. Everything you can think of that belongs to him. Right now.”
Forty-Five
Come to Papa. Predesignated spot. Game over.
B ill Reiser had received the message on the BlackBerry he’d been given just as he crossed into Tennessee an hour ago. He was looking at the Nashville skyline now. He hoped this didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be able to hit his final target.
He took the exit and swung around onto Ellington Parkway. He was surprised at how quickly the turn came; within five minutes he was on Gass Boulevard heading toward the target.
The navigation told him he’d arrived at his destination.
What the fuck was this? The Tennessee Bureau of Investigations offices were on his right. This was wrong. This was a suicide mission. He was supposed to shoot someone at a federal building?
Bull. Shit. Hell, no. He wasn’t crazy enough for that.
He drove past the building. There was one more building on this road, he’d turn around in that parking lot and go regroup. Send Troy Land an email and tell him no way, no how. What did he look like, an idiot?
He turned into the building’s parking lot, saw a white van that said Medical Examiner on it and realized where he was. Jesus, this place was a morgue. Great.
He parked for a moment so he could send Troy the message. He was tapping away when he saw a blur of flashing light behind him, looked in the rearview mirror. Plainclothes cops. Shit. Was this private property maybe?
He used his left foot to shove the gun all the way under the seat. Play it cool, accept the ticket. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. At least not right this minute.
He hadn’t done anything wrong in at least fifteen hours.
He watched the big guy approach the car carefully, his left hand on his weapon. He used his right to touch
