'A week and a day too late for anyone to help his wife,' Nick said. 'Things can go wrong and best-laid plans-'
'I understand the risks,' she said. 'This man who’s stalking me, he’s organized, isn’t he?'
'Yes.'
'If he’s so clever and so organized, couldn’t he go on killing for years?'
'Some do.'
'Then how can either one of you believe we have any other choice? The woman he’s hunting now… she’s someone’s daughter, or mother, or sister. We have to do this.'
'Hell,' Nick muttered. 'Have you thought about Tommy’s reaction? What’s he going to say when you tell him about this half-cocked plan of yours?'
'Actually, I thought you might want to tell him about it. You could explain it much better than I could.'
'No, I won’t do it.'
Pete was watching Nick closely. 'Interesting,' he remarked quietly.
Nick misinterpreted the comment. 'You can’t possibly think her idea has merit. It’s crazy.'
'No, I think your reaction is interesting. I’ve already told you how I feel about your involvement in this, Nick. You’re too close to it.'
'Yeah, well, I’m on vacation. I can do what I want.'
Pete rolled his eyes and then tried to force his agent to be logical. 'Laurant’s right about one thing. You need to start thinking like an agent. This is a golden opportunity.'
She knew then she had her ally. 'Will you talk to my brother?'
'You’re going to have to get Nick’s cooperation first.'
'That isn’t going to happen,' Nick assured her.
The phone rang, jarring her. Relieved by the interruption, she hurried to answer it.
'Three rings, Laurant. Let it ring three times before you pick up,' Pete cautioned.
She didn’t understand why Pete wanted her to wait, but she nodded agreement as she continued on into the hallway. There was a small alcove, an indentation really, on the opposite side of the steps. A Queen Anne table just fit inside the recess. A black desk phone was resting on top of a pair of phone books, and there were a pad and a pen beside it.
Nick stepped out into the hall as Laurant picked up the receiver.
'Our Lady of Mercy,' she said as she reached for the pen. 'May I help you?'
She heard the giggling, and then a little boy’s voice asked, 'Is your refrigerator running?'
She knew the joke and decided to go along. 'Why, yes it is.'
Another spurt of laughter followed, and then another voice shouted, 'Then you better go catch it.'
Laughter rang through the phone as Laurant hung up. Nick was watching from the doorway.
'Kids playing phone games,' she explained.
The phone rang again. As she waited for the third ring to end, she said to Nick, 'I guess I shouldn’t have encouraged him. I’ll be firmer this time.'
'Our Lady of Mercy. May I help you?'
'Laurant.' Her name was said on a low sigh.
'Yes?'
The voice on the other end of the line began to sing a bastardized version of 'Buffalo Gal.'
'Green-eyed girl won’t you come out and play, come out and play, come out and play. Green-eyed girl won’t you come out and play… Like my singing, Laurant?'
'Who is this?' As she asked the question, she whirled around and looked at Nick.
'A heartbreaker,' the voice taunted. 'I’m afraid I’m going to have to break your pretty little heart. Are you scared?'
'No, I’m not,' she lied.
She cringed when she heard his laughter. It stopped as suddenly as it had begun and then he whispered, 'Do you want to hear another song?'
She didn’t answer. Nick was rushing toward her; she could hear sounds coming from upstairs, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Pete watching her from the dining room, yet she was frozen by the voice on the phone. She was gripping the receiver so tightly in her hand that Nick had to use considerable force to pull it away and listen with her.
It dawned on her then that someone was taping or tracing the call, and that was why Pete had told her to let it ring three times. She should keep him talking as long as possible she thought, but oh God, the sound of his voice made her want to throw up.
'Is the song as stupid as the one you just sang?' she asked.
'Oh, no, no, this one’s sure to please. It’s so pure and… original. Listen close now.'
She heard a click, and then a woman’s bloodcurdling screams. It was the most horrific sound she had ever heard. If Nick hadn’t been holding her up, she would have dropped to the floor as the tortured screams pierced her ear. They were almost inhuman and seemed to go on forever. Then, Laurant heard another click, and the screaming stopped.
'Aren’t you going to tell me to leave her alone? I have, you know. I’ve left her in a grave, even put a little stone on top so I’d remember where she is if I ever want to dig her up again. I do that sometimes, you know. I like to see what they’ve become. This one was a poor substitute for you, Laurant. Are you ready to play yet?'
Bile was rising to her throat. She could taste it.
'Play what?' she asked, trying her best to sound bored with him and with the conversation.
'Hide-and-seek. You hide and I seek. That’s how the game is played.'
'I’m not playing any games with you.'
'Yes, yes, you are.'
'No,' she countered, her voice hard. 'I’m going home.'
He shrieked, but she couldn’t tell if she’d just angered him or made him happy. Jerking the phone away from Nick’s hand, she straightened up and shouted, 'Come and get me.'
Chapter 14
Some things in life were simply too good to pass up. Like an icy cold glass of lemonade on a blistering hot and humid day. Or a lady in distress standing on the side of the highway, just begging for a little attention. Only this one hadn’t been a lady, and he’d ended up feeling a bit sorry he’d wasted so much of his valuable time on her.
Still, he had put the tape to good use hadn’t he? Perhaps his valuable time hadn’t been completely wasted after all. By God, they’d gotten his message loud and clear. Heartbreaker was a man of his word.
He wondered how long it would take them to find her. Hell, he’d done everything but post directions. Poor, poor Tiffany. He burst out laughing then; he couldn’t contain it. The bitch had never gotten to use the new phone she’d shoved in front of his face while she bragged about it. He’d used the phone though, to call his sweetheart, and he’d stayed on the line long enough for the mules to figure out whose name the phone was listed under.
He’d given her what he considered a fitting burial. He left her on a shallow grave near the highway. The scrub surrounding the gully obstructed the view. Eventually the mules would find her, and they’d know with one look what kind of woman she had been.
He broke her heart, and then he stole it. The spontaneous action worried him for a couple of minutes, but then he realized how careful he’d been not to get any of the blood in his van. Those amazing Ziploc bags really did do a good job, just like the commercials boasted. He’d have to remember to send the company a note praising their clever little product.
Filth. That’s what she’d been. Pure filth. And that was why he hadn’t kept the memento. He didn’t want to remember her, so he’d thrown it away.
Usually, whenever he encountered a worthy prospect, he entertained the notion of keeping her and training her, but at first glance he could plainly see that this one had been used, and he immediately ruled her out. The replacement had to be pure and innocent, clean, and adoring. Oh, yes, she’d be adoring all right, or a lasting
