Ann Marie Slatter watched the gorgeous TV reporter with the streaked blond hair climb back into her van, never once teetering on her stilettos, the cameraman behind her. She was still shaking when the young guy with the bad complexion drove them away. She’d made sure her makeup was perfect and the pretty yellow tunic she wore over her leggings looked hot. And she’d made sure they used her whole name, because adding
She didn’t relish going back inside her parents’ house. Her mom and dad wouldn’t stop telling her it was a miracle she was still alive, and it was past time she went back to church, because the good Lord had surely saved her yesterday, hadn’t He?
Ann Marie jumped into her ancient Mazda SUV and peeled out of the driveway. She’d rather spend some time with Dave and the sheriff than listen to that. She hadn’t cried during the interview, didn’t want to ruin her fresh eye makeup and look bad on camera, but now she teared up and got the shakes so bad she had to pull over. There wasn’t a soul around, so she let herself cry.
She heard a car coming behind her and looked at the rearview mirror.
The car came closer—no, not a car, it was a dirty white Silverado, and Ann Marie’s heart stopped. She knew who was driving it. She’d watched that crazy woman stroll out of the diner yesterday after murdering Lou and Frank, and drive away in that Silverado.
It was Ted Bundy’s daughter, she didn’t have a doubt. The tears froze on her face.
Ann Marie gunned her Mazda, but she didn’t get far. It only took a second for Kirsten to pull ahead of her car and block her in.
She threw the Mazda into reverse, but Kirsten simply pulled a gun out of her pocket and shot both the front tires. Then she strolled over to the driver’s side and tapped on the window, and tried the door. At least Ann Marie had locked all the doors. She stared at Ted Bundy’s daughter and saw her own death in the woman’s crazy eyes.
“Hi,” Kirsten said. “I’ve got you blocked right in, baby, and now you’ve got two dead tires, so you aren’t going anywhere. Hey, you like all the attention you’re getting from surviving the massacre at Dave’s Diner? I heard a newscaster call it that—it sounds so hokey, but that’s the media for you.”
Ann Marie whispered, “You—you said you hoped I’d get out of town, you said—”
“I can’t hear you, sweetcakes, you’ve got your window up. Roll it down so I can hear you better.”
Ann Marie shouted, “You wanted me to get out of this town—”
“Yes, yes, I know, but you see, my daddy didn’t ever do the expected thing, and I remembered that. And I really didn’t like what you’ve been saying about me on TV, calling me scary crazy and a monster. You should have been a little more grateful, don’t you think? But this isn’t about you, really; you’re not that important. This is about showing those fed bastards I can do whatever I want.
“Come on out now, little girl; it’s time you and I did our dance.”
“No!”
Kirsten kept that scary smile on her face as she slowly pulled a length of wire from her back pocket. “Remember all Frank’s brains exploding out of the back of his head? That really cool red dot on his forehead—it looked so innocent until you saw all his brains splatted on the vinyl booth behind him. Hey, at least you won’t have to clean that off now. Come on, little girl, time to get this show on the road. Open the door!”
Ann Marie scooted across the front seats, opened the passenger-side door, jumped, rolled, and came up running. She ran for all she was worth across an open field, gunshots sounding behind her.
CHAPTER 56
Savich listened carefully to what Ben said, then sighed. “Mrs. Patil having an affair—I wish I could tell you I’m surprised, but I’m not really. Why can’t people behave like they’re supposed to? Why can’t they ever be what they appear to be? You’re positive about the affair?”
Detective Ben Raven of the WPD said, “I guess I’m not surprised, either. Yes, we’re sure. Like I said, I had her followed, Savich, for want of anything better, since the case wasn’t going anywhere. Sure enough, she and Krishna Shama—remember, he’s the nephew of Mr. Patil’s lifelong best bud, Amal Urbi—met at a Holiday Inn just south of McLean. They spent two hours in room three-thirty-five. I doubt it was a prayer meeting for Mr. Patil. Then they went to a restaurant for a late lunch. Mrs. Patil came trotting home at five o’clock yesterday evening, in good time to head out to the hospital to see her husband. We checked. Mrs. Patil and Mr. Shama have visited that particular Holiday Inn a dozen times over the past several months.”
Savich thought about this. “You know, Ben, lots of people have affairs that don’t even lead to divorce, much less attempted murder. We have no idea if this has anything to do with Mr. Patil’s shooting. Why not hold off awhile until we can get more? I sure wish I had more time to help out, but what with Kirsten Bolger wreaking havoc, I’m up to my neck in alligators.”
Ben said, “Not a problem. I was thinking I’d wait awhile anyway, keep even closer tabs on Mrs. Patil. Now I’ll add Krishna Shama to the active surveillance list.”
Savich punched off and stepped out of his office to see Lucy and Coop heading toward the CAU conference room. As he walked in behind them, he heard Dane Carver saying to Ruth and Ollie, “Our girl ran her feet off and managed to escape Kirsten. Sheriff Stovall said he couldn’t get over it.”
“She what?” Lucy asked.
Dane nodded to Coop and Savich, then turned to her and smiled. “Good to see you walking around, Lucy. You don’t look too bad. That bruise on your jaw adds color.”
“If purple’s your thing, I’m the girl of your dreams. Now, Kirsten went back to kill Ann Marie Slatter?”
Dane said, “She did, indeed, and Ann Marie managed to survive the encounter intact. Sheriff Stovall said Ann Marie was on the high-school track team; he remembered her as a strong middle distance runner. Well, that girl ran her heart out. Kirsten couldn’t catch her; all she could do was keep firing at her, but she missed because Ann Marie was too far away and she was juking around. She ran a couple of miles, flat out, all the way to the sheriff’s office. He and his deputies were after Kirsten right away, but of course she was long gone.”
Coop said, “I want to meet this girl.”
Dane said, “I do, too. Ann Marie insisted she wanted to stay in a locked cell until they caught Kirsten, told Sheriff Stovall she’d never talk to him again if he didn’t let her curl up on a jail cot.”
Ruth said, “Smart girl.”
Savich waved Dane to continue. “Sheriff Stovall is getting ready for more news vans to roll into town pretty soon. Ann Marie Slatter is going to be quite a celebrity now, the heroine of Whortleberry. Since the sheriff decided he couldn’t let her take up residence in one of his two cells, we’re taking Ann Marie and her mother, Libby, to one of our apartments on Mulberry Street, keep that poor kid safe until we get Kirsten. Talk about the resilience of youth —she’s thinking about getting an agent to sell her story to the movies.”
There was some head-shaking laughter at this.
Then Dane said, “By now Kirsten has dumped the Silverado, probably somewhere near town. Sheriff Stovall has his deputies asking everyone around town to check their vehicles, help them with finding the Silverado. Bottom line, Kirsten’s dropped her MO, and she’s killing at will, or trying to, to show us she can. She’s a danger to everyone
