that brought me into it, sent me that scarf as a sick joke or for some prurient thrill. If that’s the case, it’s unlikely you’ll ever find out who it was. The second is whoever’s following Perry’s pattern sent it to me as a warning, a tease. If that’s the case, I have to hope you find out who he is and stop him, really soon. Because if you don’t, at some point he’s going to come at me and try to correct Perry’s mistake.”
“You hung tough through everything that happened before. You’re going to need to hang tough again. The scarf mailed to you is the same as those used on the three victims. The same manufacturer, the same style, even the same dye lot.”
“So.” Her skin went cold, numbed under a sheath of ice. “That’s probably not a coincidence.”
“We’ve traced the outlets, and we know this specific scarf, this dye lot, was shipped to those outlets at the end of October of last year for distribution in the Walla Walla area.”
“Near the prison,” she murmured. “Near Perry. Why would he buy them there if he didn’t live or work or have business there? A prison guard.” She fought to keep her voice steady. “An inmate who was released or, or a family member. Or—”
“Fiona, believe me, trust me, we’re covering all possibilities. Agent Mantz and I have interviewed Perry. He claims he doesn’t know anything about these murders—how could he?”
“He’s lying.”
“Yes, he is, but we haven’t been able to shake him. Not yet. We’ve had his cell searched, multiple times, all of his correspondence is being analyzed. We’ve interviewed prison officials and inmates he interacts with. We’re watching his sister and are in the process of identifying, locating and contacting anyone—former inmates, prison personnel, outside contractors and instructors—he may have had contact with since he went in.”
“A long time.” She set the cookie aside. She’d never be able to swallow it now. “Do you think he’s directing this, or at least lit the fuse?”
“At this point, we have no proof—”
“I’m not asking for proof.” She paused to smooth the sharp edge out of her tone. “I’m asking what you think. I trust what you think.”
“If he isn’t directing it or hasn’t incited it, he’d be furious. He’d control the anger, but I’d have seen it.”
She nodded. Yes, he’d have seen it. They knew Perry, she and Tawney. They knew him all too well.
“This was his power, his accomplishment,” Tawney continued. “Having someone else pick up that power, claim new accomplishments while he’s locked up? Insulting, demeaning. But selecting or approving the person to continue for him, he’d find pride and pleasure in that. And that’s what I saw when we talked to him. Under the control, the feigned ignorance, he was proud.”
“Yes.” She nodded, then got to her feet to walk to the window, to comfort herself watching her dogs roam the front yard, the field. “That’s what I think, too. I’ve studied him, too. I needed to. I needed to know the man who wanted to kill me, who killed the man I loved because he failed with me. I read the books, watched the TV specials, dissected all the articles. Then I put them away, put them aside because I needed to stop.
“He never has,” she said, turning back. “Not really, has he? He’s just bided his time. But why didn’t he send this proxy for me first, before I could prepare?”
She shook her head, waved away the question as the answer was right there. “Because I’m the big prize— I’m the main event, the reason. And you need to build up to that. The others? They’re opening acts.”
“That’s a hard way to put it,” Mantz commented.
“It’s a hard way to think of it, but that’s how he sees it. It’s a kind of rematch, isn’t it? Last time, I won. Now he’s going to fix that. Maybe by remote, maybe by proxy, but it’ll clear his record. And the opening acts give him his sick satisfaction with the bonus of making the big prize sweat. He wants my fear. It’s part of his method and a large part of his reward.”
“We can take you in, put you in a safe house, offer you protection.”
“I did that before,” Fiona reminded Tawney, “and he just waited me out. Waited me out, then killed Greg. I can’t put my life on hold again, I can’t give him that. He’s already taken so much.”
“We have more leads this time,” Mantz told her. “He’s not as careful, not as smart as Perry. Sending you the scarf was stupid. It’s taunting. Buying them in multiples, from one area, another mistake. We’ll find him.”
“I believe you will, and I hope it’s soon, before someone else dies. But I can’t hide until you do. That’s not being brave so much as realistic. And I have the advantage here. He has to come to me. He has to come onto the island.”
“Your local police department can’t monitor everyone who gets off the ferry.”
“No, but if he does manage to get this far, he’s not going to come up against a twenty-year-old girl.”
“At the very least you should take more precautions,” Mantz advised. “You should have better locks installed. You should think about an alarm system.”
“I have three of them. I’m not being glib,” she added. “The dogs are always with me, and between the police and my friends, I’m being checked on several times a day. Simon’s staying here at night. I’m actually going away next week for a couple of days with a friend and my stepmother. I have a friend staying here with his dog to watch mine and the house.”
“You mentioned that on your blog.”
She smiled at Tawney. “You read my blog.”
“I keep up with you, Fiona. You said you were taking a quick mental health trip with girlfriends, and intended to relax and pamper yourself.”
“Spa,” Mantz said.
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t say where you were going, specifically.”
“No, because everyone and anyone can read a blog. I’ll talk about it after, if it seems interesting. But most of what I write about is dog related. I’m not careless, Agent Tawney.”
“No, you’re not. Still, I’d like the information—where you’ll be, the exact dates, how you’ll get there.”
“Okay.”
When his phone signaled, he held up a finger. “Why don’t you give them to Agent Mantz,” he suggested, and walked out onto the porch to take the call.
“We’re driving up to Snoqualmie Falls next Tuesday,” Fiona told her. “Tranquillity Spa and Resort. We’re coming back Friday.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah, it will be. It’s our version of a long weekend, as actual weekends are busiest for all of us. I’m going with Sylvia and a friend. Mai Funaki, our vet.”
Mantz noted down the information, then glanced over as Tawney stepped back in.
“We need to go.”
Fiona got to her feet even as Mantz did. “They found another.”
“No. A twenty-one-year-old woman’s been reported missing. She left her off-campus housing at about six this morning, on foot, on her way to the university’s fitness center. She never got there.”
“Where?” Fiona demanded. “Where was she taken?”
“Medford, Oregon.”
“Just a little closer,” she murmured. “I hope she’s strong. I hope she finds a way.”
“I’m going to stay in touch, Fiona.” Tawney pulled out a card. “You can reach me anytime. My home number’s on the back for you.”
“Thanks.”
She walked out with them, stood with her arms folded over her chest against her thudding heart and the dogs sitting at her feet as they drove away. “Good luck,” she murmured.
Then she went inside to get her gun.
Fifteen
Simon carved the scrolled detail into the header for the custom china cabinet while The Fray blasted out of the radio. Meg Greene, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted—except when she changed her mind—had
