A bloody rag doll.
Chavez quickly stepped over to it, his face churning in anguish as he approached.
“Sweet Jesus,” he said, then crossed himself.
“What? What is it?” Worthington was still trying to keep his attention centered on that black doorway, as if he expected the man in the baseball cap to come bursting out of it at any moment.
Chavez said nothing, turning instead and moving away. He paused, then leaned forward and vomited into the dirt.
That was all the answer they needed.
And as Worthington finally turned, looking at the figure on the ground, Anna knew from the horror spreading across his face — that they had just found Kimberly Fairweather.
1 9
“ Consider yourself toast, McBride.”
Royer stood at the rear doorway of the ambulance, a smug, self-satisfied smile on his face. Anna sat on a gurney inside, a paramedic applying ointment to the half-dozen burn marks on her neck.
They hurt like hell.
On the carnival grounds, sheriff’s deputies and citizen volunteers were in the midst of an expanded search. This time for the man in the red baseball cap.
“I just got off the phone with the brass,” Royer said. “They’re recommending beach time, and possible termination.”
“What the hell for?”
“What the hell do you think? You haven’t changed, McBride. Once a fuckup, always a fuckup.”
“You’re blaming this on me?”
“You had the perpetrator in your hands and you let him get away.”
Anna gestured to the burn marks. “In case you didn’t notice, I wasn’t exactly in control of the situation.”
“Maybe if you’d followed proper procedure you would’ve been. Face it, McBride, even your daddy won’t get you out of this one.”
Anna stared at him. She was weak and tired and depressed and just wanted to cry. But she refused to show it. “Does that make you feel good, telling me that?”
“You’d better believe it.”
“Then enjoy yourself while you can. Because when IA comes calling, I’m sure they’ll want to know why you were beating the crap out of an innocent man while your partner was up to her elbows in shit.”
Royer’s smile faltered.
“Not to mention that there was a little girl being butchered less than two hundred yards away.”
Then it disappeared altogether.
“That’s right, Teddy. There are a lot of different ways to spin this thing and the way I see it, I’m not the only one on the hook here.” Now Anna smiled. “Better pack your thermals. I hear the winters in South Dakota are brutal.”
Royer went through a round of face roulette before finally settling on a glare. Unable to come up with a clever retort, he resorted to an uninspired, “Bitch,” then turned and walked away.
The paramedic, a fortyish blonde with world-weary eyes, said, “I think you just lost him a few nights’ sleep.”
“It won’t last,” Anna told her. “Third or fourth time he looks in a mirror, he’ll be back to normal.”
The paramedic chuckled, then, finishing her work, gestured to the burn marks. “You’ll be in pain for a few hours, but I think you’ll live.”
Happy day, Anna thought. She’d gladly accept a less promising prognosis if it meant Kimberly Fairweather were still alive.
Missing is always better than dead.
When her mother first passed, Anna made up little scenarios in her head that she’d really been kidnapped by faeries, or had gone to Hollywood to be a movie star. It was okay for her mom to be gone, but not dead. Anything but dead.
And this morning Anna had almost joined her.
She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been, letting that freak get control of her so easily. She had to keep reminding herself that Kimberly had already been butchered by then. There was nothing she could have done to prevent what had happened to the poor girl.
But for some reason that thought didn’t comfort Anna. This night, this morning, had gone from bad to truly devastating in a few short hours.
Watching the scene on the carnival grounds, she wondered if the man in the red baseball cap was watching, too. The house of mirrors had already been thoroughly searched, but there’d been no sign of him, not even a hint that he’d ever been inside. And what was most puzzling was that there had been no back doors, no escape routes.
So where the hell had he gone?
Anna couldn’t tell you why, but she sensed he was still around. Out there somewhere. Waiting.
I’ve come for what is mine, Chavi.
I’ve come to make it right.
The image of Kimmie’s body wouldn’t leave her.
She was a mistake, he’d said. But what exactly did that mean? Was he feeling guilty? Remorseful?
Not a chance. Kimberly’s murder was number four for the night. This asshole didn’t make mistakes and he didn’t feel a thing except bloodlust. And just as he’d had no trouble bringing that stun gun down time after time, Anna knew he wouldn’t hesitate to kill again.
She thought about her vision, the strongest one so far. Red Cap dragging her through the leaves into the center of that clearing, bringing out that knife, crusted with dried blood.
She thought of the tattoo on the back of his neck: a wheel with missing spokes. Its significance was beyond her at the moment, but at least it was something. Some small clue they could cling to, to help them identify the sick fuck. She hadn’t bothered to tell Worthington that she’d only seen it in her vision. That was one small detail he didn’t need to know.
There was no doubt in Anna’s mind now that she was meant to be here. The things she’d seen-no, experienced — so closely echoed what had happened to Kimberly that there could be no mistake that this was where she belonged.
But even if what she’d experienced was a premonition of some kind, an intimate preview of Red Cap’s next victim, Anna wasn’t sure she wanted to be here. The visions had begun to take their toll, and every time she had one now she felt just a little less stable, a little less in control. And how can you stop a madman if you don’t have control?
Anna felt the urge to cry again. Let it all out, her mother used to tell her.
After Mr. Stinky was hit by that bus, she had cried and cried for…
Anna paused, her rapid-fire thought process screaming to a halt.
Mr. Stinky?
“So, how are you holding up?”
Anna snapped out of her reverie and realized she’d been staring intently at her left hand.
It was trembling.
Looking up, she was surprised to find Daniel Pope standing in the same spot Royer had stood just a moment ago.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Long story.”
“Where’s Evan? Did social services come get him?”
She glanced around the grounds, hoping to hell the boy wasn’t out there somewhere, where he might catch a
