Shadow Man

happened to be watching.

Leona was in her home office, telling us she needed to answer some e-mail.

'You know,' Callie says, 'I don't like what she does, but I like Ms. Leona Waters. She's strong.'

I give her a crooked smile. 'Me too. I wish she didn't insist on staying. But I have to give it to her. She's brave and she's tough.'

Callie sips from her coffee, thinking. 'What do you think our odds are on this?'

'I don't know, Callie. I'm certain, after seeing her, that we're on track. She is on his list. I mean, look at her.' I grimace in disgust. 'He probably picked her so he could feel like he was raping and killing me.'

'It is spooky, honey-love. It could almost make you a believer in the whole doppelganger thing.'

My cell phone rings. 'Yeah,' I answer.

Alan's baritone rumbles in my ear. 'Just wanted to give you an update. Gene says DNA is going slower than expected. He'll have something by ten or so tonight.'

'We have a hopeful lead here.' I tell him about Leona Waters and the current plan.

'That could be good news,' he says. 'Maybe we'll catch the fuckers.'

'Keep your fingers crossed. I'll keep everyone apprised.' I hang up and check my watch. 'Damn. Time went by fast.' I look at Callie. 'It's almost six o'clock.'

'Time for the evening news,' she responds.

'Time to piss this psycho off.'

42

BRAD LOOKS HANDSOME and serious as he delivers his special report.

'Many will remember Special Agent Smoky Barrett from an incident last year. A serial killer she was chasing, one Joseph Sands, took her family from her in one brutal evening. She managed to escape but was left with her face disfigured and her family dead. Despite these personal tragedies, she has returned to her job.

'She is currently tracking a man known only as Jack Jr. He claims to be a direct descendant of Jack the Ripper . . .'

He lays out the basics without embellishment. He doesn't need to embellish. The truth is horrific enough. My face appears near the end of the report as I deliver the shocker about the jar. I look at myself without passion. I am becoming used to my scars. I doubt the viewers feel the same.

'The FBI is warning other women in this profession to take serious precautions.' He rattles off a list we'd given him of precautions we thought they should take. He looks into the camera, dramatic. 'Be vigilant and be careful. Your life could be at risk.'

The segment ends. 'He did a good job,' Callie says. 'You too, honeylove.'

'You're trying to piss him off, aren't you?'

The voice comes from behind us. We'd been so engrossed in the report that we hadn't noticed that Leona had come out from her office.

'Yeah,' I say. 'I am.'

She gives me an admiring smile. 'You're something else, Agent Barrett. If I'd been through what you have . . .' She shakes her head.

'I don't know about that, Leona. You've been through a different version of it. You've kept going.'

A knock comes at the door, ending any small talk. Leona tenses up.

'Stay there,' I murmur to her, pulling my gun.

I go to the door. 'Yes?' I say.

'Special Agent Barrett? It's Agents Decker and McCullough, along with two SWAT-team members.'

I look through the keyhole. I recognize Decker.

'Hang on,' I say. I open the door, wave them inside. As per my instructions, they are dressed in civilian clothes. I note with some amusement that they're all wearing the same basic outfits: jeans and pullover shirts. Even dressed casually, they manage a vague uniformity. But none of them would be made for law enforcement at a glance.

'You've all been briefed?' I ask when everyone is in the living room. A chorus of 'Yes, ma'ams.'

'Good. We're laying a trap here, gentlemen. Our unsubs have killed twice. They're sharp--real sharp. They operate with precision: little hesitation, lots of willingness to act. We know their current MO from the prior victims: One of them scouts things out in the guise of being a pest exterminator, and that's what we're hoping is going to happen here. Don't underestimate our unsubs, gentlemen. If one or both pull a knife, it's not to scare or intimidate--they'll use it. We need whichever one shows up taken alive so that he can lead us to the other perpetrator.' I indicate Leona Waters. 'This is Ms. Waters. We're certain that he's selected her as a victim.'

I see them glance at her. Assessing. One of the SWAT guys is giving her an unprofessional, sexual once-over. I am both mortified and enraged. I step in front of him and jab a finger in his chest, hard enough to leave a bruise. 'I expect every one of you to operate at a high level of professionalism. You should know, I asked Ms. Waters to stay somewhere else while we run this op. She refused and has volunteered to be here.' I lean into the officer and let him see just how pissed off I am. I whisper, 'If this woman gets hurt because you were thinking with your dick, I'll fucking eat you alive, understand?'

To his credit, the officer's look of apology appears genuine and ungrudging. He nods.

'What's the plan, ma'am?' This from Agent Decker, bringing us back to the business at hand.

I push away my anger. 'We're going to keep it simple. One on the roof. One outside the elevator. Two in here with myself and Agent Thorne. The guy on the roof will alert us to anyone coming in from the street. Elevator guy will be able to confirm whether or not that same person exits onto this floor. Those inside are here for the takedown. You have the equipment we'll need?' I ask Decker.

'Yes, ma'am. Earpieces and throat mikes. Weapons.'

'Including a sniper rifle for the roof work,' says one of the SWAT officers. I nod. 'Good. I want to stress: It's important that you don't draw attention to yourself. We have evidence that one or both of our unsubs has been tailing me. If either of them suspects anything, they'll bolt.' I look at each of them. 'Any questions?'

They all say no. 'Get in position then. Stay alert, but settle in for a long wait.'

43

THIS, I THINK, is indicative of this job I do. It causes my life to be governed by outside influences, to race toward sudden leads. The irony isn't lost on me. I hate to be forced to do anything , yet I have chosen a profession that does just that on a regular basis. When you are hunting a killer, there is no schedule. The timetable is simple: The longer he is out there, the higher the death count climbs. You go until he's caught. So I find myself here, sitting in the apartment of a woman who displays her sexual adventures for a living, willing to wait as long as needed in the hopes that either Jack Jr. or his partner will show. I look over at Callie. She is sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, watching a talk show on TV with Leona while both of them eat popcorn. This is one of the traits Callie has that I love and admire. She can live in the moment, relaxed, and yet spring into action like a whip crack. It's a talent I have never had.

I look at my watch. It's now nine-thirty. I check in with the SWAT officer on the roof, who I now know as Bob. 'Anything anomalous, Bob?'

His voice crackles in my ear. 'Not yet, ma'am.'

I cock an ear, eavesdropping on the conversation between Callie and Leona.

'Let me ask you this, honey-love. What happens when you decide you want a man in your life again?'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, do you change the lifestyle you're living?'

Leona ponders this. 'It would depend. Lots of people meet in non-monogamous settings. The odds are against it, but it does happen. I suppose if I didn't find that, I'd have to wait until I decided to quit before I went looking. I made a promise that I'd never make a huge and sweeping change of my life for a man. Never again.'

'Interesting subset of problems though, don't you think?'

'It's unique to the lifestyle I follow, that's for sure.'