Mortal Fear

for, I get voice mail.

“Dr. Lenz is on compassionate leave at this time,” says a sterile female voice. “His calls are being handled by Dr. Weaver of the Behavioral Sciences Instruction Unit. If you need further assistance, please remain on the line.”

When the operator comes back, I tell her I want Daniel Baxter. She says he’s unavailable. Two minutes after I tell her it’s life-or-death and the EROS case, Baxter comes on the line.

“Cole?”he shouts, like a man in the pit of a mine. “Talk fast, I’m in a hurry.”

“I heard you’re shutting down EROS. Is that right?”

“Yes. Speak up!”

“How do you plan to catch the killer without it?”

“The old-fashioned way.”

“What?”

“We know who he is, Cole. Our UNSUB is no longer UN.”

So Miles was right. “How? I mean, who is he?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Well, I just talked to him.”

“You mean the killer?”

“Yes. For over an hour, via EROS. He thought I was a woman. I’ve got pages of stuff, practically his whole life story.”

“I’ll be damned. You have any idea where he was when he was talking to you?”

“No. But if he was at home, my guess would be New York, or some other large city that has brownstone houses.”

A brief pause. “That’s consistent with what we know.”

“I really think you should look at this stuff I’ve got.”

“Cole, you’ve been a big help and a pain in the ass. But the game’s over. We’re about to arrest the guy.”

A charge of excitement races over my skin, but my experience with Brahma tells me such statements are premature. “Let me ask you something, Mr. Baxter. You don’t have to answer unless I’m right, okay? Is this man you’re arresting a doctor?”

“How did you know that?”

“I know a lot more than that.”

“Fax everything you have to Quantico. We may need it if we have hostages, and we’ll definitely use it to build the case against him.”

“I’ll do that if you tell me one thing. How’d you figure out who the guy is? Was it the organ donor stuff?”

Silence. Then Baxter says, “I knew that had to be you. You and Turner, right?”

“No comment.”

“It wasn’t that. It was flight records. He flew to all the crime scenes.”

“Commercial flights?”

“Private. A Beechcraft Baron. Ever since you linked the murders, we’ve been checking everything that moved in or out of each murder city near the death dates. We finally found a private plane that had flown into tiny airports near three of the cities.”

Baxter pauses so long that I think we’ve lost our connection. Then he says, “Okay listen, Cole. The plane is owned by a doctor from New York. We’ve got him under surveillance now. Hostage Rescue is going to arrest him as soon as I land, to eliminate any chance of a barricade situation. Did the UNSUB reveal anything to you that might have bearing on a plan like this?”

A doctor from New York. Miles’s home territory. “He’s got a woman helping him. An Indian woman. In our conversations he called her Kali, but I can’t be sure that’s her real name. I’m almost positive she’s the real killer.”

“Good. What else?”

“Is this doctor a neurosurgeon, Mr. Baxter?”

“No. Why?”

“What kind of doctor is he?”

“He’s an anesthetist.”

“You mean an anesthesiologist? An anesthetist is just a technician.”

“Anesthesiologist, right. He’s an M.D.”

“Is he married?”

“I can’t tell you anything else. This thing’s about to explode in the media. I want this guy hog-tied and any hostages freed by the time RBJ open their mouths tonight.”

“RBJ?”

“Rather, Brokaw, and Jennings. Gotta go, Cole. Fax your stuff through.”

“Wait! Is Dr. Lenz okay? He doesn’t seem like the type to take compassionate leave.”

“I made it compulsory. His wife’s murder put him over the edge. Now that’s it. I’ll see you at the trial, if there is one.”

And he’s gone.

If there is one. A sudden memory sends a chill across the back of my neck. I am sitting in the New Orleans police station telling the FBI that I know who the killer is: David M. Strobekker. And I have the strangest feeling that this New York doctor Baxter thinks he’s about to arrest or “take out” will turn out to be as dead as Strobekker was. But of course he can’t be.

Baxter said they have him under surveillance.

CHAPTER 35

Blackness explodes into light and pain, a burst of brightness cored with shimmering dark. I spring up from something soft, sure I’m in a nightmare until the light resolves into a figure standing in a doorway with one hand on a light switch.

Drewe.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

I rub my fingers hard through my hair to get the blood flowing. I’m on the den couch again. “I guess I fell asleep. I don’t even remember how I got in here.”

She smiles tightly and moves down the hall toward the kitchen. Still disoriented, I follow and sit down at the table. Drewe stands at the sink, drinking water from a glass. There’s an aspirin bottle on the counter. With a quick movement she puts it back into the cabinet over the sink.

“Headache?”

She nods but doesn’t speak.

“Bad day?”

She opens the refrigerator and takes out a diet Dr Pepper. Looking at the drink can, she says, “Is Miles still here?”

“No.”

“So he wouldn’t tell the FBI anything.”

“That’s not it. The police showed up right after you left this morning. He barely got away.”

She’s looking at me now.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. The FBI called. They’ve identified the killer. They’ve probably arrested him by now.”

“Really?” Marginal interest.

“He’s a doctor, just like you guessed.”

She nods, looks back down at the Dr Pepper can.

“Drewe, what’s the matter?”