by Karen Rose
Her mouth. It was taped shut. It came back in a rush. The man, his hand over her mouth, the sting of a needle on her neck. What did he give me? Where am I?
She opened her eyes a slit, relieved when her lids obeyed. It was dark, and they were moving. A car. She remembered his car. I’m in the trunk.
Do not lose it now, she commanded herself. She focused on the breaths she took. And as her pulse steadied, she knew she was not alone. She could smell… blood.
Oh my God. Lindsay. She clenched her eyes shut, refusing to look. Maybe he lied, to scare you, to make you obey. Maybe she’s alive, maybe she needs you. Open your eyes and look. Dammit, girl, look. Her heart pounding in her ears, she made her eyes open, blinking to see in the darkness. Then saw what she’d smelled.
She froze, the scream trapped in her throat. Eyes. Open eyes. Staring at me.
Lindsay was dead. I will be, too.
Thursday, February 25, 9:15 a.m.
Noah checked out the car in Adele Donner’s driveway, his gun drawn. “Covered in snow. Been here all night.” He and Abbott went up the front walk while two uniformed officers went to the back. They had the exits covered.
Abbott rapped on the door, hard. “Police,” he called. “Come out, Donner.”
The door opened, revealing two women, one about ninety and the other perhaps fifty. “We’re both Mrs. Donner,” the older woman said, her chin up. “What do you want?”
Donner’s mother and his wife. The wife’s eyes were red and swollen and she cried quietly. The old woman’s eyes, though, were clear and cold as ice.
Abbott looked over their heads. “Step aside, ladies. Please.”
“Do you have a warrant?” the ninety-year-old demanded.
“Yes,” Abbott started, but Noah held up his hand.
“Mrs. Donner, you know why we’re here. Please don’t make this any harder.”
Donner’s mother’s chin wobbled, her only sign of weakness. “He’s not here.”
Abbott’s jaw hardened. “What do you mean, he’s not here? His car is here. His wife is here. Where is your son, Mrs. Donner?”
Donner’s wife wiped her eyes. “He’s out back. At the pond.”
Noah started to run. A single set of footprints marred the snow and by the look of them, they weren’t fresh. From the snow that had filled them, they were hours old. No footprints came back to the house. Donner had left during the night and not returned.
Noah strode through the snow, motioning to the uniforms to spread out. But when he got to the pond he abruptly stopped. His breath hung in the air as he stared at the bench at the pond’s frozen edge. He lowered his pistol. No need for it now.
“Goddammit,” one of the uniforms cursed, barely managing to stop before stepping in what had been Donald Donner’s brains. “What the fuck is this?”
Noah pursed his lips, swallowing back the bile. Animals had done what animals do, but there was enough of Donner left to see the pistol in his ringless right hand.
He turned to find Abbott staring as well. Together they walked back to the house and knocked on the front door again. This time Donner’s mother let them in.
“We want this to be over,” she said with dignity, then placed their hats on a sideboard before leading them to the living room where Donner’s wife sat in a chair, sobbing. Adele Donner lowered herself to a sofa, looking every one of her ninety years.
“He had a brain tumor,” Adele said. “The doctors gave him less than a thirty percent chance. All my son wanted was to see his work published one more time.” She took a sealed envelope from the table beside her and gave it to Noah. “He wrote you a letter, Detective. He told me to give it to you.”
“He never would have hurt anyone,” Donner’s wife said. “He couldn’t live with knowing that his study… That all those women died.”
“When did he shoot himself?” Noah asked softly.
“About eight o’clock last night,” Adele answered. “That bench was his favorite spot.”
Eight o’clock, Noah thought. Before the last call from his home phone went to 411.
“You heard the shot?” Abbott asked.
Both women nodded. “And we knew it was over,” Adele said. “It was what Donald wanted. He’d suffered so much, I couldn’t tell him no.”
“Why didn’t you call 911?” Abbott asked, more gently.
Adele Donner cast a quick look at her daughter-in-law. “I don’t drive at night, and last night she… well, she just couldn’t drive. We decided that we’d drive into town this morning, to see the sheriff.”
Donner’s wife closed her eyes. “My mother-in-law wanted to call 911. But I didn’t want to be here when they took him away.”
Noah stood, his shoulders heavy. “We’ll get someone out here to take care of him.”
In the car Abbott was grim. “He still could have done all five murders, you know.”
“I know. But do you think he did?”
“No. What does the letter say?”
Noah scanned its contents. “What you’d expect. He does give his regards to Eve.”
Abbott started the car. “I’m sure you won’t mind passing that on.”
Noah’s jaw tightened. “Why are you being like this? We wouldn’t have a case if she hadn’t come forward.”
“She didn’t come forward, Noah. We had to drag her in here.”
“Not true. You’ve always been reasonable before. What’s the problem now?”
“The problem is that she continues to be a distraction.”
“She’s a target.”
“Then put her in a safe house. You know I’m right.”
Abbott was right. Then again, so was Eve. But Abbott’s order would keep her safe.
“If you don’t, then I will,” Abbott said quietly. “I mean it, Noah.”
Noah nodded. “Okay. I’ll take her back to Brock. Will that work?”
“I’ll take her,” Abbott said, irritated. “I want you focused. And I swear, if I have to tell you that one more time… Well, I won’t tell you. I’ll just yank you from this case.”
“Okay,” Noah said, teeth clenched. “I hear you.”
Thursday, February 25, 10:45 a.m.
“I’m not going to Brock’s,” Eve said, putting her laptop in her bag. “His kids can’t stay away forever and I will not put this target I’m wearing on their heads.” She looked at Abbott, resigned. “I’ll take the safe house.”
“Eve,” Noah started, but she lifted her hand to stop him.
“Do safe houses have cable?” she asked Abbott, and to Noah’s surprise, he smiled.
“All the channels you can surf,” Abbott said, “and free wi-fi to boot.”
Her lips curved. “Can I order any takeout I want?”
“Don’t push it, Eve,” Abbott said dryly. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” she said. “Noah, what about David? Who’s going to take care of him?”
“His brother Max,” Noah said. “He’ll stay with David until he can go back to Chicago.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “You called Max?”
Noah shook his head. “No, I called David. Apparently Tom called his stepfather last night and told him the whole story. Max left Chicago a few hours ago.”
She looked up with a forced smile and he knew how much this pseudo-incarceration was costing her. “Will you come to see me?”
He kissed her brow, not caring who saw. “You bet. Now go.” He helped her with her coat and watched her walk away, chin lifted in the gesture he’d come to expect.
The phone on his desk rang and he picked up, his eyes still on her. “Webster.”
“My name is Natalie Clooney. T-the officers l-last night… Th-they said to call you.”
Noah cupped the phone, dread pooling at her hysterical stutter. “Eve. Tell Abbott to come back.” Dropping his hand, he answered the call. “What happened, Miss Clooney?”
“My f-friend. Virginia. She’s d-dead.”
Noah sank into his chair as Abbott a
pproached grimly, Eve following behind. “How?”
“Sh-she’s hanging.” Natalie was sobbing. “Her eyes… They’re gone.”
Thursday, February 25, 11:10 a.m.
Noah had tried to mentally prepare himself for what he’d find in Virginia Fox’s house, but there was no way he could have. He looked up into her hollow eye sockets and it was all he could do to keep his stomach in check.
“Donner didn’t do this,” he said hoarsely.
“No, he couldn’t have,” Abbott said, his voice dull.
“Why not?” The question came from Carleton Pierce, who had just arrived behind Ian Gilles and the ME techs. Carleton stopped dead in his tracks as he entered the room. “Holy God.”
Noah stepped back as Micki snapped pictures of the scene. “Donald Donner committed suicide last night. Sometime around eight o’clock.”
Carleton did a double take. “He did what?”
“He killed himself, okay?” Noah snarled, then forced himself to calm. “I’m sorry. It’s been a bad day. Donner was dying. He shot himself last night.”
“I don’t even know why I’m bothering to photograph this scene,” Micki muttered. “It looks like all the others.”
“Except the victim,” Noah said. She was dressed like the others. Same dress, same shoes, same makeup. Everything except the eyes. “Virginia was not on Eve’s list.”
“What? How do you know?” Carleton asked.
“Because Eve just called me. She’s sitting at my desk, checking the damn list, and this woman is not on it. And if we don’t find him, she could be next.”
“She won’t be next,” Abbott said. “Kane’s taking her to a safe house as we speak.”
Noah turned to Carleton. “Virginia wasn’t on the list, but she was a close friend of Natalie, who’s been one of Eve’s red-zone cases for weeks. Why did he change now? Every victim had been on that list. Why choose one who was not?”
“I don’t know,” Carleton said tersely. “Maybe just to throw us off.”
“Well it did.” Noah went to the living room where Natalie sat on the sofa, rocking herself, her face dangerously pale. “Miss Clooney, I need to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course,” Natalie said through bloodless lips.
“You said Miss Fox was a programmer.”
“Office assistant, actually, She and I started out at the company together.”
“In the same office?”
“No. I got my certifications and was promoted a few years ago. I’m the director of our department. Virginia reports… reported to one of my people.”
“Did she mention any boyfriends, any new relationships?”
“No. Well, yes, but not in the real world.”
“In Shadowland, then.”
“Yes. She met this guy at the poker table. Oh God.” She started to cry again. “I told her about the warning I got from Captain Abbott. She said that I was just trying to keep her from having a life. Now she’s dead.” She covered her face and rocked.
“I know this is hard, but stay with me. You two played in Shadow-land together?”
Natalie lowered her hands and drew a breath. “She loved to gamble in Vegas, but she lost a lot when the market crashed so she started virtual gambling. It was cheaper.”
“You’re doing great. Now, how did you come to be part of the Shadowland study?”
“She saw the ad in the paper and said I’d enjoy the game. I asked her if she was going to do the study, but she said she got enough of shrinks in therapy. But it seemed important to her that I play, so I joined.”
“I understand you’re a pretty good poker player.”
“I’d never played before. But I pick things up pretty easily. We played poker together, every night. Last night we had a fight. A terrible fight.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“I was winning and she seemed happy for me. But a few weeks ago she met this other gamer and she changed.”
Eve had mentioned this. “Dasich. He and your friend were thrown out for cheating.”
Her eyes widened. “How did you know that?”
“We’ve been keeping an eye on you, in the virtual world and the real one. But we didn’t know about Virginia. What was she afraid of, Miss Clooney?”
“The dark,” she said thinly. “Virginia was terrified of the dark.”
“Do you know why?”
“Yes. Her family lived in Japan in ’95 when they had that big earthquake in Kobe. She was trapped in the dark for three days, dead people all around. Ever since, she couldn’t stand the dark. Always kept a light on in every room.”
So the sonofabitch takes her eyes. “Thank you. I’ll have an officer take you home.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Thursday, February 25, 11:10 a.m.
It’s that damn list,” Eve said, sitting at Noah’s desk. Olivia and Kane stood ready to haul her off to the safe house at Abbott’s command. Not yet. I need to think.
“But the Fox woman isn’t on the list,” Kane said.
“Exactly. It’s to throw us off,” Eve said. “He knew we had the list.”
“There is no ‘we.’ ” Olivia frowned. “There is us, and there is you. You are not part of this anymore, Eve. You’re in too much danger already.”
“And I’ll continue to be until we catch him. Where is Jeremy Lyons?”
“Still missing,” Kane said. “No credit card activity or contact with family and friends.”
He could be dead. Or he could be a killer. “You’ve checked the grad students’ alibis. Donner didn’t do it, because you’ve got one more and he was dead when it happened.”
Olivia and Kane shared a look. “Eve, you’re leaving,” Olivia said calmly. She pulled Eve to her feet but Eve yanked her arm away and sat back down.
“Let me think. Virginia wasn’t on my list, but she and Natalie were friends. Sit down, Olivia. Please. I need to do this. There is something here.” Eve stared at the list on her laptop screen. But the answer wasn’t here. She logged back in to Shadowland as Olivia gave in, pulling a chair behind her with a frustrated sigh.
“Abbott’s gonna have my ass in a sling,” Olivia grumbled.
Eve didn’t respond. She was pulling up user accounts.
“What are you doing?” Kane asked standing behind her.
Eve rubbed her forehead. “Don’t ask, don’t tell. I hacked in, okay?”
“Cool,” Kane said, impressed.
“Don’t encourage her,” Olivia hissed, then sighed. “What are we looking for?”
“I’m not sure. This here is Virginia Fox’s account. And this is her poker avatar, Cicely.” She pointed to the screen. “Cicely used to sit next to Natalie’s avatar at the poker table. But Virginia’s got other avatars. This one she bought from Pandora. From me, I mean.” Eve’s eyes narrowed and her heart started to beat harder. “No way.”
“No way what?” Kane demanded, hulking over her shoulder.
Eve clicked on the Pandora avatar. “She changed the face. She changed my code.”
“Like the killer did to his victims’ avatars,” Olivia said.
“Is it like a fingerprint?” Kane asked. “The code change?”
“No. I mean, I use software packages for design like everybody else does, so my code’s not unique. But the pattern and placement of the change is the same as what we saw with Martha and Christy’s avatars. Either Virginia showed him how to change Pandora’s faces or he showed her.”
“How can you figure out which?” Kane asked.
Eve went to the messaging area. “You can talk in the World, or you can send private messages, avatar to avatar. So nobody knows your real name or account name.”
“Virginia sent messages to somebody?” Olivia asked, leaning forward. “Please?”
“Yeah, she did.” Eve clicked through them. “We’re lucky she kept them. Here’s the message where she sends him the text to cut and paste to make the changes.” She looked over her shoulder, met Olivia’s eyes. �
��Three weeks ago.”
“When all this started,” Olivia said. “Who did she send the message to?”
Eve clicked the message header open and was unsurprised. “What a shock. It went to Dasich. Damn it, I knew something was wrong with that guy. Virginia’s Cicely and this Dasich were thrown out of the casino last night for cheating.”
“So how do we find a live body for this Dasich avatar?” Olivia asked.
“I access his account,” Eve said, already typing.
“How, if you don’t know who he is?” Kane asked.
Eve hesitated. “Accessing an account starting with the avatar takes the highest authority. After all, sometimes you want to go where no one knows your name.”
“Do you have this authority, Eve?” Olivia asked quietly.
“Yes. I kept upping my privileges until I’m executive level, but I haven’t used it yet. I didn’t need it before, because I knew the victims’ real names from the study, and Virginia actually registered with her real name. When I go backward, from the avatar to the account, I may raise flags at ShadowCo.” She turned to look at Olivia again. “I don’t want this coming back to hurt Noah or any of you.”
“What about you?” Olivia asked.
Eve shrugged. “They could prosecute. Then again, if we save the day, who knows? At a minimum, I’ll be a goddess to hairy-palmed hackers everywhere. But it’s too late. I already did the search, and… we have a winner. The Dasich avatar is owned by the account of Irene Black.”
“So Irene Black is a man?” Kane asked.
“Irene Black could be anyone. I told Abbott that nobody uses their real name when they register. That Virginia did is a surprise. I didn’t.” She opened Irene Black’s file. “These are all the avatars this gamer owns, five of them. Looks like he bought all but one from Pandora’s shop. See, here is Dasich, the poker player.” Eve clicked on each one, then abruptly sagged back in her chair. “Oh my God.”
“What?” Olivia leaned closer. “What?”
“That avatar. It’s Drink Guy. He trolls Ninth Circle, asking females if he can buy them a drink. He hit on my Greer avatar every time I went through the bar. That’s how he hunted.”