Leah began to cry.
THIRTY-THREE
CARINA KEPT SEVERAL CAR LENGTHS behind the Taurus. As soon as he stopped at a light, she confirmed that the driver was in fact Brandon Burns.
“Why don’t you pull him over?” Kyle said, anxious.
She considered it, torn. What if Leah Peterson was in the trunk? If she was, she was most likely dead, but what if she wasn’t dead? What if he hadn’t had time to finish whatever sick plan he had for her? What if she were still unconscious in the back of the car, knocked out from drugs or a blow to the back of the head?
“He might have a hostage, I can’t take the chance.” Not until she heard from Nick that Leah was at the house. Dead or alive.
In addition, there was no guarantee that Brandon would pull over. If he felt threatened, he could run, speeding through residential neighborhoods causing injury to innocent people. She didn’t want to endanger civilians with a high-speed chase. Criminals with nothing to lose were the most dangerous, and Brandon Burns was already destined for a life in prison.
Better to take it slow until she had backup.
Brandon drove at just the speed limit and eventually turned onto a major thoroughfare headed toward La Jolla. She continued to keep her distance to give him a false sense of security that he was making a clean getaway. Find out where he was going and trap him.
She called in two minutes later with an updated report and to ask the status of backup.
“We have two patrols on parallel streets,” dispatch said, “per your instructions. One unmarked car is two blocks behind your location.”
“Do we have a status at the Burns house?”
“Negative.”
Damn. She had to know if Leah was in the house or in the car. The thought that she was already dead and Brandon was in the process of dumping her body made Carina both sick and angry.
I can’t be too late.
She was worried about Nick. She’d left him alone, something she should never have done, but she’d had no choice. She couldn’t let Brandon disappear.
Dispatch radioed a 10-78 code from the Burns address. Ambulance needed. Carina hoped that the medics were really needed, that Leah was alive, and that the call was not a formality. And that Nick was safe.
She prayed she hadn’t made a fatal mistake.
Her radio was open for two-way communication and she heard the chatter in the background.
Female, DOA.
Female, stable.
Nothing about Nick. That had to be good, right?
Brandon drove directly into La Jolla. Why? She asked dispatch to patch Dillon into her frequency. “Dillon, I’m following Brandon Burns. He doesn’t appear to realize it. He’s driving into La Jolla. What’s he thinking?”
“I just talked to Nick. Regina Burns is dead, apparently strangled when she returned home.”
“My mother is dead?” Kyle asked from the backseat.
Carina winced. He shouldn’t have had to hear the news that way.
“I’m sorry, Kyle,” she said.
“Good riddance,” he said, his voice ripe with emotion. “God, Brandon, why?”
“And Leah?” Carina asked Dillon over the radio.
“Leah Peterson is alive. Burns tied a bag over her head and left her. Nick performed CPR and saved her life.”
“Thank God.”
“I don’t like this development. Up until now, Brandon has been calm and rational in his approach. He had a plan and executed it. Now he’s impulsive. I don’t know if it’s because his mother showed up unexpectedly—the officer on scene said her calendar had her returning Monday morning, not today—or maybe because I had Elizabeth pull him into the chat room. I don’t know why, but Burns is now unpredictable.”
“I didn’t think he was predictable in the first place,” Carina said. “Angie and Becca couldn’t be more different in profile and appearance.”
“But I saw the logic in his actions, even if I couldn’t predict who his victim was going to be. His whole purpose was to kill. Everything going into it, the glue, the rape, the washing of the bodies—that was leading up to the finale of the kill. But it was a ritual, each step, even with the changes in M.O., had to be completed before he could kill. Until now. He didn’t rape Leah. He had her body prepared as if he were going to, but then he tied a garbage bag over her head and walked out the door.”
“Maybe his mother’s unexpected appearance saved her,” Carina said.
“You’re probably right.”
“But what is he doing now? Why La Jolla?”
“He’s going to try to find Elizabeth. I’ve been reading his e-mail messages and I believe he knows she’s in Atlanta. Though she never said it outright, the pieces are all there and Brandon Burns is a smart kid.”
“Let’s get security at the airport.”
“Already done.”
“Then why is he going to La Jolla?”
Kyle spoke up from the backseat. “He’s going to steal money from the Shack.”
Carina glanced in the rearview mirror. “You think?”
Kyle nodded, his expression pained.
“Dillon, I have Brandon’s brother, Kyle Burns, with me. He thinks Brandon is headed for the Shack to grab some cash.”
“If he didn’t have money at his house, that’s logical.”
As Dillon spoke, Brandon turned onto the coastal highway. In the direction of the Shack.
“Is Patrick with you?” she asked.
“Right here,” Patrick said over the radio.
“I need all units at the Shack. Code Two. Call them and tell them to lock the doors now. Make something up, don’t panic them, but tell them not to let anyone, even someone they know, inside.”
“Hold.”
“Sunday at noon. The beach is packed.” Kyle said.
“I know,” Carina said, frustrated.
She couldn’t wait indefinitely, and she couldn’t allow Brandon Burns to take an entire restaurant hostage. She didn’t know if he was armed, but she had to assume he was.
A family started into the street right in front of her car and she slammed on her brakes. The father slammed a fist on her hood. “Stupid bitch!”
She flashed her badge out the window. “Move it!”
They did. But when they reached the Shack lot, Burns was already making his way to the entrance. The area was crowded with people, tourists, college students. She couldn’t drive fast enough. She watched as Burns opened the door of the restaurant and entered.
“Patrick, he’s in. Did you get through to the folks at the Sand Shack?”
“No, I hung up when you said he’s in. I didn’t want to panic them.”
“I’m going after him.”
“Not without backup. Three units are less than two minutes away.”
“Roger. Out.”
Brandon might remember her, even though he’d only seen her once. But she’d be in civilian clothes—a T-shirt and slacks. She always wore her hair back on duty.
She had an idea.
She pulled into the parking lot and reached into the glove compartment for scissors. She cut her pants high on the thigh, contorting her body to make it all the way around.
“What are you doing?” Kyle asked.
“Going undercover,” she replied.
She shrugged out of her light jacket and took off her holster, pulled the fanny pack from under her seat. She didn’t like wearing it, but it had a built-in holster. It also doubled as an accessory—it wasn’t unusual to see people walking around with fanny packs instead of purses, especially on campus or the beach. She pulled out her T-shirt and tied a knot under her breasts, let her hair down and fluffed it up as if it were windblown, then she called dispatch and told them her plan.
Patrick got on the radio. “Dammit, Carina, don’t go in there alone! Burns has nothing to lose.”
“There are two patrols in the lot. I’m going to brief them and have them cover both entrances. They’re uniforms, they can’t come in with me.
I’ll be a civilian. Play the situation as I see it. Have the SWAT team cover the two entrances. I can’t let him take a hostage.”
She took a deep breath. “I’m going in.”
“I’m coming with you.” Kyle reached for the door, which was locked.
“No,” she said.
“He’s my brother. I can talk him out of whatever he has planned. Please let me help.”
She looked at Kyle. When she agreed to let him come out to the Burns house, she hadn’t believed he was one hundred percent innocent. How had he not seen what his brother was capable of? But now, his eyes, his expression, his demeanor, everything told her he was sincere.
She couldn’t help but be cautious. Kyle might know more about his brother’s activities than he let on.
Yet he might very well be the ace in the hole she needed to get everyone out of the restaurant to safety.
“Follow my lead. Don’t do anything stupid.”
Nick stayed with Leah until the medics arrived. He asked a patrol to take him Code Three—lights and sirens—to the Sand Shack. “Cut the sirens a half mile back.”
He’d heard over the radio exactly what Carina had planned. She was taking a huge risk, but as he ran through the scenario he couldn’t see what choice she had. At least she didn’t go inside as a cop. If Burns was quietly going to steal and leave, which would be the smart thing to do, she could get behind him as he walked out the door, arrest him away from civilians.
If he took hostages, they needed someone inside.
Nick pulled out his cell phone and called Dillon direct. “Any word?”
“Carina just went in.”
Dammit. “I’m at least eight minutes out.”
“So far the place is quiet. A pair of customers just came out.”
“Where are you?”
“En route, but we’re downtown. It’s going to take at least thirty minutes. But if it becomes a hostage situation I might be of use.”
“Burns must know he can’t disappear,” Nick said almost to himself.
“His father did.”
“Did he?”
“I don’t see what you’re getting at.”
“How many people have you known who could just disappear?”
“It happens.”
“With a lot of planning and money, yes. But with an arrest warrant out on him? One slipup…his prints are in the system. He’d be pulled in.”
“What are you thinking?” Dillon asked.
“What if his wife killed him? Found out he was raping women again, knocked him off? The police come by and she says he just left. Been gone for days. They buy it because he screwed up, they have evidence, so they put out an APB on him and that’s that. No one looks at the wife for murder.”
“What about a body?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she buried it in the basement. A lake. The desert.”
“There may be a lot of places to dump a body in Montana, but in Los Angeles?” Dillon thought a moment. “The mountains. There are some places where you could get rid of a body discreetly. I read about a case in Utah where a husband left his wife’s body at the garbage dump. It took months for investigators to sift through the roughage to find her, and they even knew the general area where she’d been dumped.”
“It would explain something Kyle Burns said when we first talked to him about his father. He flat-out denied that there was any possibility that his father was behind the murders. He didn’t even entertain the thought.”
“As if he knew it was impossible,” Dillon said.
“Because Mitch Burns is dead.”
Dillon paused a long time. “You might be right. Hold on, I have a call coming in.”
Nick sat still in the passenger seat of the speeding police car. Dillon got on a minute later. “That was the DOJ. I called them earlier about any firearms registered to Regina or Kyle Burns. Regina Burns has a nine-millimeter registered in her name with a permit to carry. So far they haven’t found a gun in the house.”
“We have to get word to Carina that he may be armed.” He hung up and turned to the officer driving. “ETA?”
“Three minutes.”
Carina quickly assessed the room. Thirty-five civilians, including children. Six staff within sight. Likely two in the kitchen. Brandon worked here, he would be free to go wherever he wanted.
No one appeared panicked or worried. Just going about the business of eating and talking. As she watched through the large beachfront windows, two cops were talking to the dozen or so people eating on the patio outside. The plan was to clear as many people from the restaurant as possible.
Brandon wasn’t within sight.
“Talk to your people,” she told Kyle. “Gas leak, have them get the customers out quietly.”
She approached a waitress. “Hi, did Brandon Burns just come in?”
“Yeah, he went to the office to call his brother.” The waitress saw Kyle behind her. “Hey Kyle, Brandon’s looking for you. I didn’t think you were coming in today.”
“We have a gas leak,” Kyle said. “Can you quietly tell the customers and have them leave? Don’t collect any money, we just need everyone to leave the restaurant. Including staff.”
She furrowed her brow. “A gas leak? Is it dangerous?”
Kyle shook his head. “Just a precaution. Liability.” The waitress left and Kyle whispered to Carina “The safe is in my office.”
Carina nodded. The office was adjacent to the kitchen. “How much?”
“Saturday night’s take. Over three thousand. I—I went home with Maggie instead of the bank. No one knows.”
“Except Brandon.”
Kyle nodded soberly.
“Help get everyone out,” she began when Kyle’s phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID. “It’s the Shack number.”
Brandon, most likely calling from the office. Carina moved Kyle over to the front door, where she could watch the staff and keep an eye on Kyle while listening to the conversation. She nodded for him to answer.
“Hi,” Kyle said into the receiver.
“It’s me,” Brandon said.
“What’s up?”
“I’m sorry, Kyle.”
“Sorry about what?”
“You’ll know when you get to work tomorrow. I just wanted to say good-bye.”
“Good-bye? Where are you going?”
“I can’t tell you. But…” he paused, his voice low. “I think Dad is around. I’m going to find him.”
“What?”
Carina put her finger to her lips. Shhh.
“Why are you mad?” Brandon asked Kyle.
“Why do you think he’s in San Diego?”
“Because the police were asking about him.”
“Don’t go looking for him, Brandon. Why don’t you come over to my house? We can kick back, talk about Dad.”
“No. You don’t like him. You never have. You’re just going to try to tell me to forget about him like you always do.”
“That’s not true.”
“What?” Brandon’s voice was muffled and in the background of the phone Carina heard a female voice murmuring.
Then Brandon hung up.
THIRTY-FOUR
BRANDON STARED AT THE WAITRESS. Denise.
“Kyle’s here?” he repeated.
“He just walked in with that detective who was asking all those questions about Angie’s murder.”
Al, the weekend cook, called out an order. “Denise! Pickup.”
“Got to get that. See you later.” She grabbed the food from under the heat lamps and started for the swinging doors.
Kyle was here in the restaurant. With a cop. Brandon replayed his conversation with Kyle on the phone.
Come over to my place.
Kyle’s cell phone had caller ID. He knew Brandon was calling from the Shack. He didn’t say anything about being here, too.
Another waitress popped her head into the kitchen as Denise exited. “Watch it, Sherry. You almos
t knocked over my tray.”
“Put it down, Kyle says there’s a gas leak and we have to get out.”
“Gas leak?” Al said, quickly shutting off all the burners. “Are you sure?”
Sherry shrugged. “That’s what he said.”
Brandon stayed in Kyle’s small office so Sherry couldn’t see him. Heart pounding, he watched as Al and Denise exited the kitchen.
Why was Kyle with that cop? Why didn’t he tell Brandon he was here? Had the police figured something out? But he’d covered his tracks so well. Hadn’t he?
He was alone in the kitchen. Being alone was dangerous, he realized. He left the office and glanced through the half-open blinds next to the storage room. A cop stood half behind a tree with his eyes trained on the kitchen door.
Brandon quickly got out of sight.
Being alone was definitely dangerous. He should have called Denise back. Something.
He fingered the gun in his windbreaker pocket as he crossed the kitchen and peered through the swinging door window into the hallway. Beyond the hall he saw customers leaving the the restaurant. Food still on the tables. Everyone leaving at once.
Kyle had betrayed him.
He didn’t know how the police had figured everything out, but somehow Kyle was part of it. His own brother. Of all people who should have understood, but instead he was one of them.
Movement in the hall caught his eye. Someone was coming out of the restrooms.
Without hesitating, Brandon pushed the kitchen door a foot open. A boy of about eight or nine was walking back to his table.
“Hey,” he said.
The boy slowed. Slowed enough for Brandon to grab him and pull him into the kitchen.
The kid drew in a breath to scream. Brandon didn’t want to hurt him. Instead, he covered his mouth with one hand and showed him the gun.
“See this?”
The boy nodded.
“I’ll kill your mother if you say a word.”
Carina had to get everyone out as quickly as possible. Now.
The waitstaff had done a good job while Kyle was on the phone with Brandon. More than half the restaurant had been cleared. She watched as two waitresses and the cook came out of the kitchen. She approached Sherry.
“Is the kitchen empty?”
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