Killing Season

by Faye Kellerman

  “Anything else?” Griffen shouted to his back.

  “Yeah. Tell him the motherfucker’s got Lilly!”

  Chapter 12

  He was like a chicken without a head, all impulses but without a working brain behind it. Ben knew that the fiend would end up burying her in the dead of night, near the River Remez in the mountains. The trouble was Ben didn’t have a clue as to where he’d do his monstrous activities. In all of the cases, the kill spot had been different from the burial spot.

  Where, where, where?

  Ro was talking to Shanks in a calm, cool voice that belied her panic. Finally, she hung up the cell. “He’s on his way to the library. He put out an APB for a white Elantra.”

  “God, I hope I’m right.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “North. Toward Los Alamos. It’s the only thing I can think of right now. He’s familiar with the areas around the lab. Any ideas? I’m open.”

  Suddenly Ro hit her forehead. “God, I’m an idiot!” She turned to him. “When we take the reservations at the hotel, we take the license plate of the rental car.” With shaking hands she started punching in numbers. A few moments later she said, “Hi, Tom, this is Gretchen Majors . . . I’m fine . . . yes, it is a beautiful day.”

  Ben looked at her and whispered, “What the fuck?”

  She shushed him. “Good to hear. Uh, I need your help. Can you look up the license plate of a guest for me? I got a call that he’s stranded and he doesn’t—”

  “Get to the point!”

  “Shut up!” she whispered. “Kevin Barnes, but he could be under the name Karen Bevins or Eva . . . I don’t know why but I do know he uses aliases.”

  Another interminable pause. “Hurry up!”

  She ignored him. “I really don’t know why he uses false names, but I need to get the license . . . I got a call from someone at the airport . . . I don’t know why they didn’t call the hotel. I gave him my card and maybe that’s why . . . Yeah, I had my cell on it.”

  “Goddammit, Ro! He’s got Lilly—”

  “Shut up!” She turned to her phone. “No, not you. I’m talking to my dog. Yes, I know giving out your cell is against policy. I’m sorry. But if you could look up that plate, please?”

  She was really winging it. C’mon! Hurry up!

  “Yeah, he might be staying elsewhere but he usually stays at the Jackson Santa Fe or the Jackson Albuquerque. Could you check with Albuquerque? Thank you so much. I’ll wait.” She turned to Ben. “I’m doing something illegal. He’s doing something illegal. Don’t say a freakin’ word.”

  “What’s taking him so fucking long?”

  “Vicks!”

  “It’s LILLY.”

  “I’m just as nervous as you are, so shut up! Hi, Tom, I’m still here . . . Uh, yeah, that’s probably the person I’m looking for.”

  “What’s the alias?” he shouted.

  She plugged up her free ear with her finger so she couldn’t hear Ben. “Thank you, Tom. That’s a white Hyundai Elantra, right? Good. Would you happen to know what rental company he used? Avis? Great. And would you happen to have the license plate?” She began scribbling something down. “That really helps. Thanks, Tom, I owe you one.” She ended the call.

  “You got the license plate?”

  “I did.”

  “I love you. Call it in to Shanks.”

  “I will, but right now, I’ve got a better idea.” She made another phone call. “Hi, this is Gretchen Majors from the Jackson . . . Yes, I’m calling because I need a location on a car that was stranded . . . a white Hyundai Elantra.” She gave the person on the other end the license plate. “The customer called me from the spot, but in his panic he forgot to tell me where he is. I don’t know why he called me. I must have given him my phone number . . . I’d do it myself, but I’m busy with something else, so if you could just give me the location . . . thank you, I’ll wait.”

  Ben was drowning in tension. He couldn’t breathe as the seconds droned on, his heart like a steam drill. His eyes were blurry, which was especially bad because he had just entered the highway at top speed, racing to nowhere. Finally, he heard her voice.

  “Route 501 toward Los Alamos . . . No, I don’t understand why the car is still moving. He said he was stranded.”

  Ben’s instincts had put him in the right area but now that he knew he was close, he had an even bigger sense of urgency, putting pedal to the metal. Both he and Ro were jolted backward and Ro gasped. But she continued to sound professional over the phone. “I really don’t understand it either. I’ll get to the bottom of it and call you back. Thank you very much.” She hung up. She was clutching the door, her complexion something in between white and gray. “You heard what he told me?”

  “I did.”

  “So you know where he’s going?”

  “I know what route he’s taking. Call Shanks.”

  “I’m a step ahead of you.”

  Ben’s brain was on overdrive. The fact that his car was still en route somewhere was a good omen. “After you speak to Shanks, call back the guy at the desk and check up on the car’s location.”

  “Vicks, I’ve used up my goodwill. I won’t get any more out of him. But Shanks can call back and get a bead on him.”

  She was thinking way more clearly than he was. She clicked off her phone. “Shanks’s number goes to voice mail. Nine-one-one?”

  “Text him first.”

  She did. Thirty seconds later her cell rang. Without saying hello, she said, “I got his license plate and a rough idea where he is.” She gave him the information. “The car is on the move. Avis has a locator on the vehicle. They can give you the exact point-by-point location. Last time I checked, the car was moving down—”

  She stopped talking. Ben could hear shouting over the line, even though the phone wasn’t on speaker. Ro was stuttering. “But . . . but . . . but . . . No, I don’t know where we are, sir. Ben’s driving.” More screaming. “I’ll tell him, sir. Yes . . . yes . . . yes . . . thank you. Bye.” She hung up. “He wants you to go back to River Remez pronto and let the police handle it.”

  “Fuck that.” He exited the highway heading toward 501.

  “Do you know where we’re going?”

  “I know exactly where we’re going. I hope that’s exactly where he’s going.” Suddenly he was seized with dread. He banged his fist against his head. “Oh shit!”

  “What?”

  “The road to the Los Alamos highway is guarded by national security. There’s a checkpoint we have to pass. I’m sure the motherfucker got through easily because he has a security badge.”

  “So we can’t get through?”

  “No, we can get through. It’s not a problem . . . unless the guards have been notified and they’ve closed off the road. Then we’re screwed. Not to mention that I’m so nervous I’m probably going to be questioned. The guard’s gonna ask for ID. Do you have a New York driver’s license?”

  “I have a local driver’s license.”

  “Under Gretchen Majors. Right. But do you have a New York driver’s license?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got that too.”

  “Use that one.” They were approaching the stop, the roadway narrowed by concrete barricades and continuing on the other side of the checkpoint. Ben brought the car down to a crawl. “Okay. This is the story. We’re going to the Caldera to hike. We’re in casual clothes, so it’s plausible. Just play along, okay?”

  “What’s the Caldera?”

  “Stop asking questions and just go along with it.”

  “I’d like to know what it is so if they ask me questions, I can answer them without looking stupid.”

  “I don’t have time for a fucking history lesson.”

  “God, you don’t have to shout.”

  “I’m fucking nervous.”

  “Well, join the fucking club,” Ro shot back. “Jesus, you’re terrible under pressure.” Then she burst into tears.

  Ben swung the car over to th
e curb, but didn’t turn off the engine. “The Caldera is the cone of a dormant volcano. It’s now wide-open space where people hike. I’m sorry I’m shouting, but any minute, those guys are gonna get a call from Shanks about the Elantra. And then they’re going to block off the road. And we’ll be too late. Let’s hold it together for another minute, and then once we get past the security guards, you can swear at me all you want.”

  “You’re right.” She dried her eyes. “Sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too. Let’s just . . .” He was still panting. “No problem.” He pulled away from the curb and up to the checkpoint. Rolling down the window, Ben was greeted with a blast of hot wind in his face. He put on his best stupid-teenage-boy grin, the kind of dumb look that a dude has when he’s with a good-looking girl. It probably came out halfway between a leer and a sneer. “Hello, sir.”

  The man was wearing a brown uniform; he had a military crew cut and suspicious brown eyes. “Where are you headed?”

  “To the Caldera for a hike.”

  “Little late in the day.”

  It was four p.m. “We’ve got at least three hours of good daylight. I just want to show my friend around New Mexico. She’s from New York.”

  The officer peered in the window. Ro smiled and waved. Ben tried to control his tension, hoping that he’d have just a minute before the guard’s walkie-talkie buzzed. He smiled again. “Beautiful day.” It came out as suck-up and he immediately regretted talking. He had never been good at chitchat.

  “It’s hot.”

  “Not as hot as it will be in a month. Besides, the Caldera is usually a few degrees cooler.”

  “True.” The officer asked for ID and Ben showed him his license. Then he checked their laps to make sure their seat belts were fastened. “Try to get back before dark.”

  “I will. I know the roads are dark after sunset.”

  “So you go there often?”

  God, just close your fucking mouth, Vicksburg. “I used to board around the area in the winter. Now I go in the summertime and hike. It helps me think.”

  The officer continued to stare at Ben and Ro. Then he waved them on. “Go ahead.”

  “Thank you.” Ben slowly pulled onto the road. As soon as the checkpoint was out of eyesight, he punched the accelerator.

  The road was two lanes and sinuous, cutting through the mountains. The temperature was at least ten degrees hotter because the elevation had dropped and the afternoon sun was strong, seeping through the front windshield as they went northwest toward Los Alamos. After a few minutes, the lab buildings came into view. They were low-slung and set back from the road, white buildings with white signs that had lanl and identifying sector numbers in blue lettering. There was no indication of what went on inside, but since the buildings were only closed off by a chain link fence, the structures were probably not the homes of bunker busters. There were dozens of little buildings in the area, all through the Sangres, bleeding into the western Jemez Mountains. Ben had traveled these roads hundreds of times to get to the San Ildefonso and the Santa Clara pueblos, but never in his life had he traveled with such purpose and urgency.

  He slowed the car as both of them hunted for a white Hyundai Elantra, his head whirling as they searched. Once the Elantra stopped moving, it meant that the monster had taken Lilly inside one of those buildings. And then they only had minutes before it was too late. “Ro, call Shanks and tell him that we’re on top of the guy. Tell him that if he stops the car and takes her out, it’s all over. We need a location!”

  “Got it.” She phoned Shanks while peering out the window. He heard Shanks’s voice over the line, but then Ro disconnected her cell and punched his shoulder hard. “Stop!” She rolled down the window and pointed. “What about that car?”

  A white Elantra sat behind the gate of a high chain link fence. There was barbed wire on top, so climbing it was a last-resort option. The building wasn’t marked with a lab sector sign. It was two stories and might have been used for storage. But seeing as this was Los Alamos, who knew what was inside.

  Ro’s cell rang again and it was probably Shanks. In the distance, Ben heard sirens.

  “Get out of the car!” he ordered.

  “What?”

  “Just do it! And stay way back from the gate!”

  She jumped out of the passenger seat. He slammed the car into reverse, then backed down the road. He shoved the gear back into drive with one foot on the brake and the other on the accelerator. He pressed down and the engine roared, then he steeled himself for the inevitable, gluing his head and neck and back against the seat and the neck rest. As he lifted his left foot from the brake, he depressed the accelerator to the floor and the car shot forward like a ball from a cannon.

  It smashed through the chain link fence with that spine-tingling sound of metal against metal—warping, scraping, and gouging. Ben had crashed into the Elantra and sent it hurling into a tree. When that happened, the windshield of the Explorer cracked and the airbags deployed. He braked hard, and the beast came to a halt.

  He was in one piece and that was all that mattered. He somehow managed to open the glove compartment and grab the gun, worming himself out of the hunk of metal that had once been Ro’s Explorer. By the time he was free, Ro had caught up with him. The two of them raced toward the building.

  Coming from the inside was the sickening sound of desperate screaming. The door was secured, so Ben took aim, shot the lock, and rammed the door with his shoulder. The barrier didn’t collapse but enough of it broke away from the hinges that he could crawl through the splinters. Inside, it was dim, some light coming in from a few windows. The afternoon sun was sinking fast.

  “Lilly!”

  Another shriek.

  “LILLY!” Ben’s voice was raw. “Get the fuck away from her!”

  Then he realized that the only thing more sickening than the screaming was the sudden silence. Ro yanked on his T-shirt. “It was coming from this way.”

  They wound and wound their way in the encroaching twilight. The horror scene was tucked into a corner. Ben’s knees weakened and his gorge rose.

  Lilly’s throat had been cut, blood oozing out of the wound. Her hands were around her neck, trying to stanch the flow. She was in shock, her black eyes trembling in their orbs. Her entire body was seized with the shakes. Ro ripped off her T-shirt and knelt down, wrapping the cloth around Lilly’s neck while Ben called 911, stuttering out an approximation of where they were and what had just happened. He heard his own voice speak, but he was disembodied, trapped in a nightmare, in a horrific, disorienting daze, until he heard Ro’s voice. “She’s alive.” Ro was gently pressing her shirt against her neck. “It’s deep but it isn’t spurting. She’s gonna make it if I have to rip open a vein and give her a transfusion on the spot! Just hang in there, Lilly. You’re gonna be fine. Help is coming, baby, help is coming!”

  A distant wail turned louder. They could both hear sirens. Ben dropped to his knees and held Lilly’s clammy, bloody hand. He felt fingers wrap around his. To Ro, he said, “What can I do?”

  “Barnes!” She looked up. “Go get him!”

  Ben froze, looking back and forth between Ro and Lilly.

  “I’ve got this, Ben. Help is seconds away. Go get him! Go! Go!”

  As if to propel him forward, Lilly let go of his hand. His legs found their strength. Gun in hand, he stood up and took off to parts unknown.

  Chapter 13

  His body was slowly returning from the shock, his brain kicking into logic mode.

  Ben took in his surroundings.

  The first floor of the building was around twenty-five hundred to three thousand square feet, roughly a five-hundred-foot square. The second story was a catwalk that went around the entire perimeter. Every square inch appeared to be taken up by something, mostly boxes that were piled, stacked, and pushed against the wall.

  Boxes meant hiding spaces—good for him as protection, bad for him because they could hide a monster known as Kevin Barnes.<
br />
  The building had a front entrance and a set of back double doors that were still locked from the inside with a double iron bar across the jamb. As far as he could tell, those were the only two ways in or out. But Ben didn’t know the building and Barnes probably did. It was also possible that he had escaped through the front when Ben and Ro were busy with Lilly. He could be long gone, but he could also be within reach.

  Take nothing for granted.

  Into the bowels of the warehouse. Ben knew he couldn’t get a good sense of the layout from the first floor. There were too many boxes breaking up his sight line. He had to go up. A metal staircase was in the corner of the back wall, near the locked and barred double doors. He tiptoed upward, pausing to make sure that each step was silent. When he reached the second story, he immediately hid behind a wall of cardboard. He crouched down, scanning the lower level. He couldn’t see everything because of all the obstacles, but he could see enough to orient himself in relation to the building. Most importantly, he could see the back doors. He suspected that Barnes was doing exactly what he was doing. Barnes’s goal was to get out. Ben’s goal was to stop him.

  The sirens kept getting louder and louder until the wailing finally stopped. The lull was followed by a surge of humanity bursting through the front door. First the police, then three EMTs with doctor’s bags and equipment. Ben could hear Ro shouting to them and the cops shouting back. The police began to fan out inside the warehouse, taking up positions on the lower floor and upper area with two of them keeping watch over the double doors in the back. If Barnes was still inside, there was no way that he could make it through those babies. The only way he could leave was through the front entrance.

  The police were calling out Ben’s name, wanting him visible and out of their way so they could continue with the manhunt without shooting him. The smart thing to do would be to say something and wait for them to retrieve him. Get the hell back to safety. Let the pros be the pros. Live to see another day.