by Lisa Gardner
“Kimberly, what happened to your mother and Mandy wasn’t your fault—”
She wrenched away from him. Screaming now, her words carrying across the parking lot, but she was beyond noticing. “Stop saying that! You always say that! Of course it was my fault. I’m the one who trusted him. I’m the one who told him all about my family. Without me, he never would’ve known how to reach them. Without me, he never would’ve killed them! So stop lying to me, Dad. What happened to Mom and Mandy is exactly my fault. I just let you take the blame because I know it makes you feel better!”
“Stop it! You were only twenty. A young girl. You can’t saddle yourself with this kind of guilt.”
“Why not? You do.”
“Then we’re both idiots, all right? We’re both idiots. What happened to your mom and Mandy … I would’ve died for them, Kimberly. Had I known, if I could’ve stopped it, I would’ve died for them.” His breathing had grown harsh. She was shocked to see the glitter of tears in his eyes.
“I would’ve died, too,” she whispered.
“Then we did the best we could, all we could. He was the enemy, Kimberly. He took their lives. And God help both of us, but sometimes the enemy is simply that good.”
“I want them back.”
“I know.”
“I miss them all the time. Even Mandy.”
“I know.”
“Dad, I don’t know why I’m still alive …”
“Because God took pity on me, Kimberly. Because without you, I think I would’ve gone insane.”
He pulled her back into his arms. She sobbed against his chest, crying harder. And she could feel him crying, too, her father’s tears falling onto her hair. Her stoic father, who didn’t even cry at funerals.
“I wanted to save her so badly,” Kimberly whispered.
“I know. It’s not bad to care. Someday, that will be your strength.”
“But it hurts. And now I have nothing left. The game is over, and the wrong person has won, and I don’t know how to simply go home and wait for the next match. It’s life and death. It shouldn’t be this cavalier.”
“It’s not over, Kimberly.”
“Of course it is. We didn’t find the second girl. Now all we can do is wait.”
“No. Not this time.” Her father took a deep breath, then gently pulled away. He looked at her in the dark, breathless night, and his face was as sad as she’d ever seen it. “Kimberly,” he said quietly. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, but this time, there weren’t just two girls. This time, the man took four.”
Rainie was huffing badly by the time she made it down to the crime scene. Lanterns marked the trail, so the footing wasn’t bad, but geez Louise, it was a ways down the mountain. And for the record, while it was now after midnight and the moon ruled the sky, apparently no one had bothered to tell the heat. She’d soaked through both her T-shirt and hiking shorts, ruining her third outfit of the day.
She hated this weather. She hated this place. She wanted to go home, and not to the high-rise co-op she shared with Quincy in downtown Manhattan, but home to Bakersville, Oregon. Where the fir trees grew to staggering heights, and a fresh ocean breeze blew off the water. Where people knew each other by first names, and even if it made it hard to escape the past, it also gave you an anchor in the present. Bakersville, where she’d had a town, a community, a place that felt like home …
The pang of longing struck hard and deep. As it had been doing so often these days. A ghost pain for the past. And it filled her with a restlessness she was having a harder and harder time trying to hide. Quincy could sense it, too. She caught him watching her sometimes with a question in his eyes. She wished she could give him an answer, but how could she, when she didn’t have one herself?
Sometimes she ached for things she couldn’t name. And sometimes, when she thought of how much she loved Quincy, it simply hurt her more.
She found Mac standing with a cluster of three people over by the body. The first guy appeared to be the Medical Examiner. Second guy had the look of an assistant. Third person was a woman with short red hair and lots of freckles. She was built like a firecracker, with the muscled legs and broad shoulders of a serious hiker. Not the ME’s office. Probably leader of the search-and-rescue operations.
Thirty seconds later, Mac made the introductions, and Rainie was pleased to find out she was right. ME turned out to be Howard Weiss, his assistant was Dan Lansing, and the redhead was Kathy Levine, who had indeed organized the search.
Levine was still talking to the ME, so the three of them broke away, leaving Mac and Rainie standing over the partially wrapped body.
“Where’s Quincy?” Mac asked.
“He said he needed to have a fatherly chat with Kimberly. I took one look at his face and decided not to argue.”
“They fight a lot?”
“Only because they’re too much alike.” She shrugged. “Someday they’ll figure that out.”
“What about Kaplan and Watson? Are they gonna join the party, or are they not allowed off the base?”
“Not known yet. Watson has a full-time job at the Academy, so while the FBI is definitely assembling a team, it probably won’t involve him personally. Kaplan, on the other hand, is lead investigator on the Quantico homicide. So he has plenty of time, but lacks jurisdiction. Given that he’s a resourceful man, I figure in another hour or two, he’ll crack that nut and show up with full NCIS entourage. Oh, aren’t we the luckiest duckies in the whole wide world?”
She peered down into the black plastic body bag, the contents clearly lit by one of the generator-powered lights. “Whoa.”
“Nearly two dozen puncture wounds,” Mac said. “And countin’. Poor girl must’ve wandered right into the thick of things. After that, she never stood a chance.”
“Her purse? The gallon of water?”
“No sign yet. We don’t know where she was abandoned, though. In daylight, we can find her trail and backtrack. Probably discover her things along the way.”
“Seems strange she’d drop the water.”
He shrugged. “In this heat, a gallon of water is good for about two to four hours. She’s been out here for at least twenty-four, so …”
“So even when the guy plays nice, he’s still a total bastard.” Rainie straightened. “Well, do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
Mac was silent for a moment. She could see fresh lines on his forehead, a gaunt set to his jaw. He’d been pushing himself hard and he looked it. Still, he didn’t blink an eye. “If it’s all the same, I think I’d like to start with the good news tonight.”
“We might have a name.” Rainie dug out her spiral notepad from her fanny pack and started flipping through. She glanced once more at the body. “Brunette, twenty years old, brown eyes, distinguishable by a birthmark on her upper left breast.” She bent down, then paused, with a meaningful glance at Mac. He was already looking away. She approved. Some people handled bodies as if they were nothing more than dolls. Rainie had never liked that. This was a girl. She’d had a family, a life, people who deeply loved her. There was no need to disrespect her any more than necessary.
Gently, she lifted the top of the girl’s blouse. She had to move her head to let in the light. Then she could see it clearly, the top edge just peeking out from beneath the edge of the girl’s black satin bra—a dark brown clover-shaped birthmark.
“Yeah,” Rainie said quietly. “It’s Vivienne Benson. She was a student at Mary Washington College in Fredericksburg, spending the summer working for her uncle. He called her landlady yesterday when she didn’t show up for work. Landlady went up to the apartment, found it empty, and the dog howling to be let out of its crate. She took pity on the poor beast, then called the police. According to her, it’s not like Vivienne, or her roommate, Karen Clarence, to stay out all night. Particularly because of their dog, whom apparently they love madly.”
“Karen is a blonde?”
“Actually, Karen’s a brunette.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s not Karen Clarence?”
“No. Betsy Radison. Her brother made the ID just a few hours ago.”
“Rainie, honey, I’m a little tired right now. Can you take pity on an exhausted GBI agent and start your story over in English?”
“I’d be delighted. Turns out the landlady is a real font of information. She was sitting out two nights ago, when Vivienne and Karen came downstairs to wait for their ride. According to her, Viv and Karen were picked up by two other friends from college, and the four of them were going to a bar in Stafford.”
“The four of them?”
“Enter Betsy Radison and Tina Krahn, also living in Fredericksburg and taking some summer courses. All four girls went out Tuesday night in Betsy’s Saab convertible. None has been seen since. Fredericksburg P.D. went into Betsy and Tina’s apartment late tonight. All they could find were a dozen messages from Tina Krahn’s mother on the answering machine. Apparently she didn’t like her last conversation with her daughter. She’s been frantically trying to reach Tina ever since.”
“I gotta sit down,” Mac said. He moved away from Vivienne Benson’s body, found a tree stump and collapsed on the rough shape as if he’d abruptly lost all the strength in his legs. He ran a hand through his damp hair, then did it again and again. “He ambushed four girls at once,” he said at last, trying out the words, feeling his way into the horrible concept. “Betsy Radison, he dumped at Quantico, Vivienne Benson he abandoned here. Which leaves us with Karen Clarence and Tina Krahn, who he may have taken … Goddamn … The gray birch leaf. I thought that was too easy for him. But of course. It wasn’t an end. Just a strange beginning.”
“Like Quincy said, serial killers have a tendency to escalate the violence of their crime.”
“Did you find a letter to the editor?” he asked sharply.
“No letter. An ad in the Quantico Sentry.”
“The Marines’ newspaper?” Mac frowned. “The one distributed all over the base?”
“Yeah. We have the original of what was sent in, but it didn’t give up much in the way of forensic evidence. Quincy had it turned over to Ennunzio to analyze the text.”
“You got to meet with the forensic linguist? Hell, you have been busy.”
“We try,” Rainie said modestly. “You’re going to see him again soon, too. Quincy’s requested that Ennunzio join the case team. The two of them are working on a theory that your caller isn’t an anonymous tipster, but the man himself. We’re just not entirely sure why.”
“He doesn’t gloat. If I’m getting calls from the Eco-Killer, don’t you think he’d want to take the credit?”
“Well, maybe and maybe not. One theory is that he feels guilty about what he’s doing, so this is his roundabout way of getting you to stop him. Second theory, he’s mentally incapacitated—hence his love of repeating the same message over and over again. Third, you’re part of this game now, too, and he’s luring you into the wild, just like he does with the girls. Look at the body, Mac. Can you be a hundred percent certain that wouldn’t have been you?”
“It wasn’t almost me,” Mac said quietly. “It was almost Kimberly.”
Rainie’s expression became very gentle. “Yeah, and then he wins, too, right, Mac? Either way, he wins.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m getting too old for this shit, Rainie,” he said. And then almost on cue, his phone rang.
CHAPTER 29
Shenandoah National Park, Virginia
1:22 A.M.
Temperature: 89 degrees
“Special Agent McCormack.”
“Heat kills.”
“Shut the fuck up. You really think this is a game? We found your latest victim dead from two dozen rattlesnake bites. Does that make you feel good? Is feeding young girls to pit vipers how you get your jollies? You’re nothing but a sick son of a bitch and I’m not talking to you anymore!”
Mac flipped his phone shut. He was mad. Madder than he’d ever been in his life. His heart thundered. He could hear the roar of blood in his ears. He wanted to do more than yell into a tiny phone. He wanted to find the man, and beat him into a bloody pulp.
Rainie was staring at him in mild shock. “While I am impressed, was that really a good idea?”
“Wait.” His phone immediately rang again. He gave her a look. “Contacting the authorities is about exercising control, right? He’s not gonna let it end on my terms. But that doesn’t mean I can’t make him work for it.”
He flipped his phone open. “Now what?” he said. Good cop was definitely gone for the night.
“I’m only trying to help,” the distorted voice echoed peevishly.
“You’re a liar and a killer. And guess what, we know for a fact that makes you a bed wetter, too. So stop wasting my time, you little prick.”
“I’m not a killer!”
“I got two bodies that say otherwise.”
“He struck again? I thought … I thought you might have more time.”
“Hey, buddy, stop the lies. I know you’re him. You want to gloat? Is that what this is about? You drugged two young girls and then killed them. Yeah, you are just the biggest badass in town.”
Rainie’s eyes went wide. She shook her head furiously. She was right, of course. If the guy did want to boost his ego, it wasn’t a good idea to egg him on.
“I am not the killer!” the voice protested shrilly, and then in the next instant, the voice grew an edge of its own. “I’m trying to help. You can either listen and learn, or continue this game on your own.”
“Who are you?”
“He’s getting angrier.”
“No shit. Where are you calling from?”
“He’s going to strike again. Soon. Maybe already.”
Mac took a gamble. “He’s already struck again. This time he didn’t take two girls. This time, he took four. So what about it?”
A pause, as if the caller was genuinely surprised. “I didn’t realize … I didn’t think …”
“Why is he now in Virginia?”
“He grew up here.”
“He’s from Virginia?” Mac’s voice picked up. He swapped concerned glances with Rainie.
“His first sixteen years,” the caller replied.
“When did he move to Georgia?”
“I don’t know. It’s been … years. You have to understand. I don’t think he really wants to hurt the victims. He wants them to figure it out. If they would just remain calm, be smart, show some strength—”
“For Christ’s sake, they’re only kids.”
“So was he once.”
Mac shook his head. The killer as a victim. He didn’t want to hear this shit. “Listen, I have two dead girls and two more at risk. Give me his name, buddy. End this thing. You have it in your power. You can be the hero. Just give me his damn name.”
“I can’t.”
“Then send it in the mail!”
“Did the first body lead you to the second?”
“Give me his goddamn name!”
“Then the second body will lead you to the third. Move quickly. I don’t … I’m not even sure what he’ll do next.”
The signal went dead. Mac swore and hurled his phone into the brush. It spooked a scavenging raccoon and didn’t do a thing to calm his temper. He wanted to run back up the mountainside. He wanted to plunge into an ice-cold stream. He wanted to throw back his head and howl at the moon. Then he wanted to swear every obscenity he’d ever learned as a child and collapse into a pile and weep.
He’d been working too long on this case to keep seeing so much death.
“Damn,” he said at last. “Damn, damn, damn.”
“He didn’t give you a name.”
“He swears he’s not the killer. He swears he’s just trying to help.”
Rainie looked at the body. “Could’ve fooled me.�
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“No kidding.” Mac sighed, straightening his shoulders and moving resolutely toward the body. “All four girls disappeared at once, from the same car?”
“That’s what we’re assuming.”
“Then we don’t have much time.” He hunkered down, already pulling the black plastic body bag away from the girl.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for clues. Because if the first girl led us to the second, then the second will lead us to the third.”
“Ahh, shit,” Rainie said.
“Yeah. You know what? Go find Kathy Levine. We’re gonna need some help here. And a boatload of coffee.”
“No rest for the weary?”
“Not tonight.”
Nora Ray was dreaming again. She was in the happy place, the land of fantasy where her parents smiled and her dead dog danced, and she floated in a pool of cool, silky water, feeling it lap peacefully against her skin. She loved this place, longed to come here often.
She could listen to her parents laugh. Watch the pure blue sky, which never contained a red-hot sun. Feel the crystalline cleanness of pure water against her limbs.
She turned her head. She saw the door open. And without hesitation, she left the pool behind.
Mary Lynn was riding her horse. She drove Snowfall through miles of green pasture, racing through fields of wild daisies, and jumping fallen logs. She sat forward in the saddle, her body tight and compact like a jockey’s, her hands light and steady on the reins. The horse soared. She soared with it. It was as if they were one.
Nora Ray crossed to the fence. Two other girls sat on the top rail. One blonde. One brunette.
“Do you know where we are?” the blonde asked Nora Ray.
“You’re in my dream.”
“Do we know you?” the brunette asked.
“I think we knew the same man.”
“Will we get to ride the horse?” the brunette asked.
“I don’t know.”
“She’s very good,” said the blonde.
“There’s never been anything my sister couldn’t ride,” Nora Ray replied proudly.