He tossed a ten-dollar bill on the table and walked outside the stinking Bear Down to the cable repair truck he’d sat in for two hours outside the yellow cottage as he waited for inspiration.
He’d always been a man of inspiration. His work was inspired and admired.
Inspiration hit a few hours ago as he watched Hayden Reed and Katrina Erickson rush up the steps to that cottage, the scent of sex and sweat so strong it made him gag.
Whore!
But her whore’s blood would soon be let. To appease the dragon. The dragon’s tongue unfurled at the back of his throat.
He climbed into the cable repair truck and grabbed a small spiral notebook from his pocket and a pen and started a shopping list.
Shovel
Duct tape
Chicken wire
Plywood
Water bottles
Bananas (brown okay)
Chapter Eighteen
Tuesday, June 16, 4:50 a.m.
Dorado Bay, Nevada
Kate wore a yellow scarf. Nothing else. Her green eyes were steamy, the points of her breasts erect, her legs long and sleek as she ambled from her bedroom to the couch. She stood close enough for him to touch.
Go slow, Hayden warned himself.
“Why the scarf?” he asked.
“I was thinking about using it later. To tie you up.” She smiled. “More comfortable than handcuffs, don’t you think?” She slid her hands along his bare abdomen and lowered them to his hips. He was as naked as she. He must have fallen asleep after he’d taken a shower. But this, this was a problem. Maeve and Smokey slept just feet away in the cottage bedrooms.
“They won’t hear us.” Kate ran her fingers along the inside of his thighs. He jerked and swelled.
“Now you can read minds?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.
“I can read yours.” She pulled him toward her and rested her forehead against his. “You want me, Hayden. You want me.” Me. Me. Me.
Her words banged against his head, his heart, every naked inch of him.
Me. You want me.
Yes, he did. He reached for her.
Me. Me. Me.
His eyes flew open. He was on the couch in the cottage. Fully clothed and fully erect. Someone was banging on the front door. He stumbled to the door and stared at Officer Garcia, the kid who’d found him pawing Kate in the car.
“Sorry to wake you, Agent Reed, but the chief wants you at the station. A kid’s missing, and the disappearance may be Butcher-related.”
The fog of his dream-filled sleep lifted. “A kid?” He must have heard incorrectly.
“Yep. Little Benny Hankins, the nine-year-old whose brother found the foot on the end of his fishing line, has been missing almost twenty-four hours.” The foot that belonged to Jason Erickson, who was killed by the Butcher.
Hayden slipped into a clean white shirt, grabbed a tie, and flung it around his neck. Then he reached for a sheet of paper. The pen stilled as he thought about the note he needed to write Kate just in case she got up before Hatch or Evie got there.
I’ll be back in a few hours. Please stay in your room and wait for me, wearing nothing but a yellow polka-dot scarf.
He settled for: Hatch is on his way. Do NOT leave this house. Do NOT open the door.
He also ducked into Smokey’s room and picked up the gun. Hayden had noticed the bulge last night in the old man’s baggy jacket. He wasn’t surprised the vet brought his own brand of protection. He cared for Kate, and he’d do anything to keep her safe. He’d take a man like Smokey Joe on his team any day. Back in the living room, he placed Smokey’s Ruger next to the note.
* * *
There were too many people in the Dorado Bay police station. Too many officers, too many reporters, too many people in tears.
“Where is he?” Hayden searched for a twelve-year-old kid who liked to fish.
A detective led him to the station’s break room, where he found Charlie Hankins sitting on a couch next to a vending machine. The kid held an unopened package of M&Ms. This was Charlie Hankins, the older of the two brothers who’d been fishing and discovered Jason Erickson’s foot.
“Hey there, Charlie, I’m Special Agent Hayden Reed.”
Charlie nodded at him, his hairless jaw hard, his eyes unblinking. Hayden plinked three quarters in the vending machine and bought a giant-size Snickers bar. He dragged a folding chair from a nearby table and set it a few feet in front of the kid. He sat. Eye to eye. Man to man.
“Doing okay?” Hayden asked.
The boy nodded.
Hayden unwrapped the candy bar and took a bite. He chewed slowly, thoroughly. Then he took another bite. That’s when Charlie opened his package of M&Ms and poured a few into his mouth. One fell to the ground. They both ignored it. When the bag of M&Ms was empty, Charlie wadded it in his fist, his knuckles white and tight.
“It’s my fault my brother’s missing,” Charlie said. “I should have listened to him. Benny tried to tell me the killer might be after him.”
Hayden folded his empty candy bar wrapper and tucked it in his pocket. “Charlie, the first thing you need to know is you’re not the only one Benny told about seeing the car by the lake.”
The boy’s head shook and so did the tears swelling in his eyes.
“Your brother told three other people about seeing that car, including his baseball coach. No one, including an adult, believed him. Benny had a history of telling stories. You and everyone else had a reason to doubt him.”
“But I shouldn’t have. I should have listened and done something to keep him safe.”
“The other thing you need to know is you aren’t responsible for other people’s actions, not your brother’s or anyone driving by the lake. You understand that, Charlie? You can’t control other people. There’s one person you can control in this world. Who is it?”
Charlie stared at the candy wrapper in his hand. “Me.”
“That’s right.” Hayden held out his hand, and Charlie loosened his fist and dropped the crumpled paper onto his palm. “Don’t ever forget that.”
Hayden put the crushed wrapper in his pocket and took the digital recorder out of another. He didn’t need the little machine, as he wouldn’t forget anything the kid told him, but it made everything look more official. The kid needed to feel like he was doing something important.
“I need your help.”
Charlie sniffed and nodded.
“You need to think real hard about what Benny said about the man in the car.”
Charlie’s jaw quivered. “I wasn’t paying attention. I was razzing him about seeing little green aliens.”
“I bet you were paying more attention than you thought. You’re a smart guy, Charlie, I can tell. You have a good head.” Hayden tapped his own head. “The brain is an amazing thing. Let’s see what it can do. First, I want you to close your eyes. Picture your brother on the day he told you about the car by Mulveney’s Cove.” Charlie’s face scrunched into a hard frown. “Do you have the picture in your head?” The boy nodded. “Good. You keep saying Benny talked about a man. Are you sure he said the person driving the car was a man?” If this kid mentioned a woman in a pink dress, he’d…Hayden blinked. He didn’t know what he’d do.
“Yes,” Charlie said, “it was a man. I’m sure of it.”
“Good. What did the man look like?”
“Benny said he was wearing a cap and glasses. No, not a cap, a fishing hat.” Charlie opened one eye. “Is…is…that important?”
“Yes. You’re doing great, Charlie. Now think back to your conversation with Benny. Did he say anything else about the man?”
“That’s all.”
“Was the man alone?”
Charlie gnawed on his bottom lip. “I don’t remember.”
“Did Benny mention anything about a woman, an older one with gray hair?”
“Alone. I’m pretty sure—no, I’m sure Benny said it was just the guy.”
“What did Ben
ny say about the man’s car?”
“It was light colored. Maybe white or silver.”
“Anything else? A license plate? Clean or dirty? Was it running? Making any noise?”
Charlie’s forehead and mouth and nose scrunched. Finally, he shook his head.
“Do you remember where Benny said the man with the car was?”
“Mulveney’s Cove.” The boy’s eyes brightened. “By the tree with the rope. In the summer a bunch of us guys sneak over to Mulveney’s place and use the rope to jump into the lake. We like it because the place is kind of outta the way, and we can do some crazy stuff without worrying moms and stuff. We are usually naked.” Charlie’s lip curled in disgust. “That was lame, wasn’t it?”
Hayden snapped off the recorder. “You did well, Charlie. You gave me more than I had ten minutes ago. And most importantly, you gave me a place to look for evidence, which no one else has been able to do. You know what I’m talking about, right?”
“You’re going to the rope swing near Mulveney’s Cove to look for tire tracks or footprints or stuff.”
“Exactly. And that kind of stuff is far from lame.”
“Are you going to find my brother?”
“I’ll do everything within my power.”
“Everything? You promise?”
Hayden squeezed the boy’s slumped shoulder. “I promise.”
While the Dorado Bay Police Department ramped up the massive manhunt for nine-year-old Benny Hankins, Hayden continued his own hunt for the Butcher. He intended to go back to the cottage where Hatch was now with Kate, Maeve, and Smokey Joe, but Evie joined him at the station with news that changed his plans.
“I spent the night getting cozy with your Mike Muldoon. Creepy eye patch, but interesting fellow,” Evie said. “Kate’s right. Until the pension fraud scandal, he was a fine, upstanding citizen. He was young, successful, wealthy, but quiet, almost shy. He wasn’t a joiner, not a member of the chamber, young executives club, or even a gym. He spent most of his spare time collecting.”
“What?”
“Pretties.” She took out pictures of the artwork seized from Mike Muldoon’s home. “Most of the paintings were Impressionists, whatever that means. There were also some statuary pieces, quite a few bronzes, all costly. He also liked beautiful women.” Evie hauled out pictures of Muldoon with a leggy red head and a blonde with bright blue eyes. Both attractive, especially next to his blandness. “He didn’t get serious with either, and he never married until the day before he went to jail. Court records show he and Robyn Banks tied the knot right before U.S. Marshals whisked him away.”
“Interesting timing.”
“Yes, timing is very interesting when it comes to Mike Muldoon, who got out of jail on January third of this year.”
Hayden darted toward the parking lot before Evie had time to take a breath.
The first Butcher slaying occurred on January nineteenth.
* * *
Tuesday, June 16, 9:15 a.m.
Dorado Bay, Nevada
Kate stood in the doorway of the cottage, her mouth a twisted grimace.
“I won’t take it,” she said to the uniformed officer holding a hissing, foul-smelling cage. “Not now. Not after you give it a bath. Never.”
“Please, Ms. Johnson,” the Dorado Bay police officer said. “The animal shelter people said they are going to put her down. They said Ellie’s too violent. She attacked two volunteers.”
“Then maybe she needs to be put down.”
“Kate!” Maeve and Smokey cried in unison.
“Don’t Kate me.” She shot both of them a dirty look, extra heat, since Smokey couldn’t see. “And stop looking at me like that, Smokey. I’m not the bad guy here. This screwed-up cat belonged to Jason, a very sick man who once tried to kill me. Who knows what he did to this animal?”
“Actually, the neighbor said she was a good cat and that she’d never been a problem until a few weeks ago when Jason disappeared,” the officer said. “I think maybe she misses him, and Ellie here seemed to like you the day you were at the house. You were the only one able to get within three feet of her without her going ballistic.”
“But I don’t like cats,” Kate said with a snap. “No, that’s not right. I like cats. I just don’t do cats. I don’t do pets. Period. They take too much time and too much work.” Kate lifted her palms in the air. “Tell me, Smokey, what am I supposed to do when I’m done here? Get a cat carrier and hitch it to the back of my bike?”
“Leave her with me. Don’t mind no animals.”
The cat hissed and rocked the cage. “Smokey, she’d claw your eyes out.”
“Not like I need ’em.”
Kate let out an exasperated groan.
Maeve squinted into the stinking cage. “Ellie does look…difficult.”
Kate didn’t do difficult, either, which is why she wasn’t going to have anything else to do with Hayden Reed. Last night he’d been ready to drag her into his bed, but in the light of day, he’d got back in control. And therein lay the issue; Hayden was too much of a control freak to be a part of her life.
“I’m sorry, officer, but Jason’s cat is not my responsibility.”
The officer shook his head at the scraggly cat. “Had to try, Ellie.” He nodded at Kate. “But if you decide you want her, get to the shelter by Saturday. That’s when they will put her down. Come on, Ellie.”
The cat hissed and jabbed a paw, claws bared, through the wire mesh.
* * *
Tuesday, June 16, 11:30 a.m.
Ely, Nevada
When Kate talked to him of a shattered, ugly, hopeless world, Hayden insisted it was only broken in places. This was one: unit three of the Ely State Prison.
“You really think Muldoon has something to do with the Broadcaster Butcher slayings?” Wally Shepherd, the warden of Nevada’s maximum security correctional facility, asked as they made their way down a hallway smelling of pine cleaner and angry men.
“Do you?” Hayden countered.
“Muldoon was an odd one. But of course, he didn’t really belong here. Wasn’t a maxer.”
“Exactly how did a man convicted of pension fraud and sentenced to five to ten years in minimum security end up in max?”
“Bad timing? Bad luck? Who knows?” The warden scratched a mole on his neck. “Beds were full at NNCC, so they brought him here for a temporary stay, but we never got a transfer order on him. So he lived with the lifers until he timed out on early parole.”
“What type of prisoner was he?”
“In the beginning he was a real whiner. He whined about the food, the beds, and the razor wire blocking his view of sunsets.” The warden laughed. “Didn’t like the view. Can you believe that? Told him this ain’t no Holiday Inn, but after the green bologna incident, he quieted down.”
“Green bologna?”
“Yeah, Muldoon was a real prima donna until about his third month. Around that time he refused to eat his bologna sandwich because it had some green on it. He threw it across the room and damn near started a full-scale riot, but my guards shut it down before there was too much damage. During the ruckus, Muldoon got his eye poked out with a spoon. He quieted down after that. We never heard another complaint. I guess going mano-a-mano with the lifers around here straightened him out.”
More like broke him. Muldoon may have entered this place as a white-collar criminal, but he’d left a broken man.
The maze of hallways ended at a heavy metal door. The warden punched in a code, but before he opened it, Hayden asked, “Did you pull up the visitor’s log on Muldoon?”
“Yep. No one named Jason Erickson ever signed in to see him. The only visitor he ever had was his wife, Robyn Banks.”
“What did you find in Muldoon’s phone records?”
“Just a few calls to and from Banks. Not even calls to an attorney. The entire time he was here in prison, the only person he ever communicated with was his wife.” Which meant that if Mike Muldoon gave the order
to kill Kate, it came before he was imprisoned or was routed through Robyn Banks.
No one outside the prison provided any links between Muldoon and the broadcaster slayings, and Hayden hoped he’d have better luck with someone on the inside, like Albert Brown. Brown was serving two consecutive life sentences for the murder and rape of the five-year-old girl who lived next door to his granny. He’d been holed up in ESP unit three for ten years. For two of those years, Mike Muldoon had lived in the cell next door.
“What’ll I get if I talk ’bout Mikey?” Brown’s arms, covered in a tattoo of sutures running from his wrist to shoulder, rested on the metal bars of his cell.
Hayden stood in the hallway across from the cell, one hand in his pocket. “The knowledge that you could save the lives of innocent women.” He had to try.
“That ain’t worth shit.”
You ain’t worth shit. The thought slammed into Hayden with a fierceness that blistered the backs of his eyelids. The hand in his pocket folded into a fist. Anger would get him nowhere with Albert Brown. He refocused, realigned, and relaxed his hand.
Hayden knew what oiled the gears of a man like Brown. “What do you want?”
Brown rubbed two fingers along his chin, mocking thoughtful consideration. “I’m here for the long haul, so comforts are my gig. I like things that take the”—he smiled, a gold canine tooth glinting under the harsh, institutional lighting—“edge off this place.”
Hayden didn’t blink. “It’s yours.”
“Damn, you must be a mighty powerful man. You run the FBI or something?”
“Or something. Tell me what you know about Muldoon.”
“Okay, here’s the shit on Mikey. He kept pictures of girls, lots of pictures, but they weren’t from the titty mags. Muldoon liked faces, had hundreds of them in a shoebox, tore them out of magazines, newspapers, and department store ads. He’d look at his faces for hours. I asked him one time why he collected faces. You know what he told me?” Brown shook his head in disbelief. “He said, ‘They’re beautiful.’ That’s it. Nothing else. Is that fucking weird or what?”
In his head, Hayden was wording the search warrant request on Mike Muldoon’s home. “Did you recognize any of the women?”
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