Mind Games

by Polly Iyer

  Over each spoonful, they studied each other like adversaries, calculating, sizing up. He placed the empty bowl on the table and pulled her feet to the corners of the bed.

  “I can’t run away with the bed attached.”

  “I don’t want you kicking me.” He locked her into position.

  “I could have done that now, but I didn’t. I know the limitations of my position.”

  But her words drew no reaction. He seemed lost in another place. Leaning over, he removed her red necktie, tugged her shirt out of her slacks and, one by one, slipped each button through its buttonhole. He spread the shirt open. She thought he was going to touch her, but he just stared. Her heart raced. Could he see the pulsing through her exposed skin?

  “Why aren’t you afraid?”

  “Would it make any difference if I were?”

  He thought for a moment. “No, I guess not.”

  He seemed mesmerized. She braced herself, forcing her screams inside. She’d never before felt so helpless. Not as a child when some undetermined force drew her to the body she knew waited, not as an adult when trying to ignore something on the other side of this dimension. Her strength lay in her mind. Don’t fight him, she silently repeated. Don’t fight him.

  Then he ran his fingers gently over her breasts. “You’re quite lovely, you know.”

  She pinched her eyes closed. Let him to do whatever he wants. Don’t fight him.

  Then she heard the chair scrape back, heard him stand. She opened her eyes to see him slowly walk out of the room.

  * * * * *

  He sat down on his rickety cot, dropping his head into his hands. His body shook. Sweat trickled down his back. He was so close to taking her—so close. But he knew what would have happened, and that couldn’t happen now.

  He stroked away the sweat on his forehead and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. His hand shook. He’d never had any self-control. That had always been his problem.

  Diana wasn’t like the others. She was fine wine to be savored and enjoyed, not moonshine. And she needed to play his game before he took the last sweet sip.

  He could restrain himself and be gentle. He could. He’d prove it. Putting the empty glass on the counter, he sauntered back to her room and stood in front of the closed door. Then he opened it and went inside.

  Chapter Twenty

  Quieting the Jabbering Magpies

  Lucier sat with Beecher and Cash going over the data from ViCAP when the intercom squawked and a voice said, “For you, Lieutenant. Line two. You’ll want to take this.” He listened, uttered a rare profanity, and sprang to his feet. “Son of a bitch stabbed Harris and kidnapped Diana Racine in the hospital garage. B. D. is in bad shape.” He grabbed his jacket. “Come on, Sam. We need to get the information now, while everyone’s sharp. Willy, keep at these suspects.”

  Lucier’s adrenaline spiked, and a million thoughts cycled through his mind. I should never have let you go to that hospital, Diana, cop or no cop. I should have seen this coming. “Damn, damn,” he said in the car.

  “You can’t beat yourself up over this, Ernie.”

  He heard Beecher’s words, heard the siren, and knew they were speeding. But when they arrived at the hospital, he honestly didn’t remember how they got there. Get a grip.

  Barreling into the ER, Beecher following behind, Lucier discreetly showed his badge at the desk. The nurse called for the doctor in charge.

  “Detective Harris is a lucky man,” the doctor said, walking the two policemen down the corridor. “The knife missed his heart by a centimeter, but it punctured his lung. He’s in surgery. His condition is serious, but barring complications, he will survive. However, you’ll have to save your questions for tomorrow. He won’t be able to speak to anyone till then.”

  Before Lucier could ask any more questions, the unmistakable bellow of Galen Racine thundered from an examining room down the hall.

  “I’m fine, doc. I hear the police out there, and I need to talk to them.” He charged past the doctor and headed toward Lucier. “My head’s like a rock,” he said, knocking on his skull. “Nothing can hurt it. Tend to my wife, by God. She was unconscious. Bastard put her to sleep and took my little girl. Now let me the hell out of here. I got things to do.”

  “I’m all right, Galen,” Blanche said, in her soft southern drawl. “A little groggy, but I’m fine.”

  “Sorry, Doctor,” Lucier said, flashing his badge, “but these people are witnesses to a crime. I need to talk to them.”

  “Be my guest. They’re all yours.” The doctor looked as relieved to rid himself of the two Racines as they were to be free of him. “I’ll make sure someone brings the release papers for them to sign before leaving.” He patted Lucier’s arm and said, “Good luck.” As he hurried off, he mumbled something that sounded like you’re gonna need it.

  “Don’t you worry, young man,” Galen called after the doctor. “Ain’t nothing gonna happen to me, and she’s a tougher old bird than she looks.”

  “Thank you, dear,” Blanche Racine said. “I sure appreciate the comparison.”

  “He got her, Lieutenant,” Galen said, grabbing Lucier’s coat sleeve and shaking his head. “Took her right from under our noses. B. D. didn’t have a chance. We never seen him coming. You think he’s gonna kill her? Oh, Lord, if anything happens to her, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t’ve been so casual ’bout the whole thing.”

  Lucier removed Galen’s death grip on his jacket. “Calm down, Mr. Racine. We’ll find her. Let’s sit down in the waiting room so we can talk.”

  “Is he gonna be all right?” Blanche asked. “B. D., I mean. He isn’t gonna die or anything, is he?”

  “Looks like he’ll pull through, Mrs. Racine. Thank you for your concern.” Lucier asked Beecher to go to Harris’s home and bring his wife to the hospital. “She should be here.”

  “I’m on my way,” Beecher said.

  Once in the examining room, the cacophony started, both Racines jabbering like magpies, neither ceding the floor to the other.

  “Wait! One at a time, please. Every minute counts. Too agitated and you’re bound to forget something. Now, tell me everything that happened from the time you left the children’s ward until the kidnapper took Diana…um, Ms. Racine. You first, Mr. Racine.”

  Lucier knew that if Galen Racine didn’t go first he wouldn’t give his wife a chance to complete a sentence, and even then, when her turn came he’d still interrupt.

  “We was walking through the garage to the car when I heard a grunt, you know, like someone in pain. I turned to see B. D. lying on the ground with a knife sticking out of his back. I didn’t hear or see nothin’ before that. Then it was too late, ’cause this masked feller socked me in the jaw and sent me flyin’ over the trunk of a car. Landed on my head. Punched my lights out good. That’s all I remember till I woke up with all them EMS people hoverin’ over me sticking stuff under my nose.”

  Lucier ducked a couple of times to avoid being swatted by Racine’s flying arms as he relived his story in constant motion. “Thank you, Mr. Racine. Now, what about you, Mrs. Racine? Tell me what you saw.”

  “Everything happened so fast. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I saw everything Galen saw, except I was still watching after that awful masked man knocked Galen out. I couldn’t move. It was like my body shut down. My vocal chords too.”

  Lucier couldn’t imagine that, but said, “Go on.”

  She sniffed and dabbed at the tears filling her eyes. “I should’ve done something.”

  Racine put a comforting arm around his wife and tweaked her chin. “Now, now, honey, you might’ve gotten yourself killed if you tried. You done good by stayin’ out of it.”

  Lucier noticed true affection pass between them. “He’s right, Mrs. Racine. You did fine. Now, think back. Tell me every detail. You said he wore a mask. What kind? Did you notice anything identifiable?”

  “It…it was one of them ski caps with slits for the mouth and eyes. Bri
ght blue eyes, I remember that. I’m pretty sure Diana didn’t see anything until he was right on top of her. When he put that cloth over her face she fought like a wildcat, but he was too strong and that ether stuff, or whatever it was, put her under.”

  Lucier had taken out his notebook and writing down every relevant comment, but other than blue eyes, the kidnapper could be anyone. “What was he wearing?”

  “Let me think. Yes, I remember. A gray T-shirt and jeans. He was tall, maybe six two or a little less. Muscular, like he worked out, but not overdone, you know. No fat, neither. When he came at me, I almost wet my pants.” Mrs. Racine stuttered and fluttered, flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, my. I’m sorry. That’s not nice to say, but that’s how scared I was. I just knew he was going to kill me, but he told me in a very calm voice to be quiet or else he would. He didn’t have to say it twice; I couldn’t have said anything if I wanted to.” Her chin quivered. “Then he put the cloth over my face like he did to Diana. That’s all I remember.” She leaned into Galen and started crying again. “Oh my God, what if he kills my little girl?”

  “Now calm down, both of you. If he wanted to kill her, he had plenty of chances. Trust me, there was nothing you could have done to stop him.” But I could have. I sure as hell could have. “Anything else, Mrs. Racine?”

  “Next thing I remember, one of the young men from the ambulance was standing over me taking my blood pressure and waving the same nasty stuff under my nose. Galen was there when I woke up, and a whole bunch of people clustered around Detective Harris.”

  “Someone coming to get his car saw us and called the police on his cell phone,” Galen said. “Lucky, huh? Goldurnit, we could have been lying there for days…weeks, maybe.”

  Blanche honked into the handkerchief. “The poor detective was covered in blood, and a paramedic fixed one of them hanging bags onto him. Good thing we were already at the hospital. All I could think of was my baby girl.” Another dab over her eyes left black streaks of mascara. “I gotta go to the rest room.”

  “I saw one straight down the hall, ma’am,” Lucier said.

  When she left, Galen looked at Lucier. “Lieutenant, I didn’t want to say nothing while the missus was here, but what do you think? You think he’s killed her? Tell me honestly.”

  “No, Mr. Racine, I don’t. Like I told your wife, if that were his purpose he would have killed her in the garage. We’re doing everything in our power to find the guy who took her and get her back unharmed. Your daughter is a special lady. She’s smart too. He’ll have to be a lot smarter to get the better of her, and anyone who’s done what he did today isn’t very smart. We’ll get him.”

  Lucier was sure part of what he said was true. The kidnapper could have killed Diana in the garage or before that, but it didn’t mean that’s not what he planned for later. He wished he knew how much time he had before later was now.

  He ushered Racine toward the door. “I’ll take you back to your hotel. Ms. Racine’s abductor may try to call you. Stay in your room and wait. If I hear anything, I’ll call you myself.”

  “Thank you. I know you’ll do your best.”

  Lucier noticed the light’s reflection caught a tear in the little man’s eye. He jutted out his chin and shuffled down the hall to meet his wife, his cocky swagger left lying on the floor of the hospital’s parking garage.

  * * * * *

  After Beecher brought B.D. Harris’s wife to the hospital, Lucier and Beecher returned to the district to go over the printouts more thoroughly. Thoughts of Diana at the hands of Cyrano fractured Lucier’s concentration. They checked and cross-checked, but Lucier kept going back to one man. The only one who made sense.

  Willy Cash popped his head in the door. “B. D.’s out of surgery and in stable condition, but we can’t talk to him till morning.”

  “Thanks, Willy. That’s one good bit of news.” He slapped the papers on the desk out of frustration. “I don’t think we have much time, Sam. Diana’s convinced this guy’s in some kind of competition with her. If that’s the case, when he’s satisfied with whatever he’s out to prove, he’ll kill her.”

  “Doesn’t take a psychic to see you’re interested in this woman. Might make it hard to be objective.”

  “Have I ever let personal feelings get in the way of my job, Sam? Have I? Eight years ago, did I let feelings affect my work?”

  “No, and we were all concerned that you didn’t. We’d have felt a whole lot better if you had instead of us wondering when you’d go over the edge.”

  “But I didn’t go over the edge. At least not so anyone could see. I kept my mourning private, where it belonged.” Lucier put his hands over the papers in front of him and stared Beecher down. “I didn’t blow, did I, Sam? If I didn’t then, I sure as hell am not going to now. She’s a nice lady, and you’re right. I do like her. Now that her life is in danger, I wish I hadn’t been such a hard-nose. I don’t feel too good about that, so let’s put Willy to work with us and see what we can come up with.”

  Beecher patted Lucier on the shoulder and called Willy Cash into the room.

  “Because the situation has changed since this morning,” Lucier started, “I think we have to take chances and make some assumptions.”

  Cash leaned against the doorjamb. “Whatcha mean, Lieutenant?”

  “Ordinarily, I wouldn’t do this, but I don’t think we have a choice. Time is of the essence.” He slipped on his reading glasses and focused on the papers in front of him. “I’ve gone over this list a dozen times, and there’s only one man who makes any sense to me.”

  “Harley Dean Macon.” Beecher said as if reading Lucier’s mind.

  “Right. First, he grew up near Diana. He’s six two, and if this picture’s any indication, a real looker. Just the type to lure women. He has a history of rape, and according to his old girlfriend, a Mr. Hyde side to his personality. But the clincher, to me, anyway, is that he couldn’t go after Diana during all those years because he was in prison. What have you got on him, Willy?”

  Cash opened his folder, thumbed through the pages, and pulled out two sheets of paper. “Only child. Raised by his mother. No mention of a father. She died eight years ago, and they let him out of prison to attend her funeral. She left him a few thousand bucks, so he had that when he got out. Drives a blue ’96 Honda Civic. Did the twenty-year max; got out two years ago. The last two years he’s worked in a nursery near Charleston, South Carolina. Garden not babies. I checked with the Spartanburg County Sheriff’s Department, and they always thought he had something to do with the other missing girls, but they didn’t have any proof. Macon’s boss knew his history but figured he deserved a break since he was a kid when he got in trouble. Said Macon’s a good worker, pleasant to the customers. People like him, especially the ladies. He’s kept his nose clean. Never admitted to the crime, saying the whole time he was innocent. Prison psychiatrist had questions but couldn’t put his finger on the problem because Macon wouldn’t open up.”

  “Where is he now?” Lucier asked.

  “On vacation. The owner of the nursery said Macon went fishing. He asked for an extra week without pay so he could have two weeks off. His boss doesn’t know where he went. Says Macon’s real quiet about his personal life. I asked the guy what Macon’s voice was like. He thought it was a weird question but said he had a deep voice, kind of like a disc jockey.”

  “Ask him if any of the other people he worked with might know something. Considering Macon was tight-lipped about his personal life, I doubt we’ll get anything, but it’s worth a shot. Get DMV to run his car. Maybe he got a ticket on his trip. Dig deeper, Willy. I want to know what’s not on the record.”

  Beecher said, “Maybe when Harris comes to, he’ll have more to add.”

  “I’m putting my money on Macon. And I’m betting Diana’s life I’m right.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tracking a Sacrificial Lamb

  Diana lay cuffed to the bedposts. She could hear her heartbeat, stil
l feel the heat of his hands burning on her skin. He was rough and she hurt. She couldn’t have resisted if she’d wanted to. He didn’t say a word. When he finished, he got up, tucked his member inside his pants, and left. She swallowed the sobs when he left the room, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing she cried. At least he used a condom.

  Lying alone and sore, a million thoughts raced through her head. Was he nothing more than a predatory stalker and she the unsuspecting prey? Even if he possessed psychic abilities, which now she was sure of, what was the contest angle all about, and why the physical assault?

  Some psychic I am.

  Where was she? They had driven for a while, but she’d slipped in and out of consciousness and couldn’t keep track. The room smelled like the lake house where she vacationed as a child, so she must be near water. Smells held memories and brought back certain times in her life with clear definition. This place was dirty and dilapidated, unlike that cabin of long ago. She visualized those idyllic vacations—anything to take her mind off the present.

  Had Lucier begun searching for her? Would they find her in time? Would they find her at all? Questions without answers overlapped in a jumble. Maybe they’d recruit a psychic to find her. What a twist that would be. She almost smiled at the idea.

  The fleeting image of Ernie Lucier brought him into sharper focus. There was something between them, no matter what he said. She knew from the vibes he released that she had an effect on him. She couldn’t be that wrong. Summoning all her powers of concentration, she closed her eyes, hoping in some way she could transmit a message to him. But she never held that kind of psychic power.

  The tall stranger came back into the bedroom without saying a word and unlocked her cuffs. “Get dressed.”

  She needed time for her body to adjust to a normal position. Shoulders sore from being stretched felt loose in their sockets. Diana was aware of his steady eyes as she moved gingerly, trying hard not to grimace. Free for the moment, she rubbed her ankles and wrists.