by Nora Roberts
If he did, he had a pretty good idea what to do about it.
WE’RE GOING TO HAVE cruisers sweeping that area all night.” Ben flipped the file closed. Ed was still staring at the map as though he were waiting for something to jump out at him. “He comes out, odds are they’ll spot him.”
“I don’t like the odds.” He glanced toward the hall. Upstairs, Grace was completing her third night as bait. “How many times do you figure we went through that quadrant today, in wheels and on foot?”
“Lost count. Listen, I still figure the school’s a good shot. Wight might not have recognized the sketch, but he was nervous.”
“People get nervous when cops come around.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got a feeling something’s going to click when Lowenstein finishes passing out the sketch to the students.”
“Maybe. But that gives him tonight, and too many hours tomorrow.”
“Look, there’re two of us in the house. Billings is outside and we’ve got pass-bys every fifteen minutes. She’s safer here than if we had her in lockup.”
“I’ve been thinking about the psychiatric profile Tess worked up. Wondering why I can’t seem to think like him.”
“Could be because you’ve got both oars in the water.”
“That’s not it. You know how it gets when you’re close to one of these. No matter how wacko, no matter how sick the perp is, you start to think like him, anticipate him.”
“We are. That’s why we’re going to get him.”
“We’re not on the money.” Ed ran his fingers over his eyes. They’d started aching by midafternoon. “And we’re not on the money because he’s a kid. The more I think about it, the more I’m sure of it. Not just because of Morrison’s ID. Kids don’t think the same way adults do. I always figured that’s why they send kids to war, because they haven’t faced their own mortality yet. It doesn’t hit until a person’s in his twenties.”
It made Ben think of his brother. “Some kids are grown up by the time they hit sixteen.”
“Not this one. Everything Tess has here leads not just to a psychotic but an immature one.”
“So we think like a kid.”
“He’s probably done some pouting since he botched Morrison.” Trying to ride with it, Ed began to pace the room. “It’s just like she said, he was whining like a kid who busted his favorite toy. What does a real snot-nosed little brat do when he breaks his toy?”
“He breaks someone else’s.”
“Bull’s-eye.” Ed turned to him. “You’re going to make a hell of a father.”
“Thanks. Look, the rapes and attempteds that’ve come in since Morrison don’t fit.”
“I know.” Hadn’t he read every report word by word, hoping for a link? “Maybe he hasn’t hit on another woman, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t hit. You know, when a rapist is prevented from following through, he only gets more frustrated and angry. And he’s a kid. He has to take it out on someone.”
“So you figure he was ready for a fight, looking to mix it up with some other kid?”
“I figure he’d go after someone weaker, someone he thought was weaker anyway. It’d make him feel better if it was someone he knew.”
“So we can check the arrest reports for assaults over the last couple of days.”
“And the hospitals. I don’t think he’d settle for a little pushy-shovey.”
“You’re starting to think like Tess.” Ben grinned at him. “That’s why I love you. That’s probably her now,” he said as the phone rang. “I told her to give me a call when she got home.”
“Tell her to push calcium.” Ed picked up the file again. The tone of Ben’s voice had him ignoring it.
“When? You got an address? You and Renockie cover us here and we’ll take it. Look, Lowenstein, I don’t give a shit who—Who? Christ.” Ben ran a hand over his face and tried to think. “Get Judge Meiter, he’s a Republican. No, I’m not kidding. I want the warrant in my hands in an hour or we go without it.”
He hung up. If he could have risked it, he’d have taken a nice clean shot of vodka. “Got an identification on the sketch. A kid in Georgetown Hospital fingered a school buddy who tried to smother his windpipe. He’s a senior at St. James’s. The captain’s sending someone down to get a written statement.”
“Do we have a name?”
“Caller ID’d our boy as Jerald Hayden, address is smack dab in the middle of Billings’s little square.”
“Then let’s move.”
“We’ve got to go through channels on this one, partner.”
“Fuck channels.”
Ben didn’t bother to point out that Ed was the one who always touched the system. “The kid’s the son of Charlton P. Hayden, the people’s choice.”
Ed stared at him for several long seconds. “I’m going up to get Grace.”
Ben barely nodded before the phone rang again. “Paris.”
“Ben, I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“Look, Doc, I can’t tie up this phone.”
“I’ll be quick. I think it may be important.”
With a check of his watch Ben figured Lowenstein still had fifty-eight minutes to come through. “Shoot.”
“I’m skirting very close to patient confidentiality here.” And that had worried her all during her soul-searching. “I talked with a woman today, a woman I know. She’s concerned about her son. He was in an apparently serious fight at school yesterday. He nearly strangled another boy. Ben, a great deal of what she told me mirrors the profile on your serial killer.”
“He broke someone else’s toy,” Ben murmured. “Give me a name, Doc.” When he was met with silence, he pictured her, sitting at her desk wrestling with her oath and her conscience. “Play it this way. Tell me if this name sounds familiar. Jerald Hayden.”
“Oh God.”
“Tess, I need clout. We’re already working on the warrant. A call from you would speed it up.”
“Ben, I agreed to take this boy on as a patient.”
There was no use swearing at her, he thought. She couldn’t help herself. “Then you can consider it in his best interest for us to bring him in quick. And alive. Get in touch with Harris, Tess. Tell him what you told me.”
“Be careful. He’s much more dangerous now.”
“You and Junior wait up for me. I’m crazy about you.”
Ben put down the receiver as Ed led Grace into the room. “Ed says you know who he is.”
“Yeah. You ready to retire as a phone mistress?”
“More than. How much longer before you have him?”
“We’re getting a warrant. You’re a little pale, Grace. Want a brandy?”
“No. Thanks.”
“That was Tess.” Ben took out a cigarette, lit it, and handed it to Grace. “Washington’s a small town. She talked with Jerald Hayden’s mother today. The lady thinks her kid needs a shrink.”
“It’s funny.” Grace blew out a stream of smoke as she waited for it to sink in. “I thought when it happened it would be sort of climactic. Instead, it’s a phone call and a piece of paper.”
“Police work’s mostly paperwork,” Ed told her.
“Yeah.” She tried to smile. “I’ve got the same problem with my job. I want to see him.” She took another drag. “I still want to see him, Ed.”
“Why don’t we wait on that until we tie up loose ends?” He touched her cheek so that she turned her head to look at him. “You did what you needed to do, Grace. You have to let go of Kathleen now.”
“Once it’s done, and I can call my parents and … and Jonathan, I think I can.”
IT TOOK LOWENSTEIN LESS than forty minutes to deliver the warrant. She slapped it into Ben’s hand. “Hayden’s blood type was on file at Georgetown Hospital. It’s a match. Take him down. We’ll cover the house until you call in.”
“Stay.” Ed put his hands on Grace’s shoulders.
“I’m not going anywhere. Listen, I know the world needs heroes, but I figure I need you mor
e. So be a good cop, Jackson, and watch yourself.” Taking his shirtfront, she pulled him down for a kiss. “See you.”
“Take care of his lady, Renockie,” Ben said as they swung out the door. “I’d hate to see Ed drop-kick you.”
Grace let out a long breath and turned to her new guards. “Anybody want some lousy coffee?”
CLAIRE HEARD THE DOORBELL ring and nearly swore with annoyance. If they didn’t leave in five minutes they were going to be late. After signaling back the housekeeper, she smoothed down her hair and answered herself.
“Detectives Jackson and Paris.” The badges Claire saw set off a slow, dull alarm within her. “We’d like to speak with Jerald Hayden.”
“Jerald?” Years of training had her lips curving automatically. “What’s this about?” The Lithgow boy, she thought. His parents were going to press charges.
“We have a search warrant, ma’am.” Ben passed it to her. “Jerald Hayden is wanted for questioning in connection with the murders of Kathleen Breezewood and Mary Grice and the attempted rape of Mary Beth Morrison.”
“No.” She was a strong woman. She’d never fainted in her life. Now, she dug her nails into her palm until her vision cleared. “There’s a mistake.”
“Is there a holdup, Claire? We’ve pushed right to the time limit.” Hayden strode to the door. The friendly impatience on his face changed only slightly when he saw the identification. “Officers, is there a problem?”
“It’s Jerald.” Claire dug her fingers into his arms. “They want Jerald. Oh God, Charlton. They’re talking about murder.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Your wife has the papers, Senator.” Ed’s usual compassion had dried up on the drive over. “We’ve been authorized to take your son down for questioning.”
“Call Stuart, Claire.” It was a time for lawyers, he thought. Though he didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it, Hayden saw the years of building a strong, careful platform disintegrating. “I’m sure we can clear this up quickly. I’ll send for Jerald.”
“We’d prefer to go along,” Ed said.
“Very well.” Turning, Hayden started for the stairs. With every step he felt his life, his ambitions, his beliefs slip away. He could see clearly, painfully clearly, the look in Jerald’s eyes as they’d sat in the dean’s office. He held himself straight, as a courageous man would facing a firing squad, and knocked on Jerald’s door.
“Excuse me, Senator.” Ben reached around to push the door open. The light was burning, the radio playing quietly. And the room was empty.
“He must be downstairs.” Cold sweat ran a line down Hayden’s back.
“I’ll go with you.”
With a barely perceptible nod to Ben, Ed stepped inside Jerald’s room.
It took under ten minutes to determine that Jerald Hayden was no longer in the house. When Ben returned to the bedroom, the senator and his wife were with him.
“He’s got quite a cache.” Ed indicated the open desk drawer. “Please, don’t touch anything,” he warned Hayden as the senator stepped forward. “We’ll have someone come down and log this. Looks like about forty grams of coke, maybe an eighth of a kilo of grass.” He touched the lid of a jar with the tip of a pencil. “Some flake.”
“It’s a mistake.” Hysteria began to bubble in Claire’s voice. “Jerald doesn’t take drugs. He’s an honor student.”
“I’m sorry.” Ben looked from Claire to the computer which took up most of the desk, then to Ed. As Billings had said, the equipment was state-of-the-art. “He’s not in the house.”
WHILE HIS MOTHER WAS sobbing in his bedroom, Jerald was climbing the fence between Ed’s property and the Breezewood house. He’d never felt better in his life. His blood was pumping, his heart was hammering. Desiree was waiting for him, to take him beyond the mortal into forever.
Renockie drank coffee in the living room while Grace played with hers and watched the clock. Where was Ed? Why didn’t he call?
“I guess you could say I’m a big fan of yours, Miss McCabe.”
“I appreciate that, Detective.”
“I waited to tell you until Lowenstein was out with Billings that I’m an amateur writer myself.”
Who wasn’t? she thought, then forced a smile. It wasn’t like her to be unkind. “Oh, really? Are you writing detective novels?”
“Just short stories.” His wide, pleasant face flushed with the admission. “You spend a lot of time in the car and just sitting and waiting in my business. Gives you a lot of time to think.”
“Maybe you could show me something you’ve done.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“I’d like to see it. Why don’t you …” She trailed off when the expression on his face changed. She’d heard it too, a shuffling, the opening of a door.
“Why don’t you go upstairs? Lock the door.” He drew his weapon out as he took her arm. “Just in case.”
She moved quickly and without argument. Renockie held his weapon in both hands, pointing up, as he moved.
In the bedroom, Grace stood with her back to the door, waiting, listening. It was probably nothing. How could it be anything? Ed had him by now. The phone would ring any minute and he’d tell her it was all over.
Then she heard a board creak and she jumped. Sweat was pouring down her forehead, into her eyes. Calling herself a fool, Grace wiped it away. It was just the aspiring writer coming to tell her all was clear.
“Desiree?”
The whisper dried every drop of sweat on her body. She tasted fear. It filled her mouth, but she couldn’t swallow it. As she watched, the doorknob turned to the left, then to the right.
“Desiree.”
Trapped. Trapped. The word ran through her mind over and over. She was alone, somehow alone with the man who’d come to kill her. Grace muffled the scream with both hands before it could burst out. She’d known he would come. She’d known yet still she was trapped. But she wasn’t helpless. She scrambled to the drawer that held the gun and fumbled for it just as the door broke in.
He’s a child, she thought as she stared at him. How could it be that this young boy with an alligator stitched on his shirt and a smattering of pimples on his chin had killed her sister? Then she looked into his eyes, and his eyes told the story.
“Desiree, you knew I’d come back.”
“I’m not Desiree.” He had a gun as well. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw it and the smear of blood on his wrist. He carried flowers in his other hand. A bouquet of pink carnations.
“It doesn’t matter what you call yourself. You came back. You called me back.”
“Don’t.” She lifted the gun as he took a step toward her. “Don’t come near me. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You can’t.” He laughed as though delighted with her. He’d never wanted anything more than he wanted her. Never wanted anything more than he wanted to please her. “We both know you can’t hurt me. We’re beyond that now, you and I. Remember what it was like? Remember, Desiree? Your life flowed out into my hands while mine flowed into you.”
“You killed my sister. I know it. The police know it. They’re coming.”
“I love you.” He stepped closer as he spoke, nearly hypnotizing her with those eyes. “It’s only been you. Together we can do anything, be anything. You’ll keep coming back to me. And I’ll keep listening, and waiting. It’ll be just like before. Time after time.” He held out the flowers.
They heard the sound at the same time. Grace saw Renockie, the blood flowing down his face from where the butt of Jerald’s gun had struck him. He was propped against the door, struggling to steady himself.
Jerald turned, his lips drawn back in a snarl. As he raised his gun, Grace fired.
WHAT THE HELL’S GOING on?” Ben and Ed raced up the walk just as Lowenstein managed to kick the front door in.
“I went to get doughnuts for Billings and tell him to wrap it up. When I came back, the door was locked.” Weapons came out and the t
hree of them entered and separated. Ed saw the blood. His gaze followed the trail upstairs. He’d already sprung forward when they heard the shot.
His heart stopped. He felt it wink out as he raced up. He heard Grace’s name shouted, roared, but wasn’t aware it came from him. Leaping over Renockie, he planted himself. He was ready, and more than willing to kill.
She’d slid to the floor so that her back rested against the bed. She still had the gun in her hand. Her face was colorless, her eyes dark and dazed. But she was breathing. Ed crushed carnations underfoot as he went to her.
“Grace?” He touched her, her shoulders, face, hair. “Grace, I want you to tell me if he hurt you. Look at me, Gracie. Talk to me.” As he spoke, he eased the gun out of her hand.
“He was so young. I couldn’t believe how young. He brought me flowers.” Her eyes focused on Ed when he shifted between her and the body sprawled a few feet away. “He said he loved me.” When she began to gasp, he tried to gather her to him, but she held him off. “No, I’m all right. I’m okay.”
Lowenstein picked up the phone behind her. “According to Renockie, you saved his life. You handled yourself like a pro.”
“Yeah.” Grace rested her head on her hand a moment. “Ed, I’m okay, really. But I don’t think I can stand up without some help.”
“Lean on me,” he murmured. “Just a little.”
With her head resting against his shoulder, she nodded. “Okay.”
“You’re not going to make it, kid.” Ben leaned over Jerald. He’d already examined the wound, and though Lowenstein was calling an ambulance, it wouldn’t do any good. “If there’s anything you want to get off your chest, now’s the time.”
“I’m not afraid to die.” He didn’t feel any pain. That made it all the sweeter. “It’s the ultimate experience. Desiree knows. She already knows.”
“Did you off Desiree and Roxanne, Jerald?”
“I gave them the best.” Looking up, he saw Desiree’s face floating above his. “Desiree.”