Quinn

by Iris Johansen

  McVey’s smile faded. “Don’t be so patronizing. I’ve done my research on you. I may write about it, but I don’t kill. While I understand you were absolutely terrific at it. Who stinks the most, Quinn?”

  “I suppose it’s a matter of perception.”

  McVey nodded. “And I’ll win a Pulitzer before I’m thirty, and you’ll still be hunting crazies for the next twenty years.”

  “Entirely possible. But you’ll not win a Pulitzer by publishing crime-scene details just to appeal to the masses.”

  “Why not? I gave everyone what they wanted, and I didn’t hurt anyone.” He met Joe’s eyes. “I could have described the bits of clothing that would have tipped the ID in Janey Bristol’s direction. I didn’t go that far. I decided to let the police get a firm ID before I laid that on the Bristols.”

  It was a restraint Joe hadn’t expected. “It was still a shock to every one of the parents of those missing children.”

  “Give me a break. I’m no angel. But I do have a few scruples.”

  “As long as they don’t get in the way of your Pulitzer.”

  “You’re laughing, but I meant it. You have to have a goal, and I’m aiming at the big prize.” He sat forward, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “And I’m on my way. How would I know that first story on the hunters would get me an interview with the killer himself? It was fate.”

  “No, it was your byline on a story that stroked the monster’s ego,” Joe said dryly.

  “Whatever. It happened, and next time he calls, I’ll have a tape recorder and—”

  “You think he’ll call you again?”

  “Why not? I listened. I figure he wanted an audience, and I gave him what he wanted.” He grimaced. “Though it made me want to puke.”

  “But anything for the Pulitzer.”

  “Well, I did try to ask him questions, but he ran right over me. But that could be good. I didn’t make him mad, and that could mean he’ll call me again. Lots of reporters have formed relationships, even friendships, with killers.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it. He called CNN, too. I don’t think you’re that special to him.”

  McVey’s face fell with disappointment. “I can hope. In the meantime, I can milk the story for all it’s worth. Would you like to comment? I don’t have an FBI quote.”

  “I’d like a few comments from you.”

  “Exchange?”

  It would be easier than using force or threats. Joe nodded. “Did he say anything different to you than what he told Ellen Bristol?”

  McVey shook his head. “Not from what I can tell from what Slindak told me. He made a big thing about calling himself Zeus. I think he wanted to make sure I had that for the story. Maybe like the Zodiac Killer or something. All the rest of the details were vague except about the murder itself. He was very explicit about that.”

  “Would you recognize the voice if you heard it again? Was it distinctive?”

  “I’d recognize it. It was deep and smooth.”

  “No accents?”

  He shook his head. “Hard to tell. Not Southern. Just … American.”

  “Well, that helps,” Joe said sarcastically.

  “Sorry, I’m no elocution expert. I even tried to concentrate while he was talking because I knew it would be important, but I couldn’t tell anything.” He stopped. “There was one thing. House.”

  “What?”

  “He mentioned watching the Bristol house. He said the word a couple times. House. Only it didn’t sound quite the same as we say it.”

  “What was the difference?”

  He shook his head. “It’s hard … It was almost the same.”

  “You’re sure he was American?”

  He nodded. “Everything was the same except for that one word.”

  “What kind of emotion? What was he feeling?”

  McVey thought about it. “Excitement. Eagerness. Pride. He was speaking quickly, with energy.”

  “Did he mention any other children?”

  “No, not specifically.” His eyes suddenly narrowed. “You were with Eve Duncan at the Bristol place. Has she been contacted?”

  “No.”

  “Pity. She’s interesting. All the other parents are steady, ordinary couples. Boring. A young woman who has an illegitimate child sparks the imagination. Why was she at the Bristols’?”

  “You’ll have to ask her.”

  “I can’t. I tried, but she wasn’t at her house. Did you hide her away?”

  “Now why would I do that? Surely you and your colleagues wouldn’t bother a grieving woman. You do have some scruples.”

  “I’ll find her,” McVey said softly. “It’s the story of a lifetime, and she’s part of it. I don’t know what chapter she’s in, but I’ll find out.”

  “Leave her alone, McVey. You don’t want to deal with me.”

  McVey studied him. “No, but I’ll do it. It would be worth it.” He paused and picked up his pencil. “Now, what’s my quote?”

  “The FBI is aiding the investigation of the ATLPD and offering the full services of the Bureau. We’re making progress and hope to have a break in the case soon.”

  “Got it.” McVey looked up. “Anything else?”

  “Yes.” Joe turned and started down the aisle toward the door. “Go screw yourself.”

  * * *

  “THAT’S ALL?” Eve asked, disappointed.

  “It’s more than we had before,” he said. “We’ll have to work with it. But I think you’d better stay away from your house for a few days more. McVey is going to be persistent. He’s a very ambitious man, and he’s got his teeth into this story.”

  “I’m not going into hiding. I can’t afford it, and it makes me angry. I’m going home tomorrow.”

  He shrugged. “I tried. I didn’t think I’d succeed.” He nodded at the box he’d brought into the motel room and set on the coffee table. “There are the reports. I suppose you’re going to tackle them again?”

  “Yes, I’m going to look at Janey Bristol. Did you receive the dental-record confirmation?”

  “Yes, it came in right before I stopped to pick up your mother. I’m afraid I failed in my mission. She wouldn’t come with me.”

  “I know. She said if she couldn’t spend the night at home that she’d go to stay with Pastor Nambrey and his wife. They are always inviting her,” she said. “It was definitely Janey Bristol?”

  “Yes.”

  “Poor little girl.” She shook her head. “Do you know I just felt a rush of relief? I’m like George Bristol. I wanted it to be anyone but Bonnie. He said he was terrible. I guess we’re all ruthless when it comes to protecting our children.” She paused. “If I still have a daughter to protect.” She went on haltingly, “But I was thinking about what you said about that skull being hard to ID unless you knew where to find the dental records. What if you didn’t have any idea who that victim was? She might be lost forever, maybe buried by the county in a nameless grave with her parents never knowing. It breaks my heart to think about it. There are a lot of victims like that, aren’t there, Joe?”

  He nodded. “Too many.”

  “It breaks my heart,” she repeated. “What if it were—” She drew a deep breath and gestured to the boxes. “Thank you for bringing these.”

  “That sounds like a dismissal.”

  “You don’t want to go over these records again. Things are moving for you. You have things to do.”

  “And you don’t want me to be here.”

  She met his gaze. “No, I don’t. I have some thinking to do, and I want to be alone to do it. I don’t want to be soothed or protected. I’ve been leaning on you too much.”

  “I haven’t noticed.”

  “And I don’t want to look at you and know that you’re wondering how I’ll survive when I find out my Bonnie is dead.” She added jerkily, “You’ve been very kind, but I need a break from you, Joe. Get out of my life for a while.”

  He hadn’t realized he was that transparent
to her. But Eve was intelligent and more savvy about people than anyone he had run across. Even upset as she had been today, she had managed to pick up on all the signals he had not wanted her to see. Damage control was clearly necessary. “What about throwing me out after dinner? You have to eat, and I’d bet this place doesn’t have room service.”

  She smiled faintly. “I’ve been rude as hell, and you still try to take care of me.”

  “It’s beginning to be a habit. I like it. I never had a cat or a puppy when I was kid. I was always envious of the kids on TV who had animals. You’re supplying a need.”

  Her smile widened. “You’re nuts. I refuse to be a substitute for Lassie.”

  “Dinner?”

  Her smile faded. “No, I meant it. I need to be alone and think. What happened today may … it could open a door.”

  “What door?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I have to think about it.” She added pointedly, “Without you to question me while I’m doing it.”

  She was determined. Okay, back off before she tossed him out on a permanent basis. “No problem.” He turned away. “If I hear anything that might interest you, I’ll be in touch. Call me if you need me.”

  “Thanks, Joe.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled at her over his shoulder. “But I’ll stop at that pizza restaurant across the street and ask them to deliver a pizza and a drink to you in about an hour.”

  “Joe…”

  “I’d do the same for Lassie.”

  His smile vanished as he shut the door and strode toward his car. It was going to be hard as hell to give her space. He wanted to hover, build a wall, keep all the ugliness away from her.

  And he didn’t like the fact that she was distancing herself from him. She had gone through a tremendously painful experience at the Bristols’. Instead of it drawing her closer to him, she had become quieter, more independent. He had been almost able to see her strengthen as each blow had struck her.

  If he hadn’t cared before, that courage would have made him love her.

  He stopped at the pizza restaurant and sat in the car for a moment. No, he couldn’t go back. He would do what he’d told her he’d do.

  Be patient. Keep in contact, but give her a moderate amount of space. Do his job and find the bastard who had killed her Bonnie.

  And be ready to catch Eve when she was downed by that final horrible blow.

  CHAPTER

  6

  “WE GOT THE REPORT on the print on the shoe.” Slindak stopped by Joe’s desk the next afternoon and handed him a sheet of paper. “He’s big. Size thirteen. It’s a work shoe, but it’s not the usual model built for construction workers. The pattern on the soul is different and deeper. It’s not a product of any of the major U.S. companies. Schweitzer, the owner of the shoe company, is going through his catalogs and seeing if he can locate where it was purchased.”

  “Different and deeper,” Joe repeated. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I suppose we’ll know when Schweitzer gets back to us.”

  “That’s not good enough. I’m calling the Bureau and getting them on it.” Joe reached for the phone. “I’ll make a copy of this before I give it back to you.”

  “Suit yourself. My feelings won’t be hurt. That’s why we called you into the case.” Slindak strolled across the room toward his desk.

  Joe finished his call and leaned back in his chair. Call Eve and tell her what they’d learned? Which was virtually nothing as yet.

  Hell, yes. It was a reason to make contact. She had only been going to spend the one night at the motel. She should be home now. He was about to dial again when the phone rang.

  “Mr. Quinn?” It was Sandra Duncan’s soft, Southern voice. “I do hope you’ll excuse me for phoning you. It’s really nothing, but you’ve been so nice to me I just knew you wouldn’t mind me bothering you.”

  “You’re right. I’ll be glad to help you. Are you still at Pastor Nambrey’s? Do you need a ride home?”

  “No, Eve doesn’t want me to come home yet. She said I was to stay at the pastor’s until she called me.”

  Joe’s hand stiffened on the receiver. “That’s … strange.”

  “That’s what I thought, but Eve didn’t want to talk about it.” She hesitated. “Eve’s been real upset. You know that. I just wanted to make sure that she wasn’t— It was such an odd call.”

  “You believe she might try to hurt herself?”

  “I don’t think so. Not when she’s so set on finding Bonnie. But she was firing all kinds of orders at me and wouldn’t answer questions. Then she just hung up.”

  “What orders?”

  “Not to come home. Not to pay any attention to the afternoon papers or anything else. To stay with the pastor and not go with anyone I don’t know. Don’t you think that’s peculiar?”

  “Yes, very peculiar.” His heart was pounding, and all he wanted to do was to get off this damn phone. “But I’m sure she has a reason for everything she said. She’ll be fine.” God, he hoped he was telling the truth. “And it’s probably best to do exactly what she told you.”

  “Well, I did promise her. But I thought that maybe you knew more, and I could find out what Eve was talking about. I know how much Eve trusts you.”

  That was more than he knew, Joe thought grimly. “No, she didn’t confide in me. I have go now, Mrs. Duncan. I’m sure Eve will be fine. If you have any other concerns, just call me.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t mind me phoning you. I do feel better after talking to you. Sharing always helps, doesn’t it?” She didn’t wait for an answer but hung up.

  Sandra’s sharing didn’t make him feel better, Joe thought as he jumped to his feet. It was scaring him to death.

  He had to get his hands on the afternoon paper. There was a machine downstairs.

  Suicide? Yesterday had been a nightmare for her, and he’d known she was coming closer to accepting that her daughter was dead.

  But she had been stronger than he had ever seen her last night before he had left her.

  Yet she had pushed him away, and he hadn’t been able to persuade her otherwise. She would know that he wouldn’t let her harm herself.

  He didn’t wait for the elevator, but ran down the stairs. The newsboy was cutting the cord on the pile of newspapers that had just been delivered. Joe snatched up the top newspaper.

  Son of a bitch.

  “What the hell is she doing?” Slindak had come up behind him. His expression was tense as he grabbed another newspaper. “The captain just called me from a meeting at the mayor’s office. He wants to know if we had anything to do with this. Did we?”

  “Hell, no.”

  There was a photo of Eve on the front page. She looked sober, but her chin was lifted defiantly. That gesture was the theme for the entire story below the photo.

  The story was written by Brian McVey.

  “I’m going to murder him,” Joe muttered as his gaze scanned the interview.

  It led off with an emotional introduction to Eve Duncan, who had lost her child. Then it went to the Q&A directly following.

  Q. “You’ve heard about the death of Janey Bristol. Do you believe that your daughter was taken by the same killer?”

  A. “It’s possible. The man who killed Janey Bristol was obviously a coward who only has the nerve to prey on children. Adult interaction obviously terrifies him. He was so stupid he didn’t even hide the child’s body but left it in that cave to be discovered.”

  Q. “Stupid? He’s allegedly killed at least nine children without being apprehended.”

  A. “Children. He’s a moron who is only capable of attacking and overcoming little children like Janey. That’s why he concentrates only on them. It takes logic and intelligence to attack adults. Someone told me that killers like him are into power. Since he’d be defeated by anyone other than a five-year-old, he’ll probably continue to kill helpless children. He won’t attempt to attack anyone who might ch
allenge him.”

  The article continued for another two columns, but it was all in the same insulting vein.

  Slindak gave a low whistle. “Ugly. She couldn’t be more insulting. Is she trying to get herself killed?”

  “Don’t ask me,” he said through his teeth. “She didn’t consult me about this insanity.”

  “And I thought you were so close,” Slindak murmured.

  “Not now,” Joe said curtly. “I’m very near to blowing, Slindak.”

  “I can see that.” He added, “But I told you that there was the danger of not being able to control her. Now she’s going to cause us a hell of—”

  “I know what she’s doing.” He strode over to the lobby telephone booth. “And she would have done this if I’d never shown up here in Atlanta. She’d have found a way to reach out to the bastard.”

  “Reach out? She bludgeoned him. Are you calling her?”

  He was trying. But she wasn’t picking up on her home phone. She could be there, but not answering. He hung up. “I’m going to her place and talk to her.”

  “You may have to stand in line. She could have made Zeus mad enough to want to have his own discussion with her.” Slindak added, “The captain isn’t going to be happy if Eve Duncan ends up in a cave with her skull on a shelf. We’re getting enough heat without that maniac expanding his chosen field.”

  “Dammit, it won’t happen. She won’t be killed.” He tore out of the precinct and down the steps.

  Thirty minutes later, he was at the house on Morningside. No answer when he rang. The front door was locked. He went around to the back porch. No answer there.

  What the hell? He jimmied the window and climbed into the kitchen.

  Five minutes later, he’d searched every room in the house, and Eve was not to be found.

  But there was an envelope on the kitchen table.

  Joe

  He tore it open.

  You’ll be angry, but I had to do this. It’s my chance. You told me that this monster is all ego, and I thought this way I could draw him closer to me.

  You wouldn’t let me do that, but McVey has no qualms about it. As you said, he’s hungry. He doesn’t care about anything but getting his story.