Blood Game

by Iris Johansen

  “What is it?”

  “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.”

  “What is it? Talk to me.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “Nancy Jo.”

  “I see him.” Her fingers were pressing on the fabric of the passenger seat. “I see him. I feel him. No, I don’t feel him. I feel me.”

  “What?”

  “My blood pounding in him.” She looked down in horror at her hand touching the seat. “When he got back in the car that night, he still had a little of my blood on his hand. He’d been very careful to clean up the area, but he had blood on his hand from the goblet. He . . . licked his finger, then wiped it on the seat. He wasn’t worried. He could always clean the seat later. He knew how to do that. It had happened before.” She shook her head. “But even though he couldn’t see it, the blood is still there. My blood.”

  “Focus. You said you could see him.”

  “Dammit, stop being a cop. I’m trying to focus. You try to think when you can feel your blood pounding in that murderer’s body and—”

  “Okay, I’m sorry. When you touched the bloodstain, you felt a connection with Jelak?”

  “I feel it right now. And if I wasn’t trying to focus, then I’d take my hand off this damn stain. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to feel anything. Not sunlight. Not rain. Not if this is in the package.” The tears were running down her cheeks. “I don’t want to be part of him. Make it stop.”

  “That’s what we’re trying to do.” Joe knelt beside her in the passenger seat. He wished he could touch her, comfort her. “We’re going to make it stop. Tell me what you see, Nancy Jo.”

  “Goblets. He’s looking into a black Croco case that has those gold goblets arranged in three neat rows. He’s reaching out and stroking one of them.” She shuddered. “I know those goblets. He put one to my throat after—”

  “Where is he? Look around.”

  “It looks like a motel. A bed with a cheap-looking flowered cotton bedspread. There’s a desk. A red door.”

  “Red door? Bathroom door or exterior?”

  “I don’t know. No, exterior. I see one of those plaques that give the room rates hanging on the door.”

  “Can you see the name on the plaque?”

  She shook her head.

  “Try.”

  “I can’t see it,” she said through her teeth.

  “Anything else? Newspapers?”

  She shook her head. She was starting to pant. “I can’t stand it. I have to leave him.”

  “Just another minute. The desk. Is there stationery on the desk?”

  “Just a leather folder.”

  “With the name of the hotel?”

  “No.” Her chest was lifting and falling with the harshness of her breathing. “No.” She tensed. “But there’s a telephone book on the desk. It’s the yellow pages. It’s thin . . .”

  “Atlanta?”

  “No, Roswell. Roswell yellow pages. I can’t see anything more. Jelak is closing out everything but the feel of the goblet in his hand. No, he’s thinking about her. The way she’s going to taste, the triumph she’s going to bring him.” She shook her head. “Don’t let him do it. Don’t let him do it. Don’t let him do it again.”

  “Who is he thinking about?”

  “You know. Eve. It’s always Eve. None of us really mattered to him. I do matter. My life mattered.”

  “Yes,” he said gently. “Let go. Get out of the car, Nancy Jo.”

  “I do matter.”

  “You matter very much. Now get out of the car.”

  She nodded jerkily and her hand slowly left the fabric of the passenger seat. She slumped against the steering wheel like a broken doll. “It hurts. It makes me feel sick and scared. I can’t do this again, Joe.”

  “I won’t ask you.”

  “You will if it would save Eve.” Her lips twisted. “But I don’t think I could do it.” She got out of the car. “I just hope that—” She broke off and moved toward the front of the car. “It was very hard. I don’t remember ever going through anything as terrible as that. Don’t let it be for nothing.”

  “I promise that I—”

  SHE WAS GONE.

  TWELVE

  “AM I TO ASSUME THAT YOU’RE finished?” Caleb asked. “I don’t wish to interrupt, but my curiosity is off the charts. Considering, I believe I’ve been very patient.”

  Joe had almost forgotten Caleb was there. He turned and braced himself. “Well? Say it. Not that I give a damn.”

  “Don’t be on the defensive. Who could understand better?” He smiled. “And now I know what Megan confided in Renata about you. Ghosts? Very interesting. But not a talent I’d like to have.”

  “Neither do I.” He paused. “But I’m beginning to accept it.”

  “And use it. Touchy-feely?”

  “Nothing so light. She went through hell.”

  “Nancy Jo Norris?”

  “Yes.”

  “And was it worthwhile?”

  “I’d better make sure it is.” He headed for his car. “I’ll call forensics and get them back here, but I need to get on the computer.”

  “Am I invited this time?”

  He nodded. “I may need you. I don’t know his exact location. Nancy Jo said he’s probably in a motel somewhere in Roswell. That’s about forty minutes from here. Sparse furniture. Flowered cotton bedspread.”

  “Not very helpful.”

  “Exterior door is painted red.”

  “Better.” He got into Joe’s car. “You drive. You know the city.” He reached for Joe’s computer on the seat. “I’ll search for any motels in Roswell with red doors.”

  IT WAS TIME TO MOVE, JELAK thought, as he reluctantly put the goblet back in the case. Perhaps a hotel somewhere outside the city. He’d always thought that losing himself in the center of a city was safer, but everything was changing now. That photo Quinn had released to the media was dangerous. He might be recognized. He’d been forced to make very public kills, and not only Joe Quinn but Seth Caleb was after him.

  But he’d shown them both they couldn’t stop him. Margaret Selkirk had been a triumph, and soon he’d be beyond this running. Soon no one would be able to stop him.

  He gave the perfect twelve goblet a final caress before he slowly shut the case. He could almost feel the power it was radiating.

  Do you feel it, Eve?

  You will.

  “RED DOOR INN.” CALEB LOOKED up from the computer. “It’s a chain. There’s one on Holcomb Bridge Road in Roswell.”

  Joe’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Anything else similar?”

  “Not so far.” He was flipping through the hotels. “Not in Roswell.”

  “Then let’s go for it.” He reached for his phone. “I’ll call the desk and see if I can find out which room by giving a description of him.”

  “IT’S A ONE-STORY MOTEL,” Joe said as he hung up. “The clerk said Jelak may be in room 24. He registered under the name of Ted Jonas two days ago. The clerk couldn’t recall his face, but remembers noticing that he had biceps like a weight lifter.”

  “Yes, ” Caleb said. “How far?”

  “A couple miles.” He looked at Caleb. “Get out here.”

  “What?”

  “You said that you could feel him. Well, by the looks of those tire tracks Jelak left in the mud, he must have been able to feel you too. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, but the circumstances are different. We’re in the middle of the city. There’s so much interference from other people that it’s doubtful that he could sense me.”

  “Screw doubtful. I’m not having you blow it for me.”

  “Dammit, I won’t blow it. We go in fast, and it won’t matter if Jelak knows we’re coming.”

  Joe pulled over to the curb. “Get out.”

  Caleb muttered a curse and opened the door. “You’re making a mistake. I can get him.”

  “So can I. If you don’t send up any red flags.” Joe
pulled out into traffic again. “I won’t take that chance.”

  “I’m not going to give up.”

  Joe knew that he wouldn’t. Caleb would do anything he had to do. He could only hope that he could find Jelak before Caleb managed to get to the motel.

  ROOM 24 HAD TO BE ON THE far side of the U-shaped structure. Joe cruised slowly along the parking area, his gaze on the red doors.

  The late-afternoon sun highlighted the faded brilliance of the chipped paint and the brass numbers on the doors.

  Room 18.

  A cleaning woman was opening the door of the room.

  A stocky man in a Braves baseball cap was loading up his gray Honda at the end of the row of rooms. He opened the driver’s door and shoved a black Croco case into the passenger’s seat.

  Goblets in a black Croco case.

  He was going to change to a smaller car, maybe a foreign job.

  And that man in the baseball cap wasn’t stocky, he was muscular.

  Jelak.

  Joe stomped on the brakes.

  Jelak’s head lifted at the screeching sound. Fury twisted his face as he saw Joe jump out of the car. “No!”

  He threw himself into the Honda.

  Joe drew his Magnum. “Stop. You’re under arrest, Jelak.”

  “The hell I am.”

  Joe saw the dull luster of metal in Jelak’s hand and hit the pavement.

  A bullet splintered the red door behind him.

  Jelak was barreling toward him in the Honda.

  Joe rolled out of the path of the tires as the car skidded by him.

  He lifted his Magnum and got off a quick shot.

  He saw Jelak jerk as the bullet hit him. Fierce pleasure tore through him.

  But the bastard didn’t stop. He rounded the corner of the motel and headed for the street.

  Joe jumped in his car and did a U-turn.

  Jelak was already on the street and heading for the freeway when he got around the building.

  And Caleb was running down the block toward the Honda.

  Shit. Jelak would pick him off. Joe aimed at the Honda’s rear tire.

  The Honda swerved as the tire blew.

  Caleb was alongside it and grabbed for the open window, his feet bracing against the side of the car.

  Jelak was lifting his gun.

  “Caleb, jump, dammit,” Joe called.

  Caleb released the window, fell to the street, and rolled to the curb.

  Jelak was on the freeway, riding on the rim of the blown tire.

  Joe called for backup as he entered the street. Jelak couldn’t go far with that tire. They might have the bastard.

  Caleb was up, running toward him, jumping into the passenger seat. “You screwed it up,” he said through his teeth. “You should have let me—”

  “Shut up,” Joe said as he entered the freeway. “He has a bullet in him and a blown tire. I’ve called for backup. We’ll get him. And what the hell were you trying to do jumping on his car like a damn monkey?”

  Caleb ignored him, his gaze on the cars whizzing in the lanes ahead of them. “I don’t see him. I don’t feel him. I think he’s already off the freeway. Take the next exit.”

  It would make sense, Joe thought. That tire alone would have made Jelak try to get off the freeway as soon as possible. He exited the freeway at the next exit and started to double back.

  “We’ve lost him,” Caleb said. “Dammit, it would have to be in the middle of the city. I can’t feel him.”

  “I shot him. Maybe I got lucky, and the bastard’s dead.”

  Caleb shook his head. “He’s not dead. I’d know it.”

  Joe didn’t think he was dead either. He didn’t have any special insight like Caleb, but he was sure that all of Nancy Jo’s efforts had been wasted. If he’d been lucky, he would have found Jelak in that motel room instead of ready to fly the coop. He’d almost had him. “You’re probably right. Then we just keep on looking.”

  HE WAS STAGGERING, JELAK realized, as he clutched the black Croco case tighter under his arm. He was getting weaker, and he had to find a place to rest, to heal. After he had abandoned the car behind that deserted warehouse, he must have walked miles. Twice he’d had to hide in the brush when a squad car had cruised slowly by.

  And the blood was trickling out of the wound, Jelak thought, outraged. Precious blood. Nancy Jo, Margaret Selkirk, all the others . . . Blood that would give him the prize that he had striven for so long to gain. It wasn’t a strong loss, but even a little was too much. He’d tried to bandage it, but the blood was still seeping around the handkerchief he’d used as pressure.

  The wound itself didn’t worry him. He didn’t think Quinn had hit a vital organ, and he was close enough to the divine state of resurrection that his strength would carry him through. But if he lost too much blood, then he would have to delay the final victory. Even Eve would not be able to send him over the top.

  So he had to stop the blood, find a way to get to a doctor and get the wound stitched. Fury tore through him. Damn Quinn to hell. How had he found him?

  Seth Caleb? More than likely.

  It didn’t matter. Quinn had to be punished. He’d thought that Caleb was the main threat, but Quinn had found him. Quinn had shot him. He had to show him he couldn’t do this to him.

  There was a BP gas station up ahead with the usual snack and convenience store. He could hear country music pouring out of the radio of the Ford truck parked by the pumps and saw a teenage girl with long, shiny brown hair filling up her Mazda.

  He couldn’t afford to wait longer. He had to stop this trickle of blood.

  He’d wait until there were no customers inside the snack shop and make his move.

  ED NORRIS WAS SITTING IN the passenger seat of a dark blue limousine when Joe walked out of the precinct that evening. “I want to talk to you, Quinn.”

  “And I don’t want to talk to you. It’s been a very bad day, and I have no desire to listen to your guff.”

  “I’m not going to give you any guff.” Norris got out of the limousine. “And I don’t think it was a bad day if you managed to put a bullet into my daughter’s murderer.” He shrugged. “I could have wished you were a better shot and blown his brains out.”

  “I was off-balance. He’d just tried to run me down.”

  “Jelak did kill my daughter?”

  “I believe he did. It’s early days. We have no proof.”

  “Was that what you were doing at Allatoona earlier today? Looking for proof?”

  “Yes. Of a kind.”

  “What proof?”

  “You have people following me all the time. I’m surprised you don’t know.”

  Norris smiled. “I’m surprised I don’t either. Someone slipped up.”

  He was actually being likable, Joe thought. He was getting a glimpse of the charismatic politician who was on his way to the White House.

  “I was looking for evidence connecting the car Jelak abandoned to your daughter’s crime scene.” That was true at least.

  “And you found it?”

  “I found it.”

  “And you were able to locate Jelak from it.”

  “Yes. Much good it did me.”

  “But you almost had him.”

  Joe tilted his head and gazed curiously at him. “Almost isn’t good enough. I thought you’d be ranting and raving.”

  “You have a right to that opinion. I’ve given you a hard time.”

  “Are you apologizing?”

  “Maybe.” He looked Joe in the eye. “I felt like I was being crucified, and everyone was taking their turn with the hammer and nails. I’ve dealt with red tape and bureaucracy, and I couldn’t stand the thought of Nancy Jo’s death being buried in it. You were a prime target, and I let loose.”

  “I noticed,” Joe said dryly.

  “And I’ll still be after you. I just wanted you to know that you’re the only one I’ve seen who’s brought in results. You found Jelak once; I think you’ll find him agai
n. You don’t have to worry about one of my employees tailing you any longer. If you see a car behind you, it will be me. When you find him, I want to be there.” He paused. “If I didn’t have to keep on your ass, I think I’d like you, Quinn.” He added, “And I believe my Nancy Jo would have liked you too.”

  “I know I would have liked her, Senator.” He turned away from him. “And now I’m going to go home and soothe my wounds and prepare for the next foray. I wanted to get Jelak. I’ve got to get him.”

  “Because of your Eve Duncan.”

  “Because of Eve and your daughter and Margaret Selkirk and all the other women who Jelak is victimizing. They’re all important.” Nancy Jo had said something like that, he remembered. He strode toward his car. “They all matter.”

  “YOU COULD TALK ABOUT IT.” Eve turned over in bed and laid her head on his shoulder. “You’re lying there stiff as a board and staring into the darkness.”

  “I should have caught him,” Joe said. “Caleb said I blew it, and he was right.”

  “He was wrong. Caleb is a fanatic, and you shouldn’t listen to him.”

  “It’s hard not to listen to him. He insists on making himself heard.”

  “You almost got Jelak. That’s more than he did.”

  “Almost, again. If you finished one of your reconstructions and stepped back and realized that you’d almost got it right, what would you do? You know the answer. You’d smash the clay and start again.”

  She chuckled. “Okay, no more comforting bullshit.” She paused. “But you never told me how you found him in the first place.”

  He was silent. “Nancy Jo. She can connect with him.”

  “How?”

  “Blood. Her own blood that he took from her.”

  She shuddered. “I’m sorry I asked.”

  “No, you’re stronger than that. As strong as she was when she was trying to find him for me.” He pulled her closer. “She’s desperate. She wants to protect her father, but it’s more than that. It’s something to do with the blood he took from her. It’s like an obscene bond that links them together even though she’s no longer alive.”