Face Off (19 page)

“There it is!” Jessie pointed out the window. “That sign says Central Methodist Church.”

Suzanne switched over to the right-hand lane and pulled up in front of the church. She didn't notice the dark car in back of her as it parked only half a block away.

She turned in the car seat, facing Jessie, taking her hands. “Listen to me, Jessie. Before we go any further, I have to warn you that sometimes the psychic power takes on a life of its own. Once you open yourself to your full potential, there will be no turning back. You will have to deal with it every minute of your waking life.” She stopped the young girl before she could speak. “No. Hear me out. Your powers are going to be strong—maybe even stronger than mine. They will consume you. It may already be too late for you to make a conscious choice not to continue, but once you finish going down this path we started last night, the choice will no longer be there.”

For once Jessie was not ready with a flip answer. She held on tightly to Suzanne's hands and spoke in a soft, but determined voice. “I choose Amy. That is my choice. If I have visions jumping out of the darkness at me for the rest of my life, I will consider it a good bargain. And I know what you mean, Suzanne. I have noticed my powers increasing almost hour by hour. The more I do, the further I go with it. That is what you are trying to tell me, right?”

Suzanne slowly nodded her head. “Yes. There is some connection that is pulling you. I don't know what it is, yet. I hope there is no danger, but I can't tell.”

Jessie's eyes did not waver. “I'm ready. Help me feel what I need to feel in order to find Amy.”

Suzanne squeezed Jessie's hands. “Okay, sweetie, here we go. The first thing I want you to do is close your eyes. Picture your sister as she was the last time you were together. Plant her memory in your mind. Remember her face, her scent, her goodness. Wrap yourself in your sister's soul.”

Jessie thought of Amy as they had said good-bye the day she left for Kansas City. Her long, blond hair was silky against Jessie's face as she hugged her. Her skin smelled faintly of peaches.

“You are with her now, Jessie. You have been to church. You are by her side coming down the steps. Open your eyes, Jessie. Look out the window and picture yourself coming down the steps with Amy. What does she see? What does she hear? You are there, Jessie. You know.”

Jessie stared at the church steps. Nothing happened for a few moments, but as she watched, a mist began gathering at the front of the church, then she saw her. It was so real, that for just an instant Jessie thought it was actually Amy coming toward her.

“No, Jessie,” Suzanne said. “Don't come out of the vision. I see her, also, but only through your eyes. What is she doing now? Does she hear anything? See anything?”

Jessie forced her mind back into the other dimension. She heard the man's voice—warm, cordial. “Amy! Come here!” Then she watched as Amy walked toward a maroon van and was pulled in. Instantly, Jessie began gagging, trying to catch her breath.

“No, Jessie. You don't need to experience what Amy is going through. You are an observer only. Move back and see what is happening.” As she spoke the words, Jessie quit coughing and took several deep breaths.

“I'm all right now,” Jessie said. “He put something over Amy's face. She … she couldn't breathe. Now she is lying on the floor of the van, unconscious.”

“This is only the beginning, Jessie. We have to know where he is taking her. Follow the van. Keep it in sight.”

Jessie pointed up the road. “That way. He took her that way.”

Suzanne dropped Jessie's hands, put the car into gear, and began driving in the direction the girl was pointing. She then reached her right hand over and clasped Jessie's hand again.

“That's it, Jessie! Don't lose them. Concentrate on Amy. You are going to follow your sister. There is an invisible cord between the two of you.”

Jessie was barely aware of Suzanne's words as she sank deeper into the scene. She could see Amy lying helpless on the floor of the van.

“Go wider, Jessie. Hang back just a little so you can see the street signs, a business, anything to tell us where we are.”

Jessie's eyes closed tight as she willed a distance between the van and Suzanne's car. “I see a Wendy's. They are passing a Wendy's, and a McDonald's!”

Suzanne looked out the car window as she first drove by a Wendy's, then a few moments later, a McDonald's. There was no doubt. Jessie was following her sister's trail.

A block in back of them, the occupant of the Ford Taurus knew it, too.

*   *   *

“Has there been any further word on Sam Nickels, the carnie who was killed last night?” Chief Caswell asked Harry. “Have our boys been able to tie him to Clark in any way?”

“They knew each other. That's about all we know.”

“Any speculation as to why Clark would want him dead?”

“None. Apparently he was just an old man who never caused any trouble, never had many friends, and who liked to drink after he finished with the evening meal. He didn't bother anyone, and no one bothered him. That is until last night.”

“Our boys say Clark never left his apartment last night. We have a unit in front, a unit in back, and one in the parking garage. Surely someone would have seen him if he tried to leave.”

“Do we know if the Taurus is his only vehicle?” Harry asked.

Jim answered. “It is the only one registered to him, at any rate.”

“He couldn't have left,” Caswell stated firmly. “Every exit at his apartment is covered. I think you gentlemen need to start concentrating on facts, and not psychic voodoo! What else have you found out about this Richards woman? Anything except what you showed me?”

“No,” Harry answered. “I had a feeling the nun was going to give me a little information, but she had a stroke before she said much. We really don't know anything about Miss Richards before the age of eight, but I don't suppose it makes any difference to our investigation, anyway. We have pretty well established that she is who she says she is, and that was all that concerned me.”

The light on Caswell's phone lit up. He punched the line. “Yes? What is it?”

“Chief, this is Stanley Davis. I just got a few preliminary reports back from the FBI and also from Genericode. You aren't going to believe what they say. Do you want me to give you a quick overview before I deliver it?”

“Just a minute,” Caswell said. “Let me put you on the speaker. Jim and Harry are here. They need to hear it, too.”

Caswell punched a line and replaced the phone in its cradle. “Okay, Stanley, go ahead.”

“None of the DNA recovered from the scene matches Clark. It isn't even close.”

“Shit,” Harry exploded. “Not even the skin that was trapped under the fingernails of one of the first victims?”

“Not even that,” Stanley answered. “None of the semen, none of the skin, nothing, period. But here's the really weird part. You know those body parts found at Clark's apartment? They were removed from different bodies because of gangrene and were preserved in formaldehyde probably—get this—thirty to thirty-five years ago. Clark would have been in diapers!”

Caswell put his head in his hands. “I don't believe this. Do you realize what this means? It means either the butcher is still out there, and we don't have a clue as to his identity, or it's Clark, and we don't have a snowball's chance in hell of convicting him! His attorneys would have a field day with this!”

“Is there any chance there was a mixup of some kind?” Jim asked. “Switched tubes, that sort of thing?”

Stanley's voice came over the speaker. “None. As you know we used both labs, the FBI, and Genericode. Their findings were consistent.”

“What about the Murphy girl? Any results back yet? You said you believed there would be a clear DNA profile from her,” Harry asked.

“Come on, Harry!” Stanley said. “That was just yesterday. You know better than to expect a profile that fast.”

“Well, keep on them. We need a break in this case. I'm tired of finding the cut-up bodies of young girls all over K.C. I'm developing nightmares!”

Stanley's voice sounded weary. “Yeah. Me, too.”

As he punched the button disconnecting the ME, Chief Caswell's thoughts were black. How could the investigation have taken such a wrong turn? He knew the rumblings about replacing him were now going to turn into a loud roar. “We have nothing left to tie Clark to any of the murders. Not one thing except those teenage boys who said he was hanging around the school shortly before the disappearance of Tiffany Blake. Pull in the surveillance. I can't justify keeping a tail on Clark, now.”

Harry and Jim exchanged worried glances, but knew better than to open their mouths.

*   *   *

Suzanne's mind drifted as she followed Jessie's instructions. She had had to release the girl's hand when the wind and rain became so fierce she was in danger of losing control of the car. Now she could only trust in Jessie's directions. She marveled at the way the young psychic was able to hold on to the scene. She had taken to all of Suzanne's directives instantly, seeming to sense almost before Suzanne spoke, what was needed of her. She was an amazing child, truly gifted. Her ability to focus was uncanny, and, Suzanne suspected, much of her strength came from a firm grounding in her family and knowing who she was. Her parents had done a marvelous job of raising their child. Her spirit had been allowed to fly free.

Unlike hers. No wonder she had fled Omaha when things got a little rough. She had spent many years of her early life running from real and imagined ghosts and fears. She had been almost Jessie's age now by the time Miss Emily had finally persuaded her that she was safe and secure. The three years she had spent crisscrossing the country with her father had been hellish. She lived in constant fear she would do something to displease him and have to endure his wrath. Then something had happened that changed him. For a few weeks before his death, he had treated her a little nicer. The verbal lashings stopped, and he seemed to at least try to get along with her. Still, Suzanne knew that when she saw his body in the kitchen that day, there was relief, mixed with the horror of it all. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she had gone through so much agony after his death. She was ashamed that she felt relief at the death of her father. After all, he had cared for her after her mother died. He had not left her by the side of the road as he had threatened.

Suzanne was jarred back to the present as Jessie spoke. “Turn east here. Where the sign says Interstate Twenty-nine. They took this road, I'm sure of it.”

Suzanne had to quickly maneuver her Cutlass into the right-hand lane, following the arrows to Interstate 29. She didn't notice the car in back of her do the same.

*   *   *

Randal Clark's mind was working rapidly. He didn't know why, but the police car had turned off, and another unit had not replaced it. He had known he was being followed from the minute he had left his garage. Stupid cops. But why would they have called off the surveillance? He gave a little chuckle. Probably it was the charmed life he led! At any rate, it certainly made his plans a whole lot easier. If the occupants of the Cutlass made it all the way to the farm, he would have them. He reached under his coat and touched the handle of his Ruger Bearcat for reassurance. A little shiver of anticipation coursed through his body. He thought of what he would do to the two of them, once he had them secured.

*   *   *

Clark's thoughts slammed into Jessie's head, forcing out the picture of Amy in the van. She let out a loud scream, causing Suzanne to careen wildly across several lanes of traffic. “What is it, Jessie? What's happening? Give me your hand so I can see it, too.” She brought the Cutlass under control, returned to the correct lane, and reached for the girl's hand.

Jessie brushed aside Suzanne's hand as she seemed to be warding off an unseen attacker with her arms. Her screams continued.

Suzanne noticed an exit immediately in front of them and swung her car hard to the right, barely making it. Ahead she could see a King's X supermarket and drove quickly into its parking lot. She slammed on the brakes and grabbed Jessie. As soon as she touched the girl, she felt herself slipping into another dimension. Icy fingers of fear grabbed at her as she saw what Jessie was seeing. Randal Clark had them both. He was jabbing at them with a knife, making them scream in terror. On the floor beside him was the emaciated body of Amy, a kitchen knife through her heart. Suzanne gasped at the image.

Jessie stopped screaming and began chanting. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…”

*   *   *

Randal Clark swore as he fishtailed his Taurus, making the exit. He was grateful the heavy rain was keeping traffic light. Ahead he could see the Cutlass pull into the parking lot, coming to an abrupt stop. This was it. He was going to finish them off. He would just walk over to the car and empty his .22 into them.

*   *   *

Jessie pushed against Suzanne. “Let's get out of here. I want to go home. NOW!” she yelled. “Get out of here, now!”

Suzanne didn't question the girl. She could feel it, too. Evil was coming. She yanked her car into gear and spun out of the parking lot.

Chapter Twenty

The usually docile creek had been rising steadily since morning. Soon, the downward meandering had turned into a churning, boiling mass as rushing water ate away at already water-soaked banks. The saturated ground would hold no more and began forming small offshoots, each sprinting rapidly down the hill, carving out chunks of the landscape, flooding the lower levels.

Amy was having the most delightful dream. She was sitting by a lake surrounded with lush, fruit-filled trees. To eat, she had only to reach up and pluck a banana or apple from a tree. The water was fresh and cold as she scooped it up with her hands, splashing it across her face and body. As she sat by the lake she noticed the water getting higher, until it was soon lapping at her legs.