Mortal Crimes: 7 Novels of Suspense (116 page)

“An ankle bracelet.”

He leaned forward eagerly. “Yes?”

“From my perspective I saw it clearer than the woman herself. It was gold and silver and there was something dangling from it. A charm.”

“Could you make out the charm?”

“No.”

“Are ankle bracelets popular among women?”

“I don’t know anyone who wears one.”

“You’d forgotten about seeing it. What jogged your memory?”

“Is this one of the puzzle pieces?” she asked.

“A very big piece.”

Her stomach twisted. Last night, after much soul searching, she had decided she would tell him everything. If he believed, as her father had, that she was a liar seeking attention, she would just march to her car, drive away, and not look back.

Robbi ran fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her face. A pinprick of pressure worked above her eye. “I saw it again in a vision. Last night.”

“A psychic experience?’

She nodded, then studied his face for signs of disbelief, disapproval, and saw none.

“How long have you been sensitive?”

“As far back as I can remember.” Then she told him about the flashback vision of the deep pit in the woods.

“A pit,” he said, when she had finished. “With other bodies. Christ.”

“That’s what I saw. I can’t say if it’s real or not. I went to a psychic after my accident. She spoke of lost souls…angels
.
She spoke of a man—a bad man— who was linked to me. She said I was in grave danger.”

“From this man?’

“Yes.”

“It sort of ties in with your visions, doesn’t it?”

“Frighteningly so.”

“Okay.” He gave the rod a tug, reeled the line in a few feet. “Tell me about your clairvoyance. What’s your opinion?”

“From what I’ve read on the subject, I seem to possess the three main types of ESP. Telepathy, clairvoyance, and precognition. Telepathy, however, hasn’t played a part in this drama.”

“You mean you’re not tuned in to either the victim or the killer?”

“That’s right. It’s merely information related to me. Sometimes only in flashes, other times it plays out longer.” The pressure grew, spread across her forehead. She pressed fingertips to her temple. “The psychic said my ESP abilities were potent, yet limited.”

“Can you see images at will?”

“Apparently not. Last night I exhausted myself trying. No luck.”

“Roberta, that isn’t something you should attempt on your own. It can be dangerous.”

She nodded, glanced away.

He pointed at her fishing rod. “You’re getting a bite. Quick, set the hook before it gets the bait.”

She gave the rod a short yank, felt the drag as the hook set. A moment later she landed a small rainbow trout.

“Good eating size,” Jake said, gently removing the hook. “A couple more like these and we’ll have our lunch.”

She laughed, the retreating pressure above her eye gone, forgotten.

________

Jake, his chair tipped back to rest on the wood siding of the house, sat on the deck at the small round table amid the remnants of their grilled-trout lunch and watched his guest through the silver lenses of his sunglasses. Roberta was picking a bouquet of wildflowers across the yard.

He thought her a very alluring woman. Exquisite even, though he couldn’t say why. From the moment he’d set eyes on her in the hospital, a blind woman with no makeup, wearing a plain gown, something tugged at him. The sunlight coming through the window had presented a fascinating illusion, bathing her in a radiant, pearly aura. She had looked so…he wanted to say bewitching, but felt ridiculous just thinking it.

Who and what was this woman with the strange knowing eyes? She had visions, nightmare visions. Reality seen through extrasensory means.

She returned to the table, a bunch of pink and purple sierra primroses in her hand. He watched her pour water into a plastic cup and arrange the bouquet.

“Question,” Jake said, pointing to the chair opposite him.

She sat, fussed with the wildflowers.

“You say you’ve been sensitive all your life?”

“It started when I was about three. I had…three or four experiences in my early childhood.”

“What did you see?”

“Are you going to scrutinize me through those glasses?” she asked evenly.

He pulled off the mirrored glasses and laid them on the table.

“I saw the deaths of my grandmother, my best friend, and my brother.” She cleared her throat. “Then nothing until three weeks ago, when Angie killed her husband, Sam.”

“All deaths?”

She nodded, looked away. “You were going to tell me about your piece of the puzzle.” She seemed eager to change the subject.

“In a minute. Tell me about the abduction in the alley.”

Roberta explained that that particular vision came to her in dream form. “But later I had a vision—the one at the pond—and it was the same woman from the bar.”

“Are you familiar with the bar? Any idea where it is?”

“No.”

The wind came up and they moved inside. In Jake’s rustic living room, among the knotty pine and leather, the potted trees and driftwood-mounted bromelaids, he and Roberta sat on a sofa upholstered in a Pendleton print of red, gold, and turquoise.

Without looking at Roberta, he said, “So he selects a woman, snatches her off the street, and takes her to where he lives. Why?”

“He’s lonely?”

“But he kills them.”

“Yes. You’re the professional, what do you think?”

“It’s possible he’s lonely, seeking a companion. It’s also possible she cannot live up to his expectations. He may have a certain role model in mind, a role no woman can realistically meet. If he’s a psychopathic killer, the act of killing is his principal objective and his methods and motives will be known only to him. He’s going to kill again if he hasn’t already.”

“God, for some insane reason he’s linked to me. Either I’m supposed to stop him or I’m in line…as a victim. If that’s the case, then…” Her words died away. She buried her face in her hands.

Jake wanted to go to her. He wanted to fold her into his arms and hold her tight, comfort her. He wanted to, but he held back. Instead, he said, “I’ll have someone at the police department check this out… see if there’re other women reported missing.”

“Other women? Do you know of one?”

“A patient of mine. Missing since mid-June. She’s blond, slender, and wears a gold and silver ankle bracelet.”

“My God.”

“On my insistence her mother reported her missing. As far as Mrs. Sardi’s concerned, Belinda took off alone. You see, she was a chronic runaway, I’ve had her in group since she was sixteen. Family problems mostly. Peer pressure. No father, mother wrapped up in other things.”

“But you don’t think she left town willingly?”

“No. She was twenty-two, no longer a kid. She started coming to me on her own six months ago. She really wanted to get it together. And dammit, she was doing just that. At our last session the patient sitting in my office was a woman with a focus, a future. She’d been working for a radio station for six months and had just gotten a promotion and raise. She wanted to go into broadcasting, was planning to enroll at UNR in the fall.” It occurred to Jake that Belinda Sardi was probably dead, her body lying in a pit with other hapless victims. No one would know she was dead. No one would mourn her.

“Why don’t we just go to the police and tell them everything?” Roberta asked.

“Because they won’t believe you. What crime? Where are the bodies? They’re overworked as it is without throwing something conjectural their way. Did you report what you saw on the day of your accident?” he asked.

He caught a flash of compunction in her eyes before she looked away without answering.

“It probably would have served no purpose unless, of course, you can pinpoint the area where the bodies are hidden.”

“Not likely,” she said. “There are thousands of acres of wilderness up there. And I can’t be sure that what I saw that day was actually happening right in front of me. It’s possible they were miles away.”

“Well, one thing is certain. If this man is really out there, we’ll find him. After all, you have a direct pipeline to him. As long as he doesn’t know you’re eavesdropping, sooner or later he’s bound to give himself away.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Roberta sat at her desk at the center, staring out the window. Her mind wandered, and even the simplest task was an effort. If she were able to completely immerse herself in her work, then and only then did the man in the woods recede to a remote place in her mind.

The phone rang, startling Robbi out of her grim reverie. She snatched up the receiver, eager for any diversion.

“Hello. Is this a bad time?”

“Jake?” Her stomach fluttered.

“Yes. What’s your schedule like? Can you break away?”

“To do what?”

“I thought we’d cruise around. See if we can locate that bar.”

Robbi glanced at her watch. Four forty-five. Before he’d called, trying to concentrate on anything had been an effort; it’d be impossible now. “Meet me at my house in half an hour?”

Robbi stood on the sidewalk, waiting. A light breeze tugged at the hem of the dress’s pleated skirt, threatening to rush underneath and billow the whole thing about her hips. She held it down with splayed fingers.

Jake’s white T-bird pulled up to the curb. Robbi quickly opened the car door and climbed inside,

“No cane?” he said.

“Nope. Too much of a crutch. Gave it up, cold turkey.”

He shifted gears, pulled out, and merged with the traffic.

“Great car,” she said. “Looks brand new. Even smells new.”

He smiled. “I restored most of it myself. Kind of a hobby of mine.”

He was wearing jeans and a button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled up. He looked exceptionally attractive in blue, the periwinkle matching his eyes. She caught the scent of his aftershave, a subtle, clean fragrance that made her think of a boy in college whom she’d had an intense crush on. They had never dated, had never really talked to each other for that matter; his name escaped her now, yet something in her stomach stirred.

Five minutes later they stood on the corner of Fourth and Lake Street. Robbi had a strong feeling the bar in her vision was situated within the downtown casino district. They would leave the car in the parking lot and cover the area on foot.

“Are you sure you can manage?” Jake asked. “We might have to cover a lot of ground.”

“I’ve been walking every morning. As long as we don’t go too fast.”

Within the first hour they covered the area from Lake to Virginia, the city’s main drag. By seven o’clock Roberta, her foot beginning to ache, was having serious doubts that the bar existed beyond her dreams.

“There’s an alley on the other side of the river,” Jake said. “If it’s not there, then we’ll break for dinner.”

Robbi nodded, shouldered her purse, and walked on. They crossed the Sierra Street Bridge; the courthouse was on their left. As they neared the alley, she slowed. There was something here, she could feel it. A tightness at the back of her scalp sent a chill down her spine. She hung back.

Jake watched her.

She stopped at the mouth of the alley and turned toward the street. The garbage bags were no longer there, but she saw them nonetheless, stacked at the curb, black and bloated.

Hesitantly, Robbi moved to the dark metal door of the bar. She looked up at the neon sign. STARDUST LOUNGE.

Jake followed.

“Let’s go in,” she said with a slight tremor in her voice.

The air inside was unbelievably dense. It crowded around her oppressively. The room was dark, illuminated only by recessed lighting behind the bar and candles glowing in red glass holders on a half dozen tables. Robbi stepped to the bar. She took hold of the first stool to steady herself, her fingers digging into the vinyl back. The room seemed to whirl and rock crazily. So adversely affected by the place, she was certain the man in her visions had to be near.