Sleep No More (39 page)

“Drogan?” Eve said. “God, I was stupid. I should have searched the car and not counted on just locking it.”

“It took me a good five minutes to open it. I was in full view of you for a couple of those minutes,” he murmured. “But you were very absorbed with each other. I was counting on that since I couldn’t be waiting for you in the house. I cased it before Avery came today but there was no decent place to hide. And she said that her precious boy mustn’t be involved. Now start the car and back out of the driveway.”

“Let Eve go,” Beth said. “It’s me you want, isn’t it?”

“Actually, you’ve taken second place of late. Start the car, Duncan.”

“Beth?” Rick Avery was coming down the steps, his eyes squinting against the glare of the security lights from the garage. “What’s happening? I saw you start to get out of the car. Did you change your mind? Come back into the house, and we’ll talk about it.”

Drogan muttered a curse. “Keep him away. Tell him anything, but keep him
away.
”

Beth was frantically rolling down the window. “Rick, stop.”

Rick had reached the bottom of the steps. “I won’t stop. This is too important to both of us.”

“Keep the bastard away,” Drogan snarled. “This wasn’t supposed to—”

But Rick was beside the passenger side of the car. He was smiling. “Beth, I knew you wouldn’t let our—”

A pop of sound.

A hole appeared in the center of Rick Avery’s forehead.

Beth screamed.

“Start the damn car,” Drogan said through his teeth to Eve. “Or I’ll put another hole in
her
head. Everything’s gone wrong. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

Eve started to back out of the drive.

“No, I’ve got to go to him,” Beth was struggling to get her door open, tears running down her cheeks. “Maybe I can—”

“He’s dead, Beth,” Eve said.

“Quiet her down,” Drogan said. “I don’t really care whether I kill her now or later. It’s up to you.”

“Beth,” Eve said. “You can’t help Rick. But you can help me. Just don’t lose it. Calm down, okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer but continued to back out of the driveway with a screech of tires. She had to get Beth away from the sight of Rick’s crumpled body. She couldn’t count on anything from Beth after she had just seen the murder of the only person in the world she loved. “Where, Drogan?”

“Just around the corner and two blocks up. We need to ditch this car and take my truck. Quinn will be able to track this car too easily. He won’t know what I’m driving.” He pocketed the gun he’d taken from Eve before pointing to an old Chevy truck parked next to the curb. “Get out. Both of you.”

“Why not just let us go?” Eve asked. “Nelda Avery is paying your blood money, isn’t she? You just said that you’d blown your deal by killing Rick Avery.”

“That was your fault. If you’d driven out of the driveway right away, I wouldn’t have had to kill him. He was going to cause trouble. I had both of you where I wanted you, and I wasn’t about to let him ruin everything.”

“And you panicked.”

“I don’t panic, bitch.”

“You killed him, didn’t you? Now you’re not going to get any more cash from her. Let us go.”

“I might still be able to negotiate with her. It depends if her love for her son is greater than her love for herself. I’d bet on her loving herself more.” He shrugged. “And, if I’m wrong, there are other satisfactions. You’re a rare prize, Eve Duncan. I was hoping to have Quinn present to participate, and that might still be an option. That would be the best scenario.”

She heard a sudden rustling, slithering sound.

Drogan chuckled. “Mama Zela agrees with me.” He held up a small cage. “She likes to perform to an audience.”

A snake. He had a snake in that cage.

Eve had a sudden memory of that part of his dossier.

His mother’s skeleton was found years later buried in a coffin with a snake wrapped around her throat.

Mama Zela was his mother’s name. And he called this snake Mama Zela. It seemed hideous that he’d name a snake after the mother he’d murdered.

She was shuddering. The idea filled her with horror. Don’t let him see it. He would feed on her fear as that snake had fed on his mother.

But he’d already sensed it. “You’ll be braver than my mother,” he said softly as he opened the car door and gestured with the gun for them to get out. “She couldn’t believe that it could happen to her, that I’d actually do it. She kept screaming for me to let her out.”

That brought a picture to mind that was even more vivid. She didn’t answer him.

He didn’t like that response. “But everyone breaks in the end. When they realize no one is going to save them. You’ll beg me just as she did.”

“Go to hell.”

He laughed. “Oh, you’ll pay for that.” He glanced at Beth, who was sitting frozen, her eyes fixed straight ahead in shock. “Or she will. I’m still annoyed with her. Quinn’s interference just managed to shift the principal emphasis.”

“You killed Rick,” Beth said numbly. “How could you do that?”

He didn’t answer.

Eve reached out and took Beth’s hand in silent support.

“How touching,” Drogan said. “You’ve obviously become very close. Maybe I should put both of you in the same coffin. I’ll have to think about it…”

*   *   *

KENDRA WAS KNEELING
in the driveway beside the crumpled figure of a man when Joe’s car screeched to a stop in front of the Malibu cottage. She looked up as he jumped out and ran toward her. “Eve?”

She shook her head. “Not here. Neither is Beth. I got here ten minutes ago, and all I found was him.” She nodded at the dead man. “It’s Rick Avery.”

Joe nodded jerkily. “Evidently, the trap didn’t go as planned.” Keep cool. Keep calm. He wouldn’t get anywhere if he panicked. “But he didn’t kill either Eve or Beth. Maybe Drogan had plans, too. He was angry as hell when he phoned me yesterday.” Better not to think of that vicious malice toward Eve now. “Where’s Newell?”

“He took off to check out the houses in the neighborhood and see if he could find any trace of Drogan. I wanted to stay here and look around.”

“What did you find out?”

She shook her head.

“Don’t tell me that,” he said through set teeth. “I know what you can do. This is Eve. You’ve got to—”

“Shut up, Joe,” she said curtly. “I know you’re hurting. But I’m not perfect, and I can’t pull something out of the air if it’s not there. Do you think I don’t want to—”

“Sorry.” He cut her off and reached for his phone. “I’ll call the local police and report Avery’s murder. We can at least set them moving on his trail.” He talked briefly to 911 and hung up. “You said you’d been here ten minutes? There aren’t any neighbors or curiosity seekers around. That bullet in his skull must have come from a gun with a silencer.”

Kendra nodded. “Possibly. But I think he may have improvised this time. Maybe wrapped his gun in rags or a towel to muffle the sound.”

“How do you figure that?”

Kendra knelt at the edge of the driveway and picked up two small, charred, cloth fragments in the tall grass.

Joe took the fragments. They both showed evidence of flash burns and gunpowder residue. “You’re right. But that’s not the kind of information I need, Kendra.”

“I’ve found the car.” Newell was striding down the street toward them. “Drogan made Eve abandon that rental car she was driving. It’s parked down the block and around the corner.”

Joe was already running in the direction Newell was indicating. The Toyota was unlocked, and he jerked the driver’s door open.

Nothing. What had he expected? A miracle? A sign from Eve that would have told them something, anything.

“Nothing here.” He turned to Kendra who was now beside him. “Not a damn thing.”

“That may not be true,” Kendra said slowly, her head lifted. “Not in the front seat. But maybe in the rear…” She opened the rear door of the car. “Yes…”

“For God’s sake, what?”

“A combination, I think.” She turned on her purse flashlight and shined the beam on the carpet. “And one that could come only from Drogan … or someone with similar interests.” She brushed her hand across the floor, and tiny black grains stuck to her fingers. She sniffed her hand. “I think this is…” She held it out to Joe. “Taste it.”

He tentatively touched it with his tongue.

“For God’s sake, I’m not trying to poison you,” she said in disgust.

“You never know.” He tasted it again. “Salt?”

She nodded. “Black salt. Voodoo practitioners use black salt for protection. You said that Drogan believed in that stuff, didn’t you?”

Joe nodded.

Kendra rubbed her thumb and forefinger together. “It’s mixed with the oil I’ve been smelling. Sulfur, again … I smelled it in Beth’s hospital room, too, but it didn’t strike me as too unusual then since sulfur is also used in medicines. It didn’t really click until I was driving here tonight and thinking about what you and Eve told me about Drogan’s being into voodoo. They use various oils in their ceremonies, and sulfur is one of the most-frequently-used ingredients.”

“Ceremonies? In the backseat of the car?”

“Don’t talk. Just let me concentrate for a minute and see how many ingredients I can identify.”

“What difference does it make?”

“Drogan has to get his oils from someplace. We might be able to locate him through his source.”

“Maybe he makes it himself.”

She shook her head. “Not likely. Among other things, the oils are supposed to protect against negative energy. The cults have strict recipes and procedures, and most practitioners only trust holy men to create them.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I spent a summer working in a club on Bourbon Street. You don’t hang around New Orleans long without becoming a little familiar with voodoo lore.”

“And with you, it would be more than a little familiar.”

“It’s fascinating … and dark. It … drew me.”

“And how would you be able to trace Drogan through his voodoo oil?”

“They’re not all the same. The various holy men prefer different ingredients. It’s like a signature. This one is … unusual.”

“Where are you supposed to find a voodoo holy man in the middle of California?”

“You think voodoo is limited to Louisiana and the islands? No way. It’s just not as frequently practiced.”

“I stand corrected,” Joe said. “If you can find a voodoo holy man who will lead us to Drogan, for God’s sake do it.”

“There are tire tracks on the edge of this grass, Quinn,” Newell called from where he was kneeling on the side of the curb.

“I’ll be right there.” He glanced at Kendra before he turned away. “Why is it unusual?”

“I’ve smelled this oil before, but now there’s something else here. The oil is interacting with something else.”

“What?”

“It smells like … cucumbers.”

“Is that part of the recipe?”

“No … it means…” Kendra looked up. “There was a snake in here, Joe.”

He stiffened. “What?”

“He had a snake in this car. Some snakes’ musk glands can give off an odor that’s similar to cucumber. I know that smell.” She gave him a level glance. “And the way the odors blend and interact … I think he may have oiled it.”

“The snake?” He stared at her. “Totally bizarre.”

“Particularly if he spread the oil on the snake with his own hands. That would really be weird.” She made an impatient gesture. “Go check out those tire tracks. You can’t help me with this. I’ll be with you as soon as I’m through here.”

Newell looked up at him. “I think he was driving a truck. There are two treads, close together.”

“Which won’t do us much good.” Joe was tensing with frustration. Time was passing, and they were running into blank walls. “We don’t have time to run those tire prints and identify the usual trucks who use them.”

“I’m done.” Kendra was beside them. She examined the tire tracks. “Not much help here, is there? Not on an immediate basis.” She went a little farther down the curb. “But here’s a footprint…” She knelt and shined her beam. “Men’s size eleven or twelve, fairly common hiking boot…”

Sirens in the distance.

She lifted her head. “There’s the police you called, Joe.”

“Then let’s get out of here.” Joe turned and strode back toward the beach cottage. “I did my duty by calling them. But I can’t be stuck here answering questions and filling out reports. You think you can find the source of that voodoo oil? Let’s do it. Hurry.”

Kendra almost ran to keep up with him. “I am hurrying. I know that you— Who is that?” She had stopped in the street and was staring at the driveway of the Malibu cottage.

A woman was kneeling on the driveway beside Rick Avery, cradling him in her arms and rocking back in forth in an agony of sorrow.

Joe muttered a curse. “Nelda Avery.” He was striding up the driveway. “We may have just gotten lucky.” He stopped before Nelda. “Where is Drogan?”

She didn’t seem to hear the question. “My son is dead.” Tears were running down her cheeks. “My Rick is dead.”

“And Beth and Eve may end up that way before the night is over if I don’t get Drogan. I don’t give a damn about your son. Tell me where I can find Drogan.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way.” She was gently stroking the hair back from her son’s forehead. “I told him to be careful, not to hurt my Rick. He didn’t listen. Now look at him…” She was sobbing. “I made Rick promise to call me right after he talked to Beth, and he didn’t do it. Rick always kept his promises to me. I called him, and he didn’t answer. I had a terrible feeling…”

“Where is Drogan?”

She was rocking Rick back and forth again. “Go away.”

Joe bent toward her and his voice was low and fierce. “Listen to me. You tell me where he is. Quick. I’m not having those police decide you’re some pitiful victim and taking you away. I don’t care if you’re the mother of this poor, half-witted bastard. You’re responsible for getting Eve here. Now tell me where Drogan took her. Or, by God, I’ll break your neck.”

Kendra took a step forward. “Joe.”

He ignored her. “Where? Stop protecting him.”

“Protecting him?” Nelda looked up at him, her face ravaged by pain. “Do you think I’d protect Drogan? He killed my son. He’s ruined my life. I want him dead.”