The Killing Game (7 page)

“I won't be long, Eve.” Joe turned to Spiro. “If we're going to walk, let's go to the command center.”

“Whatever.” Spiro started back along the cliff edge.

Eve watched them. They were closing her out and she was tempted to go after them.

“Ms. Duncan?” Charles Cather said politely. “You'll be more comfortable in your car. You must be cold.”

She looked down at the grave. Yes, she was cold. Cold and tired and empty. The sight of that grave had nearly torn her apart, and she needed a little time to recover. Besides, Joe would not let her be closed out for long. She started down the cliff. “Come on, I have some hot coffee in the Jeep.”

“
COULD I HAVE
another cup?” Charlie Cather leaned back in the passenger seat. “I'm really feeling this cold. Spiro says I need to toughen up, but I tell him it's from living in South Georgia all my life.”

She poured him more coffee. “Where in South Georgia?”

“Valdosta. Do you know it?”

“I've never been through there, but I've heard about the university. Have you ever gone to Pensacola? I used to take my daughter there on vacation.”

“Every spring break. Nice beach.”

“Yes. Where's Agent Spiro from?”

“New Jersey, I think. He doesn't talk much.” He grimaced. “Well, not to me. I'm new at the Bureau, and Spiro's been there forever.”

“Joe seems to respect him.”

“Oh, so do I. Spiro's a great agent.”

“But you don't like him?”

“I didn't say that.” He hesitated. “Spiro's done profiling for nearly a decade. It does something to a man.”

“What?”

“It . . . burns him out. Profilers usually socialize only with other profilers. I guess when you're a man who stares at monsters every day, it's hard to talk to someone who doesn't do that too.”

“You're not a profiler?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. They just accepted me into the unit and I'm still training. I'm here to tote and fetch for Spiro.” He took a sip of coffee and then said quietly, “I've seen your picture in the paper.”

“Have you?”

“I'm sorry if that's your little girl they found up there.”

“I've known for a long time that there was no hope. I just want to bring Bonnie home so I can lay her to rest.”

He nodded. “My dad was MIA in Vietnam and they've never found the body. Even when I was a kid I used to worry about where he was. It didn't seem right that he was lost there.”

“No, it doesn't.” She glanced away from him. “And my daughter wasn't in a war.”

“No? Seems like there are wars everywhere. You can't even send a kid to school without worrying if one of his classmates has an attack rifle. Somebody has to stop it. That's why I joined the FBI.”

She smiled. “Charlie, I do believe you're one of the good guys.”

He made a face. “I sounded pretty hokey, didn't I? Sorry. I know I'm green as grass compared to Spiro. Sometimes I get the feeling he thinks I'm still in kindergarten. Demoralizing as hell.”

Eve could see how it would be. She supposed a person aged quickly in a job like Spiro's. “Are you married, Charlie?”

He nodded. “Last year. Martha Ann.” A sudden smile illuminated his face. “She's pregnant.”

“Congratulations.”

“We should have been sensible and waited. But we both wanted kids. We'll make out.”

“I'm sure you will.” She was feeling better. Life wasn't all graves and monsters. There were people like Charlie and Martha Ann and the baby on its way. “Want some more coffee?”

“I've almost emptied your thermos. I'd better not—”

“Open the window.” It was Joe, his face pressed against the fogged glass.

She rolled down the window.

“They found them,” Joe said. “At least they found bones. They're bringing them up to the command center now.”

She got out of the Jeep. “Children?”

“I don't know.”

“Two?”

“There are two skulls.”

“Intact?”

Joe nodded.

“Then I'll be able to tell. Take me there.”

“Can I talk you out of it?”

She was already climbing the cliff. “Take me there.”

THE STRETCHER WAS
rigged on a pulley and Eve watched as it was hoisted up slowly. On the stretcher were two blanket-wrapped bundles.

“You're trying to keep the bodies separated?” she asked Spiro.

“As best as we can. I wouldn't bet on the bones not being mixed up. It looked like the mud slide washed them down.”

The stretcher reached the top of the cliff and was settled on the ground. Spiro knelt beside it and opened one blanket. “What do you think?”

“Give me some more light.” She knelt next to him. So many bones. Splintered. Broken. Like the bones of an animal after carnivores had—

Get a grip. Do your job. The skull.

She took it in her hands and examined it. No teeth. Joe had told her the other skulls didn't have teeth. Ignore the horrifying image of the murderer pulling them. Concentrate. “It's a child. Preteen male. Caucasian.”

“You're sure?” Spiro asked.

“No. Anthropology isn't my specialty, but I'd bet on it. I've done hundreds of reconstructions on children this age.” She gently put the skull down and opened the other blanket. It held fewer bones and the skull was staring up at her.

Bring me home.

Lost. So many lost ones.

“Anything wrong?” Spiro asked.

“Leave her alone, Spiro,” Joe said.

Could anything be more wrong than a world that could destroy children? “No, nothing's wrong. I was just studying it.” She picked up the skull. “Another male. Preteen Caucasian. Maybe a little older than the other.” She put the skull down and got to her feet. “You'll have to get a forensic anthropologist to confirm.” She turned to Joe. “I'm ready to leave now.”

“Hallelujah.”

“Wait,” Spiro said. “Joe told me about the telephone call. I need to talk to you.”

“Then come to my cottage to see her.” Joe was already pushing Eve down the cliff. “We're out of here.”

“I want to see her now.”

Joe looked back over his shoulder. “Don't push it,” he said softly. “I won't have it, Spiro.”

Spiro hesitated and then shrugged. “I guess it can wait. God knows, I have enough to do here.”

EVE SETTLED INTO
the passenger seat. “You didn't have to make an issue of it. I could have talked to him.”

“Yeah, I know.” He stomped on the accelerator. “And you could have stayed up on that ridge, staring at those bones. Or gone back to look at that little girl's grave. How about leaping over tall buildings in a single bound? You don't need any more punishment to prove you're Superwoman.”

She leaned back on the headrest. God, she felt tired. “I'm not trying to prove anything.”

He was silent a moment. “I know. It would be easier if you were.”

“He told me the truth. There were two other children up there. He could have been telling the truth about Bonnie.”

“One truth doesn't guarantee another.”

“But it makes what he told me more plausible.”

Another silence. “Yes.”

“And if it's true, then he's been out there all along. Walking, breathing, enjoying life. When Fraser was executed, at least I had the comfort of knowing Bonnie's murderer had been punished. But it was all a lie.”

“You're jumping to conclusions.”

But she had a terrible feeling she wasn't. “There were two preteen boys Fraser admitted to killing. John Devon and Billy Thompkins.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“We have to identify only one of them to form a link between Fraser and the caller. I want you to persuade Spiro to give me one of those skulls to reconstruct.”

“There may be some red tape. The FBI has their own way of doing things.”

“You know Spiro. You were in the FBI. You can get him to cut through the tape.”

“I'll try.”

“Do it.” She smiled mirthlessly. “Or you'll find another skeleton missing. If I can't have Bonnie, I
will
have one of those boys.”

“You're already thinking of her as Bonnie.”

“I have to call her something.”

“There was another missing girl of about the same age on Fraser's kill list.”

“Doreen Parker.” She closed her eyes. “Damn you, Joe.”

“You want it too much. I won't have you taking that kind of fall if it's not true.”

“Just get me a skull.”

He muttered a frustrated curse. “I'll get it for you. Spiro should be grateful for any help on this case.”

“Then let him be grateful. We're going to need him. He knows about monsters.”

“So do you.”

Only one monster. The one who had dominated her life since Bonnie had disappeared. She had called the monster Fraser and now she found that might not even be its name. “I don't know enough. But I'm going to have to learn.”

“You're so sure he's going to contact you again?”

“He'll call me.” Eve smiled bitterly. “As he said, we have a bond.”

C                  H                  A                  P                  T                  E                  R

FOUR

“Go to bed,” Joe said as they stepped inside the cottage. “I'll call Spiro and put in a request for a skull.”

Eve glanced at her watch. It was almost four in the morning. “He won't be in a very accommodating mood if you wake him up.”

“I doubt he's asleep. He doesn't sleep much when he's on a case. He's pretty driven.”

“Good.” She headed for her bedroom. “I believe in driven.”

“Tell me something I don't know.” He reached for the phone on the table. “Go on, get some rest. I'll get your skull for you.”

“Thanks, Joe.” She closed the door behind her and moved toward the bathroom. Shower and go to bed. Don't think of Bonnie. Don't think of those two little boys. Don't try to draw conclusions. All that could wait until she was rested and able to conquer the horror and the shock. Tomorrow when she woke she would try to put the pieces together.

“
YOU LOOK LIKE
hell,” Joe told Eve. “Couldn't you sleep?”

“A few hours. My mind wouldn't turn off. Is Spiro going to give me a skull?”

“He wouldn't commit. He said he'd discuss it when he finished talking to you.”

“He's coming here?”

“He'll be here by three this afternoon.” He checked his watch. “Another thirty minutes. You have time for breakfast or lunch. Which do you want?”

“Just a sandwich.” She headed for the refrigerator. “I can't seem to get warm. I borrowed another one of your flannel shirts.”

“I noticed. It looks better on you.” He sat down at the bar and watched her build a ham and cheese sandwich. “I don't mind sharing with you. I've become accustomed to it over the years. It's kind of comfortable.”

She nodded in perfect understanding. Being with Joe was as comfortable as feeling his soft shirt against her body.

“I have something to tell you.” Joe shook his head when she looked up in alarm. “It's not that bad, but you have to know.”

“Know what?”

“Mark Grunard's found out where you are.”

She frowned. “Mark Grunard?”

“TV journalist. He must have spent days digging into records to find this cottage. I had to make a deal. You've heard of him?”

She nodded slowly. “He's on Channel Three. Investigative reporting. I remember him from Fraser's trial.” She grimaced. “As well as I can remember anyone or anything except Fraser.”

“I told you I had to find a way to draw reporters away from here. I couldn't do it by myself, so I had to make a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“Mark Grunard's spot on the six o'clock news last night was about the search for you. He showed a shot of this cottage and expressed his disappointment that this wasn't the hideaway. However, he had been given a tip about a houseboat off the coast of Florida. After the broadcast he hopped a plane to Jacksonville, and I'd bet half the reporters in the city did too.”

“And what did you have to promise him?”

“An exclusive. He keeps quiet until we're ready to release. But you'll have to meet with him here a couple of times.”

“When?”

“The first one fairly soon. He's already paid his first installment on the deal. He'll want something in return. Do you have an objection to Grunard?”

She tried to remember Mark Grunard more clearly. Older, graying at the temples, with Peter Jennings's warmth. “No, I guess not.” She smiled. “What would you have done if I'd told you I couldn't stand him?”

“Ditched him.” He grinned. “But it makes my life easier that I don't have to go back on my word. Finish your sandwich.”

“I'm eating.” She took another bite. “What made you choose Grunard? Do you know him well?”

“Well enough. We have an occasional drink together at Manuel's. But he really chose me. He was camped out at Georgia State yesterday morning when I went to pick up the skull and made me an offer I couldn't refuse.”

“And you can trust him?”

“We don't have to trust him. As long as he thinks he's going to get a payoff, I guarantee he'll lay those red herrings all over the South.”

“I guess we can't expect more than—”

A knock on the door.

“Spiro.” Joe started across the room. “You should have finished your sandwich, dammit.”

“Dictator.” She pushed the plate away as Joe let Robert Spiro in. He nodded politely. “Ms. Duncan.” He turned to Joe. “I've been fending off the media all morning. They want to know how I knew there were two more skeletons in that gorge.”

“And what did you tell them?”

“That it was profiler instinct,” he said sourly. “Why not? After all we've done to debunk it, they still believe there's something spooky about our unit anyway.” Spiro turned to Eve. “Is there anything you have to add to what Joe told me?”

Eve looked at Joe.

He shook his head. “I told him everything.”

“Then there's nothing else,” Eve said. “Except that he's going to call again.”

“Maybe.”

“He'll call. And I want you to be ready for him. Can you bug the phone?”

“Hasn't Joe arranged that yet?”

“I was a little busy last night,” Joe said dryly. “Besides, getting my department to do the bug will require finesse, because the Atlanta PD is fighting becoming involved.”

“Then they're fighting a losing battle if those two boys are who you think they are.”

“Let me find out,” Eve said. “Give me a skull.”

Spiro was silent.

“Give it to me.”

“It could be dangerous to involve you any more.”

“I couldn't be more involved.”

“Yes, you could be, if this man who called you is really the murderer of those people at Talladega. Right now he's looking at you as a passive victim and feeling a wonderful sense of power. That might even be enough for him. But the minute you take aggressive action, he could become angry and desperate to reassert himself.”

“It won't be enough for him.” She stared him in the eye. “And I won't be a passive victim. That son of a bitch has Bonn—that little girl's bones. He killed her.”

“Possibly.”

“Probably. He knew about those boys. Can you get enough DNA for an analysis?”

“We're trying. The bones are pretty shattered and—”

“And then there will be another delay while the samples are analyzed. Give me a skull.”

Spiro raised his brows and glanced at Joe. “Obstinate.”

“You don't know the half of it. Better give her a skull.”

“Are you going to be responsible, Quinn? I'm not kidding about any initiative raising the ante.”

“I'm the only one responsible for me,” Eve said. “Give me a skull.”

He smiled faintly. “I'd be tempted to do it if I didn't know what a—”

The phone rang.

Joe started toward the phone by the door.

“Wait.” Spiro nodded at Eve. “Pick it up. Is there another extension?”

The phone rang again.

“Kitchen,” Joe said.

Spiro ran to the kitchen, and Eve picked up the receiver at his signal. “Hello.”

“Listen carefully.” The voice was unmistakable. “I know you probably have this phone bugged by now, and I'm not going to stay on the line long. From now on I'll call you on your digital phone.” He chuckled. “Did you enjoy your trip to Talladega? Cold night, wasn't it?”

He hung up.

She slowly hung up and turned to Spiro.

“He's using a mechanical voice distorter,” Spiro said. “Is that how he sounded before?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.”

“He knew about my trip to Talladega. He must have followed us.”

“Or he's bluffing.”

She shivered. “I don't think he's bluffing.”

“Neither do I.” He shrugged. “I'll give you your skull. It's not going to make any difference. He's going to play out his scenario no matter what we do.”

“How can you tell?” Joe asked.

“There are two kinds of serial killers. The disorganized and the organized. A disorganized killer is spontaneous, random, and sloppy. Talladega has some of the marks of an organized killer. Bodies hidden and transported. Weapon and evidence absent. We'll probably find other signs as we go along. Your caller's being very careful not to be recognized. There's nothing sloppy about this man, which fits the usual pattern.”

“What's the usual pattern?” Eve asked.

“Average to above-average intelligence, aware of police procedures and may even associate with the police. Owns a car in good condition, travels frequently, usually commits crimes out of his area of residence. He's socially adept, has verbal skills that he uses to—”

“That's enough.” Eve shook her head. “You argued with me but you believed this man is the Talladega monster all along, didn't you?”

“My job is to take the supposed truth apart and look at it every way possible.” He headed for the door. “When he calls again, write down everything he says the moment you hang up. Digital calls are tough to trace, but I'll arrange for a bug on the house phone. He might decide to call on that line if he can't reach you on your digital.”

“How does he even know I have a digital? How will he get my number? It's private. For that matter, Joe's number here is unlisted too.”

“There are ways if you're determined enough and smart enough. As I said, one of the characteristics of the organized serial killer is average to above-average intelligence. But you're right. One of the first things I'll do is run a check on the phone companies and see if there's been any detected infiltration into their computer banks.” He stopped at the door. “I have a skull in my car. Come out and get it, Joe.”

“And what are you going to tell Joe that you don't want me to hear?”

He hesitated and then shrugged. “That I'm sending Charlie down to guard the cottage while you're working on the skull. I have to go back to Talladega to meet with Spalding from the Child Abduction Serial Killer Unit and explain why I'm stepping on his toes by giving you a skull. CASKU might have their own forensic sculptor on tap.”

“I don't need Charlie. Joe is here.”

“A little more protection won't hurt. A hell of a lot more protection wouldn't be bad. I'll try to arrange it as soon as possible. One of the other marks of the organized killer is that he targets his victim.” He frowned. “Though the victim is almost always a stranger. It makes me uneasy that he wants to establish an intimate link with you.”

“I'm sure he's sorry to upset your profile,” she said ironically. “It could be he's not going to play by your rules.”

Spiro's lips tightened grimly. “You'd better hope he does. It may be our only way of catching him.”

“When will Charlie be here?”

“A couple of hours. Why?”

“I want Joe to go back to Atlanta and get me photographs of those boys. I'll need to verify after I do the reconstruction.”

“Joe should stay here,” Spiro said. “I'll have the Bureau fax me the photographs to Talladega and I'll bring them to you myself.”

“Thank you.”

“Don't thank me. I should tell you to leave this place and go to the city. You're too isolated here.”

“I need the isolation to work on that skull.”

“And I need to get my hands on that killer.” He shrugged. “So I guess I'm willing to risk your neck to get him.”

“Nice,” Joe said.

“Don't give me that.” Spiro suddenly whirled on him. “I warned you both of the danger of working on a skull, and you wouldn't listen. Well, don't blame me for doing anything I can to get that asshole. I've just spent a week staring at those nine graves. God knows how many more he's killed. Can you guess how many serial killers are out there? We probably catch only one in thirty. The dumb ones. The ones who make mistakes. The smart ones walk away and kill and kill again. This is one of the smart ones. But this time we have a chance. I don't know why, but he's giving us a shot at him, and I'm damn well going to take it.”

“Okay. Okay.” Joe lifted his hands in surrender. “But don't expect me to let you use Eve as bait.”

“Sorry.” Spiro struggled for control. “I didn't mean to—Maybe I need a vacation.”

“It wouldn't surprise me,” Joe said.

“Hell, I'm in good shape. Half the profilers in my department need therapy. Just be careful. I don't like this. There's something . . .” He shook his head. “Come on and get your damned skull.”

Eve crossed to the window and watched Spiro open his trunk, pull out a small cloth-wrapped bundle, and give it to Joe. He lifted his head as if feeling her gaze on him and smiled sardonically at her. He raised his hand in farewell and slammed the trunk shut.

What had Charlie said about him?

A man who stares at monsters.

She knew how close to the edge that could push you. She'd been there.

Joe came into the cottage and shut the door. “Well, you've got it. I suppose you're going to want to start right away?”

She nodded. “Put it on the pedestal. Be careful. I don't know how much damage it's already sustained.”

He unwrapped the cloth and placed the skull on the pedestal.

“It's the younger boy,” she said. “What's his name?”

“John Devon.
If
he is one of Fraser's vic—”

“Don't give me ifs right now, Joe. I know what you're trying to do, but it's just getting in my way.” She stepped closer to the pedestal and stared at the small, fragile skull. Poor child. Lost child. “John Devon,” she whispered.

Bring me home.

God, I'll try, John.

She straightened her glasses and turned to the worktable. “It's getting dark. Will you turn on the lights? I've got to start measuring.”

SPIRO CAME TO
the cottage the next morning shortly before noon. He waved the manila envelope in his hand. “Got the photos. Do you want to see them?”

“No.” Eve wiped her hands on a towel. “I never look at the photos until I'm finished. They might influence me.”

He studied the skull. “Neither of those kids looked like that. Those little sticks sticking out all over make him look like a torture victim from the Spanish Inquisition. What are they?”

“Tissue-depth markers. I measure the skull and cut each marker to the proper depth and then glue it on its specific point on the face. There are more than twenty points of the skull for which there are known tissue depths.”