Touching Evil (21 page)

"You'll notice," Jennifer said, "that the first sketch done in 1934 shows a woman virtually identical to Laura Hughes. The second sketch is pretty amateur and didn't help them I.D. the victim, but it and the description of her taken together closely match Ellen Randall. The third sketch is backed up by a photograph, and as you can see, this victim resembled Hollis Templeton. We only have a crime-scene photo of the fourth victim, but the description matches Christina Walsh."

Maggie said, "He's picking look-alikes."

Andy said, "I doubt it's coincidence that these women just happened to be attacked in much the same way as their virtual doubles were almost seventy years ago."

John said, "So he has access to police files?"

"Maybe. But there've been books written about unsolved crimes here in the city, so we can't be sure he would have had to use police files."

Jennifer said, "And there's something else." She told them about the note found in her car, finishing, "Needless to say, we don't know who wrote the note, how they got into my locked car, or why they picked me. We also don't know if he, she, or it was trying to be helpful or is bent on leading us on a really big wild-goose chase."

"But," Andy said, "we have to assume the 1894 date could be important, at least until we prove otherwise. Problem is, we've had no luck running down any files at all from that year. Not really surprising, since Seattle was only founded a few decades earlier."

Maggie said, "Maybe it's . . . some other place. Some other city."

"Maybe," Andy said. "But if it is, I don't see how we have a hope in hell of figuring out where."

Kendra hadn't really pictured Joey in her mind, but she was definitely surprised when they ran him to ground in a crowded backstreet poolroom. It was a disreputable place by and large, where the other patrons scrupulously minded their own business when Quentin strolled up behind a hulking redhead who was pocketing his winnings from a game and tapped him on one meaty shoulder.

"Hey, Joey."

Joey swung around, his fierce expression a neon warning to any sane person.

Quentin, of course, didn't so much as step back. He just smiled that curiously sweet and wholly deceptive smile of his and added, "How've you been?"

Kendra didn't draw her gun, but she kept a hand near it; she had a lot of faith in her partner's abilities, but despite Quentin's height and undoubted strength, Joey was taller and looked as though he could have lifted an all-pro tackle over his head and heaved him across the room.

But it was Joey who backed up a step, a funny little grin twisting his lips. "Oh. Hey, Quentin. Long time no see."

"Oh, it's just been a few months," Quentin said cheerfully. "Still, we have so much to catch up on. What say we step into your office and talk about old times, okay, Joey?"

Without protest and with rather astonishing meekness, Joey turned and led the way to a back hall and an incredibly filthy men's room. Kendra did her best not
to touch anything and wondered vaguely if she could throw her shoes away the moment they got out of here; there was something crunching underfoot and she really didn't want to look down and see what it was.

Joey didn't object to her presence, which was hardly surprising since he didn't take his eyes off Quentin.

"You back for good?" he asked, hoping transparently for a negative response.

"Nah, just visiting, as usual. You keeping your nose clean, Joey?"

"Sure I am, Quentin."

Quentin lifted a disbelieving brow.

"Okay, I mighta been in a little trouble here and there, but nothing major."

"You haven't killed anybody else, have you, Joey?"

"No, I swear."

"I can find out if you're lying to me. You know I can."

Joey's lips twisted again in that sick little grin. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Honest, Quentin, I been good. Ask anybody."

"I'll do that, Joey. In the meantime, I'm looking for a little information."

"Okay, sure. Shoot."

"You know about the disappearance of Samantha Mitchell?"

Joey frowned for a moment, gears almost visibly turning, then nodded. "Oh, yeah. S'posed to be another one grabbed by that rapist."

"That's right. But now somebody's claiming to have kidnapped her. And that somebody wants her husband to cough up a ransom."

Joey shifted uneasily. "It ain't me, Quentin."

"Then who is it, Joey? What sorry son of a bitch decided to take advantage of that poor lady's misfortune?"

"I dunno, Quentin, honest."

Gently, Quentin said, "I want you to find out for me, Joey. And I want you to find out fast. Understand?"

Joey nodded. "Okay. Okay, Quentin, I can ask around, sure. Guys owe me some favors, somebody's bound to know what's going on."

Quentin produced a card and handed it to Joey. "The underlined number is my cell phone. Use that to call me as soon as you find out what I want to know."

Joey accepted the card gingerly. "Right. Gimme a couple hours, and I'll see what I can dig up."

"Don't make me wait any longer than that, okay?"

"Sure, sure."

"Call me quick enough, and I might not have time to ask around and find out what you've been up to, Joey."

Once again, the gears turning behind Joey's round blue eyes were almost visible, and his hopeful understanding definitely was. "Yeah. Okay, yeah, I got it. I'll call, Quentin. Count on it."

They left him there, his back literally pressed up against the grimy wall between two disgusting sinks. He showed no inclination to follow them out and, in fact, when Kendra glanced back as they were leaving the poolroom, he still hadn't come out of the bathroom.

"That is one very nervous incredible hulk," she commented as they got in the car. "I'd swear he was terrified of you."

Quentin smiled as he started the car but didn't respond to the comment.

Kendra eyed him, then said, "So Joey's an old childhood pal, huh?"

"More of a childhood acquaintance, you could say."

"Uh-huh. I don't suppose you'd want to tell me about this interesting childhood of yours?"

"Oh, it's not interesting. Boring, really."

"Really?"

"Sure."

"Mmm. Somehow I doubt that. But never mind— for now. Who did Joey kill?"

"I think that's 'whom,' " he said thoughtfully.

"Stop correcting my grammar and answer the question."

"Yes, ma'am. Joey killed his father. Shotgun blast full in the face."

"Jesus. And he's running around loose? Our judicial system sucks."

"Not so much in this case. Joey was eleven when it happened, and his old man had just beaten his mother into unconsciousness for about the hundredth time. Joey walked in on it, took one look—and something snapped. He very coolly went into the bedroom, found and loaded the old man's gun, then came back and blew him away."

Kendra turned slightly in her seat to study her partner. "That was his story?"

"Well, his story for the record was that he got the gun only to defend his mother and that when his father charged toward him with murderous rage in his evil face, Joey acted purely in self-defense."

"The evidence backed him up?"

"It didn't contradict his version of events. Especially with a witness testifying on his behalf."

"A witness?"

"Yeah. A classmate had come home with him to borrow a schoolbook. That was back when Joey actually showed a glimmer of turning into something better than his old man. Anyway, the witness backed him up, and Joey got probation and therapy."

"The therapy doesn't seem to have done him much good, if he's been in trouble since then."

"No, and he dropped out of school as soon as he could outrun the truant officer. Given his genetic heritage and environment, not so surprising. His father really was one of those pure evil bastards life sometimes produces, and I hear his grandfather was worse. But Joey got enough of his mother's blood—and her influence—to make him a lot more manageable. He'd con you six ways from Sunday and pick your pockets if he found you unconscious or dead, but he's terrified of his own strength and temper; he doesn't want to turn out like his old man. To his credit, he usually manages not to turn violent."

Kendra nodded. "So why is he wary of you? Afraid you'll tell the truth after all these years?"

Quentin smiled faintly. "I wouldn't. But the possibility does help me keep Joey in line."

"Even from the other side of the country?"

"Well, I try to come back here at least once a year or so. And I always look him up, find out what he's been into." He chuckled. "Ever since I joined the Bureau, Joey's kept his nose pretty clean. I think he's seen one too many Hollywood distortions of the power of the FBI."

"So your badge helps keep him in line as well."

"So far. Joey's down as a one-time impulse killer, and I'd like to keep it that way. It's the difference between being bad and crossing over into being evil."

"Mmm." Kendra studied him a moment longer, then said, "Why do I get the feeling your enigmatic past contains a number of stories like Joey's?"

"Probably your vivid imagination."

She sighed, unsurprised. "That was a filthy place you dragged me into."

"Sorry about that."

Kendra turned her gaze to the windshield. "You owe me a new pair of shoes."

With their questions left hanging unanswered in the air but providing a definite spur, both John and Maggie volunteered to stick around for a few hours and help go through the file boxes in search of more information about the earlier crimes. Within an hour, they had files stacked on every available chair but nothing else to show for their efforts.

It was nearly one when Scott and Jennifer left to bring back a late lunch for them, and John took the opportunity to tell Andy about Quentin and Kendra.

"Shit," Andy said, though clearly more startled than angry. "FBI agents—and unofficial? I didn't know the Bureau did anything unofficially."

"They belong to a fairly new unit of investigators and have a bit more autonomy than most. They're very good, Andy, and completely trustworthy. And they aren't interested in taking any credit no matter who breaks the case."

"It was damned officious of you, John."

"I
know. And I'll apologize if you want me to—not for calling them in but for not telling you I was going to."

"Gee, that's big of you."

John chuckled.

Unwilling to relent just yet, Andy gave Maggie a hard stare. "You knew about this too?"

She met his gaze squarely. "I don't much care who gets the credit either, Andy. Or who helps. Just as long as we get this animal in a cage where he belongs."

"Drummond's going to shit a brick." Andy sighed. "He's already blasted me once today, John, thanks to you. Do me a favor and keep that famous profile of yours off the front page from now on, will you?"

"I'll do my best. And none of us wants Drummond to find out too soon, believe me. If and when he does find out, it'll be me who called them in—not you or anyone under Drummond."

Andy eyed him wryly. "You got a death wish?"

"I can handle Drummond." John smiled. "I've been handling men like him for fifteen years."

"He's got a lot of juice in this town, John."

"So have 1.1 just haven't used much of it yet."

"Okay, okay. As long as you understand he will
not
be happy. And as long as none of my people gets the blame."

"They won't."

"In that case—when do I get to meet these agents of yours? I like to know who I'm working with."

"We can meet up at the hotel whenever you like, but Quentin and Kendra are out now trying to find out all they can about this supposed kidnapping. They didn't think it was any more likely than your people did, but like Maggie said—whoever sent that note
might know something about Samantha Mitchell, and we need to find out what that might be."

"Think they can find out something before my people can?" It wasn't—quite—a challenge.

John smiled. "Well, let's just say I've learned never to bet against Quentin. One way or another, he usually finds what he goes looking for."

CHAPTE
R
 
ELEVEN

Andy decided to strictly limit who in his
department would know of the FBI agents' involvement, choosing to tell Scott and Jennifer, but not the other detectives.

"All my people have busted their asses on this case," he told Maggie and John, "but these two kids took some initiative
and
thought outside the box. Besides, I know for a fact they'll be happy about it—and not everybody would."

Scott and Jennifer were definitely pleased, especially when John told them of both the agents' profiling expertise, Kendra's computer skills, and the full range of databases available to them with federal authority.