Hunting Fear (6 page)

“Christ, I hate it when you’re right.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “And I love it when you admit that. The thing is, you have to go back into that conference room with two FBI agents and one maybe-psychic and try to salvage the situation.”

“There’s nothing to salvage. I might have gone overboard, but—”

“Have I ever told you how pigheaded you are?”

“Yes. Look, I am not going to apologize to her.”

Lindsay shrugged. “So don’t. Just move on. Maybe she’ll be the gracious one.”

“You’re pushing it,” he warned her.

Lindsay turned toward the door, saying dryly, “Just trying to make sure you get reelected. I like sleeping with the boss.”

“What did you expect me to do?” Lucas demanded of Samantha, his voice a bit tight.

“Oh, I don’t know. Vouch for me? Confirm that I am, in fact, a genuine psychic, all tested and validated and everything? Maybe say that even the FBI has legitimized psychics, so the good sheriff might want to table his hostility and pay attention.”

It was Jaylene who murmured, “We had pretty much decided not to go into detail about the unit or our abilities.”

“Right. And of course that decision had nothing to do with me showing up.”

“No, it didn’t,” Lucas said.

“Bullshit. There can’t be any taint of carnivals or roadside fortune-tellers to sully your precious unit’s
serious
reputation; you don’t have to remind me of that.”

“Even you have to admit Metcalf would have taken you a lot more seriously if he hadn’t seen a picture of you in that wild gypsy outfit.”

“I wasn’t born independently wealthy, Luke; I have to make a living. Please excuse me for using the only skill I have in the only way available to me. At the time, I really didn’t have a whole lot of options.”

“And I don’t have a lot now, dammit. We’re investigating a series of fatal kidnappings, Samantha, and we do
not
have time to educate every cop we have to work with in the reality of psychic abilities. Sometimes the best we can do is get in, do our jobs, and move on with as little discussion as possible.”

“You’re good at that, as I recall. Moving on without discussion.”

Whatever Lucas might have replied to that cutting comment was lost—at least for the moment—as the sheriff and his detective returned to the room.

“Any progress?” Lindsay asked cheerfully.

Jaylene murmured, “Not so you’d notice.”

Lindsay lifted an eyebrow at her, but said to Samantha, “If there’s nothing else you can tell us, we won’t keep you any longer.”

“Yes, you will.” Samantha sat up straighter in her chair and looked at the sheriff. “You’ll put me in your jail or under house arrest with a couple of watchdogs—or I’ll sit out in your damned lobby where everyone can see me.”

“Why?” he asked warily.

“Because there’s going to be another kidnapping. And considering the way people are beginning to look at me around here, I’d really rather not continue to be a suspect in anybody’s mind.”

Lucas was on his feet immediately. “Another? Christ, why didn’t you say something before now?”

“Because she’s not in danger yet,” Samantha replied.

“How do you know that?”

“The vision. I saw her tied to a chair in what looked like a small, windowless room, and on a desk nearby was a newspaper with this coming Thursday’s date. I think he’ll send a photo of her with the newspaper, to prove she’s alive when he demands the ransom. I think he’ll expect to be doubted, especially after Callahan was found dead.”

“So you know he’ll have her on Thursday,” Lucas said. “What’s to stop him from grabbing her tonight or tomorrow?”

“He never does, does he? Grabs them late on Wednesday or early Thursday, and always makes the ransom demand on Thursday to give the family just enough time to get the money.”

“That’s the pattern,” Lucas said grimly. “Want to tell me how you know about it?”

“Wait a minute,” Metcalf interrupted. “Do you know who she is? What she looks like?”

“This time I made damned sure I found out who she is.”

“How?” Lucas asked.

“In the vision, she was wearing a shirt with the logo of a local softball team on it. Turns out she’s the assistant coach. Carrie Vaughn. She lives out on Highway 221. I tried to warn her a couple of hours ago, but I got the feeling she didn’t believe she could be in any danger.”

“Get somebody out there,” Metcalf said to Lindsay. “I’d rather be embarrassed than sorry later.”

Lindsay nodded and hurried from the conference room.

Lucas said, “Answer the question, Samantha. How did you know what the kidnapper’s pattern has been?”

“Lucky guess?”

“Not funny.”

Samantha’s smile twisted. “Oh, you’re wrong about that. It is funny. In fact, this whole thing is a cosmic joke. You just haven’t heard the punch line yet.”

“How did you know about the pattern?”

She looked at him for a long moment, expressionless, then said, “We’re staying at that little motel near the fairgrounds. If you’ll go there—”

“I thought you people stayed in those campers and RVs,” Metcalf interrupted.

“Usually we do. Sometimes we like hot showers in bathrooms large enough to turn around in. Some of us are at the motel. Okay?”

The sheriff shrugged. “Just wondered.”

“We’ve paid in advance, if you were wondering that.”

“It had crossed my mind.”

“Yeah, I figured it might have.”

Lucas said, “Will you two please stay on the subject and stop sniping at each other? Sam, what’s in your motel room?”

She didn’t let herself react to the shortened version of her name. “Check the top drawer of the nightstand, and you’ll find a handkerchief in a plastic bag. He dropped it at the carnival, probably yesterday. When I picked it up late yesterday afternoon, I had the vision.”

“And?”

“I told you what I saw.”

“What else?”

“Flashes of the others. The other victims. Ten, twelve of them. Men and women, different ages, nothing in common. Except him. I knew what he was doing, what he’s been doing all these months. His pattern. And I knew why.”

“Why?”

“Sure you want to know, Luke?”

“Of course I want to know.”

Samantha shrugged. “Okay. I saw a chessboard. Not a lot of pieces; it was an endgame. Two players. I saw their hands moving the chessmen. And then I saw the face of one of the players.”

“Who was it?”

“It was you, Luke. Get it? Get the joke? You’re here because he wants you to be here. It’s not about the money. It was never about the money. He’s playing a game. He’s matching his skills and his wits against you. You, personally. And he won’t stop until the game has a winner.”

Metcalf said something profane under his breath and then, louder, said, “If you expect us to believe any of this—”

“I don’t expect
you
to believe a thing, Sheriff,” she said without taking her eyes off Lucas.

“Why me?” Lucas demanded. “Why would he fix on me?”

“Because you’re the best. The past few years, you’ve really made a name for yourself in solving kidnappings and abductions. And since those crimes tend to be high-profile, you’ve gotten a lot of press, other media. You’ve been very visible. I guess he’s been watching.”

“No,” Lucas said. “I just don’t buy it.”

“Maybe you just don’t want to buy it.” She seemed to hesitate, then said slowly, “Why do you think he kills them?”

“He didn’t kill them all,” Lucas said immediately.

“He didn’t kill the first one,” Samantha agreed. “Let her go once he had the money like a nice little kidnapper, even though she’s convinced he’d planned to kill her. If he had planned to, he must have changed his mind. But I guess he found something lacking in the way that ended, huh? Because he’s been killing them ever since.”

Lucas was silent.

“So what was it, Luke? Why did he start killing them? They never see him. They couldn’t identify him, so they aren’t a threat. He gets his money, or has almost every time. So why does he kill them? Come on, Luke, you’re a natural profiler. What possible reason could he have for slaughtering these people once their ransom is paid?”

Despite his own antagonism, Metcalf found himself watching the federal agent and waiting for his answer.

Lucas sat back down in his chair without looking away from Samantha, and after a moment said slowly, “According to the official profile, he’s not willing to take the risk that they might be able to identify him.”

“What about the unofficial profile? You must have your own ideas. Don’t tell me you and Bishop actually saw eye to eye on this one?”

“It makes sense, Sam.”

“Sure it does. It makes perfect psychological sense. And I don’t have a degree in psychology, so maybe I’m the last person you should listen to. It just seems to me that broken minds don’t work the way they’re supposed to. That’s why they’re broken.”

Jaylene said, “Broken minds. Good description.”

“He wouldn’t be kidnapping and killing people if he didn’t have a few screws loose.”

“We can only hope.”

Lucas said, “The point is that the profile fits what little we know about the kidnapper. It makes sense that he kills them to avoid the risk of identification.”

“But if he knows he’s going to kill them, why bother to keep them blindfolded?”

“We have no proof that he does.”

“I’m telling you. He does. Right up until the moment they find out they’re going to die, he keeps them blindfolded.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you?” Metcalf demanded.

“As I said, Sheriff, I don’t expect you to believe me. But Luke knows I’m telling the truth.”

Eyeing the federal agent, Metcalf said, “You two obviously have a history of some kind.
Do
you believe her?”

The silence dragged on much longer than was comfortable before Lucas finally replied.

“Yes. I believe we can trust what she knows. What she sees.”

Samantha, hearing the qualifiers, smiled wryly. But all she said was, “So why keep them blindfolded if he knows he’s going to kill them anyway? Why kill them? What could he possibly gain by killing them?”

“You tell me.”

“Points, I guess. In the game. Maybe . . . if he gets his money, he also gets points. If you don’t get to the victims before he gets his money, he wins points. You rescue a live victim, and you get points. Which means he’s ahead on points.”

“Goddammit,” Metcalf muttered.

She glanced at him. “Sorry to sound flippant, Sheriff. See, the thing is, all I really know is that he’s playing a game and Luke is his opponent. Everything else is guesswork.”

“This is insane,” Metcalf said.

“Oh, I agree. He’s probably insane too, the kidnapper. That broken mind we were discussing. Broken and brilliant.”

“Why brilliant?” Lucas asked.

It was Jaylene who replied to that. “Because you’re very good at what you do. Because the odds are always stacked against a successful kidnapping, and this guy has been successful way too many times. Because it isn’t about the money.”

Samantha nodded. “He’s invented a very special game just for the two of you to play. And don’t think he doesn’t know his opponent. The first few kidnappings may well have been test runs, just to lure you in and watch what you did.”

“I can’t believe you’re buying any of this,” Metcalf said to Lucas.

“You don’t know all the background, Sheriff,” Lucas responded, frowning. “The cases going back eighteen months. This . . . theory . . . fits.”

“It’s not a theory, Luke,” Samantha said flatly. “It’s a fact. This is all a game to him.”

“Games have rules.”

“Yes. Which means you have to figure out what his rules are before you have a hope in hell of saving the next victim’s life, catching him—and winning the game.”

Tuesday, September 25

“I don’t need watchdogs,” Carrie Vaughn said with a considerable amount of force. “I can take care of myself, and I don’t like people hovering around me.”

“They aren’t hovering, Miss Vaughn. I’ve got a patrol car parked across the highway on that old dirt road; you can barely see them when you look out a window.” Sheriff Metcalf kept his voice as patient as possible. “They’re just keeping an eye on things, is all.”

“Because some gypsy fortune-teller says I’m in danger? Jesus, Sheriff.”

“I have to act on information received, Miss Vaughn, especially when we’ve already had one kidnapping that ended in murder.”

“Information from a fortune-teller?” She didn’t try to hide her disgust. “I hope you aren’t planning on running again at the next election.”

The rest of the conversation was brief, and Metcalf hung up the phone a minute or two later, scowling. He turned to face Lucas, who was on the other side of the conference table, and said, “Tell me again why we’re listening to her.”