Mind Games (13 page)

B. D. Harris showed up about an hour after she started her research. He asked what he could do, and when she said that Jason would be along shortly to help, he sat in the easy chair, put his feet on the ottoman, and pulled out a detective novel. A thin, unassuming man not prone to conversation, he offered no distractions as she pieced together her life from rarely remembered snippets.

Jason brought a printout of individuals compiled from his search and matched it with names Diana had written down. They checked and crosschecked, eliminating everyone who didn’t fit the profile. Some from twenty years ago were dead, and Diana never knew the remaining few on Jason’s list. They called room service for dinner, worked for another hour, then called it a night when they came up empty.

Harris made sure she locked her door before retiring to the adjoining room. “If you need me for anything, I’m right here. If not, I’ll see you at eight,” he said.

Diana tossed and turned when she got into bed, her whole life in stationary pictures unraveling before her. On the verge of falling asleep, an idea flashed into her exhausted mind and triggered renewed energy. She jumped up, rummaged through her purse to find Lucier’s card, and punched in his home number written on the back.

“Ernie, I’m sorry it’s so late, but I had an idea.”

“What’s wrong?”

From the sound of his voice, she’d interrupted a deep sleep. Knowing his long hours of late, she felt a pang of guilt but forged ahead with her brainstorm. “Jason and I spent the whole day studying all the material from my mother’s scrapbooks: every psychic in the world, I think, including names from the computer we’d never heard of. Then, when I got into bed my mind started to wander. I think we’ve been on the wrong track. We need to think outside the box. Cyrano’s not another professional, although he might very well be psychic, and he’s not someone I worked with or performed with or did a television show with. What if he’s someone who was caught because I found his victim?” She could tell from the sounds that Lucier had changed positions.

“And he’s been in jail all this time.”

“Right. I led the police to some crime when I was a kid—when, where, I don’t know—but it had to have been at least twenty years ago. Now he’s out of prison and out for revenge. Possible?”

“Definitely worth exploring. In the morning have Harris bring you to the station. And don’t forget those scrapbooks. We’ll go through them again, only now our focus will be on the crimes. If you’re right, he’s there somewhere. Then we’ll run everything through our computer. Good thinking, Diana. Now, go to sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day.”

“I feel this one. See you in the morning.”

“Diana, about yesterday, I—”

“Not now, Ernie. Let’s not talk about it now.”

Chapter Fifteen

Obsession

H
e woke with a start, as if some ear-splitting alarm had pierced his sleep. Covered in sweat, sheets soaked, he knew what caused the rude awakening. He’d seen it all in his dream, or was it a nightmare? Had she figured out something? He wouldn’t put it past her.

He couldn’t ignore the small measure of admiration he had for Diana Racine. She’d been good. Ma
ybe the best. But he was good too.

He’d followed her career for years, watched her grow up through every city paper he could get his hands on. Access to computers made tracing her easier. From the child psychic to the adult entertainer. How many of her revelations had put men like him behind bars? Did any of the others harbor the same resentment as he? For twenty years, he’d thought of nothing else, and now it came down to this moment in time―the final test.

Was it worth it? Had his blazing obsession for ve
ngeance controlled his life? Then he thought, no, it saved his life, kept him going and gave him a purpose. He wouldn’t have made it all those years otherwise. Now that he was out, was it too late to stop? He could be over the border before they linked him to the two dead women.

No. The die was cast. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, turn back now.

He knew he was twisted. He didn’t want to be, but he was. Something evil inside him needed to escape now and then. The forbidden fruit of temptation was an addiction he couldn’t resist. In spite of understanding himself, he knew how it would end. And he still couldn’t do a thing about it. They should never have let him out. But they had.

Cramped from the confines of the rickety cot, he stretched, then shuffled groggily into the sparse kitchen and opened a jug of spring water. Finding this old cabin was a stroke of luck. Amazing it survived the hurricane. Few remained in habitable condition, and this one even had a couple of cots and a few chairs. He guessed an occasional outdoorsman took advantage of the place. He hoped no one showed up while he did the same. Didn’t matter there was no electricity or water. He’d purchased a few oil lamps, a small butane stove for coffee, and a cooler for perishables. Extra jugs of water took care of washing up. That’s all he needed. He could adapt to anything. He’d spent the better part of his life adapting. Another week or two wouldn’t matter.

Sweat evaporated cold on his skin. How could his body be so damp and his throat so dry? He poured a glass of water and drank it without taking a breath, then walked into the second bedroom poured. His mouth twisted into a lopsided smirk at the sight of the other cot. Yes, this secluded place was perfect. He’d have all the time in the world to play his game.

Chapter Sixteen

A Who’s Who on Murderers’ Row

H
arris knocked on Diana’s door at eight sharp. She greeted him dressed and ready.

“I thought you were a late riser,” he said.

“I am, but not this morning. This will be a busy day, and I wanted to be up bright and early.” The idea of dredging up her childhood depressed her at first, but if she was right, finding the man who murdered two women to get at her awakened a determined curiosity.

Galen and Blanche had protected her childhood whenever possible from media news of the murderers who committed the grisly crimes she assisted in discovering. In spite of all their efforts, she knew what was going on. A child isn’t immune to the ugliness around her. But in the natural process of self-preservation, she tucked those memories in the furthest reaches of her subconscious and kept them there. Time now to unlock them.

When Diana and Harris arrived at the station, they found Lucier mired in paperwork. He motioned her to the visitor’s chair while he carried a stack of papers to another desk, presumably to delegate daily tasks.

“Good morning,” he said. “I didn’t expect you to be on time.”

“Why, didn’t you think I could function at the crack of dawn?”

“Dawn cracked hours ago. I’ve been here since…” He stopped at the sound of her laugh. “Oh, I catch on. A little humor.”

“Tit for tat,” she said. “You’ll be surprised to know I was ready at seven. How’s that for a start?” Neither showed any discomfort over their last meeting, and Diana was grateful for that.

Pointing to the large suitcase Harris pulled behind him, Lucier asked, “Scrapbooks?”

“They came yesterday morning. Help me lift this onto the desk.”

“Help
you
? The suitcase is bigger than you are. Let’s use that table over there. My desk is cluttered enough.”

“Done,” Harris said after positioning the luggage on the table.

“Great. We’ll go over your list of dates and victims, then research everybody accused or convicted of any of the crimes to see what happened to them. Then we’ll run them through ViCAP, the FBI’s database. That’ll also give us a list of crimes with the same or similar signatures. How’s that sound?”

“You’re the boss. I have to slip away for two appointments later. In light of what’s happened the last few days, if I cancel there’ll be talk, but I’ll do my best in between. All this took place so long ago I don’t remember a great deal.”

“Maybe your parents might remember something if we come up with names.”

“Galen’s an encyclopedia of my career. He followed the stories after I was well out of it.” She glanced at Lucier. “He used them for publicity. You know, how I helped put away another violent criminal. I noticed a few articles relating to some of the cases.”

“He certainly knew how to mine you for all you were worth.”

This time she didn’t look up. “Yup, he sure did.” The comment stung, but she wasn’t as oblivious to her father’s machinations as he was to her anxiety during those times. He made her famous and never saw the cost.

She fingered through almost three hundred articles, not all complimentary, that spanned the seven years she assisted the police and captured the attention of the world. Pictures of a tiny girl holding various articles of clothing, children’s blankets, or toys. A smile never brightened her face, although her parents’ pride leapt from the faded pages. It hurt to read articles from early in her career that pronounced her a hoax, perplexed why anyone would write such mean words about a child. The unrelenting criticism cut deep whenever a particular editorial expounded on a rare failure, as if no successes existed. Later, when her accomplishments couldn’t be ignored, the tone changed.

Not every discovery involved a murder or a body, and not every search reaped success. Some children had lost their way, found by Diana alive and well; others weren’t so lucky and succumbed to the elements. A few people took their own lives, still others remained mysteries, their disappearances unsolved.

“Let’s assume that whoever committed these murders worked alone,” Lucier said, interrupting her memories. “Timing puts him near middle age and good looking in order to attract women. That gives us a basis to start.”

Lucier’s logic sounded right. “Whatever you say. You know, I have a couple more private readings and those hospital visits to the children’s wards on Friday.”

“I’ll have Detective Harris take you to your private clients, but I’d like you to cancel the hospital visits. They’re too public and publicized. If this guy has a personal agenda, you’d make an easy target.”

“I won’t do that. Those kids have been looking forward to my visit, and I won’t disappoint them. I’m going whether you approve or not.”

Lucier’s scowl accompanied a slow shake of his head. “So you know, I’m advising against it.”

“You’ve made your point. I’ll take full responsibility for my actions.”

“Has anyone ever told you—oh, forget it. I’m sure you’ve heard everything before.”

She cocked her head and offered a weak smile. “Daily.”

“We’ve entered the specific criteria of the recent murders into ViCAP and are awaiting the results. Since your brainstorm happened during the night, we’ll go through your scrapbooks, and our resident computer guru, Willy Cash, will see what he can come up with.”

The group spent the next two hours skimming the scrapbooks. Lucier and Beecher listed anyone linked to the twenty-two documented murder victims that Diana led the police to during the time she helped them. Seven remained unsolved, and evidence at the remaining fifteen sites led to eight convictions: two women, six men. The others weren’t found directly by Diana’s involvement. Lucier decided to concentrate on the six men who might claim reason for revenge. He put the names into ViCAP to find out where they were now.

Beecher transferred the six names onto a large blackboard starting with the first murder when Diana was six years old. Across the top he wrote: YEAR, SUSPECT, AGE, VICTIM, COD (cause of death), SENTENCE, and WHERE NOW.

Lucier pointed to the first name on the blackboard, and turned to Diana. “What do you remember about this one?”

“Being scared because I didn’t understand what was going on. It happened shortly after I found the little neighbor boy who’d wandered off and fell into the ravine near our house. He was the first dead body I found, but that was an accident, not murder. Then, a young girl went missing and the police were at an impasse. Out of desperation they asked my parents if I could help. Now, after reading the articles in the scrapbooks, I’m confused. I can’t separate what I read with what happened.”

“Do you think your parents would help?”

“If I know Galen, he’ll fly out the door.”

“Call him. Be better if you ask.”

Diana dialed the hotel and explained the situation to Blanche. She drummed her fingers on the table as she listened. “This has everything to do with us, Blanche, because this guy might be someone from my past, and I can’t remember back then. Lieutenant Lucier thinks you and Galen might help.” This time she listened for a minute, closed the conversation and hung up. “They’re on their way.”

“Sounds like they’re not happy about it either.”

“Are you kidding? If my father thinks I can do something to catch a killer, he’s revved to go. For him this is a whole new career. Again.”

“Even if it puts you in danger?”

“He doesn’t think that way. He’d never do anything intentionally to put me at risk, but his first inclination is to think how it would affect ticket sales and private readings.” She gazed down at the table and shrugged. “That’s just the way he is, and I doubt he’ll ever change. He made me famous, whether I wanted to be or not.”