Mind Games (39 page)

“You’ll be the first. Take care, Ernie. This guy’s a twisted son of a bitch. And watch out for that little lady, ya hear?”

Lucier’s stomach did an ugly turn as he and Cash pushed through the crowd standing behind the yellow crime tape. They darted into the alley leading in back of the theater where the ME was checking the body. “What have we got, Charlie?”

“Cut him off at a crucial moment, Lieutenant, then sliced him up the middle. Ejaculate on the excised penis. This was coitus interruptus.”

Lucier filled in Beecher about the fisherman, then bent down over the mutilated body. “Lipstick on his collar.”

“Yeah, Corcoran said he’d check more thoroughly when he got back to the lab.”

“If he’s straight, it took a strong woman to do this. Maybe Alice Mayburn’s taking to her boyfriend’s style. Got a name, Sam?”

“Stanley Kravitz, New York, thirty-four, no wedding ring. They’re running him now.”

Lucier saw BJ Corcoran, one of the crime scene investigators. “What’s your best guess as to weapon, BJ?”

“Knife. Not serrated and very sharp.”

“Could it be a fishing knife?”

“Could be.”

“If you can find a trace of fish, we might be able to tie this to another murder. And see if you can get any prints off Mr. Kravitz’s penis.”

“We’ve already bagged it in ice so it doesn’t shrivel anymore. Hurts looking at the thing.”

“Hurts more thinking about it. Good work, guys. This is priority.”

“That’s how we’re treating it, Lieutenant.”

Lucier scoured the scene. “Murder in the middle of a sexual act is Macon’s trademark, Sam.”

“Same with the fisherman?” Beecher asked.

“No. That was for the car. Black ’07 Volvo wagon. It’s missing and on the wires. Probably snatched his credit card and cash, though he’s too smart to use the card. They’re going over the cabin next door to see if they can come up with Macon’s prints.”

“Shit,” Cash said.

“What?”

“A black Volvo wagon was a few cars behind Beecher when we took Ms. Racine back to the hotel. I didn’t pay attention because driver didn’t fit Macon’s description, or Alice Mayburn’s. But now I’m thinking it could have been her. Only now she’s blonde with short hair. She didn’t follow me the whole way. That’s why I wasn’t worried. But she could have cut back and around.”

Lucier snapped his fingers. “Lipstick on the collar. Jesus, that’s how he did it. The son of a bitch disguised himself as a woman. That’s why we didn’t recognize him and how he got this poor guy to drop his pants. Damn. Alice followed us in the Volvo when we left the theater. How could we have been so damn sloppy? Macon knows where Diana is. And I was in such a rush I didn’t wait until someone came to stand guard. If anything happens—” He couldn’t finish his thought. “Come on, Willy. The hotel, and fast. You too, Sam.” Lucier raced toward the car punching phone buttons as he went. “I only hope we’re not too late.”

“She won’t let anyone in the room no matter what he says,” Beecher said, catching up.

They got to the car, Cash behind the wheel, Lucier in front, Beecher in back. “I made that very clear, but this guy’s clever. If there’s a way, he’ll find it.” Lucier pressed the phone to his ear, impatiently slapping his hand on his thigh. “She’s not answering. Hurry, Willy.”

“I’m driving as fast as I can, Lieutenant.” As they flashed their way through the busy streets, Lucier saw things he didn’t want to see. He saw the lifeless, mangled bodies of his wife and children inside their wrecked car. He saw his empty house and felt his empty life.

Not again. It can’t happen again.

Diana Racine was the first ray of sunshine to brighten his dark existence since that tragic day eight years before. The first reason to feel his heart beat again.

He could sense Beecher’s stare on the back of his neck. His men respected him, but few knew him, except for Beecher. And even that relationship had boundaries because of their positions. Today, his emotions rode the surface, and he couldn’t hide them if he wanted to. Everyone knew Diana meant more to him than the intended victim of an obsessed murderer. He’d kept his past grief private, never allowing anyone to see his pain. But if Macon achieved his goal today, he might as well kill Lucier too, because he didn’t think his heart would survive Diana’s loss.

* * * * *

W
hen Macon pushed Jake Griffin into the hotel room, Diana opened her mouth to scream, but all she could manage was a gasp of stunned surprise. Everything crystallized. The body at the theater was a distraction to lure Lucier away. To lure everyone away from her. And where was the cop assigned to protect her? Probably dead in the elevator.

She looked at Macon. Flawless makeup, long red nails, and expensive clothes transformed the man into a tall, elegant woman.

“Hello, Diana, remember me?” he said in the mesmerizing voice that had captivated his unsuspecting victims.

Words caught in her throat and she couldn’t release them. Jake Griffin’ apologetic visage frightened her even more. Would he be another victim of Macon’s obsessive crusade to exact revenge on a ten-year old girl?

“Got nothing to say?” Macon taunted. “Even after all we’ve been to each other. My life would’ve been so much easier if I’d killed you back at the cabin, but stupid me dragged it out. Well, guess what? I’m going to drag it out again. I like playing against the odds.” He turned his attention to Griffin, whose face looked like a kabuki mask—white and rigid.

“Don’t kill me,” Griffin pleaded. “I won’t say anything. I promise.”

“But that’s what I want you to do, Jake. I need you alive to tell that cop boyfriend of hers that he won’t be able to save the little lady this time. You’ll remember that, won’t you?”

Without preamble, Macon pulled a gun from his pocket and smashed it against Griffin’s skull. The sound the reporter made as he went down hard filled Diana with dread. Her stomach revolted, and she thought she was going to be sick.

“No,” she cried, and started for Griffin, but Macon grabbed her arm and dragged her down the hall, the gun jammed into her sore rib.

“If you say one word to the desk clerk, I’ll shoot her, and you’ll have one more body on your conscience. Understand?”

She nodded because she couldn’t get out the right word. Her body felt like dead weight, and it took all her energy to put one foot in front of the other as he steered her into the elevator. The desk clerk, occupied on the phone, didn’t even look in Diana’s direction. The empty lobby offered no hope of alerting anyone to her predicament, a docile sheep being led to slaughter. Even if a crowd hovered around, she doubted she’d say anything. Too many people, too many potential victims. A black station wagon waited at the entrance, and Diana recognized the triumphant face of Alice Mayburn behind the wheel. Macon pushed Diana into the backseat, got in behind her, and they drove away as a police car driven by a uniformed officer screeched to a stop at the entrance.

* * * * *

C
ash double-parked in front of Nell Devoe’s hotel. A marked police car sat in front; ambulance sirens weren’t far off. No sign of a Volvo. Lucier’s stomach sank. Why was an ambulance screaming toward them? If anything happened to Diana—He couldn’t think that. Wouldn’t think it.

“What the hell’s going on?” He swung open the car door and sprinted into the hotel. “Have you seen Ms. Racine?” he called out to the desk clerk as he ran for the elevator.

“She’s in her room with Mr. Griffin and his secretary. A policeman went up a few minutes ago. Why, is something wrong? Why is an ambulance here?”

Panicked, Lucier bashed the elevator button repeatedly. “What did the secretary look like?”

“Quite tall and attractive. Should I not have told Mr. Griffin which room Ms. Racine was staying in? He said she was expecting him and the police knew.”

Lucier gave up on the elevator and bounded up the stairs, scaling two and three at a time, before the desk clerk finished her sentence. Cash and Beecher followed in pursuit.

Diana’s door was wide open and Jake Griffin lay on the floor. Blood clotted around a nasty gash on his head. The young police officer assigned to watch Diana had placed a pillow under his head and was wiping the blood from his face.

“I’ve called an ambulance, Lieutenant. I’m sorry. I got here as fast as I could, but the traffic from an accident held me up. I did everything but drive over the wreck. When I got here, the door was open, and I found him like this.”

“How long have you been here?”

“A few minutes.”

“Did you see a car pulling away when you arrived?”

“I saw a few cars, but nothing unusual. I was in such a rush to get here I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Macon’s got a good start. He’s probably out of the area by now.” Lucier patted Jake on the face. “Jake, Jake, can you hear me? Jake.”

The paramedics came in and checked Gibbon’s vital signs while tending to his scalp wound. The semiconscious man groaned and opened one unfocused eye.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I couldn’t help it. She…he caught me off guard.” Then Jake passed out.

“Jake, wake up.” Lucier turned to the paramedics. “Can’t you give him a shot of something to revive him? I need to ask him some questions.”

The two men exchanged looks, and one of them said, “We’re doing our best.”

“Well, do better,” Lucier snapped. “Where did he take her, Jake? Shit.”

Jake moaned again and tried to lift his head. “It was Macon. He shoved a knife in my side and said he’d kill me if I refused.”

“I know, Jake. You’re going to be okay. If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Did he mention where he was taking her? Anything at all.”

“Just to tell you that you won’t get her this time. That’s what he said.”

Lucier got up, pulled aside his two detectives. “Macon wanted Griffin alive to give me the message.” He stared at the battered reporter. “Willy, stay with him. Find out what he/she looked like: hairdo, makeup, clothes, anything he can tell you. Then call it in. I want Macon’s new look all over the media. Run Mayburn’s face too, with cropped blonde hair and assorted wigs. We need to scrutinize everything in Frankie Castor’s files. We’ve missed something. I know you’ve checked cell phones. Check again. Anything registered to the business or to his wife or his daughter. See if his dog has a cell number. Castor made a call last night and I want to know to whom. I don’t give a rat’s ass if it’s to the local potato chip company. Find out who he spoke to, then find out where he lives and get the hell over there. Someone knows where those two are holed up. They may not know who’s staying there, but they know someone is. Willy, call when you get what you can from Jake. Sam and I are going back to the station to set the wheels in motion. Make sure the press gets the story. Move, everyone.”

“Yes, sir,” Cash said.

“I hope the hell we’re in time, Sam. If not, I’m going to find that bastard and kill him with my bare hands. And I will show no mercy.”

Chapter Fifty-Five

The Priest and the Confessor

“
W
hy are you doing this?” Diana asked, finding her voice. “You know you can’t get away with it.”

“Says who? I’ve gotten this far. Alice is such a talented makeup artist, they won’t know who to look for. Man or woman. Young or old. I think we can stay one step ahead, don’t you, Alice?”

“A whole mile ahead, Harley.” Alice cocked her head into the backseat and looked at Macon as if he were a god. “He makes a damn good-looking woman, don’tcha think?”

“What’s in this for you, Alice,” Diana asked, “besides the rest of your life in prison?”

Alice snorted into a throaty laugh. “We ain’t gonna get caught. Harley’s a genius. He’ll get us outta here. Won’tcha, Harley?”

“Keep driving, Alice. Let’s not push our luck. They must know about the car by now. We’ll have to dump it and get another, but until then let’s not stay on the road any longer than necessary. Keep under the speed limit and pay attention.”

They drove another fifteen minutes. Diana didn’t recognize the area, not that she would. Her knowledge of New Orleans was limited to a few tourist sites, restaurants, and the inside of the theaters she played. This place looked like an industrial park, new buildings near the entrance, deserted warehouses at the end, where there was another entrance. Alice took a right onto the last street and drove behind the last building on the left, an outdated structure resembling an abandoned factory. She pulled into one of two parking spaces cut out of the back of the building, next to an old red Mustang.

Macon yanked Diana out and pushed her ahead to follow Alice up a side stairway. They entered a large loft-like room with polished wide-plank pine flooring, industrial track lighting and stainless steel appliances. Chrome and leather contemporary furnishings filled the center space. Diana saw a bathroom off to the side and a closed door she presumed was a bedroom. Not quite magazine quality, but from the abandoned looking exterior she’d never have guessed the trendy interior.

No one would ever find her. Not in this deserted place. This was someone’s love nest, and she’d bet only the owner and his lover knew about it. At least it was a much better place to die than the creepy bayou cabin.