Speak No Evil (26 page)

THIRTY
-
TWO

H
IS MOTHER CALLED HIS NAME.
She was in the kitchen.

“Brandon, dammit, where are you?”

He waited, playing with the knife. Leah whimpered behind him.

“You parked in my spot, you idiot. I’ve been working all week catering to rich bitches and I can’t even park in my own garage!”

Brandon waited.

“What have you been doing while I’ve been gone?”

She was getting closer.

“Brandon! Damn you, open this door! If you have a slut in your bed I’m going to cut off your dick and shove it down her throat!”

She pounded on his bedroom door. He opened it wide and stood there, his hands at his sides.

“Hello,” he said.

Her face was red with anger as she began to berate him. Then she saw.

He stepped aside and let her see Leah tied and wrapped on his bed. “She’s like a present, isn’t she?” he said.

“What?” Her voice didn’t sound right. “What have you done?”

“You’re early.” He grabbed her wrist. His whole hand fit around it. He squeezed.

Regina stared at him, stunned into silence. Fear clouded her eyes. Good. She should be scared. He hoped she shit herself she was so scared.

It wouldn’t come close to the terror he’d felt growing up. But he was in charge now. He was no longer scared.

“You let strangers into the house while Dad was in prison. Men who fucked you and gave you money. You’re the whore, Mama.”

She tried to slap him with her free hand, but he caught her other wrist easily.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Brandon.”

“You betrayed Daddy.”

“I loved your father. You know that! I was the only one who defended him. Let me go!”

He shook his head slowly, back and forth. “You lied about the whores. You lied about Daddy. You’re just like them. You’re a slut and you’re going to get what’s coming to you.”

The fear and knowledge grew in her eyes. She rushed at him and fought him, but he was stronger.

She sucked in a breath to scream.

His hands came around her neck and he slammed her body into the wall. She couldn’t move. She clawed at him with her hands. He squeezed. Tighter. Harder. She kicked, trying to catch her breath. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t talk. Her head grew light, her eyes saw nothing but darkness. Her lungs shrank, failing to draw in air.

Brandon tightened the hold on his mother, watching her face turn bluish, as her arms and legs stopped moving. A bone cracked beneath his hands.

“One. Two. Three. Four.” He counted. How long would it take for the old bitch to die?

It took just over three minutes. It didn’t seem very long, so Brandon held on another minute, just in case.

When he let go, his mother’s body fell onto the floor with a heavy thud. He would take care of it later.

Elizabeth.
She was waiting for his help. She needed him.

Leah.
She lay there, frozen. He poked at her, to make sure she didn’t betray him by dying like Jodi. She jerked at his touch. Good, she was still alive.

He just had to put Elizabeth off for another few minutes.

Scout? Are you there? If you can’t help, I understand. I know you’re busy and everything.

He quickly typed.

I’m here. I just had to take care of something. I can help you demonstrate the theorem.

He typed out a simple explanation, then waited.

Thank you so much! This is great. Hold on, I need to check the test guidelines and make sure I didn’t forget something. Can you wait a second?

He could wait.

Sure.

He had plenty of things to do to occupy his time.

Brandon turned to Leah. He was still high from killing his mother. Free, liberated. He’d finally avenged his father.

Maybe now his dad would come home.

Leah squirmed on the bed.

Brandon packed up his laptop and grabbed an emergency overnight bag he’d had prepared for months. He needed money, but he knew exactly where to go for that. He had the combination to the Sand Shack safe, and he knew for a fact that Kyle never made a deposit on Saturday nights because he went out with Maggie after work.

“Good-bye, Leah.”

He pulled a garbage bag from his nightstand drawer and pulled it over her head. She bucked as he tied it around her neck.

“I wish I could stay and watch, but I have to go.”

Carina turned onto Burns’s street and saw a white Taurus round the corner up ahead.

“That looks like Brandon’s car,” Carina said and started to go after it.

A black Camaro was in the driveway of the house.

“The Camaro is my mother’s,” Kyle said flatly from the backseat.

“Drop me here,” Nick demanded. “Leah could still be in the house.”

Carina didn’t want to leave Nick alone—backup was still three minutes out, but she had to follow the Taurus in case it was Brandon Burns. She stopped the car and Nick opened the door to get out.

“Be careful, Sheriff.”

“You too, Detective.” He was already moving toward the house as Carina did a one-eighty and regained Burns’s tail.

Gun drawn, Nick ran up to the Burns property. He looked left, right. Up, down. The side door was ajar. Quiet. The last time he’d investigated a house that was supposedly vacant, he’d been attacked.

He hadn’t been expecting it then. This time, he was on full alert. He wouldn’t be caught unaware again.

Cautiously, he entered.

The house was dim. He was in the kitchen. A suitcase was next to the rear door. “Police! Stay where you are!” He announced his presence. No answer. No sound at all.

He moved quickly through the house, eyes moving to every potential hiding place.

Lying on the floor in the rear hallway was a blue-faced woman in her late forties. Her neck was bruised, her eyes had hemorrhaged, her tongue was out. Regina Burns was dead.

Nick looked in the room across from the body and saw a naked woman tied spread-eagle on the bed, a garbage bag tied around her head.

“No.” Nick holstered his gun and ripped the bag with both hands. He stared at Leah Peterson. Her eyes were closed, her mouth glued shut. He felt for her pulse. Nothing. How long? She was warm, soft. She couldn’t be dead.

“Dammit,
no!
” He couldn’t be too late.

A faint heartbeat.

He had to do it. If there was a chance she was alive, he had to try.

Nick ripped the gag off the girl’s mouth and pried open her bloody lips. He breathed air hard into her lungs, waited, filled her lungs again. Again.

Under his watch as sheriff, the Butcher had killed three women. He hadn’t found them in time to save them. And since he’d arrived in San Diego, three more women had died horribly. Leah couldn’t die on him. He would not allow it.

Breathe.
He willed her to come back.

He heard movement and voices from the front of the house.

“Police!” he shouted. “I need medics, stat!”

Nick focused on watching the girl’s chest.
Breathe, Leah, breathe. Please.

He continued forcing air into her lungs. His mind became blank, every molecule in his being focused on bringing Leah back.

Suddenly, she sucked in a deep breath of air and her eyes opened wide, full of terror. She started thrashing on the bed.

Nick pulled out his pocketknife and cut the ropes. His heart pounded as rapidly as hers. “It’s okay, Leah. It’s okay.”

He found a blanket in the corner of the room and held her close while waiting for the medics. Nick wasn’t a religious man, but he closed his eyes and thanked whatever supreme being was out there. Thanked the universe for not letting evil win this battle.

“It’s all right. It’s all right,” he whispered as he rocked her in his arms. “You’re safe.”

Leah began to cry.

THIRTY
-
THREE

C
ARINA KEPT SEVERAL CAR LENGTHS
behind the Taurus. As soon as he stopped at a light, she confirmed that the driver was in fact Brandon Burns.

“Why don’t you pull him over?” Kyle said, anxious.

She considered it, torn. What if Leah Peterson was in the trunk? If she was, she was most likely dead, but
what if she wasn’t dead?
What if he hadn’t had time to finish whatever sick plan he had for her? What if she were still unconscious in the back of the car, knocked out from drugs or a blow to the back of the head?

“He might have a hostage, I can’t take the chance.” Not until she heard from Nick that Leah was at the house. Dead or alive.

In addition, there was no guarantee that Brandon would pull over. If he felt threatened, he could run, speeding through residential neighborhoods causing injury to innocent people. She didn’t want to endanger civilians with a high-speed chase. Criminals with nothing to lose were the most dangerous, and Brandon Burns was already destined for a life in prison.

Better to take it slow until she had backup.

Brandon drove at just the speed limit and eventually turned onto a major thoroughfare headed toward La Jolla. She continued to keep her distance to give him a false sense of security that he was making a clean getaway. Find out where he was going and trap him.

She called in two minutes later with an updated report and to ask the status of backup.

“We have two patrols on parallel streets,” dispatch said, “per your instructions. One unmarked car is two blocks behind your location.”

“Do we have a status at the Burns house?”

“Negative.”

Damn. She had to know if Leah was in the house or in the car. The thought that she was already dead and Brandon was in the process of dumping her body made Carina both sick and angry.

I can’t be too late.

She was worried about Nick. She’d left him alone, something she should never have done, but she’d had no choice. She couldn’t let Brandon disappear.

Dispatch radioed a 10-78 code from the Burns address.
Ambulance needed.
Carina hoped that the medics were really needed, that Leah was alive, and that the call was not a formality. And that Nick was safe.

She prayed she hadn’t made a fatal mistake.

Her radio was open for two-way communication and she heard the chatter in the background.

Female, DOA.

Female, stable.

Nothing about Nick. That had to be good, right?

Brandon drove directly into La Jolla. Why? She asked dispatch to patch Dillon into her frequency. “Dillon, I’m following Brandon Burns. He doesn’t appear to realize it. He’s driving into La Jolla. What’s he thinking?”

“I just talked to Nick. Regina Burns is dead, apparently strangled when she returned home.”

“My mother is dead?” Kyle asked from the backseat.

Carina winced. He shouldn’t have had to hear the news that way.

“I’m sorry, Kyle,” she said.

“Good riddance,” he said, his voice ripe with emotion. “God, Brandon, why?”

“And Leah?” Carina asked Dillon over the radio.

“Leah Peterson is alive. Burns tied a bag over her head and left her. Nick performed CPR and saved her life.”

“Thank God.”

“I don’t like this development. Up until now, Brandon has been calm and rational in his approach. He had a plan and executed it. Now he’s impulsive. I don’t know if it’s because his mother showed up unexpectedly—the officer on scene said her calendar had her returning Monday morning, not today—or maybe because I had Elizabeth pull him into the chat room. I don’t know why, but Burns is now unpredictable.”

“I didn’t think he was predictable in the first place,” Carina said. “Angie and Becca couldn’t be more different in profile and appearance.”

“But I saw the logic in his actions, even if I couldn’t predict who his victim was going to be. His whole purpose was to kill. Everything going into it, the glue, the rape, the washing of the bodies—that was leading up to the finale of the kill. But it was a ritual, each step, even with the changes in M.O., had to be completed before he could kill. Until now. He didn’t rape Leah. He had her body prepared as if he were going to, but then he tied a garbage bag over her head and walked out the door.”

“Maybe his mother’s unexpected appearance saved her,” Carina said.

“You’re probably right.”

“But what is he doing now? Why La Jolla?”

“He’s going to try to find Elizabeth. I’ve been reading his e-mail messages and I believe he knows she’s in Atlanta. Though she never said it outright, the pieces are all there and Brandon Burns is a smart kid.”

“Let’s get security at the airport.”

“Already done.”

“Then why is he going to La Jolla?”

Kyle spoke up from the backseat. “He’s going to steal money from the Shack.”

Carina glanced in the rearview mirror. “You think?”

Kyle nodded, his expression pained.

“Dillon, I have Brandon’s brother, Kyle Burns, with me. He thinks Brandon is headed for the Shack to grab some cash.”

“If he didn’t have money at his house, that’s logical.”

As Dillon spoke, Brandon turned onto the coastal highway. In the direction of the Shack.

“Is Patrick with you?” she asked.

“Right here,” Patrick said over the radio.

“I need all units at the Shack. Code Two. Call them and tell them to lock the doors
now.
Make something up, don’t panic them, but tell them not to let anyone, even someone they know, inside.”

“Hold.”

“Sunday at noon. The beach is packed.” Kyle said.

“I know,” Carina said, frustrated.

She couldn’t wait indefinitely, and she couldn’t allow Brandon Burns to take an entire restaurant hostage. She didn’t know if he was armed, but she had to assume he was.

A family started into the street right in front of her car and she slammed on her brakes. The father slammed a fist on her hood. “Stupid bitch!”

She flashed her badge out the window. “Move it!”

They did. But when they reached the Shack lot, Burns was already making his way to the entrance. The area was crowded with people, tourists, college students. She couldn’t drive fast enough. She watched as Burns opened the door of the restaurant and entered.

“Patrick, he’s in. Did you get through to the folks at the Sand Shack?”

“No, I hung up when you said he’s in. I didn’t want to panic them.”

“I’m going after him.”

“Not without backup. Three units are less than two minutes away.”

“Roger. Out.”

Brandon might remember her, even though he’d only seen her once. But she’d be in civilian clothes—a T-shirt and slacks. She always wore her hair back on duty.

She had an idea.

She pulled into the parking lot and reached into the glove compartment for scissors. She cut her pants high on the thigh, contorting her body to make it all the way around.

“What are you doing?” Kyle asked.

“Going undercover,” she replied.

She shrugged out of her light jacket and took off her holster, pulled the fanny pack from under her seat. She didn’t like wearing it, but it had a built-in holster. It also doubled as an accessory—it wasn’t unusual to see people walking around with fanny packs instead of purses, especially on campus or the beach. She pulled out her T-shirt and tied a knot under her breasts, let her hair down and fluffed it up as if it were windblown, then she called dispatch and told them her plan.

Patrick got on the radio. “Dammit, Carina, don’t go in there alone! Burns has nothing to lose.”

“There are two patrols in the lot. I’m going to brief them and have them cover both entrances. They’re uniforms, they can’t come in with me. I’ll be a civilian. Play the situation as I see it. Have the SWAT team cover the two entrances. I can’t let him take a hostage.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m going in.”

“I’m coming with you.” Kyle reached for the door, which was locked.

“No,” she said.

“He’s my brother. I can talk him out of whatever he has planned. Please let me help.”

She looked at Kyle. When she agreed to let him come out to the Burns house, she hadn’t believed he was one hundred percent innocent. How had he not seen what his brother was capable of? But now, his eyes, his expression, his demeanor, everything told her he was sincere.

She couldn’t help but be cautious. Kyle might know more about his brother’s activities than he let on.

Yet he might very well be the ace in the hole she needed to get everyone out of the restaurant to safety.

“Follow my lead. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Nick stayed with Leah until the medics arrived. He asked a patrol to take him Code Three—lights and sirens—to the Sand Shack. “Cut the sirens a half mile back.”

He’d heard over the radio exactly what Carina had planned. She was taking a huge risk, but as he ran through the scenario he couldn’t see what choice she had. At least she didn’t go inside as a cop. If Burns was quietly going to steal and leave, which would be the smart thing to do, she could get behind him as he walked out the door, arrest him away from civilians.

If he took hostages, they needed someone inside.

Nick pulled out his cell phone and called Dillon direct. “Any word?”

“Carina just went in.”

Dammit. “I’m at least eight minutes out.”

“So far the place is quiet. A pair of customers just came out.”

“Where are you?”

“En route, but we’re downtown. It’s going to take at least thirty minutes. But if it becomes a hostage situation I might be of use.”

“Burns must know he can’t disappear,” Nick said almost to himself.

“His father did.”

“Did he?”

“I don’t see what you’re getting at.”

“How many people have you known who could just disappear?”

“It happens.”

“With a lot of planning and money, yes. But with an arrest warrant out on him? One slipup . . . his prints are in the system. He’d be pulled in.”

“What are you thinking?” Dillon asked.

“What if his wife killed him? Found out he was raping women again, knocked him off? The police come by and she says he just left. Been gone for days. They buy it because he screwed up, they have evidence, so they put out an APB on him and that’s that. No one looks at the wife for murder.”

“What about a body?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she buried it in the basement. A lake. The desert.”

“There may be a lot of places to dump a body in Montana, but in Los Angeles?” Dillon thought a moment. “The mountains. There are some places where you could get rid of a body discreetly. I read about a case in Utah where a husband left his wife’s body at the garbage dump. It took months for investigators to sift through the roughage to find her, and they even knew the general area where she’d been dumped.”

“It would explain something Kyle Burns said when we first talked to him about his father. He flat-out denied that there was any possibility that his father was behind the murders. He didn’t even entertain the thought.”

“As if he knew it was impossible,” Dillon said.

“Because Mitch Burns is dead.”

Dillon paused a long time. “You might be right. Hold on, I have a call coming in.”

Nick sat still in the passenger seat of the speeding police car. Dillon got on a minute later. “That was the DOJ. I called them earlier about any firearms registered to Regina or Kyle Burns. Regina Burns has a nine-millimeter registered in her name with a permit to carry. So far they haven’t found a gun in the house.”

“We have to get word to Carina that he may be armed.” He hung up and turned to the officer driving. “ETA?”

“Three minutes.”

Carina quickly assessed the room. Thirty-five civilians, including children. Six staff within sight. Likely two in the kitchen. Brandon worked here, he would be free to go wherever he wanted.

No one appeared panicked or worried. Just going about the business of eating and talking. As she watched through the large beachfront windows, two cops were talking to the dozen or so people eating on the patio outside. The plan was to clear as many people from the restaurant as possible.

Brandon wasn’t within sight.

“Talk to your people,” she told Kyle. “Gas leak, have them get the customers out quietly.”

She approached a waitress. “Hi, did Brandon Burns just come in?”

“Yeah, he went to the office to call his brother.” The waitress saw Kyle behind her. “Hey Kyle, Brandon’s looking for you. I didn’t think you were coming in today.”

“We have a gas leak,” Kyle said. “Can you quietly tell the customers and have them leave? Don’t collect any money, we just need everyone to leave the restaurant. Including staff.”

She furrowed her brow. “A gas leak? Is it dangerous?”

Kyle shook his head. “Just a precaution. Liability.” The waitress left and Kyle whispered to Carina “The safe is in my office.”

Carina nodded. The office was adjacent to the kitchen. “How much?”

“Saturday night’s take. Over three thousand. I—I went home with Maggie instead of the bank. No one knows.”

“Except Brandon.”

Kyle nodded soberly.

“Help get everyone out,” she began when Kyle’s phone rang.

He glanced at the caller ID. “It’s the Shack number.”

Brandon, most likely calling from the office. Carina moved Kyle over to the front door, where she could watch the staff and keep an eye on Kyle while listening to the conversation. She nodded for him to answer.

“Hi,” Kyle said into the receiver.

“It’s me,” Brandon said.

“What’s up?”

“I’m sorry, Kyle.”

“Sorry about what?”

“You’ll know when you get to work tomorrow. I just wanted to say good-bye.”

“Good-bye? Where are you going?”

“I can’t tell you. But . . . ” he paused, his voice low. “I think Dad is around. I’m going to find him.”

“
What?
”

Carina put her finger to her lips.
Shhh.

“Why are you mad?” Brandon asked Kyle.

“Why do you think he’s in San Diego?”