Me.
“At 2:30 today we issued a warrant for the arrest of
Dr. Carleton Pierce.”
He could only blink in stunned disbelief as flashes
went off in Abbott’s face. Then he lurched to his feet, pushing his chair back.
“No.
No.
”
“We do not do this lightly,” Abbott was saying. “Dr.
Pierce was considered a colleague and a friend. We don’t know why he has done
this, but we have definitive proof linking him to these crimes. We have three
missing women and would like your help.” Abbott’s face disappeared completely,
three pictures taking his place. “Dr. Ann Pierce, the wife of the alleged
killer, Miss Eve Wilson of Marshall University, and Miss Liza Barkley.” Abbott
continued to talk as the photos remained on screen.
“Take it down,” he ground out.
“Take my picture
goddamn down.”
But it stayed, for everyone to see. It wasn’t
possible. It wasn’t happening.
But it was
.
“The suspect was last seen in a black BMW, last year’s
model. He’s also been seen in a black Lincoln Navigator. We’ve listed the
license plates he’s used on our website and in the press release you’ve been
given.” The pictures cleared and Abbott was looking sternly into the camera.
“This man is armed and dangerous. If you see him call 911 immediately. If you
have information as to his whereabouts, here is our hotline.
“We know you join us in condolences for the families
of his victims and prayers for the women still missing. I’ll take your
questions now.”
He sat back in his chair and pulled trembling hands
over his face.
They knew. How did they know? They’re coming. They’re coming
for me.
“Stop it,” he snapped, slamming his fists into the
table. “Think.”
They didn’t know about his place, this place. His
sanctuary. The deed to this house was not in Irene’s or anyone else’s name.
They
can’t find me here
. There’s still time to get away. But his hands still
shook as he pulled his laptop close.
“Consolidate your finances,” he muttered. “Put your
money where you can get to it.” Then he’d get in that old brown Civic he’d
bought to frame Axel Girard. They weren’t looking for that car anymore. He’d
take Eve and the girl as hostages and he’d drive.
Where? Where can I go? Everyone knows my name. My
face. Damn you, Abbott
.
But he knew it wasn’t Abbott he should damn, or even
Webster. It was that woman downstairs. His eyes narrowed. Eve.
Stop it.
Stay calm, focused. Get your money.
He
logged into his bank account and his heart stopped.
Frozen. Funds
unavailable
.
“No. Goddammit, no.” His fingers few over the keys as
he checked his offshore accounts.
Frozen. Funds unavailable.
They’d frozen his accounts. They’d been in his house.
In
my things.
The account information had been in his safe… along with all of
his information on John.
Even Webster was smart enough to connect John and
Irene Black.
He put his head in his hands. He needed to get away.
Now.
He grabbed his knife and headed down the stairs.
Eve heard his voice upstairs. He’d sounded angry.
There’d been cursing. That was a good sign. Noah was close. She needed to buy
just a little more time.
Opening her eyes a slit, she could see Pierce marching
down the stairs, fully clothed, his hair still wet, his knife clenched in his
hand. Under his arm he had folded blankets. She closed her eyes, hoping he’d
think she was still unconscious. She hadn’t been long, but Liza hadn’t
responded to her whispers and she feared what had happened while she’d been
out.
Don’t be dead.
Pierce walked behind her, then reappeared with a very
still Liza wrapped in one of the blankets and heaved her over his shoulder. He
took Liza up the stairs, ignoring Eve. If he was in a hurry to leave, it meant
Noah and the cops were on their way. She had to do whatever it took to keep him
down here, where Noah could trap him.
Pierce would have to untie her to get her out. She
could only pray he didn’t sedate her again. Sedated, she couldn’t fight him.
And fighting him was exactly what she’d do. If he didn’t sedate her, she’d have
a split second to act when he cut her loose.
Upstairs, she heard a door slam and he came down the
stairs, moving more slowly this time. He was tired, she realized. He’d probably
never had to carry a body
up
those stairs. Eve kept her eyes closed,
body lax.
Don’t use the needle. Don’t use the needle
.
She heard him approach, felt him stop next to her.
“Wake up,” he said and smacked her face. He leaned over, placed the blade
against her throat. “You’re either good or you’re out cold. Let’s see how good
you are.”
Thursday, February 25, 3:15 p.m.
“
Do you have
any idea where you’re going?” Brock asked.
They were speeding toward New Germany and all Noah had
been able to think was that Eve could be there. Hurt or…
Don’t go there. You
can’t go there
.
He looked over at Brock. “The kennel was called Green
Gables.”
“I know it. They train hunting dogs. It’s a damn big
kennel, Noah. Acres of land.”
“Olivia said a woman dropped off the cat driving Ann
Pierce’s BMW. Assuming it was Ann Pierce, how would she pick that kennel, just
out of the air? She must have passed it at some point.”
“Or she’s a hunter,” Brock said. “But let’s go with
your line of thought. This road continues for miles. The houses are usually at
the end of long driveways. Did you find any property out here owned by this
Pierce guy?”
“No. The only house in his name is the one he lives
in.”
“There’s the kennel up on the right,” Brock said.
Noah checked the driveway, then passed the kennel
without slowing down when he saw Olivia’s car parked in front.
Brock turned to look behind them. “Looks like your
friend beat you here.”
“I know. I don’t want to get Olivia in trouble.”
“You can’t do this on your own, Noah. This area is too
remote. You need an aerial view to know where all the houses are. You’ll need
search crews and dogs.”
“I know,” Noah said, then focused on the vehicle
stopping ahead. “Or… a postman.”
The postman had pulled his truck to the side and was
stuffing letters into a mailbox. He looked up in surprise when Noah got out,
showing his badge. “I’m trying to locate one of your residents. We think he may
be able to help us with an investigation.”
“I’ve seen your face before. I delivered a lot of
MSP
s
out here.”
“I’m Detective Webster,” Noah said. “I’m looking for a
man named Pierce.”
The old postman shook his head. “I don’t know that
name. Sorry, can’t help you.” He started to move, but Noah put out his hand,
desperation rising to close his throat.
“Wait, please. If you know who I am, you know what’s
been happening this week.”
The postman nodded. “I read the paper, but I don’t
know that Pierce name.”
“Okay.” Noah’s mind was racing. If Pierce had mail in
Irene Black’s name sent out here, it meant he came out here. His wife knew
about the kennel, so she’d been out here, too. It was a long shot, but he had
to try. “What about deliveries? You say you delivered
MSP
magazine out
here. What about other magazines?”
The postman frowned severely. “I can’t tell you that.”
Noah closed his eyes briefly, fighting for control.
“This man has killed six women, maybe more. He’s abducted two more women that
might still be alive. If you can help me, I won’t tell a soul how I got the
information. I promise.
Please.
Please, help me.”
The postman looked away for a long moment, then back.
“What kind of magazines?”
“Psychology, computer magazines, game magazines.” Noah
concentrated. The wife was a biologist. “Animal magazines. Dogs, cats. Snakes.”
The postman shook his head. “I haven’t seen anything
like that. A lot of our folks have their magazines sent to post office boxes,
too.”
Which Pierce would have done. Dammit. Noah started to
turn away, then stopped. He’d come too far. There had to be something… “What
kinds of deliveries would have to be delivered to an actual address, not a post
office box?”
“Packages. Those PO boxes don’t hold that much.”
Packages. Noah blew out a breath, watched it hang in
the air… just as it had as he’d stood looking up at Martha Brisbane Sunday
night. He pictured her as she’d hung there in her low-cut red dress, her
stiletto-heeled shoes on the floor beneath her feet.
Her dress, her shoes… they’d been identical to all the
others. Same style, just different sizes. Ordered from a online shopping club,
Micki had said days ago.
“What about packages from The Fashion Club? It would
have been a few weeks ago. It had dresses and shoes.”
The postman went still. “High-heeled shoes? Red?”
Noah nodded, trying to keep calm. “Yes.”
“I left the box on the front porch. A few days later I
delivered another box. The first one was still there, its bottom frozen to the
porch. The box was wet from the snow and it fell apart. It was filled with shoe
boxes. The same red, pencil-heeled shoes. I assumed it was for some play or
dance troupe, you know, where they all had to dress alike.”
Noah’s heart was pounding in his ears. “Where did you
deliver the boxes?”
“About two miles up the road. I’ll draw you a map.”
Two minutes later Noah was in his car, slamming the
door as he punched the gas.
“You found it then?” Brock asked.
“I hope so.” He hit redial on his cell phone, getting
Olivia on the first ring.
“You…” she fumed. “You lied to me. You said you’d stay
back at the station.”
“I found him,” Noah said, ignoring her very justified
tirade. He gave her the address as the road the postman had indicated came into
view. “I’m going in. Back me up.”
“Noa—”
Noah closed his phone and handed it to Brock. “If she
calls back, you answer it.”
Brock was giving him a wary look. “You’re gonna get
your ass fired for this.”
“Not if I win.” He thought of Eve and Liza and every
woman Pierce had left hanging from her bedroom ceiling. Of Virginia’s hollow
eye sockets. “If I lose, I won’t care.”
Thursday, February 25, 3:15 p.m.
Don’t be afraid. Don’t flinch. Even if it hurts
. She smelled the metal
of the blade, heard it scrape her skin. Down the scar on her cheek, she
realized. The cheek that had had no feeling for almost six years. She smelled
her own blood. Knew he’d cut her.
Panic welled up and she fought it back. How deep had
he cut?
It doesn’t matter.
Noah had noticed her before the scar was
gone. And if it did matter to him…
If I’m still alive to worry about it,
that’ll be good
.
Pierce grunted, evidently convinced. “All right.
You’re unconscious.”
She focused on even breathing as he cut the twine that
had tied her bound wrists to the bed. But her wrists were still bound.
He
didn’t cut my hands free. Dammit
.
He took her wrists and brought them over her head,
resting them on her stomach. He paused.
He’s looking at me. Waiting
. She
kept breathing and kept her eyes closed.
Noah rolled his car to a silent stop, diagonally
behind the open garage. Inside was a Lincoln Navigator, a black BMW, and a
brown Honda Civic with the trunk lid up.
Heart pounding, he got out of his car moving noiselessly,
weapon drawn. Brock followed, watching his back. Inside the truck was a huddled
figure wrapped in a blanket.
Be Eve. Be alive
. He pulled the blanket
aside and blew out a breath. It was the girl he’d seen with Tom Hunter the
night before. She was nude, bound, her mouth taped, her eyes staring up at him
desperately. Her skin was already blue.
He peeled the tape back from her mouth. “Hurry,” she
whispered, teeth chattering. “He’s got Eve in the basement. He’s got a knife.”
Noah pulled the blanket back up over her, shrugging
out of his own coat to wrap her in it. She’d be dead from exposure in minutes.
“How many doors to the basement?”
“One. From the kitchen.”
“Stay with her,” he said to Brock and took off at a
run, ignoring Brock’s hissed command to wait for backup. The house was eerily
empty, the television set to the news. Abbott had just finished his press
conference.
It was safe to assume Pierce knew he was a wanted man.
It was safe to assume he’d do anything, as he had nothing to lose. Noah was at the
door to the basement when he heard a crash that sounded like a wall coming
down. He started to run.
Eve sat up, breathing hard, blinking to clear her
vision. Her leg burned, but what she saw was far better than she hoped and
ironic as hell. The shelves of shoes had come down. She’d waited until he’d
bent to cut the twine at her feet, then she’d shoved her body down the cot,
knees bent, and kicked him backward. Caught unawares, he’d gone sprawling
against the wall, knocking all the shelves down.