"Why, Karl?" asked J. T. "So you can get your name in the papers?"
"I won't lie to you. I'm writing a book right now on my most intriguing cases for Pentium Publishing. I have a contract. A chapter detailing how I worked closely with the great Dr. Jessica Coran won't hurt the book."
"Now it begins to make sense," suggested J. T. with a cynical grin. "I thought so!"
"In fact," continued Repasi, "I was hoping you'd consent to doing an introduction for the book, Jessica. If not, perhaps you, Dr. Thorpe."
Ignoring his request, feeling him ingenuous, she replied, "I'll consider your suggestion, Karl, but at the moment, I'm busy, Doctor." She stepped up to the message on the sooty and this time cracked mirror, the surface of which looked like a roadmap with its spiderweb of crisscrossing cracks. This message, also written on greasy, fatty liquids, actually bulged outward, with sections of glass ready to peel apart and fall away. The message on the cracked mirror read:
#4 is #6-Heretics
"Pick up sticks," she muttered to herself.
"The fourth victim is a heretic?" asked Repasi, shaking his head. "Is this why she is burned far greater than those before? No, not exactly," he continued. "The room was entirely engulfed, according to the fire investigator. It went to backlash."
"Backflash, you mean?" corrected Jessica.
"Yes, backflash, flashover, creating of the room an oven of gases, which exploded inward. From there the fire spread."
"Something of a miracle the mirror only cracked and didn't explode," she said, staring into the webbed lines that streaked across the lettering to make a mosaic of her reflection. "I'm surprised the whole place didn't go up in smoke."
"Fire has a mind of its own, they say. No two fires being exactly alike, like people, they say," J. T. philosophized.
Repasi added, "The units saved came as a result of speedy work on the fire department's part, after everyone was alerted by the explosion, and the fact one of the local trucks was at Ruby's for an all-night country jamboree and barbecue at the time."
"Anyone in adjoining rooms hurt?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Just scared witless."
"I suppose they've been interviewed? Saw no one, heard nothing until the explosion?''
"All of 'em have already departed this morning, but they left statements with the local authorities. They add nothing useful."
Jessica stepped to within inches of the bed where the Whitaker woman's black-scourged body lay in the familiar crumpled, fetal position. The superheated fire had reduced her body to near dwarf size, it seemed. Maybe the bastard burned himself badly on this one, she silently prayed. "Too bad his body's not amid the rubble," she said aloud.
"Will you allow me to help, Dr. Coran?" asked Repasi.
"You'll see to it that copies of your protocols follow me?"
"I will indeed."
"Then it's a deal."
"Jess!" complained J. T.
"Karl's right, John. We need the freedom to move quickly. I can't be tied up in another autopsy, which is going to tell me nothing I don't already know, so… so let's get out of here."
"But Jess…"
Ignoring J. T.'s whining, Jessica stepped out of the crime scene and rushed to the nearby restaurant, where she plopped into a booth. J. T. chased after her and found her nursing black coffee. "You going to drink that whole pot alone?"
"Help yourself."
"You okay, Jess?" he asked, sliding into the booth.
"Stop asking that."
"Sure, sure… whatever you say." He poured himself a cup of black coffee, lifted the cup, chinked it against hers, and said, "Cheers."
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "This case is driving me mad."
J. T. looked up at the pretty waitress whose shadow fell across the table. "Well, hello," he said.
"May I get your breakfast order?" she asked.
"Nothing else for me," Jessica replied.
J. T. ordered two eggs over easy, hash browns, and bacon.
"You ever going to get that cholesterol down, J. T.?" Jessica said as the waitress hurried off.
Pouring himself more coffee, he asked, "What's our next move, Jess? We can't simply just wait for him to dump another body at our footsteps,"
"That's exactly what he's doing, isn't it?" she asked, her eyes displaying a revelation. "He's wanting us to trail him, so he leaves a trail of bodies, but where do they ultimately lead? If we knew that, then maybe we could get a step ahead of him. Do you still have that area map you've been carrying around?"
"Got it right here," he replied, snatching the map from his coat pocket.
"We've got to predict his next stopover. Where he will next kill, and try like hell to stop him before he does it again."
"But how?" J. T. pleaded. "How're we going to do that?"
"What if he's on one of these tour buses coming and going out of these parks, J. T.? What if he was on one the other morning, pulling out of Page at Wahweap Lodge? He may well have seen me, or you, or both of us. That's how he knew I wasn't the one on the phone back in Vegas where he called. He knew it going in; and that's how he knew to find me at Wahweap Lodge last night, to log his last call."
"If that's the case-"
"Then he's been yanking our chains right along. It's time to turn this chase around. Let me study that map."
FOURTEEN
To a man who is afraid, everything rustles.
Over coffee and J. T.'s breakfast plate, they discussed tourist points on the map, of which there were too many to count. They discussed what they so far knew about the killer, each comparing the notes of the other. They discussed the new message on the mirror and how it fit with the others, J. T. displaying it on his notepad. To date, the list now read:
#1 is #9-Traitors
#2 is #8-Malicious Frauds
#3 is #7-Violents
#4 is #6-Heretics
"Now, logically speaking, his next victim will be number five, right, Jess?"
"We can't let that happen."
''Bear with me, here, Jess. If his next victim is number five, and it follows as it has been going, then we can predict part of his next message will be"-he interrupted himself to add to the list-"this. Right?"
Jessica looked down at his added line, which read:
#5 is #5
"Interesting juxtaposition, wouldn't you say, how five crosses five?" he asked.
''Yeah, but what does it mean? How does it help us to stop the bastard?"
J. T. bit his lower lip, frowning. "I don't know… yet.. "
With maps and tour bus guides laid out across the table, they continued the brainstorming session they'd begun. "J. T., you think it's just a coincidence that two of the victims were traveling on touring buses?"
"Yeah, I have to agree. It is a bit strange, but each victim, Melvin Martin and Eloise Whitaker, were using different tour bus companies."
"Still, the two buses interweaved from sight-seeing point to sight-seeing point."
J. T. considered this, sipping at his coffee. "Yeah. You saw how many buses were pulling out of the lot here this morning?"
"I saw, all right. One almost ran me down."
"Maybe the killer's that bus driver."
Jessica replied with a slight shake of the head, ' 'More likely to be a less than remarkable passenger. Besides, come to think of it, being run over by a monster bus like that, it'd be too easy a way for me to go, so far as this guy's concerned. He wants me to suffer along with what- nine other victims?"
"You think he'll stop at nine?"
"Unless he plans to spin on nine and take it back down to one."
"I'm going to do some checking about these bus tour lines. See what I can find out about them," J. T. suggested.