“You need a new couch, Evie. I could feel every spring.”
She handed him a cup of coffee. “I know. I got it from a yard sale.”
“Yeah, I noticed. Nice to have someone cook for me occasionally.”
She put their plates on the table. “Don’t any of those other firemen cook?”
“Out of a Hamburger Helper box. Hey, these are pretty good.” “Even I can fry an egg. So, you gonna fix my roof today?”
“If it stays dry. Who was that on the phone earlier?”
Eve picked at her breakfast. “Noah Webster. They found the first murdered woman on my list. She’d signed up under her married name, but got divorced. Three for three.”
David sighed. “Sucks, kid. But you still aren’t responsible.”
“Neither Samantha nor Christy had played Shadowland before we placed our recruiting ad. They were there to be preyed upon because they signed up for my study.”
“And if you’d asked them to take a daily walk in the park and they’d been mugged? Would that have been your fault, too?”
He was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. “No.”
He set back to work on his breakfast. “You break into Shadowland yet?”
“Not yet. I upped my network privileges, but I still haven’t got the keys to the kingdom. I’m a lot closer though. Shouldn’t take too much longer.”
“So you’re going to stay here all day to work on that, right?”
“No. I’m not going to stay here all day so you can watch over me. But thanks.”
He frowned. “Then where will you be today?”
“On campus. Somebody’s gotten access to our study files. It’s the only way he could have picked all three women.”
His frown deepened. “And what will you do should you find this person?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not planning to make any citizen’s arrests. I’ll call Webster.”
“And what if he comes after you when you’re alone on campus? What then?”
“I’m licensed to carry a concealed. I never leave the house without my gun in my computer bag. Except for yesterday.” She bit at her lip. “I was so rattled over seeing Christy hanging like that, I forgot a lot of things.”
“Considering you were cuffed and questioned, it’s probably good you didn’t have your gun with you. I’ll drive you to school. Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”
Tuesday, February 23, 8:05 a.m.
Abbott tossed the morning Mirror on the table. “That punk reporter Buckland was at your scene last night,” he snapped. “What happened to securing the perimeter?”
Jack frowned. “I didn’t see Kurt Buckland there yesterday.”
Micki pulled the paper closer to where she and Carleton Pierce sat. “I didn’t either, and Christy’s house is pretty remote. We would have seen his car if he’d driven up. Must have parked a ways off and used a telephoto.”
Noah scanned the front-page article whose headline screamed RED DRESS KILLER and in smaller caps, THREE WOMEN DEAD. “He’s named all three women, including Samantha. Here’s a quote from her mother. ‘We knew our daughter could never have killed herself.’ ” He passed the paper to Jack. “I bet he was following us yesterday when we went to see Samantha’s mother.”
“Asshole reporter even added the part about the snake,” Jack said, pushing the paper away in disgust. “We would have held that back.”
“Find out where he was hiding,” Abbott said grimly. “I want to know how he knew about the red dresses and the snake and I want him kept away from our crime scenes.”
Carleton looked uncomfortable. “Are you sure that’s the best approach? It’ll just make him more determined. Maybe he would make a better ally.”
Abbott scowled. “I’m not embedding any media in my teams.”
“I didn’t say strap him to your chest like a papoose, Bruce,” Carleton said mildly. “I’m familiar with minds like his. If you deny him access, he’ll go on the offensive.”
“The doc’s right,” Jack said. “I’d rather control what this Buck-land guy knows. On the bright side, at least he didn’t know about the connection.”
Carleton looked around the table. “And that would be?”
“Ever hear of a computer game called Shadowland?” Noah asked before Jack could mention Eve. Noah wasn’t sure Carleton would be allowed to keep her involvement from her faculty advisor. Ethically Carleton might have to tell.
“I never got into computer games,” Carleton said. “But I take it that the victims did.”
“Big time,” Jack said. “Hours a day.”
“I have a few patients who have game addictions. They talk about a Worlds of War.”
“Warcraft,” Jack corrected. “Similar principle.”
“We found that all three women were participating in a psychological study at one of the local universities,” Abbott added and Noah wanted to protest, but it was too late.
Carleton’s brows shot up. “How did you find this out?”
“Confidential informant,” Noah said.
“Does this informant have a name that you’d care to share with the team?” Carleton asked quietly, but he was angry and Noah supposed he had a right to be.
Abbott nodded. “Yes. If it comes down to it, we’ll tell you.”
“For now,” Noah added, “we don’t want to put you in the spot of having to report it.”
“Pesky ethics,” Carleton said tightly, his smile forced. “Fine. For now. So… obviously somebody besides your CI knows about this study. Do you know who?”
“We’re investigating that today,” Noah said. “Your profile would be a big help.”
“I’m not so sure it’s accurate anymore. Knowing about the computer game could make a difference. Knowing there is a link to a psychological study makes an even bigger difference.” Carleton’s voice was sharper than Noah had ever heard it. “It’s possible I wasted five hours of my night on a profile that is completely meaningless.”
Noah closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Carleton. I didn’t think about that.”
“I guess not,” Carleton replied. He pressed his fingertips to his temples, then lifted his head. The anger was gone, but the irritation was still there. “Tell me what you can.”
Tuesday, February 23, 8:45 a.m.
“Excuse me. I’m looking for Eve Wilson.”
Dr. Donner’s odious secretary, Jeremy Lyons, pointed. “She sits back there.”
Eve closed her laptop quickly. Dammit. She’d been so close to getting into Martha Brisbane’s Shadowland file, but a man was coming her way. He was clean-cut, well dressed, but there was an arrogant gleam in his eye. Eve instantly did not trust him.
“Miss Wilson.” He held out his hand. “I’m Kurt Buckland, with the Mirror.”
She shook his hand reluctantly. “Mr. Buckland. I’m rather busy at the moment.”
He ignored her. “So tell me how you knew the three murdered women.”
Years of maintaining the secrets of Dana’s shelter had taught her how not to react. But it was hard. She blinked. “Murder? You have the wrong woman, Mr. Buckland.”
“You drive an old Mazda. Blue with a dented fender. Yes?”
“Yes. But I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your car still sits in front of Christy Lewis’s house. You were at Martha Brisbane’s apartment.” He handed her another photo. It was her with Noah and her heart sank.
He knew. Soon everyone would know that her study had lured these women to their deaths. Their killer would know they knew and the police would lose any advantage.
“You spoke with the detective,” he said. “I want to know what he said.”
Even as her heart pounded, she was relieved. The intruder last night was this reporter. Not a killer. “Talk to Detective Webster.” She swiveled in her chair, hoping he would leave.
Instead he leaned against her cubicle wall. “So. What was it like to die? Twice? Did you see bright white lights? God? Angels? Or was it hellfire and brimstone?”
Fury bubbled, but she kept her cool. “Use your imagination. It’s what you’re good at.”
“I’ll pick God and angels. So, when that man strangled you, did it hurt?”
It had. It still did, in her worst nightmares. Worse, it shamed her. No more.