He and Olivia shared an impressed look. “Girl thinks on her feet,” Olivia murmured.
“She does,” Noah said. “Dell’s car is the black SUV that he used to run David off the road. The Subaru must belong to the father.”
“I didn’t know about the Subaru before,” Olivia said. “I’ve got uniforms canvassing the neighborhood for anyone who saw a black SUV. Dell isn’t in the Minnesota DMV database, so he’s probably registered-”
“Noah.” Eve stood in front of a bookshelf, her expression stricken.
He was next to her in an instant, looking over her shoulder. “What?”
“That.” She pointed to a framed photo, not touching it. “That’s V, the son that died. Look at the woman with him.” She looked over her shoulder, eyes dark with dread. “It’s Katie, from the bar. Jack’s Katie. Noah, this isn’t just about you. It’s about Jack, too.”
“Where is Jack?” Olivia asked tightly.
“Not answering his phone,” Noah said, his heart starting to race. “I have to-”
“Just go,” Olivia interrupted. “I’ll call it in, have backup meet you there.”
Wednesday, February 24, 8:30 p.m.
Eve had actually given him the idea, which was delicious in its irony. He sat in his car, watching his laptop screen as the video played. It was an interview, downloaded from the archive of a TV station in Asheville, North Carolina.
It was slightly more than six years old. It would do very nicely.
“And then what did you do?” the reporter was asking, mild revulsion on his face.
The camera switched to the handsome face of one of the more brutal serial killers he’d studied. “I killed her,” Rob Winters said with a smirk. “I overpowered her, threw her on the bed, and said, ‘Didn’t your parents teach you not to get into cars with strange men?’ Then I wound a string of twine around her neck and pulled, really hard. She fought, so I stabbed her. Six times I think.”
“Eight,” the reporter corrected, slightly paling. “Eight times in the abdomen.”
“You must be right,” Winters said with another smirk. “You reporters do your homework after all. I stabbed her, eight times. She tried to claw at me.” He smiled, remembering. “Feisty little thing she was. So I slashed her hand, then her face.”
“Why her face?” the reporter murmured. “I mean, you’d already all but killed her.”
“Because.” Winters shrugged. “Because she thought she was pretty. Because I wanted to. Because I could. She stopped fighting, so I pulled the twine again. I really thought I’d killed her. But that’s okay. I’m in here, but she’s out there, scarred for life.” He sobered, his black eyes going cold. “So neither of us are free. I can live with that.”
“I see. Well, then let’s move on. What happened next?”
What happened next was Winters chronicling a chilling description of brutality, an uncontrolled killing spree that ended in his own capture. And two weeks after the interview was completed, Winters had been stabbed in the prison shower.
Because he lost control. Shame, that. Such… evil was intriguing on its face. Fascinating to study in depth. I would have liked the opportunity to talk to him myself.
But even though Winters was gone, his legacy remained. Eve Wilson was still afraid. You could see it in her eyes if you knew how to look. And I do.
He took from his pocket the same cell phone he’d used to text her that morning, then rewound the video to the exact frame he’d sought. He dialed Eve, then frowned. She wasn’t answering. He would have loved to have heard her gasp when he played the little snippet from her past. No matter, he’d see that fear in her eyes soon enough.
When the tone beeped for her voicemail, he hit the video play button, then held the cell to his laptop speaker. When he was finished, he disconnected with a smile.
Then he started to drive, flipping his police scanner on. He wanted to know when Webster discovered the Bolyards. When Eve retrieved his little message she’d be rattled, but it was Noah Webster who’d be terrified, especially after that attempt on her life earlier today. Webster wouldn’t let her out of his sight.
Which would be bad, except that he knew where Webster would be soon. Go see the Bolyards. Find out what they know. Like a good soldier, Webster would follow those orders. Where Webster would be, so would Eve.
I’ll be ready.
Wednesday, February 24, 8:45 p.m.
“Oh my God.” Noah ran from the curb to Jack’s house, pulling Eve by the hand, then he stopped, his stomach dropping to his feet. ME techs were going into Jack’s house, a folded body bag on their gurney.
Abbott met them at the door, looking grim. “Jack’s not dead,” he said.
Noah’s breath shuddered out as he pointed to the ME gurney. “Then who?”
“Katie. She was shot in the head with a gun from Jack’s collection.”
“He didn’t do this,” Noah started intensely, but Abbott held up his hand.
“Jack’s on his way to the hospital. He’s in bad shape.”
Noah felt his legs tremble and resolutely locked his knees. “What happened?”
“We found an empty bottle next to his bed, but the paramedics thought he’d taken some pills, too. We couldn’t find any.”
Noah wanted to say Jack wouldn’t have done that, but he wasn’t sure that was true.
“Jack was the one who chased V Farmer into the highway,” Eve said quietly. “This is part of Dell’s payback.”
“You know Jack didn’t kill Katie,” Noah added and Abbott nodded.
“But we’re following procedure. No accusations of cover-up. Noah, you can’t go in.”
Noah closed his eyes, knowing Abbott was right. “Tell me what you saw.”
“Katie was lying in the bed, shot in the head.” Abbott hesitated. “She’d been beaten up. Jack was lying next to her, passed out, his gun on the nightstand, with the bottle. If we’d discovered this tomorrow morning, Jack would have been dead. It was a good thing you called me when he didn’t answer. And, Eve, nice work. Olivia told me that you made the connection from the news archives. And seeing Katie in that picture with V Farmer will be important to clearing Jack.”
Eve’s nod was calm, as was the hand she rested on Noah’s back. “Are you assuming Dell killed his father?” she asked.
“Yes,” Abbott said. “Why?”
“Because I’m wondering why he did it. And who else is on his list.”
“It’s fair to say you are,” Noah told her, trying to stow his worry.
“And you,” she replied. “Where did they take Jack?”
“County,” Abbott replied, “but they won’t let anyone see him. I’ve called his father and I’m about to meet him at the hospital.”
“I need to talk to him,” Noah said. “He thought I was asking for a new partner today. He took Rachel Ward’s death hard. I want him to know he’s got my support.”
“And you’ll be able to tell him that, after he’s stabilized,” Abbott said. “For now, the best thing you can do is your job.”
“You’re right. We were going to check on that couple who phoned in the Martha tip. The Bolyards. I still have time to do that. Eve can stay with me while I talk to them.”
“No problem,” she said. “I have my laptop. I can keep busy wherever.”
Abbott walked with them, waiting until Eve was in Noah’s car and her door shut before motioning Noah a few feet away. “If Jack survives, he won’t be on his feet for a while. You’re going to need a new partner to see you through this investigation.”
Noah didn’t want to consider either option, but knew Abbott was right. “Who?”
“I don’t know yet. If this had been next year, I’d say Olivia, because Kane’s up for retirement soon. I’ll make some calls and let you know as soon as I do.” He looked over Noah’s shoulder to where Eve waited in the car. “She needs to go to a safe house.”
Noah thought of all the years she’d hidden in that shelter. “I don’t think she’ll go.”
“Convince her,” Abbott said tersely. “I can’t have you carting her around with you. If you can’t find a safe place outside, we’ll find a safe house and keep her inside.”