Drawing a deep breath, he stood, arms filled with journals and ledgers, then frowned when the sharp smell of gasoline filled his nose. He turned and froze, raw fury rapidly replacing the shock of seeing one more gun pointed at Susannah.
Charles Grant stood in the doorway, his gun to Susannah’s temple. At his side was a gas can. Over his shoulder was a backpack, and Luke could see the outline of sharp corners through the canvas. The bag held a box that appeared to have some weight. Hooked through a strap on the backpack was Grant’s walking stick. A glance down at his feet revealed the same shoes Luke had seen in Mansfield ’s grainy photo.
“Agent Papadopoulos,” he said mildly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t home to welcome you this afternoon. Your visit was rudely unannounced.”
Luke’s mind raced. Use what you know. He didn’t look at Susannah. One look at her would leave him shaken with fear. He had to stay focused on Grant. “We didn’t need a guided tour. We found what we were looking for. We know it all, Mr. Grant.”
Charles smiled. “I’m sure you think you do.”
Luke regarded him carefully. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t know everything. Like, how the hell you got in here. We have cars guarding the entrance.”
“There’s a road that comes in from the back of the property,” Susannah said quietly.
“It’s how Judge Vartanian would welcome his midnight callers,” Charles said.
“Is that how you intend to get out of here?” Luke asked. “Sneak out the back way like all the other criminals?”
“Not exactly. Drop the journals and place your weapon on the floor.”
He’s waiting for Paul Houston, Luke thought, and hoped to hell Chase still knew where Houston was. “No, I don’t think I will.”
“Then she dies.”
“You’re going to kill her anyway. It’s what you’ve always wanted to do.”
“You have no idea what I’ve always wanted to do,” Charles said with contempt.
“I think I do. Because I know a great deal more about you than you think I do.” He paused, lifted a brow. “Ray, isn’t it? Ray Kraemer.”
Charles stiffened, eyes flashing in anger. “Now she’ll die pain- fully.”
“I know you know how to do that. I found Judge Borenson. You’re a sick bastard.”
“Then I have nothing to lose, do I?” Charles asked. “You’ll charge me with murder.”
The man’s voice was mild but the hand that clutched Susannah’s shoulder was white-knuckled. “Multiple murders, Ray,” Luke said. “We found your journals.”
Again Charles’s eyes flashed, but his voice remained calm. “So what’s one more?”
“You kept journals?” Susannah asked. “You and Arthur were both that arrogant?”
“Perhaps,” Charles said, amused. “Your father was a lawyer. He kept impeccable records. And I am an English teacher, my dear. Journals are kind of my thing.”
“Arthur was not my father and you are a cold-blooded killer,” Susannah said stonily.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Charles drawled. “Killing is an art. A passion. When done well, it’s extremely satisfying.”
“And when you can manipulate others to do your killing for you?” she asked.
“Ahh, now that’s the cherry on top. Agent Papadopoulos. Your weapon.” Charles jabbed the gun harder and Susannah winced, her jaw squaring with pain. “Now.”
Luke knelt, carefully putting the books on the floor. He chanced a glance at Susannah and saw her gray eyes narrowed, watching every move he made. He moved slowly, betting that Grant wouldn’t shoot Susannah, that he planned to use her as a hostage once Paul Houston arrived to take him away.
“You’re stalling, Mr. Grant,” she said. “Or Mr. Kraemer, or whatever your name is. What are you waiting for? You’ve got a gun to my head. Why not just kill me?”
Luke knew she was baiting Charles on purpose. She’d understood Luke’s plan to push the man and was helping. Still her words left his mouth bone dry.
“You want to die, Susannah?” Charles asked smoothly.
“No. But I’m wondering why you seem like you’re… killing time. Instead of me.”
Charles chuckled. “You were as smart as Daniel and much saner than Simon.”
“Speaking of Simon,” she said grimly, “did you know he was alive all those years?”
He laughed softly. “Who do you think taught him to play the role of an old man so well?” Luke’s stomach turned over. Simon Vartanian had lured his victims dressed as an old man. Simon had also stalked Susannah in the same guise.
“You?” Susannah breathed. “You taught him?”
“Oh, yes. Simon thought it was all his idea to stalk you in the park in New York. It was always easiest to allow Simon to believe things were his idea, but it was indeed me. You, on the other hand… I could have done great things with you, my dear.” His smile disappeared. “But you didn’t want to play with me. You avoided me.”
“I was a rape victim.” Her voice shook with outrage. “And you knew that.”
“I have to say I was surprised you confessed the whole Darcy affair. That couldn’t have been easy for you, admitting to everyone how depraved you are. How hard the mighty have fallen. It didn’t take Darcy more than a few months to turn you.”
Her hands tightened into fists. “You recruited Marcy Linton, used her to extort rich men who liked sex with underage girls.”
“It beat waiting tables as a way for her to pay for college,” Charles said blandly.
“She never got to college. You killed her. Why? Why did you have to kill her?”
Charles’s bland façade was replaced with cold fury. “Because of you. You ruined her. Made her soft.”
“Darcy changed her mind, didn’t she? I remember that last night. She tried to talk me out of going, but it was a special date, the anniversary of the day I became a rape victim,” she said bitterly. “I was going to show myself and the world that I had control. I never had control. You did. You orchestrated the whole damn thing, you sonofabitch. All of it. You put Simon and Toby Granville up to raping me. You fucking coward.”
Luke saw the minute movement, the slackening of the hand on Susannah’s shoulder just as Susannah jerked away. But Charles wasn’t that off guard. He grabbed her with a snarl, jabbing the gun into her head so hard she cried out. His forearm closed over her throat. Her hands clawed at his arm so that she could breathe. Luke took an involuntary step forward, still on one knee.
“Little bitch,” Charles muttered. “Papadopoulos, now. Gun on the floor now or I’ll break her goddamn neck. She’ll still look alive and I’ll still have my human shield.”
Luke placed his gun on the floor, then held his hands out. “There. I’m unarmed.”
“Your backup, too.”
“Don’t have one,” Luke lied. “I’m wearing boots, not shoes like you. I like your shoes, Ray Kraemer. They’re what helped us identify you.” He was talking fast, not allowing Charles to calm down. “ Mansfield took some pictures in the bunker, for insurance. Maybe even revenge. Got one of a man with a walking stick, whose left shoe has a higher heel. It’s because Michael Ellis shot you in ’ Nam. Shot you in the leg and left you to die like a dog. It messed up your leg and that’s why you walk with the stick.” Luke hoped Susannah was paying attention.
“Shut up,” Charles said through clenched teeth.
“So you got your revenge on Ellis. You took his son, made him yours. He’s still yours, isn’t he, Ray Kraemer?” Every time he used Charles’s real name, the man flinched. “He’s useful to you, being a cop and all. You think he’s coming to get you now, but you’re wrong. We have Paul Houston in custody and he’s going to prison for a very long time.” The custody was a lie, but it did the trick.