Deputy Tanner spoke up. “Like the one C.J. saw following her this afternoon.”
Walsh nodded. “Additional confirmation-as if any was needed. So we don’t know he’s home?”
Cellini said no. “He might have taken a second vehicle, although his DMV records list only one. We can’t probe his apartment with infrared sensors or long-distance microphones-too much ambient heat and noise from other units in the building. We could call him and see if he answers-”
“But we don’t want to spook him,” Deputy Chang said.
“Even if we pretend it’s a sales call,” Tanner added, “he might get suspicious. Then we’ve got a barricade situation.”
“With a possible hostage,” Chang said.
Captain Garcia nodded. “So we’re going in hard. Deputies Tanner and Chang are members of a SWAT element. Tanner’s the team leader. Chang’s the scout. We’ve called out the rest of the team.”
“Lucky break, having you here,” Walsh said.
“Lucky for us,” Tanner said coolly. “Unlucky for Treat-if he’s home.”
One of the radio operators leaned into the doorway. “Raid van’s here.” He meant the SWAT van loaded with the gear necessary to carry out an armed assault-flak vests, assault weapons, tear gas, flash-bang grenades, night-vision goggles, Nomex fire-resistant hoods, the works.
Tanner and Chang moved toward the rear of the command post. “Time to suit up,” Tanner said.
Walsh almost told them to be careful, but he knew it would just sound stupid. SWAT team members were trained to be careful.
He hoped Tanner’s team lived up to SWAT’s reputation-because he had a feeling that where the Hourglass Killer was concerned, they could not afford mistakes.
38
“When…” C.J. heard the hoarseness in her voice and had to start over. “When did you get back?”
“Just now.” Adam stood there, watching her. “Glad to see me?”
She got to her feet, kicking away the rope. In her right hand she still held the glass shard, her only weapon.
“You shouldn’t have taken off the blindfold,” Adam said. “It’s easier to die when you can’t see what’s coming. That’s why they blindfold the victim of a firing squad. Act of mercy.”
“I didn’t expect mercy from you.”
“That’s good. Because you won’t be getting any.”
She watched him across the dim, cavernous space. He wore slacks and a windbreaker with bulky pockets. When he moved toward her, she raised the shard, letting it catch the moonlight. “Don’t come any closer.”
“I’ve got a gun, remember?”
“So use it.”
He removed a gloved hand from the side pocket of his windbreaker, taking out the gun. Even at a distance, she could see that it was a pistol, probably a 9mm. The gun flashed toward her, and for an instant she was back inside Ramon Sanchez’s converted garage, facing his ancient revolver.
But he didn’t fire. “Put down the piece of glass, C.J.”
“Make me.”
“You’re a stubborn bitch-you know that?”
“And you’re a fucking psycho.”
He still didn’t fire, and she began to think he wouldn’t. But why not?
“I can take that weapon away from you anytime I want,” he said.
“Go ahead.”
“It’ll be no problem-just like jumping you in the hallway. You didn’t put up much of a fight, you know.”
“An ambush is one thing. Taking me here and now is another.”
“I’ll risk it.”
“You’ll get stuck.” She displayed the shard. “How’d you like it in your neck? Your eye?”
He studied her. She knew he was asking himself whether or not he could wrest control of the weapon without getting sliced.
“You can’t,” she told him, letting him know she could read his thoughts. “I’m too quick for you. I know too many moves.”
His reaction surprised her. He laughed. “Good old C.J. A fighter to the end.” His gaze shifted to the upended crate. “I shouldn’t have left my gear with you. I thought it was out of reach.”
His gear, he’d said. She saw other needles scattered on the floor, as well as more vials of ink. She wondered “It won’t save you, C.J.,” he said, cutting off her thoughts. “We’re still going to share that last dance.”
“I’m not much in the mood for dancing. You know what I was thinking about the whole time you were gone?”
“How to get free and save your ass?”
“Besides that.”
“What?”
“You. How you could do something this sick, this crazy.”
“It’s not crazy. Sick-yes. I plead guilty to that charge. But I’m perfectly sane. I’m just doing what any normal spurned spouse would do, given half a chance.”
“I hope you don’t believe that.”
“But I do.” His hard-soled shoes clicked on the floor as he began to circle a few yards from her, and she moved, as well, keeping her distance from him. “People aren’t nearly as civilized as they like to pretend. I’ll bet there isn’t anybody who hasn’t fantasized at one time or another about subjecting an enemy to a painful, violent death. Every kid who gets slammed around by the school bully, every teenager who’s grounded by his parents, every office drone whose boss is on his case-they’ve all thought about it.” A knowing smile came to his face. “After you found me in bed with Ashley, didn’t you think about it?”
The truth came out reluctantly. “I guess.”
He spread his arms. “Well, there you are.”
It occurred to her that he was arguing a case. Like one of those mock trials in law school. Showing how clever he was, how he could twist logic and facts to prove anything.
“Thinking is one thing,” she said, still sidestepping to match every step he took, the two of them circling each other like knife fighters. “This is reality, Adam. You’re really doing this. Do you understand? This is for real.”
“Of course it’s for real. It’s life and death. My life. Your death.”
“Because I left you?”
“Well, yes, that-and because I was handed the golden opportunity.” A disarming smile. “Pure serendipity. It would have been ungrateful of me to turn it down. Think about it. The chance to kill my ex-wife and escape all suspicions. To use a serial killer as my fall guy. The perfect crime.”
Serial killer?
She almost asked him what he was talking about, and then she understood.
The stuff on the floor. Needles, ink.
Tattoo equipment.
The Hourglass Killer.
She’d had nothing to do with the investigation, but it had been in the papers. Everybody knew about it.
So that was his plan. To playact as the Hourglass Killer. To pass her off as the latest victim.
Some of her fear left her. “It won’t work,” she said.
Her tone of voice-unnaturally calm-caught his attention. He stopped circling. “Sure it will.”
“No. You can’t imitate a serial killer that easily. The police are always alert for copycats. They’ll find some details of the crime that don’t match the MO, and they’ll know it’s not the same guy.”
“Oh, really? I never thought of that.”
He came a little closer, and she let him, standing her ground. She could see his smile now, his white teeth against his tan face.
“Joke about it all you want,” she said. “What I’m telling you is true.”
“Ordinarily, yes. But not in this case.”
“Why not?”
“Because”-he leaned toward her, and involuntarily she stepped back-“he really had targeted you, C.J.”
“What?”
“If he continued his usual pattern, he would have struck tonight. I beat him to it, that’s all.”
“What are you-”
“He’ll be royally pissed off when he figures out what happened, don’t you think?”
She struggled to register the words. The Hourglass Killer after her? It was impossible. She hadn’t been stalked or followed or Followed.
“The white van,” she whispered.
“What’s that? A little louder, please.”
“A van tailed me home today. Was that you?”
“Nope. Must’ve been him. I told you he was getting ready to go for it. It’s the last day of the month, after all.”