The police were watching for the white van, so he jumped into his car, going the direction Crawford had gone. Maybe Crawford would think he’d meant that Phoebe Hunter was the third of Mary’s homicides. Maybe. But he couldn’t take that chance.
He caught up with Crawford and slowed his pace, staying far enough back that he couldn’t be seen. He’d wait till Crawford stopped, then he’d take the bastard out.
He’d always wanted to, ever since his mother brought Crawford home. He’d been nine and had hated him then. His hate had grown considerably since. He hadn’t realized how much until he’d seen Crawford’s face again. He wondered what had set Mary off. She’d gone to a lot of trouble to leave the glass balls at each fire. She’d known what the discovery of the glass balls would mean. Exactly who it would bring.
Mary had always been a manipulative little bitch. She was improving with age.
Putting a bullet in Crawford’s head would be almost as good as putting one in Mary’s, which would be his next step. Because he had a pretty good idea of where she’d go.
Wednesday, September 22, 6:00 p.m.
“Pull over and let me out,” David said urgently, pointing to the police department. He’d been calling Olivia, Noah, and Abbott for twenty-five minutes with no success.
Tom pulled over. “I’ll find a place to park and come up.”
David had one foot on the pavement when his body went rigid. Crawford. “There he is.” Fury exploded and he ran at Crawford, who had only a second to register alarm before David had him off the ground by the lapels of his black suit. “Where is she?” He shoved Crawford up against the brick wall. “Where the fuck is Mary?”
“David!” Tom was behind him, pulling him away. “Let him go.”
Crawford’s face was crimson. “Get your hands off me. This is assault on a-”
David shook Crawford hard, his vision going red at the edges. “The next words out of your fucking mouth better be where we can find Mary. Because she has my mother.”
“David!” Olivia ran from the parking garage, Noah at her side. Dodging oncoming cars, she crossed the street and grabbed his arm. “Not like this. Let him go.”
David lowered Crawford to the ground, slowly releasing his lapels. His fists dropped to his sides, but he didn’t retreat an inch. “Tell them, Crawford. Tell them about Mary.”
“David. We know about Mary and her brother. Take a breath.” She took his fist in her hands, held it, calming him. “We’ll get what we want to know. Trust me.”
“Arrest him,” Crawford sputtered. “That was assault on a fed-”
Olivia turned, eyes flashing. “If you say federal agent, I will walk away and let him take you apart, I swear to God. You sonofabitch. You had to have known what she did.”
Crawford’s eyes flickered. “I don’t know where she is. I talked to her brother and he doesn’t know either. Leave me alone.”
“She’s your daughter,” Tom cried, his voice shaking. “She has my grandmother.”
“She’s not my daughter,” Crawford said coldly. “I can’t help you with your relative.”
David heard popping inside his brain. “Your daughter has killed three men and has injured my friend. Her arsons killed five people, wiped out a neighborhood, and may have put my partner in a wheelchair. So you’d better find a way to help us.”
“You’d better consider your answer carefully, Agent Crawford,” Noah said, his face like stone. “Your family appears to mean little to you, but it means a lot to us.”
“She is not my daughter. I married her mother, got her two psycho brats,” he spat.
“Because their mother was murdered,” David said. “What case were you chasing the night an ex-con broke into your house and bludgeoned your wife to death?”
Crawford stepped back, hitting the brick wall. “Preston Moss.”
“Barlow said you were a man obsessed,” Olivia murmured.
“No, I was doing my job. I was chasing a man who’d set fires, who’d killed.”
“You are going to stop chasing Moss,” Olivia said quietly, “and start chasing Mary.”
“I don’t know where she is.” His eyes gleamed, slyly, David thought and felt a shiver of repulsion skitter across his skin. “But I can give you something else.”
“What?” Olivia demanded.
“My sources say that you’ve identified Mary and her three cohorts,” Crawford said, “but there’s someone else involved. Someone who knew she killed the Fischer kid. I’ll tell you if you give me Lincoln Jefferson.”
She looked up at Crawford in disbelief. “You want Moss that badly? You have no idea how much I want to turn away and let David kill you with his bare hands. I’m done with your games, your need-to-know, and your quid pro quo. You’re sick. You don’t deserve your badge.” She pulled out her cell, walked a few paces. “I’m calling my captain.”
“Wait.” Crawford followed, closing his hand over hers. “Don’t call him. I’ll tell-”
David flinched at the sound that cracked the air and threw himself forward, knocking Olivia and Crawford to the ground. People were screaming and from the corner of his eye he saw Tom throw himself over two women who’d crept close to overhear.
Noah sprinted across the street and David heard the squeal of tires and two more shots fired in rapid succession. He hunkered over Crawford and Olivia as the doors of the police department flew open and six officers ran into the street, guns drawn.
Shaking, David pushed to his knees. “Olivia. Olivia.” He pushed Crawford off her and his heart stopped. She was covered in blood and she wasn’t moving. “Olivia.” He pressed his fingertips to her throat. And breathed. “She’s got a strong pulse,” he told the officer who’d knelt beside him. “I can handle this. Go see to the others.”
The officer rushed off. David checked Crawford’s pulse, but the man was dead, his blood pooling on the sidewalk from the huge hole in his chest. The bullet had blasted straight through him. Straight into Olivia. Probably hit her shoulder.
David swiftly unbuttoned her blouse to check for the bullet’s entry, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of the Kevlar vest she wore.
“What the hell is going on here?” Abbott fell to his knees beside them.
“She’s unconscious. She hit her head on the concrete. I think all this blood is Crawford’s.” Gingerly David pulled the Kevlar away, exposing her shoulder and he calmed a little more. Already forming was what would be a nasty bruise, but there was no blood, no gaping hole. Just beautiful skin. “The bullet hit the vest.”
“Thank God.” Abbott looked paler than Olivia. “I couldn’t handle another one.”
She stirred, moaning a little, lifting her hand to her head. “Ow.”
David pulled her hand away gently, his hand shaking now that he could see she was all right. Her fedora was half off her head and he set it aside, checking her head. “You’ll have a goose egg, but there’s no open wound.”
“Good,” she murmured. “You have enough stitches for both of us.”
He’d forgotten. Tentatively he ran his fingers over his jaw, relieved none of the sutures had burst. “Can you sit up?”
She nodded and he helped her, giving in to the need to hold her for a moment. He pulled her close and felt her shudder. Or maybe it was his. “Crawford?” she asked.
“He’s dead,” David said, feeling only regret that they hadn’t made him talk first.
Noah crouched beside them, breathing hard. “Bullet came from a brown late-model Explorer. I chased, but he got away. I got the plate and called it in.”
“What the hell happened?” Abbott demanded.
“Crawford was Mary’s stepfather,” Olivia said. “I called to tell you, but you were in a meeting with the commander, closed door. Crawford said he didn’t know where she was, but was about to tell us who else was involved when somebody shot him.”
Abbott frowned. “He knew who the blackmailer is and didn’t tell us right away?”
“Tried to bargain for custody of Lincoln,” Noah said.
“Sonofabitch,” Abbott said, looking down at Crawford’s body with disgust.