Kevin doesn’t flinch.
“We already have one, but we need the other.” Slater looks at the wall, the collage of pictures. It’s in part her beauty that he hates so much. It’s why he keeps the photographs covered. By nine o’clock she will be dead.
“Kill me,” Kevin says. “I hate you.” He speaks the last words with such contempt that Slater feels a sliver of shock.
But Slater doesn’t show shock. He shows anger and hatred, but not shock, because shock is weakness.
“So courageous. So noble. How can I refuse such a sincere request? Consider yourself dead already. We all die; yours will be a living death until you finally do kick the bucket. In the meantime, we must lure in our second victim. She will fly to your rescue. Her knight is in peril.”
“I despise you.”
“You will help me or Mommy will begin to scream!” Slater says.
Kevin glares at him and then closes his eyes slowly.
“Just a simple call, Kevin. I would do it, but I really need her to hear your voice.”
Kevin shakes his head and is about to speak, but Slater doesn’t want to hear it. He steps forward and slams the gun against the side of Kevin’s head.
“I’ll kill her, you perverted little brat!”
Blood oozes down Kevin’s face. This excites Slater.
Kevin’s face wrinkles and he begins to cry. Better, much better. He sinks slowly to his knees and for the first time since his nemesis entered the room, Slater knows he will win.
Samantha raced through Long Beach. Secret. What secret? Kevin had hidden his dealing with Slater as a boy and he’d remained quiet about his home life, but the journal entry had to be something else. Something the professor knew.
She was a block away when her cell phone rang. She couldn’t imagine how investigators had managed before the advent of cellular technology. On the other hand, criminals took advantage as well. Slater certainly had.
“Sam.”
“This is Kevin.”
“Kevin!”
“ . . . no one else. Do you understand?” His voice sounded flat— horrible. He was reading, being forced. Sam veered for the curb, ignoring a honk behind.
“Kevin, if you’re with Slater keep talking and don’t cough. If you’re not, cough. Yes, I do understand.” Actually, she’d missed what she was supposed to understand. And she quickly considered asking him to repeat it, but that might endanger him.
Kevin didn’t cough.
“We’re playing a new game,” he said. “This game’s for you, Sam. If you can find us before nine, he’ll set me and Mommy free.” His voice wavered. She heard a muffled voice in the background. Slater.
“I will give you the first clue. If you find it, there will be another one. No authorities can be involved, including that wench, Jennifer.” Slater chuckled in the background. His voice suddenly filled the phone, loud and eager.
“First clue: Who loves what he sees, but hates what he loves?You might find a clue in his house; you might not. Hurry to the rescue, Princess.” The phone went dead.
“Slater? Kevin!” Sam threw the phone against the windshield. “Aaaahh!”
Who loves what he sees, but hates what he loves?Her mind was blank. 6:27. Less than three hours. She had to get back to Kevin’s house. The answers had to be in his papers. His journal. Somewhere!
She roared through a U-turn and headed back north. What was the chance that Slater had found a way to monitor her phone calls? If he knew electronics well enough to pull off a frame on Kevin, he knew more than she. No authorities involved, he’d said.
Sam bent for her cell on the floor and swerved badly enough to force a second attempt. She caught the phone, fumbled with the battery, which had jarred loose. Power on. Redial.
“Thank you again for your time, Dr. Francis. As I explained on the phone—”
“Yes, yes, of course.” The professor waved her in. “Please come in, dear. Believe me, I will do whatever I can for that boy.”
Jennifer paused. “You understand why I’m here? It seems that you know more about Kevin than you first suggested. At least Kevin believes you do.”
“I know him better than most, yes. But nothing that I haven’t told you.”
“That’s what we’re going to find out. With your help.” She stepped into the house. “We’re running out of time, Professor. If you can’t help us, I’m afraid no one will be able to. You talked to Samantha Sheer from CBI earlier today; she’ll be here shortly.” Her cell went off and she pulled it from her waist. “Excuse me.”
It was Sam. She’d heard from Kevin. Jennifer instinctively turned back toward the door and listened while Sam ran through the details.
“So you’re headed backto the house?”
“Yes. Review the clue with Dr. Francis. Who loves what he sees, but hates what he loves?You got it? Review everythingwith him. He has to know something.”
“I have to report this.”
“Slater said no cops, and he mentioned you by name. You won’t be out of the loop. Just stay where you are. Don’t brief Milton. Let me work alone; that’s all I ask. If you think of anything, call me. But this is between us now. Kevin, Slater, and me. Please, Jennifer.”
Jennifer hesitated. “Okay. I’ll give you an hour. Then I call this in, understood? I’m over my head here.”
“I’ll call you.”
“One hour.” She closed the cell.
“Anything wrong?” Dr. Francis asked.
“Everything’s wrong, Doctor.”
25
Monday
6:37 P.M.
WHO LOVES WHAT HE SEES, but hates what he loves?” Dr. Francis said. “Every man, every woman, every child beyond the age of accountability.”
“He loves the ice cream, but hates the fat it puts on his waist,” Jennifer said.
“Yes. She loves the wrong man, but hates what he does to her life. The dilemma goes back to Eve and the apple in the garden. Sin.”
“I don’t see how that helps us,” Jennifer said. “The reference has to be personal, something that only Sam or Kevin might know. Something the three of them knew when they were children.”
“Three children? Or two? Sam and Kevin, who had his alter ego—the boy?” Dr. Francis sat in a large leather recliner and leaned forward. “Tell me everything. From the beginning. Time is slipping.”
He listened, eyes sparkling, with only the occasional frown to betray his anxiety over Kevin’s predicament. In many ways he reminded Jennifer of Kevin, genuine to the bone and thoroughly intelligent. It was the first time she’d run through the last four days aloud and with such comprehensive minutiae with anyone except Galager. The first call, the car bomb, the second call regarding the doghouse. Then the bus, Kevin’s flight with Sam to Palos Verdes, the warehouse, the library, the kidnapping, and now this death threat.
She told it all in one long run-on, interrupted only by his prodding for further detail. He was a thinker, among the best, and he seemed to like playing detective. So did most people. His questions were insightful. How do you know that Kevin was inside his house when the second phone call was made? Is there a way to intercept a laser signal? All the questions lent themselves to whether Kevin could logically be Slater.
Twenty minutes and Sam still hadn’t called. Jennifer stood and paced, hand on chin. “I can’t believe it’s coming down to this. Kevin’s out there somewhere in the dark with a madman and we’re . . .” She ran her hands through her hair. “It’s been like that since I got down here. Slater’s always one step ahead, and we’re running around like a bunch of toy monkeys.”
“You remind me of Kevin when you do that.”
He was looking at her hands, still in her hair. She sat down on the couch and sighed. “So now I’m Kevin as well.”