Iris Johansen - Quicksand

Eve was tense, but Jane could sense the odd familiarity that was almost a bond between her and Montalvo.

He knows me , Eve had said.

Yes, he did, and that would be the most dangerous weapon Montalvo had in his possession.

"Would you like coffee, Eve? Or how about orange juice? It's pretty-" Jane's cell phone rang and she took it out of her pocket and checked the ID. "It's my agent, Eve. I can have him call back."

"No, go take the call. I'm not letting you put your life on hold for me." She went to the sideboard and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Shoo."

Jane hesitated. She was probably being idiotically protective. Eve wouldn't accept hovering from anyone. She punched the button on her phone as she headed for her bedroom. "If you need me, give a shout."

"IT'S GOOD TO SEE YOU, EVE, "Montalvo said quietly. "They say anticipation makes pleasure more intense. I could do without the anticipation. I don't like doing without you."

"You never had me." She stared at him over the rim of the cup as she lifted it to her lips. She had hoped that when she saw him again he'd be less than she remembered him. He was the same Montalvo, dark eyes that gazed out at the world with intelligence and boldness, dark hair, full well-shaped lips, and a strength and vibrance that was like a living force. "I told you that I didn't want you involved in this, Montalvo. I want you out of my life."

"I'm not interfering. I felt duty-bound to have Miguel guard you, otherwise I've stayed in the background. Have I approached you?" He smiled. "After all, Quinn invited me here."

"Because you have information we need. Do you think I don't know Joe wouldn't have-" There was a knock on the door. "That must be Joe." She set down her cup and moved toward the door.

"What a polite knock," Montalvo murmured. "I approve."

Dammit, he was enjoying the fact that Joe wasn't staying with her. She threw open the door. "Did Jane forget to give you your key?" She took her own key from the chest by the door and handed it to him. "Montalvo's already here."

"So I see." Joe came into the room and shut the door. "Let's get to it."

"Certainly." He opened the portfolio he'd placed on the coffee table. "First, tell me what you've found out, Quinn."

"Not much. I was able to trace him by a credit card slip he used at the local Wal-Mart. I was surprised he hadn't changed his name when he left Detroit."

"He wasn't under suspicion there and had no reason to change it. He had no idea we were after him." Montalvo spread documents and photos on the coffee table. "My investigator was able to gather quite a bit of information, but there's still a lot we don't know." He tapped a photograph. "This is the latest photo we have of Henry Kistle, Eve. It was taken two years ago at a barbecue given by his employer, Chad Pelham."

The photo was of a man sitting in a striped lounge chair holding a can of Budweiser. He was fortyish, well built, with large brown eyes and a thick shock of gray-brown hair. He was smiling into the camera. It seemed impossible to Eve that this was the man who had called her and spat out that poison.

"His employer?" Joe said. "What work did Kistle do?"

"He was a personal trainer. Pelham owned a gym and Kistle worked for him for over a year. His coworkers said that Kistle was very popular with the ladies. But there was no hint of indiscreet conduct with any of them. Then Pelham decided to cut Kistle's commission, but he didn't give him an argument. Two weeks later Kistle said he had another job, resigned, and took off." He pulled a newspaper clipping out of the pile. "Pelham died in a car accident six weeks later. The brakes on his car failed him. No sign of tampering." Montalvo shrugged. "But then, the authorities weren't suspecting that he'd been murdered."

"How do you know he was?" Eve asked.

"Kistle doesn't like authority. He tolerates it because a loner is always suspect and it would interfere with his main goal."

"And what is that?"

Montalvo drew out three pictures and spread them out on the report. "Three children were reported missing in the year Kistle worked for Pelham. He didn't dirty his own backyard. The kids all lived in surrounding towns."

"They were killed?"

"They're still missing. No bodies. Evidently Kistle is clever and very careful. No bodies, no evidence."

Eve slowly picked up the photo on the top. The little girl was nine or ten, with blond hair in a ponytail. She was laughing into the camera.

Do you know how many pretty little girls I've killed since your Bonnie?

"Eve," Joe said quietly.

"It's okay." She dropped the photo back on the coffee table. "Go on, Montalvo."

"Kistle dropped out of sight for those two years. My bet is that he just settled somewhere else for a while and used fake ID. Only God knows how many killings he committed during those two years. Then, when he thought enough time had passed, he went back to Detroit and used the Henry Kistle name again."

"And why did he leave Detroit for Bloomburg?"

He threw another photo down. "Kevin Jacobs. He didn't show up from school one day. He lived in a suburb and again there was no body found. But he was a cute little kid and the media had a circus. Kistle probably felt safer exiting the scene again."

"God," Eve whispered.

"He probably gets fake ID every time he's forced to leave a town," Joe said.

Montalvo shrugged. "And he's been doing this for years. He's probably an expert at forging documents. I told you, he's very clever."

"And how do you know that?" Eve asked. "It wasn't clever of him to call me and run the risk I'd act fast enough to catch him."

"Maybe he didn't intend to talk to you until he heard your name. Then he couldn't resist." He gazed down at the photo of Kistle. "And he evidently likes to take chances. Not with the child killings. He probably realizes how crimes against children arouse the public and he's extremely careful with them. It's part of the joke he has on the world. As long as there are no bodies found, there's no crime and he can go on doing what he wants to do. But he didn't have to go back and kill his former boss, Pelham. It was petty. Why take the chance?"

"Revenge," Joe said. "And it made him feel superior."

"Good guess."

"It goes along with the profile on serial killers. In most cases it's all about power. Even the sexual abuse is a power play."

"Then Kistle follows the profile," Montalvo said. "He has to be best."

"You seem certain," Eve said. "You can't know what he thinks from these cases you told me about."

"No, there's something else." Joe's gaze was narrowed on Montalvo's face. "What?"

"I had my investigator go back to Murdock, the man who first tipped him that Kistle had told him that he'd killed Bonnie Duncan. He spent three days going over every detail of the time Murdock had spent with Kistle. He came up with a tiny bit of information. Kistle liked to go hunting. He boasted that he'd been dropped into a jungle and survived six months. What does that sound like to you, Quinn?"

"SEALS or Rangers."

"He was in the Rangers. My investigators spent a week trying to get permission to go through records and ended up using bribery. They had a photograph, or they would never had identified him. He was nineteen when he joined the Army under the name of Tim Hathaway. He later qualified for training to be a Ranger."

"That requires a hell of a lot of discipline," Joe said. "And if he made it, then his instability must have occurred later. Acceptance of discipline isn't in his profile."

"No, he was as sick then as he is now. He was just able to become what his officers wanted him to become. He showed that same talent later. He wanted that training and he would have done anything to get it."