Iris Johansen - Quinn

And so was Zeus.

“You have such a pretty house there, bitch. Does it make you feel safe to be with the FBI man? Are you sleeping with him?”

“No. And, yes, I do feel safe. All your threats, and you weren’t able to touch me. You’re a coward. I was right in all things I told the world about you.”

Oh, shit, Joe thought. That’s right, wave the red flag at the bull.

But Zeus didn’t seem angry. When he spoke again, his voice was calm and honey-smooth. “You’re trying to make me mad. Are you trying to trace the call again? You’ll be disappointed. I have only one thing to say to you and then I’m gone… for a little while.”

“What?”

“You didn’t say ‘thank you’ when I complimented you on your house. That was rude, but I’ll forgive you. Do you know what I like about your house? It’s that lovely porch, with the hanging basket of flowers. I like plants and flowers far better than I like people. They have no ugliness about them unless I choose to make them ugly. Flowers make a statement, don’t they? You should pay attention to that statement.” He hung up.

He heard Eve’s exclamation before he crashed down the phone.

He threw on his clothes and ran out to the hall to see Eve at the top of the stairs.

“The porch,” she said as she ran down the stairs. She flipped on the light in the foyer. “He was talking about the porch. Why would he-”

“Don’t go out there.” He passed her and drew his gun as he carefully opened the front door. “Let me take a look. I just hope Bramwell doesn’t mistake me for Zeus and decide to take a shot at me.”

“Be careful, dammit.”

“Always.” His gaze was darting over the porch, street, and neighboring houses. It was still and dark except for the streetlight on the corner. “I don’t see anything.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not there.” Eve pushed closer to him, following his gaze. “And where’s Bramwell? Shouldn’t he have come running when the lights went on?”

“Yes, he must be in back doing his hourly tour.” His gaze again wandered over the same area. “I don’t see anything. Maybe it was a bluff.” He took a step out onto the porch. “He might have wanted to keep you-” He broke off, stiffening.

She was right behind him. “What is it?”

“Go back inside.”

“The hell I will. What’s-” She inhaled sharply as she saw where he was looking.

A group of dark liquid drops was spattered on the floor of the porch.

As he watched, another drop fell from the hanging basket to the floor.

“Blood?” she whispered.

“Go back inside,” he repeated. He was remembering the details of Janey Bristol’s crime scene. He took a step closer and took out his flashlight. “You may not want to see this.” He shined the beam up to the bottom of the basket.

The earth at the bottom of the basket was soaked with blood that dripped steadily downward.

His beam traveled upward.

“Hair!” Eve’s eyes were focused on the patches of blood-soaked hair clinging to the head that had been shoved into the basket. “Oh, my God.”

“Easy.”

“Who is it? Another child?”

“I can’t tell. It could be Bramwell. I’ll have to move around to the other side to see the face.” He said through his teeth, “Have you had enough? Or do you want to see that, too?”

“No, but I’m not going to leave you out here to do it alone.” She braced herself, and said unevenly, “And it could be Bonnie. He told me he killed her right after he took her.”

“There wouldn’t be all this blood.” He moved around to get another view of the skull. “This is a fresh kill.”

“You said it might be Bramwell?”

“Maybe.” He was now shining the beam directly into the face. “No, it’s not Bramwell.”

She was suddenly beside him. “Then who is-” Her back arched as if struck. “McVey!”

Sandy hair soaked in blood, blue eyes staring at them, lips open in a silent scream.

“Dear God…” Eve ran to the rail of the porch, bent over, and threw up. “Brian…”

“I told you to go inside.” Joe was beside her, his hands on her shoulders. “Will you do it now? Lock the door. I need you to call Slindak and get him out here. I have to find Bramwell.”

“Yes…” She staggered toward the door, then, clinging to the jam, she turned to face him. “No. You can’t go without me. What if it’s some kind of trap? What if he kills you like he did Brian? I can’t-”

“What’s going on?” Bramwell was running up the porch steps. “Why are the lights-” He stopped short as he saw the bloody head. “What the hell?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Joe said grimly. “I have a lot of questions to ask you, Bramwell.” He turned back to Eve. “I evidently don’t have to go hunting him down. Now will you call Slindak?”

She nodded jerkily and disappeared into the house.

“Who is it?” Bramwell was looking up at the basket. “Pretty gory, huh?”

“Brian McVey.”

“The reporter? He doesn’t look much like the photo that runs with his byline.” He grimaced. “That was stupid. Of course he doesn’t. Poor guy.”

“How did he get here without you seeing it?”

“It wasn’t here before I made my rounds thirty minutes ago.”

“And why did it take you thirty minutes to make those rounds?”

“I saw something funny. The flowers in the border were all crushed, and the back gate was open. I was looking around to see if I could find the reason.”

A red herring, Joe thought, to give Zeus enough time to deposit McVey’s head in the hanging basket, get away, and make his phone call to Eve.

“And you saw nothing suspicious before you started your rounds. A car? A pedestrian?”

“The Simmonses, that young couple who live in that duplex down the street, drove in and went into their house, but that’s all. I was on the job and watching close, Agent Quinn.” He looked again at McVey’s head. “But evidently not close enough. Slindak is going to kick my ass.”

“Probably. I may help him.” He turned and went down the porch stairs. “Stay here and guard Eve Duncan. If you screw up, I’ll put your head in that basket with McVey’s.”

Five minutes later, Joe was looking down at the broken lock on the trunk of the Simmonses’ Saturn. It would have had to be held shut from inside so that it wouldn’t fly open as the car was driven. He carefully lifted the lid of the trunk.

Drops of dark blood on the black plastic interior.

He tensed as the smell wafted up to him.

And something else…

“SLINDAK SHOULD BE HERE ANYTIME,” Eve said, when Joe walked into the house. “He said to tell you that he can’t wait until you go back to Washington, so that he can sleep through the night.” Her lips were trembling, as she added, “Of course, he had a few words for me as well. He holds me to blame for all of this.”

“Did he say that?”

“No, don’t go on the attack. He didn’t have to say it. It couldn’t be clearer, could it?”

“He’s lucky to have your help. At least, we have a chance of bringing Zeus down now. They were running around in circles a few weeks ago. He can stuff his damn blame where the sun doesn’t shine.”

“Lucky?” Her lips tightened. “And was McVey lucky to have my help, too?” She shuddered. “I must go out on the porch and tell him how lucky he is.”

“I knew this was coming.” He pulled her to her feet. “We’re going into the kitchen. I’ll make you a cup of coffee, and we’ll talk.” He pushed her down at the kitchen table. “Sit there and block out everything.” He turned to the cabinet and got down the coffeepot. “That shouldn’t be hard. You have plenty of practice.”