Кей Хупер - Blood Ties

Gabriel didn’t wait to hear more. He put the car in gear and headed toward the downtown area, where he could leave the car and proceed on foot wherever he needed to go. Which was—

He’s up high, but the only unobstructed view of those vehicles is close in because of the little cluster of the taller buildings right there in the center of town; you should be able to find a rooftop a couple of blocks from the sheriff’s department without him seeing you. I don’t know if you’ll be able to get up higher than he is. And I’m not sure exactly where he is. There’s something… weird about it. Weird about him .

“What do you mean?”

I don’t know. Something I wasn’t feeling last night. Something cold. Something off. I don’t know, Gabe. But I don’t like it .

Gabriel pulled out his cell phone, keeping his eyes on the road as he hit a number on his speed dial.

You’re calling Miranda .

“Damn straight. If this lunatic is capable of building a bomb and willing to set one off, tagging along behind while he has his fun is not my idea of protecting or serving.”

We aren’t cops .

“No, but we’re here to hunt a killer. And if this one is perched on top of a building with his finger on the trigger of a bomb, I want permission to take his ass out.”

“It’s okay,” DeMarco said.

Hollis was conscious of nothing but her pounding heart for a moment or two, then realized that Reese was holding her against his side quite easily with one arm, his gaze scanning the seemingly peaceful Main Street of Serenade. The two black SUVs parked in front of the sheriff’s department several blocks down the sloping road were visible from where they stood.

She wondered if he was even aware of holding her, then wondered why on earth she was thinking about unimportant things when there was a bomb , for Christ’s sake.

“What do you mean, it’s okay?” she demanded, out of breath from her wild dash out of the building. She was almost sure that was why she couldn’t seem to breathe evenly. “You knew?”

“You broadcast,” he reminded her. He glanced down at her, one brow lifting as he added, “And loudly under moments of… stress. I have a hunch I’m going to have a headache for the next hour or so.”

“I know I will,” Miranda said as she and the others joined them. “And I had my shield up. Jesus, Hollis.”

“Sorry.”

“Keep in the shadows of this tree,” DeMarco warned. “Once my ears stopped ringing—so to speak—I could feel him out there. It’s hard to get a fix on him, but I’m sure we have a return visit from yesterday’s sniper. He’s watching.”

Hollis was about to demand that DeMarco let go of her when he did.

Damn telepaths.

Quentin said, “Why is he still hanging around?”

“Hollis was told there’s a bomb in one of the cars,” Miranda said, “so presumably he’s hanging around to kill one or more of us.” She sounded very calm about it.

“Told by whom?”

“Andrea.”

He frowned. “Andrea? Spirit Andrea, from Grace?”

“And from Venture.” Miranda frowned slightly too. “She seems to be connected to you, Hollis.”

Hollis found that more than a little unnerving. “I don’t know why, especially since I’ve yet to figure out who she is. Or who she was.” She paused, then added slowly, “You know, she might have been the spirit that led us to the female victim’s remains yesterday. I didn’t get a really good look, and what I saw was a lot less distinct than I’m used to, but… it could have been her.”

“Instead of the victim?”

“Could have been.”

“She seems determined to help us. Or help you.”

“I wish I knew why. As far as I can tell, she hasn’t been connected in any way to our cases. I mean, she warned me about Ruby, gave us a clue that helped Tessa save her, but…”

Miranda said, “She’s connected somehow; otherwise she wouldn’t keep showing up. We just haven’t found the connection. Yet.”

Diana interrupted the speculation to say wryly, “Guys? Sniper? Possible bomb? I mean, I know I’m new at this sort of thing, but doesn’t a bad guy in the flesh take precedence over a helpful spirit? If we’re speculating?”

“I’d say so,” Quentin agreed.

“My question,” DeMarco said, “is whether he has one of the cars rigged to blow when a door’s opened or an engine starts, or whether he’s sitting out there with a remote and a pair of binoculars, able to detonate whenever he likes.”

“Either way,” Quentin said, “we didn’t come prepared for bombs. And I have a hunch the Pageant County Sheriff’s Department doesn’t have a bomb squad.”

Miranda stepped away from them—toward the B&B, still protected by the shadow of the big tree—and pulled her cell from the case clipped to her belt.

As she called the sheriff, the others continued to watch Main Street uneasily.

“I don’t get this guy,” Quentin said. “He’s not acting like any serial I’ve investigated or even heard about.”

“Maybe he isn’t one,” Diana said. When all eyes turned her way, she added, “I don’t mean he isn’t killing multiple victims; I mean he isn’t literally a serial killer. But if he’s targeted the SCU, if that’s what this is all about, then like Miranda said earlier, we have an entirely different kind of investigation on our hands.”

Hollis said, “Especially if it’s still a possibility that there are two of them involved in all this. One could be the cool-headed sniper with a methodical agenda, and the other could be the sadist with blood literally all over his hands.”

“ANOTHER PET MONSTER?” Quentin speculated, then shook his head before any of the others could offer an argument for or against. “No, if we’ve got two involved here, it feels more like a partnership to me. Maybe it’s just a hunch, but that’s the way it feels to me. Two individuals with a plan. Working together.”

“But what’s the plan?” DeMarco asked. “To destroy the SCU? Because that sounds a bit ambitious to me, especially if the idea is to pick us off one by one.”

“It does make a kind of sense, though,” Hollis said, still thinking about the possibility of two enemies working together. “Using this… method. The murders are quite effective at drawing us out, making us visible. And they couldn’t be—you should forgive the phrase—normal murders, because then we wouldn’t be involved. So, serial murders spread out over multiple states, particularly gruesome in nature, with bodies dumped where they’re quickly and easily found, the killings so bizarre and seemingly random that local and state cops or even most FBI units can’t effectively investigate.”

“Enter the SCU,” Diana continued. “Because gruesome and bizarre is pretty much our bailiwick. First two investigators, Miranda and Hollis, with Reese coming and going. Maybe that wasn’t enough for them. Maybe they wanted more of us involved, for whatever reason. To test us, or their skill. So the killings continued, the torture and mangling of the victims’ bodies escalating. Quentin and I join the team a couple of weeks ago, so a larger SCU presence.”

Quentin frowned. “You know, maybe those shots yesterday really weren’t about killing either of you guys. Maybe they were about making us sit up and take notice. Maybe one or both of these bastards decided it was time we knew we were being watched. More fun for them, if we knew about it. More of a challenge.”

“That’s a lot of maybes,” DeMarco complained. He was still scanning Main Street, still keeping an eye on the so-far undisturbed and unexploded SUVs parked in front of the sheriff’s department. “And it all hinges on the premise that this rampage is about us, about the SCU. If we’re wrong about that basic supposition, then we could allow others to die while we’re looking in the wrong direction.”