Karen Rose - I Can See You

Brock sighed. “Sometimes you have to take one minute at a time.”

As the elevator doors slid open, Noah’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. His pulse shot up when he saw the caller ID. “Olivia, what is it?”

“I just got off the phone with Abbott.” She hesitated. “He ordered me not to tell you. I hope I’m doing the right thing.”

Noah pursed his lips in desperation. “Goddammit, Olivia, tell me.”

“Faye just took a call from Martha Brisbane’s vet, about her cat.”

Noah hissed out a breath. “Who gives a fuck about that damn cat?”

“Listen,” Olivia snapped. “The vet called to say Martha’s cat had been dropped off outside the gate of the Green Gables Kennel in New Germany yesterday. The security camera outside picked up a woman and a black BMW, registered to Pierce’s wife.”

Noah went still. “New Germany? That’s where Irene’s PO box is being forwarded.”

“I know, Kane told me.”

“Why would Pierce’s wife drop off the cat? And how do they know it’s Martha’s?”

“Don’t know why the wife did it, but Martha had the cat chipped. Vet scanned it and Martha’s name came up. He ’d read about her murder, called it in. I’m going out there.”

“Thank you,” he said fervently, then hung up and stepped into the elevator Brock had been holding open. “I’m going to New Germany.”

“I figured that out myself,” Brock said wryly. “Gonna tell me why?”

“Depends. You gonna turn me in?”

Brock studied him as the elevator descended. “I call shotgun.”

Noah nodded hard. “Thanks.”

Thursday, February 25, 3:00 p.m.

He sat in his kitchen, looking out the window at the woods, clean again after showering off Eve’s filth. The swaying trees always calmed him, but today, they did not.

Irene Black . How had Eve known? Who had she told? How can this hurt me?

Irene Black was a common enough name and the PO box he’d set up in her name was out of state. Highly unlikely they’d find it. This was the Hat Squad after all. Not the world’s greatest intellects.

They would never have gotten this far without Eve. He tightened his fist against his kitchen table. She needed to pay. Next time he went down he’d tape her mouth and glue her eyes open. He wanted to hear her beg for her life, and she would, once he’d worn her down. Once he’d worn her down, he’d take off the tape and her pleas for mercy would be music to his ears.

For now, he couldn’t let her get in his head. She knew too much. For now, he’d make her show him the fear. He’d glue her eyes open and make her show him her fear.

He hadn’t glued her eyes, he realized. It was always the first thing he did, so that he could see their terror as soon as the ketamine wore off. When the ket wore off, they thrashed like wild animals, making it impossible to get the glue on their eyes.

Why had he not with Eve? Because I want her unfettered fear. He wanted her to look up at him with glassy-eyed terror because she could do nothing else.

She was a worthy opponent, but he held all the power. She’d tell him how she found Irene Black. Eventually. Until then, he was safe. There was nothing to link him to Irene. Nothing linking Irene to this place.

His only loose end was his wife’s disappearance, and he’d handled that, too, sending a text to Ann’s boss from her cell saying she’d had a family emergency. He’d sent the text while sitting at a rest stop off the interstate, an hour away. In a few days, he’d send a registered letter to her boss, giving her notice, that she was needed back home. He’d met her boss, a cold, efficient man. Another lab tech would be hired and Ann would soon be forgotten. Meanwhile, her body would be decomposed in his pit.

Movement on the television caught his eye. Ah. The press conference. He grabbed the remote and turned up the volume. This was what he’d been waiting for. The press was about to crucify the police. Six dead women, no suspects. Red Dress Killer on the loose. Cops have no clue . He couldn’t wait for the accusations to fly.

Abbott climbed to the podium, looking positively grim. This was entertainment.

“Thank you,” Abbott said. “As you know, a sadistic killer has been preying on the women of the Twin Cities for the last three weeks.”

Sadistic killer . It was good for a start. In tomorrow morning’s meeting he’d give Abbott a few more psychological terms to use for his next press conference.

“This morning, we discovered a sixth victim,” Abbott went on. “Her name was Virginia Fox. Last night we asked you to post warnings to women participating in a Marshall University study involving the Shadowland computer game. Today we know this killer’s victims are not constrained to the game.”

“Gotcha,” he crowed. “All bets are off and nobody feels safe.”

One of the reporters rose. “Can you comment on the arrest warrant you issued?”

He leaned forward with a frown. Donner was dead. Lyons was missing and Girard had been cleared. Who was Abbott planning to arrest?

“Yes,” Abbott said. The screen split, showing Abbott on one side and on the other…

Me.

“At 2:30 today we issued a warrant for the arrest of Dr. Carleton Pierce.”

He could only blink in stunned disbelief as flashes went off in Abbott’s face. Then he lurched to his feet, pushing his chair back. “No. No. ”

“We do not do this lightly,” Abbott was saying. “Dr. Pierce was considered a colleague and a friend. We don’t know why he has done this, but we have definitive proof linking him to these crimes. We have three missing women and would like your help.” Abbott’s face disappeared completely, three pictures taking his place. “Dr. Ann Pierce, the wife of the alleged killer, Miss Eve Wilson of Marshall University, and Miss Liza Barkley.” Abbott continued to talk as the photos remained on screen.

“Take it down,” he ground out. “Take my picture goddamn down.”

But it stayed, for everyone to see. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t happening. But it was .

“The suspect was last seen in a black BMW, last year’s model. He’s also been seen in a black Lincoln Navigator. We’ve listed the license plates he’s used on our website and in the press release you’ve been given.” The pictures cleared and Abbott was looking sternly into the camera. “This man is armed and dangerous. If you see him call 911 immediately. If you have information as to his whereabouts, here is our hotline.

“We know you join us in condolences for the families of his victims and prayers for the women still missing. I’ll take your questions now.”

He sat back in his chair and pulled trembling hands over his face. They knew. How did they know? They’re coming. They’re coming for me.

“Stop it,” he snapped, slamming his fists into the table. “Think.”

They didn’t know about his place, this place. His sanctuary. The deed to this house was not in Irene’s or anyone else’s name. They can’t find me here . There’s still time to get away. But his hands still shook as he pulled his laptop close.

“Consolidate your finances,” he muttered. “Put your money where you can get to it.” Then he’d get in that old brown Civic he’d bought to frame Axel Girard. They weren’t looking for that car anymore. He’d take Eve and the girl as hostages and he’d drive.

Where? Where can I go? Everyone knows my name. My face. Damn you, Abbott .

But he knew it wasn’t Abbott he should damn, or even Webster. It was that woman downstairs. His eyes narrowed. Eve.

Stop it. Stay calm, focused. Get your money. He logged into his bank account and his heart stopped. Frozen. Funds unavailable .