Lisa Gardner - The killing hour

“Like Quincy said, serial killers have a tendency to escalate the violence of their crime.”

“Did you find a letter to the editor?” he asked sharply.

“No letter. An ad in the Quantico Sentry .”

“The Marines’ newspaper?” Mac frowned. “The one distributed all over the base?”

“Yeah. We have the original of what was sent in, but it didn’t give up much in the way of forensic evidence. Quincy had it turned over to Ennunzio to analyze the text.”

“You got to meet with the forensic linguist? Hell, you have been busy.”

“We try,” Rainie said modestly. “You’re going to see him again soon, too. Quincy’s requested that Ennunzio join the case team. The two of them are working on a theory that your caller isn’t an anonymous tipster, but the man himself. We’re just not entirely sure why.”

“He doesn’t gloat. If I’m getting calls from the Eco-Killer, don’t you think he’d want to take the credit?”

“Well, maybe and maybe not. One theory is that he feels guilty about what he’s doing, so this is his roundabout way of getting you to stop him. Second theory, he’s mentally incapacitated-hence his love of repeating the same message over and over again. Third, you’re part of this game now, too, and he’s luring you into the wild, just like he does with the girls. Look at the body, Mac. Can you be a hundred percent certain that wouldn’t have been you?”

“It wasn’t almost me,” Mac said quietly. “It was almost Kimberly.”

Rainie’s expression became very gentle. “Yeah, and then he wins, too, right, Mac? Either way, he wins.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m getting too old for this shit, Rainie,” he said. And then almost on cue, his phone rang.

Shenandoah National Park, Virginia

1:22 A . M .

Temperature: 89 degrees

“SPECIAL AGENT MCCORMACK.”

“Heat kills.”

“Shut the fuck up. You really think this is a game? We found your latest victim dead from two dozen rattlesnake bites. Does that make you feel good? Is feeding young girls to pit vipers how you get your jollies? You’re nothing but a sick son of a bitch and I’m not talking to you anymore!”

Mac flipped his phone shut. He was mad. Madder than he’d ever been in his life. His heart thundered. He could hear the roar of blood in his ears. He wanted to do more than yell into a tiny phone. He wanted to find the man, and beat him into a bloody pulp.

Rainie was staring at him in mild shock. “While I am impressed, was that really a good idea?”

“Wait.” His phone immediately rang again. He gave her a look. “Contacting the authorities is about exercising control, right? He’s not gonna let it end on my terms. But that doesn’t mean I can’t make him work for it.”

He flipped his phone open. “Now what?” he said. Good cop was definitely gone for the night.

“I’m only trying to help,” the distorted voice echoed peevishly.

“You’re a liar and a killer. And guess what, we know for a fact that makes you a bed wetter, too. So stop wasting my time, you little prick.”

“I’m not a killer!”

“I got two bodies that say otherwise.”

“He struck again? I thought… I thought you might have more time.”

“Hey, buddy, stop the lies. I know you’re him. You want to gloat? Is that what this is about? You drugged two young girls and then killed them. Yeah, you are just the biggest badass in town.”

Rainie’s eyes went wide. She shook her head furiously. She was right, of course. If the guy did want to boost his ego, it wasn’t a good idea to egg him on.

“I am not the killer!” the voice protested shrilly, and then in the next instant, the voice grew an edge of its own. “I’m trying to help. You can either listen and learn, or continue this game on your own.”

“Who are you?”

“He’s getting angrier.”

“No shit. Where are you calling from?”

“He’s going to strike again. Soon. Maybe already.”

Mac took a gamble. “He’s already struck again. This time he didn’t take two girls. This time, he took four. So what about it?”

A pause, as if the caller was genuinely surprised. “I didn’t realize… I didn’t think…”

“Why is he now in Virginia?”

“He grew up here.”

“He’s from Virginia?” Mac’s voice picked up. He swapped concerned glances with Rainie.

“His first sixteen years,” the caller replied.

“When did he move to Georgia?”

“I don’t know. It’s been… years. You have to understand. I don’t think he really wants to hurt the victims. He wants them to figure it out. If they would just remain calm, be smart, show some strength-”

“For Christ’s sake, they’re only kids.”

“So was he once.”

Mac shook his head. The killer as a victim. He didn’t want to hear this shit. “Listen, I have two dead girls and two more at risk. Give me his name, buddy. End this thing. You have it in your power. You can be the hero. Just give me his damn name.”

“I can’t.”

“Then send it in the mail!”

“Did the first body lead you to the second?”

“Give me his goddamn name!”

“Then the second body will lead you to the third. Move quickly. I don’t… I’m not even sure what he’ll do next.”

The signal went dead. Mac swore and hurled his phone into the brush. It spooked a scavenging raccoon and didn’t do a thing to calm his temper. He wanted to run back up the mountainside. He wanted to plunge into an ice-cold stream. He wanted to throw back his head and howl at the moon. Then he wanted to swear every obscenity he’d ever learned as a child and collapse into a pile and weep.

He’d been working too long on this case to keep seeing so much death.

“Damn,” he said at last. “Damn, damn, damn.”

“He didn’t give you a name.”

“He swears he’s not the killer. He swears he’s just trying to help.”

Rainie looked at the body. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“No kidding.” Mac sighed, straightening his shoulders and moving resolutely toward the body. “All four girls disappeared at once, from the same car?”

“That’s what we’re assuming.”

“Then we don’t have much time.” He hunkered down, already pulling the black plastic body bag away from the girl.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for clues. Because if the first girl led us to the second, then the second will lead us to the third.”

“Ahh, shit,” Rainie said.

“Yeah. You know what? Go find Kathy Levine. We’re gonna need some help here. And a boatload of coffee.”

“No rest for the weary?”

“Not tonight.”

Nora Ray was dreaming again. She was in the happy place, the land of fantasy where her parents smiled and her dead dog danced, and she floated in a pool of cool, silky water, feeling it lap peacefully against her skin. She loved this place, longed to come here often.

She could listen to her parents laugh. Watch the pure blue sky, which never contained a red-hot sun. Feel the crystalline cleanness of pure water against her limbs.

She turned her head. She saw the door open. And without hesitation, she left the pool behind.

Mary Lynn was riding her horse. She drove Snowfall through miles of green pasture, racing through fields of wild daisies, and jumping fallen logs. She sat forward in the saddle, her body tight and compact like a jockey’s, her hands light and steady on the reins. The horse soared. She soared with it. It was as if they were one.

Nora Ray crossed to the fence. Two other girls sat on the top rail. One blonde. One brunette.

“Do you know where we are?” the blonde asked Nora Ray.