Lisa Gardner - The killing hour

“Rainie, you are the strongest, bravest woman I know.”

“Oh, you’re just saying that so I don’t whoop your ass.”

She kicked at the ground in disgust, and Quincy finally smiled. It amazed him how much better he already felt. The world had righted. His hands had steadied. It was as if a crushing weight he didn’t even know he’d been carrying had suddenly been lifted off his chest.

This was not the time, he knew. This was not the place. But then he’d spent too much of his life waiting for perfect moments that had never come. And he knew better than most how fleeting opportunity could be. Life gave, but life also took away. He was older, wiser, and he didn’t want any more regrets.

He went down on his knee, a crush of dirt and pine needles staining his suit. He took hold of Rainie’s hands. She was crying openly now, tears streaming down her face, but she didn’t pull away.

“Grow old with me, Rainie,” he whispered. “We’ll adopt some children. We’ll cut back on cases, create a home, then do the fashionable thing and write our memoirs. I’ll be terrified. You can help show me the way.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be a good mother!”

“We’ll learn together.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be a good wife!”

“Rainie, I just need you to be you. And then I’m the happiest man in the world.”

“Oh for God’s sake, get up off the dirt.” But she was clasping his hands with both of hers now, and crying harder, and since he wouldn’t get up, she sank down to the ground with him. “We have to talk more.”

“I know.”

“I mean about something other than work!”

“I understand that, too.”

“And you have to tell me when you’re frightened, Quincy. I can’t stand it when you pull away.”

“I’ll try.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

She sniffed. “I mean, better than okay. I mean yes, I’ll marry you. What the hell. If we can catch a few killers, we oughtta be able to figure out this domestic thing.”

“You would think so,” Quincy agreed. He pulled her closer, wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He could feel her trembling now and understood for the first time that she was as nervous as he. It gave him strength. You didn’t have to know all the answers. You just had to be brave enough to try.

“I love you, Rainie,” he whispered in her ear.

“I love you, too.”

She gripped him tighter and he kissed all the tears from her face.

The call came almost an hour later. They had made it back to I-81 and were heading north, seeking a more populated Virginia. They had both turned on their cell phones. No reason to dodge the FBI anymore and Quincy wanted to be ready when Kimberly and Mac had new information.

The caller wasn’t Kimberly, however. It was Kaplan.

“I have some news from the name game,” the special agent said.

“It’s only fair to tell you, we’ve been officially removed from the case,” Quincy replied.

“Well then, you didn’t hear this from me. But I’ve had my people scouring every contractor with ties to Georgia in the past ten years. Good news, we got a few hits. Bad news, none of them panned out. Better news, then I expanded the search.”

“Expanded?”

“I started looking at everyone on the whole damn base. Now we got lots of hits, but I thought there was one you should know about right away. Dr. Ennunzio. The linguist.”

“He used to live in Georgia?”

“Worked there. A high-profile string of kidnappings that had him flying in and out of Atlanta for a good three years. Say ’ninety-eight to two thousand. Which would be…”

“The same time the Eco-Killer started up his game. Dammit.” Quincy smacked the wheel. He already had Kaplan on the phone, so he turned to Rainie. “Quick, dial Kimberly! Tell her it’s Ennunzio, and get Nora Ray away from him quick!”

Kimberly wasn’t sleeping. Sleeping would be the smart thing to do. Recharge while she had a chance. Catch some desperately needed shut-eye. But she didn’t sleep.

She was tracing lines on Mac’s bronzed shoulder with her index finger. Then she ran her fingers through the light smattering of hair on his chest. She couldn’t get over the feel of him, his skin like warm satin to the touch.

He snored. She’d learned that right away. He was also unbearably hot and heavy. Twice he’d flung his large frame over, tossing one arm across her chest or over her hip in a highly proprietary manner. She thought she should break him of that habit, while finding it secretly endearing.

And then she suspected she was experiencing the same downward slide she’d witnessed in other women-they started out strong and independent with firm beliefs on how to manage men, then caved like spun sugar when Tall, Dark, and Handsome crooked his little finger.

Well, she wasn’t going to cave, she decided. Not totally, anyway. She was going to demand her own side of the bed. Space where she could sprawl comfortably and sleep. Just as soon as she stopped tracing the ripple of his triceps, or the hard line of his jaw…

Now her fingers wandered down to his hip and were rewarded by a growing length against the juncture of her thighs.

Her phone rang. Her hand stilled. She swore a word nice young women probably weren’t supposed to use in bed. Then she was frantically trying to kick off the tangle of sheets.

“I fucking hate cell phones,” Mac said clearly.

“Cheater! You were awake.”

“Delightfully so. Wanna punish me? I could use a good spanking.”

“This had better be good,” Kimberly declared, “or I’ll break every microchip in this damn phone.”

But they already knew it would be urgent. Given the early morning hour, it was probably Ray Lee Chee with news on the fourth victim. They’d had their reprieve. Now, time was up.

Kimberly flipped open the phone, already expecting the worst, and then was genuinely startled to hear Rainie’s voice on the other end of the line.

“It’s Ennunzio!” she said without preamble. “Where the hell are you?”

Kimberly rattled off the name of the motel and the exit number, still in shock.

“Get him secured,” Rainie was saying. “We’re on our way. And Kimberly-take care of Nora Ray.”

The phone went click. Mac and Kimberly scrambled for clothes.

Dark out. Very hot. They pressed against the wall of the motel, working their way down to Ennunzio’s room with weapons drawn and faces tense. They came to Nora Ray’s room first. Kimberly knocked. No answer.

“Deep sleeper,” Mac murmured.

“Don’t we both wish.”

They cut across the parking lot, moving now with anxious speed. Ennunzio’s room was in the other wing of the L-shaped building. Door closed. Lights off. Kimberly pressed her ear against the door and listened. First nothing. Then, the sudden, crashing sound of furniture-or a body-being thrown around the room.

“Go, go, go!” Kimberly cried.

Mac heaved up a leg and kicked in the cheap wooden door. It snapped back, caught on the chain. He gave it one more thunderous whack, and the door ricocheted into the wall.

“Police, freeze!”

“Nora Ray, where are you?”

Kimberly and Mac rolled into the room, one taking high, another taking low. In the next instant, Kimberly’s groping fingers snapped on the light.

In front of them, two people were clearly involved in a struggle. Chairs had been tossed, the bed destroyed, the TV toppled. But it was not Dr. Ennunzio bearing down on a frightened girl. It was Nora Ray who had the special agent, clad in just a pair of boxers, backed into a corner. Now she loomed over him, brandishing a giant, gleaming needle.

“Nora Ray!” Kimberly said in shock.

“He killed my sister.”