Quicksand Page 2

  “Zinging?”

  “That’s what life’s about. You have to keep on top of it, keep excited and moving. I got a little buzz earlier tonight but nothing like the one I’m feeling now. It’s not as good as a kill, but maybe you could make the next kill extraordinary.”

  “What kill?”

  But he had hung up the phone.

  She was shaking.

  She had curly red hair and the last day you saw her, she was wearing a Bugs Bunny T-shirt.

  Kistle.

  Joe. She had to call Joe.

  Her hand was shaking as she dialed his cell number. No answer. The voice mail picked up immediately. His phone had to be turned off.

  She hung up. Dammit, she needed him. Where the hell was he?

  Stop whining. He was a cop. There were all kinds of situations where he’d turn off his cell. Okay, she had to handle it alone. She’d reach Joe as soon as he was available.

  She was like a burning arrow lighting the darkness.

  Bonnie.

  Block out the pain. She had to try to catch that bastard before he was out of reach.

  Sheriff James Jedroth. Kistle had used Jedroth’s telephone and Jedroth was located in Bloomburg, Illinois. Call information and get the number for the sheriff’s department. Move.

  Five minutes later she had reached the sheriff’s department and been transferred to three different extensions before she reached a Deputy Charles Dodsworth. “I’m sorry, ma’am”—he had a distinctly midwestern twang—”but Sheriff Jedroth isn’t on duty. May I help you?”

  “I was afraid he wasn’t on duty. I only used his name to get through to anyone in authority.” Eve continued urgently, “That’s why I’ve been trying to contact someone, anyone. I received a phone call this evening from Sheriff Jedroth’s cell phone. Only it wasn’t the sheriff. It was Henry Kistle.”

  There was a silence on the other end. “Kistle. You’re positive that was the name?”

  “Dammit, I’m positive. You know who he is, don’t you? I can tell by your tone.”

  “I’m familiar with the name,” he said cautiously.

  “Then go get him. I think he was in a car and on the move. He boasted that you wouldn’t be able to catch him. But it’s been less than ten minutes. He must have been under investigation by you or he wouldn’t have been able to take the sheriff’s phone. Can’t you call the highway patrol and try to stop him?”

  Silence. “He really had Jim’s phone?”

  “That’s what it said on my ID.”

  “Shit.” The deputy’s tone was now curt. “I’ll get back to you.” He hung up.

  Good. She was encouraged that he had wanted to get rid of her so that he could take action. At least there was a hope that Kistle could be intercepted. Hurry, she prayed. Don’t let him get away.

  She called Joe again. His phone was still turned off. She left a message for him to call her as soon as possible.

  But there was a car driving up the road to the cottage.

  She ran out on the porch to see Jane getting out of the rental car. “I can’t get in touch with Joe. Have you heard from him?”

  “Yes.” She gave Toby a hug in greeting and pushed him aside. “And you can’t get in touch with him because he probably had to turn his phone off on the plane.” She grimaced. “Though he might not have answered you anyway. He didn’t want to have to deal with you until he was sure.”

  She stared at her. “Deal with me? Plane?”

  “I told him he wasn’t handling this right.” Jane was climbing the porch steps. “But you know Joe. Stubborn. He had to get on that damn plane to Bloomburg.”

  Eve stiffened. “Bloomburg?” she whispered. “Kistle.”

  “Yes.” Jane’s gaze narrowed on Eve’s face. “How did you know?”

  “Kistle just called me,” she said numbly. “He was telling me what a beautiful child my Bonnie was.”

  “Damn.” Jane’s arms slid around her and she held her close. “I wish I’d been here with you. You shouldn’t have had to be alone.”

  She wasn’t alone now. She had Jane, and the healing comfort was like a blessing. “I’m okay.” She hugged Jane before letting her go. “And we have a chance of getting the bastard. He called from an officer’s phone and I was able to notify the sheriff’s department pretty quick.”

  “Come on.” Jane took her arm and pulled her into the cottage. “I’ll make some coffee and you can tell me about it.”

  CHARLIE DODSWORTH HESITATED, staring at the phone after he’d hung up from talking to Eve Duncan. She’d sounded scared and desperate, but who knew if she wasn’t some kind of nut? He was only a deputy. He had no business calling the highway patrol and setting up roadblocks. That was a sheriff’s job. Jim’s job.

  He dialed Jim’s cell number. No answer.

  Jim always answered. Unless his cell was no longer in his hands, as Eve Duncan had claimed.

  Damn, that scared him.

  He punched the number for Torrance with the highway patrol and while he was waiting he called out to Annie Burke in the front office. “Get that report Jim requested on Joe Quinn.” After he had read the report, the sheriff had thought Quinn might have valid reasons for suspecting Kistle and had started the surveillance on him. He needed to know everything Jim knew.

  “Ten minutes,” Annie said. “I’m on my lunch break.”

  “Now!”

  Annie would probably give him hell later. He couldn’t worry about it. Torrance had picked up and Dodsworth was telling him what had to be done.

  “By whose authority?” Torrance asked. “I’m not about to send my guys off on a wild-goose chase at this time of night.”

  “Sheriff Jim Jedroth,” Dodsworth lied. “I’m just relaying his orders.”

  “Got you.” Torrance hung up.

  Annie was standing in the doorway holding a folder. “You lied to him. What’s got into you, Charlie Dodsworth? Jim’s going to have your ass.”

  “I hope he does.” Dodsworth got up from the desk. “I haven’t got time to read that report. Walk me to the patrol car and fill me in, Annie.”

  “Where are you going?” She fell into step with him as she took out the report.

  “I can’t get in touch with Jim.”

  “He could still be okay. That doesn’t—” She broke off, her gaze scanning the report. “Joe Quinn is a lieutenant with ATLPD. Lots of commendations, formerly with the SEALs and FBI. There’s a photo.”

  He glanced at the picture. Quinn appeared to be in his late thirties, brown hair, square face, broad mouth, and wide-set brown eyes.

  Annie went on, “He went to Harvard and is supposed to be very, very smart. He lives in a lake cottage outside Atlanta with an Eve Duncan.”

  He punched the elevator button. “Tell me about Eve Duncan. Is there anything on her?”

  Annie nodded. “Yeah, evidently they’ve worked together on several cases. She’s a forensic sculptor, one of the best in the world, and does work for police departments all over the country. Several years ago her daughter, Bonnie, disappeared and was presumed killed by a serial killer who was later executed. Her body was never recovered and later it was suspected that the man who was executed for her death was innocent of that particular killing. Though he was guilty of several more child murders. Eve Duncan went back to school to study forensic sculpting and has been searching for the killer and the remains of her murdered daughter ever since. Joe Quinn has taken several leaves of absences from the department over the years to investigate possible suspects.”

  “Like Kistle,” Dodsworth said grimly. “And this time he may have hit the jackpot.” He was going down the steps toward the patrol car parked in front of the building. “Why the hell couldn’t he have stayed out of our town?” He jumped into the car. “If Torrance calls back, cover my ass, Annie.”

  She frowned. “What’s happening, Charlie? Where are you going? It must be pretty serious if you’re willing to risk your job like this.”

  He backed out of the pa
rking spot. “Dead serious.”

  FLASHING LIGHTS. HIGHWAY patrol cars drawn across the highway ahead.

  Roadblock.

  This was farm country and a roadblock was big stuff, Kistle thought. Those cops weren’t going to be checking for seat belt violations.

  He stomped on the brake, made a U-turn, and pressed the accelerator to the floor.

  He could hear the sirens behind him.

  He should have had more time. He’d hidden the sheriff’s body and he should have had a chance to get out of the county before the police were able to martial their forces.

  Eve Duncan had done this.

  He knew he’d shaken and sickened her, but she must have rallied quickly, to get this fast a response. He felt a thrill of excitement as he went around a curve in the road. He could feel the blood pumping in his veins. He hadn’t been this close to capture in a long time. He’d forgotten the adrenaline rush, the feeling of being alive. These days it usually came only with the kill.

  They were getting close.

  But according to his GPS there was a forest up ahead. Clayborne Forest.

  He put on more speed and skidded around the next turn. Then he turned off his lights, left the road, and drove into the woods, bumping along on the rutted ground, branches swatting the windshield of his car.

  The two highway patrol cars raced past him and around the curve, sirens blaring.

  But they’d be back.

  This car was a handicap now. He’d have to abandon it and go it on foot. He grabbed his duffel, rifle, and memory box and jumped out of the car.

  No one would be able to catch him once he took to the woods. As a kid, he had spent all his free hours in the forest near his home. Later, in the Army, his skills had been honed to supreme sharpness. None of these country bumpkins could touch him, much less catch him.

  If they got close, he’d just take them out one by one.

  He splashed through a stream. He was acutely aware of the power of his muscles, the wind in his face. He was beginning to feel a sense of primitive joy. They thought him prey, but he was really the hunter. As a child, he’d seen a movie about a werewolf and in the forest he’d always pretended to be that monstrous, lethal entity. Now that he was grown he’d gone far beyond those fantasies and become far more deadly.

  No one could catch him.

  No silver bullet could kill him.

  Hurry. Put distance between himself and the car. The first patrolmen after him would probably be novice trackers, but they’d pull in more experienced woodsmen if they didn’t catch him. He had to have time to mask his signs.

  These stupid cops won’t catch me, Eve. I told you I’d get away from them.

  He could feel again that surge of excitement.

  Eve Duncan. Eve Duncan. Eve Duncan.

  The name repeated in his mind like a mantra, he could hear the rhythm of it in his heartbeat as he ran.

  Are you thinking about me, Eve? You shouldn’t have done this to me, you know. You’ll have to be punished.

  The thought brought a swelling wave of pleasure. There were so many ways she could be hurt. He had hurt her tonight, but she had bounced back immediately. It would take time and study to find a way to bring her to her knees. But he didn’t want to wait that time. He wanted that exquisite satisfaction now.

  So what do I know about you, Eve Duncan?

  You’re a tough bitch who grew up in Atlanta’s slums. Let’s see, you’re illegitimate and so was your Bonnie. Then when she was born, you turned your life around. You finished school and went on to college. What a sparkling example for those other street kids. But all that drive didn’t help you, did it? Your Bonnie died and you couldn’t do anything about it. Take away a child and the world stops turning, and the one who takes her away is all-powerful. It’s the ultimate way to play God. You were helpless. And you’re helpless now, but you don’t know it.

  But you’ll know it soon.

  Chapter TWO

  “KEEP BEHIND THE YELLOW tape,” the policeman said roughly. “If you’re that curious about forensic procedures, watch CSI or Bones.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Miguel Vicente said sympathetically. “I heard the victim was a sheriff? One of your own. I can understand how you’d be upset. I was in the military and the bond is much the same.”

  “You don’t look old enough to have been in the military. You can’t be more than nineteen or twenty.” The officer’s gaze traveled over Miguel’s slender body and lingered on his thickly bandaged hands. “Iraq?”

  “Not all wars are in Iraq. But I’ve had friends die fighting beside me. I know how you must feel.”

  “Jim Jedroth was a damn fine officer and a great guy. We’ll get the pervert who killed him. We’re hunting the woods for him now.” He turned and walked back toward the forensic team, who were making a chalk mark around the body. “Stay behind that tape, kid.”

  “Yes, sir. Whatever you say.” Miguel pushed his way back through the crowd cordoned off from the crime scene. He didn’t pull out his phone until he was on his way to his rental car parked down the street. He slowly dialed Montalvo’s number, wincing with pain as he tried to make his fingers work. “We’re too late, Colonel,” he told Montalvo when he picked up the phone. “I think Kistle’s on the run.”

  Montalvo muttered a curse. “You’re sure?”

  “There’s a dead sheriff outside Kistle’s flat and a deputy who’s swearing vengeance on the pervert who killed him. He said they were hunting the woods for him now. I’d say that was a pretty good indication. I’ll find out more, but I thought you’d want a report.”

  “Dammit, I thought we’d be able to rope Kistle in and hand him to Eve on a plate. We were so close.”

  “Evidently so were the local police. He must have been under suspicion.”

  “Why? Kistle is smart as hell. I’d bet they were alerted to watch him.”

  “Joe Quinn?”

  “Probably. We knew he was doing his own investigation. I just didn’t think he’d get there before we did.”

  “And you wanted to be first.”

  “I always want to be first.”

  “Particularly where Eve Duncan is concerned,” Miguel said softly.

  “I made her a promise.”

  “And she told you to forget it. Could it be you just want to be her hero? My, under the same circumstances I believe you’d accuse me of being sickeningly sentimental, Colonel.”

  “I keep my promises, you scamp. Now back off.”

  “Yes, sir.” Miguel recognized by the thread of steel in Montalvo’s voice it was time to change the subject. He had served under him since he was a young boy in the military compound Montalvo had run in Colombia and he would serve him again anywhere, anytime, for the rest of his life. That didn’t mean he didn’t know how tough Montalvo could be if he stepped beyond the allowed limitations. “Just an observation. What do you want me to do next?”

  “Find out all you can about the sheriff’s investigation into Kistle. I’ll get a flight out tonight.”

  “Do you want me to go into the woods after Kistle? I may still be able to rope him in for Eve if I can keep from stumbling over the sheriff’s deputies.”

  “Hell, no. I spent a small fortune on those operations on your hands. You’re not even supposed to open a book, much less try guerrilla warfare.”

  “I’m bored. My hands are fine.” He amended, “Well, not fine, but functional. An ingenious man like me can compensate.”

  “An ingenious man like you could end up with gangrene. Stay there, keep watching, and stay out of those woods.”

  “YOU THINK IT’S BONNIE’S killer?” Jane gazed down into the coffee in her cup. “You told me once that you had dozens of crank calls confessing to Bonnie’s killing right after she disappeared. Could this be another one?”

  “Yes.” Eve leaned wearily back in her chair. “The investigators Montalvo hired tapped a lot of prison inmates, who gave them information about friends or acquaintances who had actuall
y told them they had killed Bonnie. They came up with three possible suspects. Maybe they were like the creeps who called me at the time. They could have wanted some sick glory among their peers.”

  “But you think it’s possible?”

  She nodded jerkily. “He called her a burning arrow in the darkness. Bonnie was— He sounded like he knew her.”

  “Or a clever sadist who wanted to make sure he’d hurt you.”

  “Yes, he definitely wanted to do that.” She lifted her cup to her lips. “He didn’t like Joe setting the police on him, and I was the nearest target.” She thought about it. “No, it was more than that. He sounded … exhilarated.”

  “What do you know about Kistle?”

  “Not as much as I’d like. The report Montalvo gave me was pretty scanty. There were three possible suspects his investigators turned up. Kistle was one of them. They traced Kistle from the time he was running drugs in Atlanta at the time of Bonnie’s death to last year when he was living in Detroit. There were big gaps in the report. He must have moved around a lot and been smart enough to be able to change identities and obtain false documents whenever he liked. He just disappeared from view for long periods. We don’t know where in the country he was living. Though he mentioned Colorado to me on the telephone.”

  I impersonated a sheriff once. It was in Fort Collins, Colorado. Children are taught to trust policemen.

  The memory brought back the same shock and sickness as when she’d first heard it. She wearily shook her head. “I need to know more. He used the name Kistle again when he showed up in Detroit last year. A few months later he left Detroit and there was no word until now.”

  “No prior arrests? No school records?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then Kistle can’t be his real name.”

  Eve nodded. “We were trying to check his background, but we weren’t getting very far. And we wanted to know where the bastard was now. Evidently Joe found him.” Her lips tightened. “And didn’t tell me.”

  “It was a wrong move,” Jane said. “But he only wanted what was best for you. He didn’t want you to go through all that pain if Kistle wasn’t the right man.”

  “I know that. It doesn’t help. Bonnie is my daughter. He should have shared the—” She broke off as the phone rang. She jumped up to answer it. “It’s Deputy Dodsworth,” she told Jane as she picked up the handset. “Eve Duncan. Please. Tell me you got Kistle, Deputy.”