The Killing Game Read online

  “I'm the only one responsible for me,” Eve said. “Give me a skull.”

  He smiled faintly. “I'd be tempted to do it if I didn't know what a—”

  The phone rang.

  Joe started toward the phone by the door.

  “Wait.” Spiro nodded at Eve. “Pick it up. Is there another extension?”

  The phone rang again.

  “Kitchen,” Joe said.

  Spiro ran to the kitchen, and Eve picked up the receiver at his signal. “Hello.”

  “Listen carefully.” The voice was unmistakable. “I know you probably have this phone bugged by now, and I'm not going to stay on the line long. From now on I'll call you on your digital phone.” He chuckled. “Did you enjoy your trip to Talladega? Cold night, wasn't it?”

  He hung up.

  She slowly hung up and turned to Spiro.

  “He's using a mechanical voice distorter,” Spiro said. “Is that how he sounded before?”

  “Yes.”

  “Interesting.”

  “He knew about my trip to Talladega. He must have followed us.”

  “Or he's bluffing.”

  She shivered. “I don't think he's bluffing.”

  “Neither do I.” He shrugged. “I'll give you your skull. It's not going to make any difference. He's going to play out his scenario no matter what we do.”

  “How can you tell?” Joe asked.

  “There are two kinds of serial killers. The disorganized and the organized. A disorganized killer is spontaneous, random, and sloppy. Talladega has some of the marks of an organized killer. Bodies hidden and transported. Weapon and evidence absent. We'll probably find other signs as we go along. Your caller's being very careful not to be recognized. There's nothing sloppy about this man, which fits the usual pattern.”

  “What's the usual pattern?” Eve asked.

  “Average to above-average intelligence, aware of police procedures and may even associate with the police. Owns a car in good condition, travels frequently, usually commits crimes out of his area of residence. He's socially adept, has verbal skills that he uses to—”

  “That's enough.” Eve shook her head. “You argued with me but you believed this man is the Talladega monster all along, didn't you?”

  “My job is to take the supposed truth apart and look at it every way possible.” He headed for the door. “When he calls again, write down everything he says the moment you hang up. Digital calls are tough to trace, but I'll arrange for a bug on the house phone. He might decide to call on that line if he can't reach you on your digital.”

  “How does he even know I have a digital? How will he get my number? It's private. For that matter, Joe's number here is unlisted too.”

  “There are ways if you're determined enough and smart enough. As I said, one of the characteristics of the organized serial killer is average to above-average intelligence. But you're right. One of the first things I'll do is run a check on the phone companies and see if there's been any detected infiltration into their computer banks.” He stopped at the door. “I have a skull in my car. Come out and get it, Joe.”

  “And what are you going to tell Joe that you don't want me to hear?”

  He hesitated and then shrugged. “That I'm sending Charlie down to guard the cottage while you're working on the skull. I have to go back to Talladega to meet with Spalding from the Child Abduction Serial Killer Unit and explain why I'm stepping on his toes by giving you a skull. CASKU might have their own forensic sculptor on tap.”

  “I don't need Charlie. Joe is here.”

  “A little more protection won't hurt. A hell of a lot more protection wouldn't be bad. I'll try to arrange it as soon as possible. One of the other marks of the organized killer is that he targets his victim.” He frowned. “Though the victim is almost always a stranger. It makes me uneasy that he wants to establish an intimate link with you.”

  “I'm sure he's sorry to upset your profile,” she said ironically. “It could be he's not going to play by your rules.”

  Spiro's lips tightened grimly. “You'd better hope he does. It may be our only way of catching him.”

  “When will Charlie be here?”

  “A couple of hours. Why?”

  “I want Joe to go back to Atlanta and get me photographs of those boys. I'll need to verify after I do the reconstruction.”

  “Joe should stay here,” Spiro said. “I'll have the Bureau fax me the photographs to Talladega and I'll bring them to you myself.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don't thank me. I should tell you to leave this place and go to the city. You're too isolated here.”

  “I need the isolation to work on that skull.”

  “And I need to get my hands on that killer.” He shrugged. “So I guess I'm willing to risk your neck to get him.”

  “Nice,” Joe said.

  “Don't give me that.” Spiro suddenly whirled on him. “I warned you both of the danger of working on a skull, and you wouldn't listen. Well, don't blame me for doing anything I can to get that asshole. I've just spent a week staring at those nine graves. God knows how many more he's killed. Can you guess how many serial killers are out there? We probably catch only one in thirty. The dumb ones. The ones who make mistakes. The smart ones walk away and kill and kill again. This is one of the smart ones. But this time we have a chance. I don't know why, but he's giving us a shot at him, and I'm damn well going to take it.”

  “Okay. Okay.” Joe lifted his hands in surrender. “But don't expect me to let you use Eve as bait.”

  “Sorry.” Spiro struggled for control. “I didn't mean to—Maybe I need a vacation.”

  “It wouldn't surprise me,” Joe said.

  “Hell, I'm in good shape. Half the profilers in my department need therapy. Just be careful. I don't like this. There's something . . .” He shook his head. “Come on and get your damned skull.”

  Eve crossed to the window and watched Spiro open his trunk, pull out a small cloth-wrapped bundle, and give it to Joe. He lifted his head as if feeling her gaze on him and smiled sardonically at her. He raised his hand in farewell and slammed the trunk shut.

  What had Charlie said about him?

  A man who stares at monsters.

  She knew how close to the edge that could push you. She'd been there.

  Joe came into the cottage and shut the door. “Well, you've got it. I suppose you're going to want to start right away?”

  She nodded. “Put it on the pedestal. Be careful. I don't know how much damage it's already sustained.”

  He unwrapped the cloth and placed the skull on the pedestal.

  “It's the younger boy,” she said. “What's his name?”

  “John Devon. If he is one of Fraser's vic—”

  “Don't give me ifs right now, Joe. I know what you're trying to do, but it's just getting in my way.” She stepped closer to the pedestal and stared at the small, fragile skull. Poor child. Lost child. “John Devon,” she whispered.

  Bring me home.

  God, I'll try, John.

  She straightened her glasses and turned to the worktable. “It's getting dark. Will you turn on the lights? I've got to start measuring.”

  SPIRO CAME TO the cottage the next morning shortly before noon. He waved the manila envelope in his hand. “Got the photos. Do you want to see them?”

  “No.” Eve wiped her hands on a towel. “I never look at the photos until I'm finished. They might influence me.”

  He studied the skull. “Neither of those kids looked like that. Those little sticks sticking out all over make him look like a torture victim from the Spanish Inquisition. What are they?”

  “Tissue-depth markers. I measure the skull and cut each marker to the proper depth and then glue it on its specific point on the face. There are more than twenty points of the skull for which there are known tissue depths.”

  “Then what?”

  “I take strips of plasticine and apply them between the markers and build up
to all of the tissue-depth points. When that's done, I start the smoothing and filling-in process.”

  “It's incredible that you can come as close as you do with just measurements.”

  “Measurements go only so far. Then technique and instinct have to take over.”

  He smiled. “I'm sure they do.” He turned to her. “Have you gotten any more calls?”

  “No.”

  He glanced around the cottage. “Where's Quinn?”

  “Outside somewhere.”

  “He shouldn't have left you alone.”

  “He hasn't left me alone more than five minutes in the past twenty-four hours. I told him to go take a walk.”

  “He shouldn't have listened to you. It's not—”

  “Where's Charlie?” she interrupted. “Joe's been trying to reach him since last night. He called Talladega and was told he'd left there, but he didn't show up here.”

  “Sorry if you were nervous. I knew Quinn was guarding you and I had a car patrolling the area. I sent Charlie to take a report on Talladega to Quantico. He'll be here tonight.”

  “I was too busy to be nervous. It was Joe who was anxious. But I'd think you'd make the reports yourself.”

  “There are some advantages to being a senior agent. I try to avoid Quantico. I'd rather be in the field.” He smiled. “And Quinn is usually more than adequate. The Bureau was very sorry to lose him.” His gaze shifted back to the skull. “When will you be finished?”

  “Tomorrow, maybe. I don't know.”

  “You look tired.”

  “I'm okay.” She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “My eyes sting a little. That's always the worst of it.”

  “It won't be before tomorrow?”

  She looked at him in surprise. “What difference does it make? I had to persuade you to even let me do the reconstruction.”

  “I want to know. If it is John Devon, it will give me somewhere to start. That's more than I have now.” He paused. “This is a real nasty can of worms,” he muttered. “And I've got a feeling . . .”

  She smiled. “One of those ‘spooky' profiler instincts?”

  “So I get hunches occasionally. Nothing spooky about that.”

  “I guess not.”

  He walked over to the window and gazed out. “I'm worried about this killer. Those bodies were buried years ago and he was very careful even then. What's he been doing since that time? What did he do before Talladega? How long has it gone on?”

  She shook her head.

  “You know, I've often wondered what killers become if they're permitted to go on for a long time. Do they change? How often can you kill before you change from monster to super monster?”

  “Super monster? It sounds like something out of a comic book.”

  “I don't think you'll find him funny if you ever have to confront him.”

  “You mean a killer becomes smarter over the years.”

  “Smarter, more experienced, more arrogant, more determined, more calloused.”

  “Have you ever dealt with one of these super monsters?”

  “Not that I know about.” He turned to look at her. “But then, wouldn't a super monster take on the coloration of everything around him? You'd pass him on the street and never suspect him. If he'd been allowed to go on long enough, Bundy might have become a super monster. He had the fundamentals but he was too reckless.”

  “How can you be this clinical?”

  “If you let in emotion, you're at an immediate disadvantage. The man who called you wouldn't allow himself to become emotional if it got in his way. But he'd prey on your every emotion. It's part of the power trip.” He shook his head. “Don't let him feel your fear. He'll feed on it.”

  “I'm not afraid of him.”

  He studied her. “I believe you're telling the truth. Why aren't you afraid? You should be. Everyone's afraid to die.”

  She didn't answer.

  “But maybe you're not,” he said slowly.

  “I have the same sense of self-preservation everyone does.”

  “I hope you do.” His lips tightened. “Listen to me, don't underestimate this man. He knows too much. He could be anyone. He could be a clerk who works for the phone company or the cop who stops you for speeding or a lawyer with access to court records. Remember, he's been at this a long time.”

  “How could I forget?” Her gaze shifted to the skull. “I have to go back to work now.”

  “I guess that's my exit cue.” Spiro headed for the door. “Let me know when you finish.”

  “I will.” She had already closed him out as she began to join the markers.

  JOE QUINN WAS waiting beside Spiro's car. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

  “I didn't think you'd go very far.” Spiro followed him around the house. “You shouldn't have left her alone.”

  “I didn't leave her alone. I was never out of sight of the cottage.” He left the driveway and moved into the shrubs. He knelt down. “See these marks? Someone was here.”

  “That's not a foot imprint.”

  “No, he cleaned the area. But the grass is bent. He tried to comb it, but he was in a hurry.”

  “Very good.” Spiro should have known Quinn would pick up on any anomaly. He was sharp, and his SEAL training made him particularly formidable. “You think it was our man?”

  “I don't know anyone else who would try to disguise his being here.”

  “He's watching her?”

  Quinn raised his head, his gaze on the woods. “Not now. No one's out there.”

  “You'd sense it?” Spiro said mockingly. “ESP?”

  “Something like that.” He smiled crookedly. “Maybe it's my Cherokee blood. My grandfather was a half-breed.”

  And maybe it was that SEAL training again. Search and destroy. “You must have expected to find this or you wouldn't have gone looking.”

  “He was ugly to her. He wanted to hurt her. I thought he might want to see her pain.” He stood up and moved back a step. “Or maybe he wanted to make sure he knew where she was. Either way, he'd come. Get a forensic team out here to see if they can collect any evidence.”

  “Listen, we've got our hands full at Talladega. Get your own people to do it.”

  “They won't do anything until they're sure they have to be involved, and they won't know that until Eve finishes the reconstruction. They won't dare not jump in at that point because of Eve's reputation.”

  “But until then I guess you have to rely on me. In which case, it would behoove you to ask instead of order.”

  “Please,” Joe bit out.

  Spiro smiled. “You gave in too easily. I would have had a team out here anyway.”

  “Bastard.”

  “You needed taking down a notch.” He turned away. “Charlie will be here by dark. I understand you've been worried.”

  Joe's gaze narrowed on his face. “You wanted me to worry. When I couldn't reach Cather, I called you. When you didn't answer your digital, I phoned the command site and Sheriff Bosworth said you were too busy to take the call.”

  “He was right. It turned out that no aerial shots had been taken of the grave sites to determine if there's a pattern. It kept me pretty busy coordinating the photography.”

  “Too busy for a two-minute phone call? You wanted to make me sweat.”

  “Worry keeps a man sharp. You're going to need to be sharp.”

  “And I'm not sure Cather's the agent to guard Eve. He doesn't impress me.”

  “He's not standard FBI, if that's what you mean. He's not cynical and he's eager instead of methodical. I had a hell of a time getting him approved for the unit, but that doesn't mean he's not fully qualified. And a fresh eye sees things a jaded one doesn't. He'll do a good job. Besides, I've given orders for three other agents to do sentry duty and patrol the woods around the cottage. They'll report to Charlie. Satisfied?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “No, you want a battalion.”

  “The fewer the guards, the
more likely that maniac will come calling.”

  Spiro looked him directly in the eye. “That's right. I'll supply enough men to keep her safe, but I don't want to discourage him.”

  “You'd rather she run the risk?”

  “Don't be ridiculous. She's valuable. She may be our only lead.”

  “Answer me.”

  “I have to catch this one, Quinn. I can't take a chance on him slipping away. You can laugh, but after these days at Talladega, staring at those graves, I sometimes feel—” He stopped and then shrugged. “He's mine.”

  “And Eve?”

  “She's only one woman. There's no telling how many more people he'll kill if we don't get him now.”

  “You bastard.”

  “Yes, but if you want that killer, I'm your best bet. I'll keep on going until I have him.” He started to walk away but stopped. “You know, I don't like Eve Duncan's attitude.”

  “Too bad. She's working her butt off to get an identification on that skull.”

  “No, that's not what I—” A frown creased Spiro's forehead. “She's not afraid of him. He's not going to like that. It will make him angry and more determined to break her. If he can't reach her, he'll try for someone close to her.”

  “I twisted a few arms over the phone last night and got a twenty-four-hour guard on her mother.”

  “Good.”

  “But I didn't tell Eve and I'm not going to tell her about anyone watching the cottage. So make sure your forensic guys don't plod around here like elephants. She's working so hard, I doubt she'd notice if they did, but she's got enough to worry about.”

  “You're very protective.”

  “You'd better believe it. You might think about that, Spiro. Because if that asshole gets to her and it's your fault, she won't be the only victim.”

  CHARLIE CATHER ARRIVED at the cottage four hours later. “Sorry to be late.” He grimaced. “I meant to get here an hour ago, but I got a late start from Quantico. I hoped I'd get the analysis before I left, but they hadn't finished.”

  Eve glanced up from the skull. “What analysis?”

  “From VICAP. Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. It's a nationwide database that allows us to type in all the facts of a violent crime and then does a search for similar modi operandi on reported crimes during a given period.”