Текст книги "Quinn"

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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“Animals?”

“Partly.”

Her hands clenched together on her lap. “And what’s the other part? Tell me.”

“So you can hurt more?”

“So I can know what he is.”

She wasn’t going to give up. He said curtly, “He cut off her head and put it on a ledge over her body.”

She inhaled as if he’d struck her.

“And now you know what the bastard is. Does it make you any happier?”

“No. Poor little girl … It’s Janey Bristol?”

“We’re not sure. There’s not much to ID.”

“It’s going to kill her parents. I want to help them.”

“You can’t do anything.”

“I guess not. I’ll think about it. Is there any evidence?”

“A possible footprint. He didn’t try to hide what he’d done. He’s bold as brass.”

“You said that before. Then we should be able to find him.”

“We’ll find him. Stop thinking about him for a while.”

“We may find other bodies. He’s being careless.”

“That’s a possibility.”

She was silent for a long time, watching the rain hit the windshield. “I’m glad she was found. She was alone so long in that cave. When we find out who she is, she’ll be able to go home to people who love her.”

She was identifying the child with her Bonnie, Joe knew. His heart was aching for her, but there was nothing he could do. “I’m glad she was found, too.”

“I keep thinking that … it might have been Bonnie. I have a chance that she’s still alive. But if he did take her, then I have to find him to be sure either way.”

And she was beginning to accept that her daughter could be dead, a victim of the monster who had killed the little girl in the cave.

He pulled the car to a stop in front of her house. “Come on. Let’s get you inside. You need a hot shower and some rest.”

“Go home, Joe.” She got out of the car. “I wouldn’t put it past you to strip me down and throw me in the shower.”

“It’s an interesting idea.”

“Not really. I’m too skinny for you, remember?” She shook her head. “I have some thinking to do. I don’t want you here.”

He didn’t want her to be alone, dammit. Should he push it?

She started up the steps. “I’ll be fine. Stop worrying. I got along before you dropped into my life.”

“But not as well.”

She turned as she unlocked the door. “No, not as well.” She smiled slightly. “Though I hate to cater to your ego. I’ll see you tomorrow, Joe.”

“I’ll call you first thing in the morning. I want you to tell me that you slept a little.”

“I’ll work on it.”

“But you’re going back to those reports.”

“He’s a monster, Joe,” she said quietly. “He might be my monster. We have to stop him.” She disappeared into the house.

Joe waited until the lights went on inside before he pulled away from the curb. He couldn’t force her to let him help her. He’d already invaded her space and compromised her independence. It was a wonder that she hadn’t rebelled against him before. He’d go back to the precinct and see if any of the forensic reports were completed yet.

Whether the man who killed that little girl in the cave was Eve’s monster or not, he was definitely a monster. Joe could feel the anger tear through him as he remembered the hideously macabre scene in the cave.

Get to work. Show the bastard he wasn’t as invulnerable as he thought he was. Joe felt a familiar exhilaration mix with the rage. The warrior instinct that had been a part of his life for years was starting to simmer.

Yes, he was in the mood for hunting monsters.

CHAPTER

5

JOE THREW A FOLDED NEWSPAPER on the table in front of Eve the next morning. “The media got hold of the story. Interviews with the hunters. Descriptions of what they saw in the cave. Damn them. We hadn’t yet notified the Bristols that it might be their daughter. We were waiting to check with her dentist. The phones have been ringing off the hook from parents of those kidnapped kids, and we can’t even tell them yes or no.”

Eve opened the newspaper and shook her head. “Why didn’t they wait? This is cruel.”

“It’s a scoop. The reporter wanted to get ahead of the competition. The bastard will do anything for a story.”

“Brian McVey,” Eve read the byline. “I hope he’s happy about this ugliness.” She looked up at him. “How long before you get a confirmation on the dental records?”

“This afternoon.” His lips tightened grimly. “And the information will not go to Brian McVey. We’ll leave him so far out in the cold, he’ll freeze to death.” He looked at the files in front of her. “Did you find anything?”

“All the children were in the age brackets from four to eight, all of them were from middle– to high-income families, all of them lived in homes in nice subdivisions.” She looked up. “Except Bonnie. I’m poor as dirt, and this is a rental property. It’s nicer than anywhere I’ve lived before, but it doesn’t compare with one of those houses in Towne Lake or Chestnut Hill subdivisions. I was very happy when I saw that she didn’t make the A-list. That’s two things that are different: three months between the kidnappings, and the kind of place where she lived. It may not seem a lot to you, but to me it’s gigantic.”

“It’s gigantic to me, too,” he said gently. “Anything else?”

“Not yet.” She leaned back in the chair. “What about the footprint in the cave?”

“We’re working on it. It’s not the usual shoe. It’s rubberized…”

“A tennis shoe?”

“Not exactly. The pattern is different … We’re working on it. We’ll get there. I’m going to go to a shoe manufacturer downtown when I leave here and see if he can identify it.” He was glancing through the reports. “But first, why don’t we go and take a look at these houses.”

“Why?”

“These are the kids’ home bases. Children stay close to their home at this age. It’s where they may have been kidnapped.”

“But according to the reports, only two of the parents think their child was taken from the neighborhood.”

“We’ll still take a look.” He turned. “If you want to go with me.”

“Of course, I do.” She was beside him in a moment. “And to the shoe factory, too.”

He shrugged. “Just routine investigation. I could just as well phone you after I finish.”

“Nothing is routine.” She got into the car. “I’ve forgotten what the word means.”

So had Joe. Since the moment he had met her, nothing had been routine or commonplace in his life. “Where, first?”

“Chestnut Hills. Linda Cantrell. It’s in Kennesaw.”

His brows lifted. “You rattled that off. I’m surprised you haven’t memorized the address.”

“I have. I’ve memorized all of them. I’ll tell you when we’re closer.”

*   *   *

“THE HOUSES ARE ALL DIFFERENT styles,” Eve said. “Tudors, modern, cottage…” Her gaze wandered over the neat lush lawn and clipped bushes that surrounded Nita Teller’s home. “Small, medium, large … As home bases, they have very little in common. They’re just pleasant houses in suburban neighborhoods. I think we struck out.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Joe was staring thoughtfully at the house. “I can’t put my finger on it right now, but something may strike me later. What’s next?”

“Janey Bristol. She’s the last one in Atlanta. The others are from your list of outside the city. She’s about five miles from here, in Roswell. Do we have time before we go downtown to that shoe company?”

Joe nodded. “We got through these neighborhoods quickly. You had them organized very efficiently.”

She handed him the address. “I put her last. I guess I wasn’t very eager to imagine Janey where she was happiest. It hurts after last night.” She tilted her head. “You’re very thoughtful. You do think this was helpful?”

“As I said, sometime something sticks in your mind, then it comes together later.”

“You’re very good at this, aren’t you?”

He smiled. “Hell, yes.”

“And so modest.”

“I’ve never lacked an appreciation for my own worth. I see nothing wrong in confidence as long as it’s not misplaced.”

“Neither do I. It was the first thing I noticed about you,” she said quietly. “I wanted the FBI to send an older agent. Someone who had worlds of experience and could use it to find Bonnie. I was angry that instead they sent me a young man who acted as if he knew how to shape the world to suit himself. You were good-looking, tough, smart, and oozed assurance. I wanted to kick you.”

“I appreciate your restraint.”

“And then I saw something in you. And I thought that maybe it would be okay between us.”

“And it is.” He glanced at the address again. “The Bristol subdivision should be just ahead.”

She tensed. “Last night I kept thinking of that skeleton and the skull. I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I kept thinking how I’d feel if that was all I had left of Bonnie.”

“And it tore you to pieces.”

“Yes, that goes without saying. But I wanted to help the Bristols. And there was nothing that I could do.” Her smile was bittersweet. “I almost feel as if we’re all a family who have been visited by some catastrophic disease and have to nurse each other through it.”

Joe turned into the subdivision. “I think you have enough on your plate without trying to cure all those other victims.”

“There is no cure except catching that monster. I believe we have to– What on earth!”

Joe muttered a curse as he stomped on the brakes. The street before the Bristol house was full of cars and media vans. Three ATLPD squad cars were in the driveway. “Son of a bitch, someone must have leaked the information about Janey Bristol to the media. We weren’t even supposed to have a dental confirmation until later today.”

“It looks like those reporters are on the family like locusts,” Eve said. “Can’t you keep them away from them? It nearly killed me to have to deal with them after I first lost Bonnie.”

“I can knock a couple of heads together and end up in court. I may do it. But you can’t interfere with the freedom of the press.” He stiffened as he saw someone get out of one of the squad cars. “There’s Slindak. What the hell is he doing here?” He rolled down the window. “Slindak!”

Slindak turned at his call and strode over to the car. “How did you hear about this mess, Quinn?”

“What are you talking about? Did someone leak the results on the Bristol dental records?”

Slindak shook his head. “We haven’t heard anything yet.” He glanced at Eve. “She shouldn’t be here. Those reporters are going to recognize her, and they’ll surround her like sharks. I’ll get someone to take her home. I need you inside, Quinn.”

He nodded as he jumped out of the car. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Ellen Bristol answered the phone this morning. It was a phone call from a man who claimed he was the one who killed her daughter. He told her that Janey was the victim that they found in the cave.” His lips tightened grimly. “And then he gave her details about exactly what he did to her child.”

“Oh, my God,” Eve whispered.

“She collapsed, and her husband grabbed the phone. But the man had hung up. Ellen Bristol is hysterical, and her husband isn’t much better.” Slindak muttered a curse as he heard an outcry from the reporters, who were running across the lawn toward them. “Get her out of that car and inside the house! They’ve recognized me.”

Joe was already around the car and jerking open Eve’s door. “Come on, move.”

Eve was out of the car and running toward the front door.

But she was too late. They’d recognized Eve as well. She was surrounded by reporters and photographers. Bulbs were flashing in her face. Questions were being hammered at her.

“What are you doing here, Ms. Duncan?”

“Did you receive a similar call?”

“Has your daughter’s body been found?”

“No comment.” Joe muscled his way through the mob and took her wrist and pulled her toward the front door. “She’s just here as a gesture of sympathy toward the Bristols. Now give her space, dammit.”

“Inside.” Slindak was throwing open the front door.

Joe pushed Eve over the threshold, then followed her and turned to the reporters. “You’ll get a story when we have one to give.” He slammed the door.

Eve was pressed against the wall of the foyer. She shuddered. “I felt as if they were going to devour me.”

“No wonder you were so wary of the media when I first came down here.” He turned to a tall, dark-haired officer who was standing attention just inside the living room. “Where is Mrs. Bristol?”

“Upstairs with the doctor and her husband, Agent Quinn.” The officer shook his head. “She’s in a bad way.”

“What a surprise.” Eve drew a ragged breath. “I’m surprised she’s not in the hospital. But what I want to know is how all those reporters knew about that call. Surely the Bristols didn’t phone them.”

“You’ll have to ask Detective Slindak.”

“I intend to do that,” Joe said. “Do you know when the Bristols received the call?”

“About nine forty this morning. We were called in about ten. The media started arriving about ten fifty-five. It was all happening pretty—”

“Shit.” Slindak barreled through the door and slammed it behind him. “I feel like a damned rock star. They were practically tearing me apart.” He looked at Eve. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “I should be used to it. But I’m not.”

“I’ll have an officer drive you home as soon as I can.”

“No, you won’t,” Joe said. “They’ll follow and camp out. I’ll find someplace else for her.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Eve said impatiently. “What happened here? How did those reporters know that Ellen Bristol got that call?”

“They got calls themselves. At least CNN and the Atlanta Constitution received calls from the killer. The other stations were tipped off when they started moving.”

“What kind of calls?” Joe asked.

“Similar to the one Ellen Bristol received.” Slindak paused. “And they were told that Ellen Bristol had been phoned. I suppose just to make sure that she was roasted over the flames a little more.”

“How vindictive can you be?” Eve asked.

“Evidently there aren’t any bounds,” Joe said. “What was the content of the call? Are we sure it wasn’t just some weirdo wanting to take credit for the murder? He could have read the newspaper account the hunters had given.”

Slindak shook his head. “He knew other details. The placement of the body. The fact that one of her tennis shoes was thrown in the far corner.” He paused. “I think that he killed her, Joe.”

“Then why don’t you catch him?” The man who had spoken was coming down the stairs. George Bristol was a man in his early forties, with a high forehead and blue eyes that were glittering with moisture. “Why did you let him do this to us? Why did you let him do this to Janey?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bristol,” Slindak said quietly. “I don’t wish to intrude on your grief, but I wonder if I could speak to you regarding the call? It would help us to track him.”

“I didn’t talk to him. Ellen was the only one—and she can’t talk to anyone right now. It nearly drove her into hysterics telling me what he said. You’ll have to make do with my report.” He had reached the bottom of the stairs, and his glance fell on Eve leaning against the wall. “You’re Eve Duncan.”

“Yes.”

“Last night, when I heard they’d found a little girl in that cave, I hoped it was your daughter. Terrible, isn’t it? But I hoped it was anyone’s daughter but mine. Anyone but Janey.”

“I understand,” Eve said unsteadily.

“Yes, you would understand.” He closed his eyes for an instant, then opened them. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to help. I didn’t know about—I wanted to help.”

“Thank you. But you can’t help us. No one can. You can’t bring my baby back. You can’t stop those foul things that monster did to her. Do you know what he said when Ellen asked for his name? He said to call him Zeus because he was as powerful as a god. He could reach out and take and destroy and no one could ever stop him. And then he started to tell my wife what he meant. Ellen said he sounded as if he liked it, that he was proud.” He shook his head in wonder. “He’d have to be Satan to enjoy hurting a sweet little girl like Janey. Maybe he is Satan. Do you think that could be true?”

“I don’t know,” Eve said. “Whoever he is, I hope we can catch and punish him.”

“I want him punished. I’d like to kill him myself. But it’s too late for Janey.” He turned back to Slindak. “If you’ll send someone, I’ll give a statement, but I can’t leave my wife.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Slindak said gently. “I’ll have someone here later today if you think you won’t be too tired to do it.”

“I can do it.” He started back up the stairs. “It doesn’t matter if I’m tired. It has to be done.”

“One question, Mr. Bristol,” Joe said. “Was there any accent, any indication of where the caller might be from? Southern accent? Midwest? New York? Did he sound like anyone to whom she might previously have spoken?”

“I think Ellen would have told me if she’d recognized the voice. And she wasn’t concerned with accents. She was listening to what he was saying.” He was going slowly up the stairs. “I believe that’s all she’ll ever remember.”

“If you get the opportunity, would you ask her?” Joe asked.

“Don’t expect anything anytime soon. The doctor is going to keep her unconscious for a while, then bring her back very slowly. He’s hoping to keep her from having a complete breakdown.” He looked back over his shoulder at Eve. “I’ll pray for you. I can afford to do it now. But I don’t think it will do any good.”

“If I can help you…” Eve broke off as George Bristol turned the corner of the stairs and was lost to view. She turned to Joe, her eyes swimming with tears. “Why? Why would he call and taunt them?”

Joe didn’t answer. He turned to Slindak. “Did the newspaper or TV station he called manage to tape or trace the call?”

“No, the calls were made one after the other with no advance notice. They weren’t expecting it. He asked for the program director at CNN. At the newspaper he asked for Brian McVey, who wrote the article in this morning’s paper. McVey tried to put him on hold and stall, but he hung up.”

“Damn. But at least we can talk to them and ask the questions we can’t ask Ellen Bristol.”

“If they’ll answer,” Slindak said sourly. “They may want to protect their story.”

“They’ll answer,” Joe said grimly. “They’ll tell me everything I want to know.” He turned back to Eve. “Come on. I’ll check you into my hotel. Those reporters may be camped out in front of your house.”

He took out his car keys and tossed them to Slindak. “Get one of your officers to drive my car outside the subdivision to the gas station on the corner and leave it there. Eve and I will go out the back door, cut across the yard, and try to lose ourselves in the subdivision.”

Slindak nodded. “It’s your best shot. You’ll probably be seen, but we’ve ordered the media not to trespass on the Bristols’ property.” He made a face. “Not that they don’t break the rules when the stakes seem high enough. But it will give you a little time.” He gave the keys to the officer guarding the door. “You heard him, Dunigan. See if you can’t lose them if they follow you. Then report back here.” As the door closed behind him, he turned back to Joe. “This is nasty. But it may be a break for us. At least we’re not dealing with a phantom any longer.”

“No, I think that the Bristols would agree that it wasn’t a phantom that savaged them today,” Joe said.

“I’ll go out in front and give a statement,” Slindak said. “That should distract them until you get out of here.”

“Thanks.” He took Eve’s arm. “Let’s see if we can find that back door.”

She nodded. “The kitchen.” She was already moving down the hall. “There it is to the right.”

A moment later, they were on the deck outside the kitchen door. A chain-link fence. No back gate.

“We go over the fence,” he said. “Then cross the backyard next door and keep on moving. At the end of the block, we turn north one block and double back toward the subdivision entrance. Okay?”

She nodded and ran down the steps. “Stop planning and start moving.”

He glanced around, but couldn’t spot any media. That didn’t mean they weren’t under observation. But Slindak might have drawn them away. They might get lucky. He followed Eve, who was already across the yard and had entered the bed of daffodils bordering the fence.

She slipped and almost fell. “Be careful. Mud.”

He nodded. “Irrigation. There’s a price for these nice lawns and landscapes.” He helped her across the fence and climbed after her. “Run!”

*   *   *

JOE GLANCED OVER HIS shoulder as he opened the car door for Eve at the gas station. “I think we made it. I’ll drive around for five or ten minutes to make sure that we’re not being followed.”

“I feel as if I’m in some Alfred Hitchcock movie. Jumping over fences, dodging from yard to yard,” she said as she got into the car. “This isn’t right. It’s not the media that we should be afraid of.”

“We’re not afraid.” He drove out of the gas station onto the street. “We’re just avoiding an unnecessary annoyance. And getting you to a place where you’ll not be hurt by their questions. You looked like a butterfly being stabbed by a dozen pins when they surrounded you.”

“You got me away from them.” She was gazing out the window. “I’m used to the reporters now. I was more shocked by what had happened to the Bristols than I was about being attacked by them. I was just too stunned to react. It was the last thing I expected.” She looked at him. “You didn’t answer me. He called those poor people and the media. He hadn’t done anything like that before. Do you have any idea why he would do it now?”

“Maybe. Ellen Bristol said that he sounded proud when he told her about killing Janey.”

Eve shuddered. “Horrible.”

“Yes, but it may be the key to why he made the call. He’s proud of his cleverness, he’s proud that he’s managed to kill and never been close to being caught.”

“Then why would he be this reckless and risk everything?”

“But you see, no one knows how clever he is. No one knows what power he has. It may have been enough for him to have this delicious secret for all these years. But now that his confidence has grown, and he thinks that no one can touch him, he’s ready to be admired by one and all. He even gave himself a name, Zeus, so that there’s no question of anonymity.”

“Power,” she murmured. “Who has more power than a god?”

“And Zeus was far from virtuous and completely absorbed in his power. The choice was logical.”

“Is that hunger for fame common in serial killers?”

“It’s not uncommon. Some are satisfied to stay beneath the radar for their entire career. Others get restless and want to thumb their noses at authority and show their power. My guess is that maybe when they found the remains of that little boy by the freeway, he got a taste of notoriety and liked it. Then when the news story appeared in the paper this morning, he was primed to exploit it and show everyone what a truly superior fiend he was. That call to the media wasn’t only to twist the knife in the Bristol family. He was hungry for more attention, more fame.” He shrugged. “But often that need for public attention only lasts for a limited amount of time, and they go underground again.”

“So he may not make any other calls?”

“As I said, it’s not predictable.”

“But if he did call again, you’d have a chance of catching him. The newspapers wouldn’t be caught off guard again, they’d be prepared. You could set up ways to trace him.”

“If.”

“But Slindak said this may be a break in the case. Dammit, stop being negative.”

“I told you I’d never lie to you. Any change in the status quo offers opportunities, but it’s not a sure thing. I’ve briefed you on all the theories and my experience with them, and that’s all I can do.”

“So what are you going to do? Are we still going to that shoe factory downtown?”

“No, I’ll give that job to one of Slindak’s men. I have to go and question Brian McVey and that program director from CNN.” He added emphatically, “And you are not going with me. I want answers, and all I’d get would be questions from them if you were within viewing distance.”

“I’m not arguing. I realize I’d be a distraction.”

Since the moment he’d seen her. “As I said, you can check into the Hyatt. The media may still track you down, but we won’t make it easy for them.”

She shook her head. “Too expensive. I’ll be fine at the house.”

“I’ll put you on my expense account.”

“You wouldn’t do that. You’re too honest. Which means you’d probably be paying for it out of your own pocket.”

“One night. Just enough time to take the heat off,” he coaxed. “Otherwise, I’d feel obligated to camp out in front of the house. It’s worth paying for your room just to make sure I get a good night’s sleep.”

“It’s not worth it to me.” She paused. “There’s a cheap motel about two miles from the house. I’ll check in there with my mother for tonight. I don’t need the Hyatt.” She made a face. “I’m no fancy Easterner who has to have room service and a concierge.”

“Yeah, guys like me need a lot of care and nurturing. Otherwise, we just wither away. Where is this motel? I’ll take you there, then go to your house and pick up your mother and have her choose some clothes to pack for you.”

“I can call her.”

“Where is the hotel?” he repeated.

“It’s the Rainbow Inn on Piedmont.”

“Sounds very whimsical.”

“Not very. You’ll turn up your nose at it.” She leaned wearily back in the seat. “Ask me if I care.”

“After my stint in the Middle East, it takes a lot to make me turn up my nose. If it has a shower, I’m good with it.”

“It has a shower.” She was silent for a moment. “Mr. Bristol said he’d pray for me. I’d rather he prayed for Bonnie. But he doesn’t think she’s alive. When he was talking, I was having trouble … I still have a chance. Things were different in her pattern from the other children who– I have a chance.”

“George Bristol is a man in pain. He probably doesn’t realize what he’s saying.”

“He knows.” She was silent again. “We’ve got to find that monster, Joe. For all those children, their parents. For Bonnie. He mustn’t be allowed to be proud of killing any more children. He’s got to be stopped.”

For Bonnie.

She was getting closer and closer to accepting that her daughter could be dead.

“That’s what we’re trying to do.”

“Not ‘trying.’ We’ve got to do it.”

She didn’t speak again until they arrived at the Rainbow Inn.

He gazed at the small one-story economy motel skeptically. It appeared in fair repair but had probably been built at least thirty years before. “Definitely no whimsy. You’re sure it has a shower?”

“I’m sure.” She got out of the car. “And telephones. Will you call me after you talk to CNN and Brian McVey?”

He nodded. “Or I’ll tell you in person after I’ve finished with them, and I bring your mother here.”

“I’ll call her and tell her to come in my car. I might need it.”

“No, she might be followed, and all this would be for nothing. I’ll make sure we’re not tailed. Do you need anything besides a change of clothes?”

“Tell her to bring my notebook and that box of missing person’s reports. I have to go over everything again. There has to be something there that we missed.” She moved toward the office, and there was a touch of despair mixed with the frustration in her voice. “He’s being so damn reckless. He has to have done something that will give us a lead.”

Joe backed the car out of the lot after the door shut behind her.

He couldn’t blame Eve for the exasperation that been founded on fear. Today had been a bad day for her, a complete roller-coaster ride. She had identified with the Bristols, and George Bristol’s certainty that Bonnie was dead had come as a shock. No matter how often she told herself that was a possibility, she couldn’t accept that it might be true.

How the hell would he handle it when she could no longer deny that the distant horror was a reality? And he could see that nightmare hovering on the horizon. Eve was taking comfort in the exceptions, the differences. He was seeing the similarities, and his experience and instincts were scaring him. He could try to prepare her, but at some point she would block him out and stop listening. It would be a purely self-defensive device.

Stop worrying about something he couldn’t change. He’d face that problem when he had to. He checked the address and phone for the Atlanta Constitution.

Now his problem was Brian McVey.

*   *   *

“I DON’T HAVE TO ANSWER your questions, you know.” McVey leaned back in his chair. “I gave Detective Slindak a statement, so I’m not impeding the progress of the investigation. I could send you back to him.”

“You could,” Joe said. “But you’re a young reporter on your way up. You don’t want to antagonize anyone if you don’t have to. You’re going to have enough enemies.”

“You think so?” McVey chuckled. “That’s what journalism is all about. A lot of people don’t like the truth.”

“Particularly in stories like the one you wrote about the hunters finding Janey Bristol’s body. It was pretty grisly.”

“But all true.” His smile was cocky. “I was the first one to get the story, and I ran with it. And the public loves a little blood with their morning coffee.”

“You’d know that better than I.”

McVey’s smile faded. “Don’t be so patronizing. I’ve done my research on you. I may write about it, but I don’t kill. While I understand you were absolutely terrific at it. Who stinks the most, Quinn?”

“I suppose it’s a matter of perception.”

McVey nodded. “And I’ll win a Pulitzer before I’m thirty, and you’ll still be hunting crazies for the next twenty years.”

“Entirely possible. But you’ll not win a Pulitzer by publishing crime-scene details just to appeal to the masses.”

“Why not? I gave everyone what they wanted, and I didn’t hurt anyone.” He met Joe’s eyes. “I could have described the bits of clothing that would have tipped the ID in Janey Bristol’s direction. I didn’t go that far. I decided to let the police get a firm ID before I laid that on the Bristols.”

It was a restraint Joe hadn’t expected. “It was still a shock to every one of the parents of those missing children.”

“Give me a break. I’m no angel. But I do have a few scruples.”

“As long as they don’t get in the way of your Pulitzer.”

“You’re laughing, but I meant it. You have to have a goal, and I’m aiming at the big prize.” He sat forward, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “And I’m on my way. How would I know that first story on the hunters would get me an interview with the killer himself? It was fate.”

“No, it was your byline on a story that stroked the monster’s ego,” Joe said dryly.

“Whatever. It happened, and next time he calls, I’ll have a tape recorder and—”