Текст книги "Hunting Eve"

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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Joe’s eyes narrowed on him. He couldn’t detect any hint of menace in Stang’s demeanor, but that could be deceptive. Stang was somewhere in his late thirties, a little over six feet, with brown hair and hazel eyes. He was dressed in a brown turtleneck and khakis and appeared to be fit without being particularly muscular.

He was also holding the Beretta revolver in his hand with an awkwardness that made his first statement about being unaccustomed to weapons ring true.

“You know who I am? You recognized me?”

“Yes, you’re Joe Quinn.” He made a face. “And I’ve been staring at your face in Zander’s dossiers for some time. Of course, I recognized you.”

“Dossier? Then you know I’m a police detective and not likely to attack you. It might be wise if you put down that gun.”

He sighed. “It’s not doing me much good anyway, is it?” He put the gun down on the table. “You’re an ex-SEAL. You could probably take it away from me in a heartbeat. When I saw you on the verandah, I just thought that it might intimidate you for a time until I could see whether you were a danger to me.”

“And not to Zander?”

“Zander? That’s almost funny.” He tilted his head. “Yes, Zander would laugh at the thought of my protecting him.”

“You saw me on the verandah? I take it I set off an alarm?”

“Yes, you disabled most of them, but Zander always makes sure there’s one more that you don’t suspect. That’s when I came into the library and looked to see who had come calling.” He frowned. “Should I offer you a drink or something?”

“I just broke into your employer’s home.”

“But you didn’t mean to burgle or hurt anyone. You probably only meant to talk to Zander and try to find Eve Duncan. Isn’t that right?” He went to the bar and poured himself a scotch. “Well, if you don’t want one, I believe I do. This isn’t my forte.”

“You appear to be very well informed.”

He shrugged. “For some reason Zander wanted me to know about Eve Duncan. I found it very unusual.” He lifted his glass to his lips. “I didn’t want to know. I didn’t like the idea she might be killed or hurt.”

“But Zander wasn’t upset at the prospect?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never been able to read Zander.” He took a drink. “Well, perhaps a little, but it’s mostly guesswork. I never wanted to delve past the surface. I always felt it could be … lethal.”

“Then why did you work for him?”

“I had my reasons. The pay is good, and Zander can be fascinating.”

“And where is Zander now?” Joe asked grimly. “I have a few questions I need to ask him.”

“I don’t know.”

“Shall I repeat the question?” Joe asked softly. “I intend to talk to Zander, Stang.”

“You see, that’s why I got the gun out of the desk. Yes, you’re police, but I think the way you feel about Eve Duncan probably overrides your respect for the law. From what I’ve learned about you, I should have kept the gun handy.” He grimaced. “You can shoot me or beat me up or waterboard me or whatever. I still wouldn’t be able to tell you where he is. He never talks to me about assignments.”

“And was this an ‘assignment’?”

He was silent. “Not exactly. But he still—” He met Joe’s eyes. “He went after James Doane, Detective Quinn. He was tired of waiting for him to try to pounce and decided to go hunting.”

“And where did he go hunting?”

“I have no idea.”

“Then you’d better get one,” Joe said softly. “Fast.”

“I told you, he doesn’t talk to me. Never about specifics. I like it that way.”

“I find your relationship with Zander both bizarre and annoying. I can accept the bizarre. The annoying is going to be dangerous for you.”

He shrugged. “I’ve lived on the edge for long enough to accept it as a fact of life. I’ve told you the truth. You should be happy that Zander is going after Doane. Eve Duncan has a better chance that way. Zander is exceptional at what he does.”

“Why will Eve have a better chance? Is he going to try to get her away from Doane?”

Stang shook his head. “That’s not what he said. He was only concerned about Doane.”

Joe muttered a curse. “And what’s to prevent Doane from killing his hostage if he thinks he’s going to die anyway? That’s what happens in situations like this.”

“He said that Doane was his focus.”

“And screw the fact that Eve is his daughter?”

Stang’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You didn’t know? Venable said that Zander knew.”

“No, I didn’t know.” His brow wrinkled in a thoughtful frown. “But that might explain a few things. He’s been behaving rather…” He looked at Joe. “But you can’t count on that having any impact on him. Zander’s not like other people.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Joe asked between set teeth. “I don’t even know if Venable is right, and he is her father. I don’t know, and I don’t care. If I could use it to persuade him to tell me where I can find her, then I’d do it. Otherwise, he can fade back into the shadows where he’s been all her life.”

“He may not know where to find her,” Stang said quietly. “I told you, he went hunting.”

“But you think that he had an idea where to find Doane. She’s with Doane, dammit.”

Stang was silent.

“Answer me, Stang.”

“I’m thinking about it. Zander would look upon it as a betrayal and he doesn’t tolerate traitors. He always expects to be betrayed, but he’d still tend to set an example. I’ve lasted this long because he has a minimum degree of trust in me.”

“Which must make your life hell.”

“Sometimes.”

“Then why do you stay? Venable says you could get a job anywhere, that you’re some kind of financial genius.”

“I have reasons.”

“Your brother, Sean?”

Stang went rigid. “You know about Sean?”

“Venable has as big a report on you as he does Zander. On the plane here, I accessed every bit of information I could on both of you.”

“Very clever. Just what I’d do. I’d bet there wasn’t much on Zander.”

“No, even Venable couldn’t pull more than a few lines on him.” He paused. “But on you…”

“I’m very ordinary.” He smiled. “Just your typical genius next door. All brain but with no larger-than-life characteristics. I’ll leave that to you … and Zander.”

“You can’t compare me to Zander.”

“Yes, I can. I see a few similarities. You will, too, once you make his acquaintance. But only a few, he’s something of an enigma.”

“And so are you. For instance, you were born Colin Daklow, in South Africa of American parents, missionaries who ran a medical facility there. You had an older brother, Sean, with whom you were very close. He was a doctor at the hospital. You spent most of your time in New York. First at Harvard and then at Merrill Lynch. You were the golden boy there, but you still made frequent trips back to South Africa. You and your family were very close.” He paused. “But you weren’t there when the village and hospital were attacked by rebel insurgents who killed your parents and fatally injured your brother Sean. He died two hours after you saw him the morning you flew back there from New York.”

“I asked the doctors why they couldn’t save him,” Stang said. “Until I saw what they had done to him. Then I only hoped he’d die quickly.” His lips tightened. “Butchers.”

“Then you buried your dead and went back to the U.S.,” Joe said. “But not to Merrill Lynch. You disappeared for a while. To grieve, Stang?”

“Yes, and to think.”

“About the reports that the South African government was sending you about the suspicions that Lee Zander had somehow been involved in that massacre?”

Stang was silent.

“The nurses at the hospital filled out a report stating that Sean was coherent and talking before his death. What did your brother say to you before he died?”

For a moment Joe wasn’t sure Stang was going to answer. Then Stang said slowly, “He made me promise that I would never leave Zander until the day he died.”

“Yet there was no proof,” Joe said. “But it must have been agonizing to know that Zander would probably never face punishment for those killings. It was about that time that you changed your name and purchased an entire new identity on the black market.”

“Yes.” He took a sip of his scotch. “It’s remarkably easy if the money is available, and money has never been a problem for me.”

“Then you hunted down Zander and applied for a job. I presume to look for your opportunity.”

“It’s always a mistake to presume anything, Detective. Since you are a law-enforcement officer, I’m sure you’re aware of that.” He put his glass down on the table. “And I’d like you to dispense with this raking over very painful coals. I still find the memories excruciating.”

“I can see that you would,” he added harshly. “Evidently your opportunity never came. Well, make it happen now. Walk away from Zander and help me. Help Eve.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. “I think I’d like Eve Duncan. I’d look at her photo and see … I don’t know.” He shrugged. “She reminded me of my mother and father, and Sean and all those other foolish souls who let themselves be butchered. Some people take, some people give. The ones who give shouldn’t suffer, but they do.”

“Then help me,” Joe said urgently. “Zander is bound to find out about who you are eventually. Walk away from him now.”

Stang smiled faintly. “I think Zander knew who I was before he even hired me. I know he knew a few months later. He doesn’t take chances without knowing all the details about the people surrounding him.”

“Then why the hell would he keep you near him?”

Stang shook his head. “Enigma. I believe he enjoys the risk. He works hard at protecting himself, but lately I’ve wondered if he doesn’t really care whether he dies or not.”

“Like Eve,” Joe muttered. He hadn’t meant that to come out. Eve never said anything, but he knew that she would not be sorry to go to her Bonnie. But not yet, dammit. He wouldn’t let her go yet.

“Eve? Maybe that’s what I saw when I was looking at her photo,” Stang said quietly. “A reflection of Zander.”

“That’s not what you saw,” Joe said. “Eve will fight. Eve will have a good life ahead of her if we give her a chance.” He took a step nearer. “If you give her a chance. Where did Zander go hunting?”

“I don’t know.” He held up his hand as Joe opened his lips to speak. “But I may be able to point you in the right direction.”

“Talk.”

“Zander expected Doane to contact him, so he had his phone bugged and an expert on hand to monitor any transmissions and try to trace it.”

“Did he call him?”

“Yes, and the night he left, I know that he made a call to verify that the trace had been effective.” He paused. “I don’t know if he got an actual trace. I wouldn’t think so since he was in hunt mode. Maybe a tower, though.”

“What tower?”

He shook his head. “Guesswork. You need to talk to the source.”

“Who is the source?”

“Zander uses a man named Donald Weiner. He’s very, very good. And he’s completely discreet when it comes to Zander.” He grimaced. “You won’t find many of his associates alive who aren’t discreet.”

Joe typed the name into his phone. “Telephone number?”

“You’re not listening. He wouldn’t answer any calls from numbers with which he’s not familiar.”

“I’ll call on Zander’s house phone.”

Stang shook his head. “Zander calls from his cell.”

“Roadblocks.”

“That’s the way Zander likes it.”

“How do I get to—”

“If he knows you’re looking for him, he’ll take off and go underground. We’ll have to go to see him personally.”

“We?”

Stang shrugged. “He knows I work for Zander. It might help.”

“Where does Weiner live?”

“About four hours’ drive from here. On the other side of the city. We’ll take my car.” He went to the closet and took out his coat and a muffler. “We’d better get started.”

“Why are you doing this, Stang? It’s far from being discreet, and you said Zander didn’t forgive indiscretions. Are you breaking with him?”

“And lose this fine job? No, I can’t do that. I told you, I made a promise. But I believe this time Zander may be acting a little indiscreetly himself. Who knows? It might strike him as amusing. One can never tell with Zander.” He shrugged into his coat and turned toward the door. “Besides, I like your Eve’s face.” He opened the door. “Better bundle up if it wouldn’t offend your macho image. It’s turned very cold in the past few hours.”

CHAPTER

13

Rio Grande Forest

Colorado

DEAR GOD, IT WAS cold.

The rain was spiking hard against Eve’s face and body, and her hair was clinging to her neck like coiled snakes. At first, the rain had felt almost warm in contrast to the icy waters of the stream. It did not feel warm now. The wind ripping out of the abyss was whip-sharp, taking her breath away.

“It’s going to be slippery going down the side of the cliff.” Doane was shining his flashlight on the straight stone of the cliff wall that merged thirty feet below into a rough slope. “I’ll tie a rope around your waist and under your arms to make sure I don’t lose you.” He smiled grimly. “That would be a shame, wouldn’t it? Don’t worry, once you get your hands on Kevin, I’ll pull you back up.”

“I’m not worried. You’d be too afraid I’d drop him again if I took a header.” Her breath was pluming in the cold air. Doane didn’t seem to be feeling the cold, she noticed. His face was wet from the rain, but he was eager, charged with energy. It was because he was about to get his precious Kevin back, she thought. “Providing that I can find him down there in this muddy mess. He might have rolled halfway down to the valley by now.” She added maliciously, “And then there are always the wolves…”

“You’d better hope that’s not true.” Doane was tying ropes about her body. “But I don’t believe it is. I’ve been stopping here frequently every time I passed this way while I’ve been on your trail. I think that I saw Kevin about thirty feet down in that patch of jagged rocks jutting out of the slope.” He shined the beam down into the darkness. “Do you see it?”

“I can’t see anything in this rain.” She didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to know that Kevin was that close, waiting for her. “What am I supposed to carry the skull back up in once I’ve retrieved it?”

“Just drop it into the big compartment in the backpack.” He took off his backpack and fastened it on her. “But make sure you don’t damage the skull any more than it is already.”

“Heaven forbid,” she murmured.

“Don’t mock me.” His lips tightened. “I’m very angry with you, Eve.” He pushed her toward the edge of the abyss. “And I’m tempted to cut these ropes and throw you off this cliff.” He stepped back. “But I won’t do it. This is much better. You’re making yourself useful to Kevin.” He wound one loop of the rope around a tree at the edge of the cliff. “Now get down there and bring him back. I’m afraid this rain may damage him.”

“I’m not a climber, you know.” She moved toward the cliff. “You may lose your Kevin if I slip or—”

“You won’t lose him.” He stood looking at her, the rain pouring down his face. “He won’t let you, Eve.”

She felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

“Go on,” he said softly. “Now.”

She hesitated, then sat down on the edge of the cliff, grasped the rope, and began to crawl her way down the rough stone precipice.

The rope was abrasive, tearing her hands as she tried to place her feet against the stone to take pressure from her upper body.

Rain.

Cold.

Thunder.

Wind whipping up from the valley and swaying the rope and her body.

“Hurry,” Doane shouted.

Hurry? There was no way to hurry. Did the bastard think that she was enjoying hanging here over this nothingness?

Keep calm. The one thing she could count on from Doane was that he wouldn’t let her fall. He wanted Kevin.

Ten feet.

Another twenty until she reached the start of the slope.

That twenty feet seemed to be more like a hundred.

But she reached it, and her feet touched the dirt and stone that was the slope.

But the dirt was mostly mud now, and she was slipping and sliding.

Another ten or twelve feet before she would reach the cluster of rocks Doane had said had halted the slide of her reconstruction of the skull.

Steep, slippery feet.

She fell and felt the embedded stones in the dirt cut her knees.

She struggled up again.

Another four feet to go.

Those rocks were right ahead.

But she didn’t see any sign of that damn reconstruction. Could it be Doane’s imagination, and he had sent her on this wild-goose chase?

Two more feet.

She still couldn’t see anything.

But she could feel it. She could feel him.

She stopped and inhaled sharply.

Kill you. Kill her.

Swirling darkness. Darker than the storm around her.

Nausea.

Fight it off.

Move. Get over it. She couldn’t stay here paralyzed, huddled in the mud. That would be a victory for Kevin, a victory for Doane.

She felt a tugging on the rope around her body. Doane was becoming impatient.

Screw you, Doane.

She took another minute and moved forward.

Nausea. Struggle against it.

Then she saw the skull.

She stiffened, her hands clenching into fists so hard her nails bit into the palms.

Dear God, she had hoped all her work would be destroyed by the fall from the cliff.

It should have been destroyed.

Incredibly, the reconstruction was still miraculously intact. The nose was a little askew. The plane of the left cheek would have to be smoothed, and the eyes would have to be inserted.

But then Kevin would be complete, brought back to Doane the way he was before Zander had killed him and destroyed that face.

Kill you. Kill him.

Snarling evil. Clamminess. Smothering.

She braced herself at the assault. It might not have come from Kevin. It might have come from Doane on the cliff. She had come to the point when they were becoming one to her.

She could try to finish the job. She could take the skull and toss it the rest of the way down to the valley below.

Nausea. Panic. Smothering.

“You don’t like the idea?” She crawled the rest of the way to the skull. “That must mean it’s a fine plan.”

Except that it would only mean that Doane would make her climb down to the valley and search for the skull. It would be a waste of time when she had to find a way to escape from him again.

Escape. She felt a sudden plummet of despair at the thought of having to go through that nightmare again. She had been free, and now she was back in Doane’s cage.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, she told herself in disgust. She had made choices tonight that might have been foolish, but she could not have done anything else. She would do it again.

So find a way out of Doane’s cage. She had advantages that she hadn’t had before she had escaped the last time. She knew where she could find a phone and a gun if she could just break away from Doane.

And if Zander managed to work his way up that mine shaft, he would be going after Doane.

Common enemy.

No, she couldn’t count on Zander. She had told him she knew she was on her own.

But a gun and a phone were still valuable assets for a woman on her own.

“Stop wasting time,” Doane yelled down from the cliff. “Bring up my son!”

Bring up the monster.

She stared down at the skull. The empty eye sockets seemed to glare up at her. “I’m going to give you back to him,” she whispered. “You deserve each other. But I promise I’ll find a way to destroy both of you.”

She shrugged out of the backpack and opened the rear compartment.

She took a deep breath, then reached out with both hands and picked up the skull.

Nausea. Heaviness. Breathlessness.

She dropped it quickly into the backpack and closed the flap.

She let her breath out in an explosion of sound. Closing that flap didn’t really contain the evil that was Kevin, but it closed him away from her for the moment.

She put the backpack on again. She jerked on the lead rope to signal to Doane she was ready and started crawling up the slope.

Lightning.

Thunder.

Rain.

And that horrible heaviness on her back that was an almost unbearable burden.

She had reached the steep stone of the sheer cliff, and she pulled herself to her feet. “Doane!”

He started pulling her up the cliff.

She braced herself against the stone and pulled herself hand over hand.

She could make it.

Don’t think of Kevin.

Move. Climb.

Block the monsters from your thoughts.

Don’t think of Doane waiting for her at the top.

Think of Joe. Think of Jane.

Think of Bonnie.

*   *   *

SHIT!

Agonizing pain shot through Zander as he grabbed the exposed tree root and pulled himself another few feet up the mine shaft. He threw the strap of his backpack over the root and fastened it under his arms in case he lost consciousness again. His body was going into shock. He had been blacking out during the last hour of the climb. He had ripped the front of his shirt and formed a support bandage around his wrist. But there was no question that the wrist was broken.

He checked his phone. Still no signal, of course. The tower was too far away. Even after he climbed out, he would probably have to walk a good two miles to get any kind of reception at all. Inside the mine shaft, it was a totally lost cause. He winced as searing pain jolted through him as he put away the phone.

Ignore it. Use that technique the Buddhist priests had taught him to block it all out.

But the priests had not had to climb up a narrow, muddy mine shaft, with only the occasional rock or outgrowth of vegetation to support him. Nor use that broken wrist to catch himself when his other handhold was in danger of failing him. Like right now, when he was hanging from a slender tree root with his whole weight swinging from the grip on that fragile plant and his hip wedged in a small cavity that gave meager support. Or digging his fingers into stone cracks or into the slippery mud as his feet and knees pushed him up toward the top.

Yet the priests had probably gone through even more severe challenges for their faith. Zander had seen them do some fairly incredible things. Unfortunately, Zander had no blind faith to keep the demons of weakness and pain away. So close out the agony and concentrate on the job to be done.

In a minute. When the throbbing stopped. That last lunge had caused the bone to pierce the skin.

He closed his eyes. At this rate, it would take him several hours to reach the top.

Rest. There was no hurry. Eve had either escaped Doane or been captured.

Or she had been killed.

None of the three options required instant response. If she had escaped, then she had proved she could take care of herself against threats. If she was captured, then Doane would try to keep her alive to accomplish his purpose.

If she had been killed, he could not bring her back to life.

Emptiness. Why was he feeling this emptiness?

*   *   *

“YOU CAN’T REST . Go on. She needs you. I don’t know how long she’s going to be able to hold him off.”

He opened his eyes and struggled to focus at the voice that had come from the top of the shaft.

A little red-haired girl wearing a Bugs Bunny T-shirt was sitting on the edge looking down at him.

Shit. Now he was having hallucinations. He knew who that little girl staring at him was supposed to be. He had read the newspaper reports, and Eve had told him about Bonnie. It was entirely natural that he was having visions of her in this shocked state. “Go away.”

“I can’t go away,” she whispered. “I can’t get to Mama. You have to do it for me. He’s keeping me back. I’m fighting him, and it’s getting a little better, but I don’t know if I’ll reach her in time.”

“Who’s keeping you back? Doane?”

She shook her head. “Kevin.”

Now he knew he was out of his head. “Demons and goblins, oh my.”

“Stop it. I don’t have time for this. I can feel my strength fading away. Kevin is too strong.” She moistened her lips. “You have to get her away from Doane. I want to be with her, but it can’t be like this.”

“Sorry. You’ll have to handle it yourself. Ghosts and demons are out of my realm of expertise.”

“Don’t you tell me that.” Bonnie’s eyes were suddenly blazing at him. “You have to help my mother. I won’t have it any other way.” Her voice dropped to a desperate whisper. “Don’t you see? The darkness is closing in around her. And beyond the darkness is nothing but … silence.”

“All I know is that you’re a figment of my imagination and I refuse to—”

*   *   *

HE WAS TALKING TO AIR. There was no longer a little girl looking down at him.

There had never been a little girl with red hair and eyes that blazed with panic and anger and love.

Hallucination. Pain-induced craziness.

And again this feeling of emptiness was sweeping back to him at the thought that Eve might be dead.

Emptiness and rage. Rage at Eve for not doing what he’d told her to do. The same rage he’d felt toward the priest when he’d refused to let Zander take him off his mountain to safety. Didn’t they know that all of their fine humanity and efforts to heal the world would only bring them to this? Death was always there, waiting for the good as well as the evil.

Who should know better than he?

Where was Eve now? Lying dead in the mud a mile away from here? He doubted if she would manage to escape. Doane had been too close, and she had deliberately run back across his trail.

To save him.

The rage was growing. Idiotic woman. Didn’t she realize he could save himself. That he didn’t need her. God knows she should have realized that by now.

Okay, she was dead, or Doane had her again. He would know as soon as he managed to get out of here. If they were lucky, then she’d be alive and probably back at that coin factory by now.

They? It was Eve’s life, Eve’s fate. She had made that clear to him, and that was the way he wanted it. It was her decision, her destiny whether she lived or died on this mountain. He would not allow himself to care either away. She was not Zander’s concern.

The darkness is closing in on her. And beyond the darkness is nothing but … silence.

Block that moment of pain and hallucination and think clearly.

Eve was not his concern.

But that knife he had given her was his concern, he thought suddenly.

When Doane discovered she had a knife, then he would be immediately suspicious. He would question her, and if he didn’t believe the answer, then he would torture her.

And she would not tell Doane that Zander had given her the knife. No matter what he did to Eve, she would not tell him that Zander was here in these mountains and vulnerable.

Because she was a fool, like the priest. She would take the punishment for some obscure reason that had no bearing on reality. She should tell Doane and let Zander take his chances. That would be the sensible thing to do.

And beyond the capability of the Eve Duncan he had grown to know tonight.

Which meant that there was an urgency after all whether he liked it or not, even if it took all night to climb out and battle back this damn pain.

He started to curse as he began to wriggle up the muddy shaft, grabbing the shrubs and rocks where he could to keep from slipping. And with every movement of his body, every flash of pain, the rage began to be transformed, alter, change, burn with white-hot intensity and shift away from Eve.

And focus like a laser on James Doane.

*   *   *

EVE TOOK OFF THE BACKPACK and dropped it at Doane’s feet. “There’s Frankenstein junior. May you enjoy each other.”

“Be careful.” He opened the flap and shined the beam into the interior. “Why, he’s not damaged very much at all.” He lifted his gaze, and said maliciously, “What a disappointment for you.”

“There is some damage.”

“Not enough to cause any great delay. I knew he wouldn’t let you win.” He reached into the backpack and gently touched the forehead of the reconstruction. “He always was a survivor.”

“Because he destroyed everyone around him. Even you, Doane.”

“He didn’t destroy me, he enriched me,” Doane said. “And he completed me. We’ll always be together.” He took off the ropes around her. “And now I’ve got to get you to a place where you can finish what you started. You should be able to complete it within a few hours, maybe half a day.” He nudged her with his rifle. “Come on, we have to stop at the factory and gather some of your equipment to take with us.”

“Take with us? We’re not going to stay there?”

“No, I’m not sure I believed your story about where you got that knife. We’re going to change locations.”

Which meant it would make it harder for Zander to trace them, she thought. It would be logical for Doane to take her directly to the factory. But logic seemed to have nothing to do with this roller coaster she was riding. “If I’d blundered into someone who would give me a knife, do you think I’d still be here?”

“No.” He frowned. “But I still don’t like it. We’re moving.”

She shrugged. “Whatever.” She started moving toward the trail. “Where? I can’t work outdoors in this rain.”

“I have another place. I told you I’d planned this for years. Do you think I wouldn’t make alternate arrangements in case something went wrong?” He smiled. “Alternate arrangements, alternate ending. Not as satisfactory as the one where I take you to Vancouver to Zander, but still a very interesting conclusion. But I’m still hoping to bring the other scenario into being.”

She had reached the trail and looked down at the lights of the coin factory. “What a shame. After all your hard work, setting up those gas vents. It all went to waste, didn’t it? I hope you were equally inventive in your second attempt at containing me.”

“You’ll have to judge for yourself. But you can be sure that you won’t get away from me again.” He looked down at the backpack. “We won’t be taken in by your tricks again, will we, Kevin?”

She shivered. Doane’s tone had been so loving, so matter-of-fact that it struck her as particularly eerie. She should be accustomed to it by now. Don’t let him see it.

“I’m fresh out of tricks,” she said as she started down the hill. “So I suppose I’ll just have to find a way to send you to hell to join your son. May I ask where we’re going?”

“Why not? There’s an old ghost town close to here. No one has gone there in years … but me. It will be a perfect place for you to finish your work on Kevin.”

Ghost town. She tried to keep any hint of eagerness or excitement from her expression. It had to be the ghost town Zander had mentioned, where he had stashed the phone and gun. Yet she couldn’t be that lucky. “Then why didn’t you bring me there first instead of that coin factory?”

“I told you, an alternate solution, an alternate location.” He pulled out his phone. “Now be quiet. I’ve got to call Blick and tell him that we’re moving in a different direction. He has his own part to play.” He gestured with his rifle. “Keep moving. Don’t think I’m not paying attention to you.” He was dialing quickly. “This will only take a minute. I have to—Blick?” He spoke quickly into the phone. “I’m leaving the coin factory and going to the ghost town. You know what you have to do. I’ll expect you up here right away. Wait, don’t hang up. What about Goldfork? Did you get it?” An instant later, he was cursing. “Failure after failure, Blick. Find her and get that journal from Kendra Michaels.” He drew a deep breath. “No, afterward, I told you where your priority lies. I have a feeling that everything might be closing in on me here. Things aren’t quite what they should be.” He hung up.