Текст книги "Sight Unseen "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

“You’ve been searching for a cure for me? I didn’t realize that, Diane.”

“You should have. You’re my daughter’s best friend, aren’t you?”

“Yes. No. I think you’re her best friend, but I come pretty close.”

“The relationship is completely different. She thinks I’m obsessive and possessive.”

“Are you?”

“Of course, but I make every effort to control it. And the love makes it palatable for her. I wouldn’t be that way with you.”

“Good. I’m relieved. Because I’ve no intention of being adopted by you in any shape or form.”

“Don’t be absurd, it wouldn’t be like that. Think about it. I’d be very good for you.” She hesitated. “Besides, I’d enjoy it. I like you.”

“I like you, too,” Olivia said. “But you could smother me.”

“Take the challenge. You’re stronger than that.”

Olivia lifted her chin. “Yes, I am.” She got to her feet and took the three steps to the balcony railing. “I’ll consider it. But don’t be surprised if I don’t agree to be your next pet project.”

“I will be surprised. We have issues to resolve, and this is one way to do it. In the end, we might shape a relationship that will be something extraordinary.”

“Diane, you’re impossible.” Olivia ruefully shook her head. “I took one innocent step, and you’re pulling me willy-nilly down the course to the finish line.”

“And what’s wrong with that? There’s always a prize waiting at the finish line.”

“True.” Olivia was laughing as she turned back to the forest. “But sometimes it’s a booby prize. Did you ever—” She stopped, her head suddenly lifting.

“Olivia?”

“Shh.” Olivia was silent a moment. “Diane, you said that this balcony faces straight out to the forest? That the hillside curves around on either side of us?”

“Right.”

“Then no one could be looking at us unless they’re in the middle of that forest down there. But that’s not likely at this hour.”

Diane straightened in her chair. “No. Why?”

Olivia didn’t speak for another instant. “Someone’s out there. Maybe in the woods. He may not be looking at us but he’s there.”

“Agent Nelson?”

“No, he’s guarding the front of the house.”

“It could be that Tad Martlin, the Special Forces person we met today.”

“Maybe.” She shook her head. “But I don’t think so.”

“You heard something?”

“No. Or maybe I did. I can’t be sure.” She tilted her head, listening. “I have very good hearing. Not as good as Kendra, and I can’t put things together like she can.” She looked out into the darkness. “I don’t think I heard him. I feel him.” She moistened her lips. “And it’s not a good feeling. Bad … it’s bad.”

Diane jumped to her feet. “Then let’s do something about it.” She grabbed Olivia’s arm and pulled her toward the French doors. “I doubt if anyone could get on this balcony, but we won’t take a chance.” She whisked her inside and locked the doors. “Call Agent Nelson and have him come inside. I’ll phone Tad Martlin and tell him to scour the woods on either side of the house.” She reached for her phone. “We’ll take care of it.”

Olivia was looking at her. “It’s only a feeling. I have no proof, Diane.”

“There’s always a theory before there’s proof. And some theories are based on feelings. As a blind woman, your instincts are finely tuned,” she said as she checked the number and started to dial. “So we won’t discount them. I’m in your corner, and we’re fighting this together. Now go call Agent Nelson and we’ll check it all out.”

CHAPTER

12

San Diego

9:05 A.M.

LYNCH FELT THE TENSION GRIP him as he saw the ID on his phone. Tad Martlin.

Not good.

He punched the access. “What’s the problem?”

“Nothing that I can tell. Diane Michaels called both of us late last night and told us to scour through the woods around the house.”

“She heard something?”

“No, she said Olivia sensed something.”

“Sensed?”

“That’s what she said.” Martlin paused. “And I’m not ridiculing her. You and I both know that instinct is a valuable tool. But no one can testify to accuracy.”

“What did you find?”

“Nothing last night. I went out this morning when it got light, and I still saw no footprints or marks of passing. If someone was out there, they were very woods-savvy.”

“What did you tell Kendra’s mother?”

“The same thing I’m telling you. She’s sharp, and she deserves the truth. What’s more, she can handle it. She accepted my report and asked only two things. One, that I keep alert and assume there was someone out there last night. Two, that I not tell her daughter that there was a possible problem. Since it didn’t pan out, she didn’t want her worried.”

“Neither surprises me.”

“She shut down that FBI agent that’s parked inside guarding them, too. However, I didn’t promise I wouldn’t report to you. What do you want me to do?”

He thought about it. He didn’t like even a hint of a threat to Kendra’s mother and Olivia, but this was too vague to be a legitimate concern.

And God knows, Kendra had enough to worry about right now.

But Kendra would kill him if she found out there was danger to the people she loved, and he hadn’t told her.

However, no real threat had been demonstrated.

So accept the responsibility and do what Kendra’s mother was doing. Keep a close eye out for potential peril and protect Kendra from frantic worry for no reason.

“Lynch?”

“You’ve got a pretty good commander in chief out there. Do what she tells you. But keep me informed. I want to know if there’s even the slightest inkling of anything wrong.”

“You’ve got it.” He hung up.

Lynch stared thoughtfully at the phone as he pressed the disconnect. He was definitely uneasy.

Forget it. Nothing he could do now.

He had to concentrate on getting Kendra to that FBI meeting and zeroing in on Myatt.

FBI San Diego Field Office

10:25 A.M.

“FIVE MINUTES UNTIL SHOWTIME,” Griffin said into the P.A. microphone at the front of the war room. “Unit leaders, verify that your teams are in place and ready to move.”

Now it did seem like a war room, Kendra thought as she and Lynch moved through the crowd of agents and support personnel. A high-wattage projector was throwing a map of greater San Diego onto a twelve-foot-wide screen high on the front wall, augmented by two flat-screen monitors. Pulsing blue dots indicated the GPS tracking beacons of the response teams, located at strategic locations around the city.

A systems chief from the wireless telephone provider, Lightwire Communications, stood at the front of the room wearing a headset, linked to the company headquarters in nearby Escondido.

One by one, the response teams checked in. They were ready.

The room’s roar of voices abruptly subsided, dropping in volume as the clock inched closer to ten thirty.

Metcalf stepped closer to Kendra, watching the countdown displayed on the big screen. “With a little luck, this could be over by lunchtime,” he whispered.

“I sure hope so.”

The digital countdown clock neared zero.

10 … 9 … 8 … 7 … 6 …

Please let this work, Kendra prayed. Let this nightmare come to an end.

5 … 4 … 3 … 2 … 1.

Griffin nodded to the systems chief, and he spoke into his headset. After a moment, the technician looked up and spoke to the assembled agents and support staff. “They’ve initiated the ping test.”

He punched a button and patched his headset audio through the P.A. system.

“Account one is a no-go,” said the voice on the line. “I repeat, it is a no-go. We have no connection.”

Groans erupted in the room.

Griffin raised his hands to silence the staff.

Kendra looked around the room. Metcalf no longer had the same confidence he’d shown only moments before.

“Account two is also a no-go,” said the voice on the P.A. “Same story with account three. No connections with the towers on any of them. Sorry, guys.”

More groans from the staffers.

“Shit.” Kendra’s shoulders slumped. She had hoped against hope. All that soaring optimism she had tried to keep alive was ebbing away. “I guess there’s a reason they call them disposable phones.”

“It’s not over,” Griffin said. “We know that third phone has made contact with the prison less than twenty-four hours ago. He probably just leaves it powered down until he’s ready to use it. We’ll continue to live-monitor, and the teams will stay in place. I’m telling you this could still work.”

Kendra leaned against a table. “I want to believe that. Damn, I want to believe it.”

“It’s our best shot,” Lynch said. “In the meantime, we’ll just keep following every lead. You know how it works … keep chiseling until the dam breaks.”

“Chisel? I wanted a sledgehammer, remember?”

He smiled. “Just point me in the right direction.”

“Maybe I can point you there.” Agent Reade called from the other side of the room. “Come look at this.”

Reade was immediately surrounded by Kendra, Lynch, Griffin, and several other agents. She pointed to the screen of her laptop. “San Quentin sent over the fingerprints they had on file from that visitor who was posing as a crime writer. I ran them, and we got a match.”

Kendra inhaled sharply. Hope was again beginning to stir.

Lynch bent down and squinted at the readout. “And who is it?”

“His name is Norman Wallach.”

Kendra froze. “And where does he live?”

“Right here in San Diego. I haven’t had a chance to do a full search on him yet, but his record is fairly clean. He had a DWI about a year ago, and he was arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct earlier this month. It looks like he’s lived at several different addresses in the past few years.”

Kendra studied the record. “I want to talk to him. I have to talk to him.”

Reade looked at Griffin. “I don’t mean any disrespect, sir. But I thought since I ran this down, I should be the one to—”

“I know. I know,” Kendra said. “I understand. And I’m not trying to run roughshod over you, Reade.” She moistened her lips. “But I have to be the one. You see … I know who this man is.”

Mission Heights

San Diego

2:15 P.M.

LYNCH PULLED UP TO THE CURB in front of the dilapidated Mission Heights apartment building. He nodded toward the chipped stucco and dozens of missing vertical blinds. “It looks condemned.”

Kendra sadly nodded. “He used to live in such a beautiful house.”

Lynch gazed at her. “You talk as if you’ve been there.”

“I have.”

He was silent a moment. “You notice how tactful I’m being not to bombard you with questions? I figure you’ll tell me eventually.”

“I appreciate the restraint. Being tactful must be extremely painful for you.”

“Exceptionally.” He smiled faintly. “But you’re worth it.”

They climbed out of the car and walked up the sidewalk to the front entrance. Although it had obviously once been a security door, it now opened freely without being buzzed by a tenant. They climbed the stairs to the second floor and made their way to an apartment at the end of the hall.

Kendra knocked on the door, and after thirty seconds with no answer, she tried again. Finally, she heard footsteps. The door opened a crack, just enough to see that it was indeed the man from the interview footage.”

“Norman Wallach?”

“Yeah.” He looked as if he’d been sleeping. He was a slender man, midforties, with longish gray hair.

“I’m Kendra Michaels and this is Adam Lynch. We’re working with the FBI on an investigation. May we come in?”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Kendra Michaels. You know … actually meant to write you a note or something. I just … couldn’t.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” He opened the door wide for them to enter.

Kendra and Lynch stepped inside the virtually empty studio apartment. The furnishings consisted of a single lawn chair, a sleeping bag, and a small television set.

Wallach ran his hand through his hair. “So what can I do for you?”

She said gently, “I believe you might guess. Mr. Wallach … why were you visiting Eric Colby in prison?”

After a long moment, he finally spoke. “I guess I’ve been waiting for somebody to call me on that.” He looked away from her as he dropped down in the lawn chair. “It should have happened before.”

“A man murders your little boy, and four years later you pretend to be someone else in order to visit him?”

Eyes glued open staring …

Wallach still didn’t look at her. “Yeah. Pretty messed up, huh?”

“Pretty messed up.”

“Nothing’s been the same since he took Stevie from us. Nothing.”

“I know it’s been hard.”

“No. Life is hard. This is something else entirely. This is hell. That … creature, he took all the love from our lives, he robbed us of whatever happiness we could have had.”

“Where’s your wife?”

He finally looked back to her. “We didn’t make it very long, not after … She had such a good heart.”

Kendra nodded. “I met Sheila right after I joined the case. She was a strong woman.”

“Stronger than me. She ended up leaving town and living with her sister in Mississippi for a while. She couldn’t stand it here anymore. Now I think she’s just moving around a lot. It’s hard for her to settle anywhere.” His tears welled over. “You know, before they found what was left of Stevie, the cops actually thought I might have had something to do with it. I was going out of my mind with worry, and I had to deal with that shit.”

“The police had to look at every angle,” Lynch said quietly. “They were just doing their job.”

“I know that. But then Sheila even started doubting me for a while. I never got over that.”

“You were both under an incredible amount of stress.”

“You think?” he said sarcastically.

She leaned forward. “Norman … Why did you visit Eric Colby?”

He shrugged. “Would you believe I just wanted to see him for myself and try to understand how that kind of evil could exist in the world?”

“No. I wouldn’t believe that.”

Wallach smiled. “Smart woman.”

“So tell me.”

“I went to see Eric Colby … so I could kill him.”

She nodded.

Wallach stood up and walked over to the window. He stared out through the opening left by a missing vertical blind. “For years, I thought it would be enough to see him executed. But after his date was set, I knew it wasn’t enough. I wanted to do it myself, and I wanted it to be painful.”

“This whole point of yours, masquerading as that writer, that’s what this was all about?” Lynch asked.

“I knew they’d never let me near Colby, so I had to come up with another way. I found this true-crime writer who I thought had done enough to interest him, yet wasn’t so famous that there would be pictures on the Web, just in case someone at the prison wanted to check me out. I got some good fake IDs and gave it a shot. There’s a whole application process. I was sure I’d get tripped up somewhere along the way, but it never happened. I got in to see him three times.”

“How did you think you were going to do it?” Lynch asked. “There’s no way you could have gotten a weapon in there.”

“But I did. Three times.”

“How?”

Wallach reached down to the windowsill, picked up a thin white blade about six inches long. He displayed it to them. “It’s made of carved animal bone.”

Lynch’s gaze narrowed on the thin blade. “Very deadly. But I know from personal experience that the guards pat you down extremely, even obscenely, thoroughly.”

“Yes, they do.” Wallach used the tip of the blade to fold back an almost imperceptible flap of skin on the underside of his upper left arm. He pushed the blade until it entirely disappeared beneath his skin.

Kendra’s eyes widened. “How in the hell…?”

“It’s a skin pocket. I cut and cauterized it myself.” He showed her his scarred right arm. “I tried doing it on this one first, but I made a mess of it. It got infected, and I was afraid I was going to lose my arm for a while. But that didn’t stop me from trying it on the other one. This time it worked. Unfortunately, I probably won’t ever be able to completely straighten my arms.”

“So you got it inside the prison,” Lynch said. “What good did it do you? You never used it on Colby.”

“I practiced my move for weeks. I knew I was only going to have one chance before the guards jumped me. One jab straight to the heart, maybe a second or third if I could work ’em in.” He swallowed. “But each time, I lost my nerve. He looked at me with those ugly eyes, and I’d cave. I was a coward. Sheila was right to leave me. Toward the end, I was afraid he’d get suspicious and not let me come back anymore. He asked me to talk to that TV crew, and I did it just so that he’d let me come back. I figured by the time anybody found out I wasn’t that crime-writer guy, it’d be over.” Wallach used his thumb and forefinger to slide out the blade from the cauterized slot in his arm. “And each time I lost my nerve, I was so disgusted with myself that I decided to come home and stab myself in the heart with this.” His mouth twisted with disgust. “But I didn’t have the nerve for that either.”

“Nerve has nothing to do with it,” Kendra said. “Deep down, you don’t want to die. And you know Eric Colby isn’t worth rotting for the rest of your life in prison. I know your son wouldn’t have wanted that.”

Wallach wiped the tears from his face. “I’m just hanging on for tonight. It’s going to happen, isn’t it? After all this time they’re going to kill the bastard. It’ll be such a relief to see that shit stain wiped from the face of the earth.”

“Yes, it will.”

Wallach was silent, then asked, “May I ask you a question?”

She nodded.

“Why didn’t you kill him when you got the chance? Then it would have all been over a long time ago.”

She flinched.

Lynch immediately stepped in, “That’s not fair, Wallach.”

“Yes, it is,” Kendra said. “No one has a better right to ask.” She stared Wallach in the eye. “I’ve asked myself the same question. I was tempted and resisted the temptation. I thought I was being virtuous and doing the right thing. I didn’t realize that the lingering ramifications of not doing it would be this terrible. Not only for you, but for others.” She reached out and grasped his arm. “I’m sorry that you went through all this. I hope God brings you peace after tonight.”

“I do, too.” He looked down at her hand on his arm. “I hope we all have peace.” He glanced at Lynch. “He was right. I don’t have any right to blame you. You’re the one who caught the bastard. I’ve just been thinking it would have been so much easier for Sheila and me not to have had to go through that court case or the rest of it.”

“Yes,” she said unevenly. “I can see how you would think that. But we have to look forward now. After Colby is dead, it’s not the end for you. As I said, your Stevie wouldn’t have wanted that. What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

She glanced at Lynch, then back at Wallach. “Look, Norman. Let us take you someplace where you can get some help. I know people who can make you feel a whole lot better.”

He frowned. “Do I have to go?”

“No. We’re not arresting you or anything. This is just for you.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Fine. But can I have someone come and see you? They can help you here.”

He finally nodded. “Okay.”

“How about you let me hold on to that blade? Would you do that?”

He slowly, gingerly extended the carved blade.

She took it and slipped it into her jacket pocket. The thin blade felt light as air. She couldn’t even tell it was in her pocket. “Thank you, Norman.”

“You’re welcome.” He sat down in front of the television set. “Would you go now? I have to watch the news programs and make sure that Colby isn’t going to slip through the cracks because of those nutty people who want him to live because they never had a son like my Stevie.” He switched on the set. “I feel better that someone knows why I went to see Colby. It was kinda hanging over me.”

“I’m glad we know about you, too, Norman. Remember, you said that I can send someone to talk to you.” She stopped at the door. “That’s a promise, right?”

He nodded, his gaze on the TV screen.

Kendra turned to go.

“Kendra.”

She looked back at him.

“You may need peace even more than the rest of us,” Wallach said quietly. “I’m sorry I made it harder for you.”

“No problem.” She tried to smile as she left the apartment and hurried down the stairs.

“The hell it’s no problem.” Lynch was right behind her. He opened the front door for her. “He nearly tore you apart.”

“No, Colby tore me apart. Like Wallach said, life is hard. This is hell. None of it was Wallach’s fault. We’ve just got to keep him from killing himself after Colby is dead, and he has no purpose.” She got into the Ferrari. “As for blaming me, if he’d known about Myatt, he would have had a right to blame me even more. The chain never really stopped once Colby got his hands on Myatt to influence.” She held up her hand as he started to protest. “I know. You don’t have to tell me. That’s all under the bridge, and we have to move forward. Call Griffin and see if we have any more news on those disposable cell phones. He said that pinging business wasn’t a complete wash.” She took a deep breath to release the tension. “I hope someone can tell us something.”

“You’re a bit on edge.”

“Now why would I be on edge? Just because Colby is going to die, and I’m afraid Myatt will do something horrible to someone when he does?”

“That would do it.” He started the car. “You need this day to be over. But since you’re not like Wallach, who can park himself in front of a TV and zone out until the deed is done, I think we’ve got to keep you busy.” He smiled. “So that’s what we’ll do. I’ll keep you so busy that you won’t have time or mind to worry about Colby or Myatt. We’ll concentrate on details and pings and anything else that comes along. Deal?”

“Deal.” She looked at him with a surge of gratitude. He was solid and sledgehammer tough, and she could trust him to do anything he said he would do. How many people could you say that about? “So what’s first?”

“I guess we should report in to Griffin and see what progress he’s made.” Lynch routed the call through his car’s speakerphone. After briefly discussing their encounter with Norman Wallach, he said, “So what info do you have for us?”

“Not anything that’s very promising.” Griffin paused. “We need time, Lynch. And we haven’t got it.”

“That doesn’t sound good. You were more optimistic this morning.”

Griffin was silent. Then he said, “This isn’t easy for me, Lynch. I have a favor to ask.”

Lynch chuckled and glanced over at Kendra. “A favor. From me?”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Griffin said sourly.

“By all means, let’s hear it. I can’t tell you how I’ll enjoy having you in my debt.”

Griffin unfurled a string of curse words. “That will never happen, you smug son of a bitch.”

Lynch clicked his tongue. “And this is how you ask for a favor?”

“It’s not as if this wouldn’t benefit all of us. I’ve already asked the FBI deputy director to intervene with the governor.” He paused. “I’ve decided that we have no choice but to try to stay Colby’s execution while this investigation is active.”

Kendra felt as if she’d been socked in the stomach. The breath was knocked out of her.

No. No. No.

Lynch was no longer smiling as he glanced at Kendra’s expression. “Really? I thought that wasn’t on the table.”

“I don’t have a choice but to try. As we’ve already discussed, it’s going to be a tough sell. The governor’s office wants this execution to happen, and the longer it’s postponed, the greater the chance that Colby might decide to start the appeals process. We know what that means.”

“Dammit, it means his death sentence might never be carried out,” Lynch said. “Especially if California voters get another whack at capital punishment. The last time it came up at the polls, we came within 250,000 votes of doing away with the death penalty altogether.” He paused. “Which begs the question, do you really want to do this?”

“It’s a devil’s bargain, I know. But we have a serial killer on the loose, and we’re all sure Colby knows who it is.”

Kendra stared at Lynch in disbelief. So cool, so calm. How could he even discuss the possibility of letting that monster live even one more day?

“You may have a difficult time making the governor feel as sure,” Lynch said.

“That’s why I’m forced to ask you for help. I know you have some fairly powerful connections in Washington. People who owe you favors, perhaps.”

“Like you do, Griffin.”

Griffin ignored the comment. “The governor’s office is now evaluating our case-file brief, and we’ll hear by the end of the day. But I would appreciate any influence you can bring to bear.”

“I’ll think about it.” Lynch cut the connection.

“You’ll think about it?” Kendra repeated, amazed. “How can you even consider helping Griffin keep Colby alive?”

“I said I’d think about it, Kendra. I’m not as emotionally involved as you are. I have to weigh the pros and cons.”

“You’re damn right I’m emotionally involved, but I still see right and wrong.”

“Even if I threw in my influence, it would still be an uphill fight. Our governor ran on a state’s rights platform. He’s not going to be receptive to a lot of Washington power brokers telling him what to do.”

“Then let him do what’s right. I can’t understand why you would even contemplate helping Griffin.”

“Because I don’t want any more murders if I can help it.” They were approaching the FBI field office, and he pulled over to the curb. “I’m not you, Kendra. I’ll do what I think is right, not according to Kendra Michaels.”

She looked at him in anger and frustration. Only a short time before she had felt so close to him, and now they couldn’t be further apart. She suddenly couldn’t bear either Griffin’s move or that separation with Lynch. She had to escape.

“Fine.” She jumped out of the car. “But I don’t believe I can stand Griffin and all his people buzzing around trying to commit a crime of their own. I’ll see you all later.”

She heard Lynch curse behind her. The next moment, he was standing beside her. “You know it’s not safe for you to be strolling the streets.”

She kept walking.

He grasped her arm and whirled her to face him. He took her hand and dropped the keys to his Ferrari in her palm. “Take my car. But if you get so pissed you wreck it, you’ll have me to deal with. I’ll call you when we hear something.” He turned and walked away.

She looked down at the keys. He loved that stupid, ego-building car. It would serve him right if she—

But that would make her actions totally immature, and she wouldn’t do anything that lacked dignity. Her anger and viewpoint were just.

And Lynch should know that, dammit.

She turned and walked toward the Ferrari.

San Quentin Penitentiary

Chapel

8:40 P.M.

“THIS IS VERY GOOD OF YOU, WARDEN.” Colby smiled gently. “I’m grateful that you gave me this last opportunity. I didn’t want my final prayers to be in that cell.” He looked around the chapel. “This seems more … fitting.”

“It was a last request. You’re entitled to it as long as there’s no threat, and it doesn’t interfere.” Salazar gestured to the four guards. “Follow him to the altar but allow him space and privacy for his last prayers.” He turned to Colby. “Do you wish to see the chaplain?”

“Why? I’ve seen him before, but it’s too late now. I die in four hours. He can’t give me absolution. I don’t need a middleman.” He looked at the glowing candles and the crucifix above the altar. “How long before I have to go back to my cell?”

“I can give you thirty minutes.”

“That should be enough time.” He glanced at the guards. “I’ll try not to keep them waiting.” His lips twisted. “Nor you, Warden Salazar. I know this is going to be a big night for you. Is it going to be a full house to watch me die?”

Salazar said without expression, “I understand many people are interested.”

“I can see how they would be. I’m something of a superstar.” He started down the aisle, his gaze fixed on the flickering candles below the crucifix. “Let’s hope I won’t disappoint them with my performance.”

Salazar didn’t answer, and Colby closed him out of his mind. He was nothing. Colby had used him, but he was no longer important. He had to concentrate on the task at hand.

He moved into the second pew back from the altar. It was the same pew he’d occupied every time he’d come to the chapel for the last few days. He’d made sure that everything was exactly the same.

Even the guards were in their same positions in the aisle six pews to the rear.

He knelt and looked up at the crucifix. His lips moved as if in silent prayer.

His hand moved down beneath the pew in front of him.

He closed his eyes.

Let it be there.

He could control almost everything but the guard whom Myatt had bribed to do this job. It annoyed him that he’d had to leave details like this to Myatt. He could make Myatt do anything he wanted him to do, but he couldn’t control his choices when he wasn’t in contact with him.

But this time, evidently, Myatt had chosen well, and the guard was not quite a fool.

The cell phone was here.

He punched the access button, his gaze still on the flickering candles on the altar. “Bless you, my son,” he said mockingly. “You did well.”

“I told you I’d get it done,” Myatt whispered. “I had to do it. I haven’t been in contact with you lately. I had to make sure you knew that I was out here doing everything you told me to do.”

“And have you?”

“Of course. I’ve done practically everything we discussed and agreed is necessary. I’ve not been able to take care of Kendra Michaels yet. But I’ll do it within the next couple days. I may have to use her mother and maybe Michaels’s friend to draw her into the trap.” He added quickly, “But you don’t have to think it won’t happen. I made you a promise.”

“I trust you. Why wouldn’t I after all you’ve done for me?” He trusted no one, but Myatt needed to think they were close in every sense, so that he’d continue with his tasks. “I just had to make sure everything is in place.” He folded his hands in prayer, his head bowed. “I need you to move quickly. I Skyped Kendra Michaels yesterday, and she seemed to think that she’d gather you into her net soon. I told her she was bluffing, but you mustn’t take the chance. Not after all we’ve done to bring her down.”

“All I’ve done,” Myatt said.

“I beg your pardon,” Colby said softly. “Did I hear you correctly?”

“A slip of the tongue,” Myatt said quickly. “You’re brilliant and guided me all along the way. But you have to admit I’ve handled everything cleverly and inserted my own bits to the big picture. One of the kills I committed a few days ago you didn’t even know about. You wouldn’t let me get in touch with you.”