Color Blind (4 page)

Lucky? Try preordained.

“Did they . . .” Sebastian winced. The stitches in his side burned when he talked. “Did they get him?”

“The police will want to talk to you as soon as the doctor gives them the okay, but yes. The police caught the castle shooter. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only shooter. Another one shot people by the ferry. He’s still out there somewhere.”

“Unbelievable,” Sebastian whispered. The magnitude of the whole thing shocked him, amazed him. It seemed so impossible. It reminded him of an arcade tournament he’d played in once years ago, how the adrenaline coursed during what seemed like a never-ending event. But all of a sudden, this huge moment was over, and you could only look back in shock that you’d won or lost.

“I know. Unreal, isn’t it? But they’ll find him. It’s only a matter of time,” the nurse replied.

“How many”—Sebastian’s breath caught again—“dead?”

The nurse frowned. “Are you sure you want to talk about all this so soon, Mr. Waters?”

“Yes. I have to know.”

The nurse took a deep breath, exhaled. “Twenty. Seven more wounded, you included. Some are still critical. Others’ll be all right. Physically, that is. You’re probably in the best shape of all of them, to tell you the truth.”

Sebastian thought back on his morning. He’d gone in dressed as a cast member for customer convenience, in charge of making sure tourists found the attractions and rides. At one point he’d disappeared into one of the crew tunnels, headed away from the castle. He’d finished business, gotten back to the castle right when the shooting from above started.

Just like Isaac had told him to.

•   •   •

J
enna leaned in and propped her elbows on the gray metal table in the conference room. Time to switch tactics. “All right, Isaac. You want to talk about me so bad. You asked for me because you know about my mother. You said you read an article, huh?”

For a second, Isaac’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t expected her to concede so easily. Then he smiled, smug. “Yeah. Read a few of your interviews and things.”

She hummed what might have sounded like agreement in the back of her throat. “And you want to know if I always saw my mother as black?”

Isaac’s gaze bore into her, excitement radiating off him. Mind-fucking at its finest.

“Yes, Dr. Ramey, I’d very much like to know that,” he said, practically salivating.

She leaned back, folded her arms. “You know what I think, Isaac? I think you’re a liar.”

“That’s pretty textbook for you, isn’t it, Doc?”

Jenna smiled, though none of this was funny. Remaining genial was key to keeping him talking. She’d met his breed before. To stay engaged, this type wanted something from her. Her best guess was that he craved a worthy adversary. If she didn’t fulfill this requirement, he’d either zip up or start spouting off complete bull that wouldn’t tell them anything.

“I mean you’re lying about the article research. You didn’t read my interviews, or you’d know I never saw my mother as black. You assumed. Popular misconception, of course. Nope. I didn’t give that information in any interview.”

Isaac Keaton tossed his honey-colored bangs out of his face, blinked. Grunted. “Touché. What color
did
you see her as?”

Finally. The upper hand.

“That’s for me to know, and you to bargain for.”

Isaac winked. “Now you’re the one assuming, Dr. Ramey. Assuming I’ll play along.”

“You will if you want me to play, too,” Jenna argued. “Are you going to tell me about the other killer?”

Isaac glanced around the blank pea green walls of the room. “Don’t I get a phone call or something?”

Not your everyday I’m-playing-a-game psychopath request. The ones caught for the allure of infamy weren’t often looking for someone to bail them out. “A few more questions.”

As usual, he changed the subject. “Most people like you want revenge, Dr. Ramey. You know.
Victims
. What do you do when you can’t get revenge? Or do you even want it, if the person who hurt your family
is
your family?”

“Is that what this was, Isaac? Revenge?”

He snorted. “Of course not. I asked because lots of people
do
want it.”

Where was he going with this? This was coming from somewhere
.
Had to be. “Who wants revenge? The other killer?”

Anger flashed across his face as his jaw tightened, then in an instant, complete calm replaced it. “Do yourself a favor and forget the other killer for a second.”

So he wants this to be about him. Or wants it not to be about the other killer.

“Okay. Like who, then?”

Isaac folded his hands on the table, twiddled his thumbs. “I’ve spent years talking to people, Dr. Ramey. In fact, we’re something alike, I think. You listen to people, I listen to people. Difference is when they talk to you, they’re paying a professional to help them. When they tell me their problems, they don’t pay. They’re confiding their deepest, darkest secrets to a friend.”

“Okay, and what do they have to do with anything, these people? Did they make you angry somehow?”

Isaac chuckled again. “I answered your questions. How ’bout that phone call now?”

“N
o way in hell you’re getting a phone call if you want it that bad, buddy,” Officer Nelson said.

Richards dismissed Moose with a flick of his hand after taking a bite of pizza. “It’s not that simple,” he said, but he looked to Jenna to explain.

The Isaac Keaton in the box now was very different from the one she’d left last time she’d come out. The rocking, confused mess from before now sat straight up, completely still, a slight smile playing on his lips. He was actually enjoying himself, wasn’t he?

“He wants us to assume he’ll call the other killer,” Jenna said. “Which most likely means he’ll call anyone but. You can bet he has a plan for this call. Otherwise he wouldn’t keep asking for it.”

“What kind of plan?” Moose asked.

“Who knows? But I’m gonna try to find out. How far out is the BAU team?”

“Just landed, so they should be this way in a half an hour or so,” Richards responded.

“Good. Keaton can cool his heels in there a few. Wonder what I’m up to. In the meantime, is there somewhere quiet I can make a couple phone calls?”

•   •   •

J
enna stared at the photos strewn across the desk as the phone rang on the other end. Twice. Three times.

Finally, someone picked up. “What’s shakin’?”

“Where’s Dad?”

On the other end of the line, Jenna’s younger brother clanged a pot onto the counter, yelled, “Hey, hey, hey! No, ma’am, Ayana! Crayons are for coloring
only!
” The phone crackled, and he picked back up. “Dad is currently washing the chicken-potpie-disgusting off his arms. Turns out the terrible twos isn’t a misnomer after all.”

“Charley, I told you not to turn your back on her with the crayons! They go straight to her mouth—”

“Unlike the chicken potpie.”

“They were the fat crayons, right? She could choke—”

“Heya, Rain Man. You’re acting like I’m a virgin in the middle of a prison riot here. Why so keyed up?”

Jenna yanked her eyes from the photo of Korbin Dale, victim number four. “I know, I know. Sorry. It’s this new case. I’m stir-crazy waiting on BAU to get here. I just wanted to let you guys know I’ll be a few more hours. Can you hold things together until then?”

“Depends. How much duct tape we got in the house?” Charley asked.

Charley used his middle name, Padgett, as his last name now, but he still spoke like a true Ramey. If duct tape couldn’t hold it together, they didn’t need it.

“I’ll pick up a couple extra rolls on my way home just in case. Give Ayana a kiss for me,” Jenna said, and she hung up before Charley could say anything else. Right now his face stuck in her mind, but not the current picture of him with a bandanna tied around his head, his chin scruffy with a meager beard. It was a younger image she saw, the waxy, pale one from when he was six.

Jenna looked back down at the pictures she’d spread on the desk, pictures from another case entirely. Four dead men she knew too well to have never met them in person.
Can you do this, Jenna?

The other half of Isaac Keaton’s team was still out there, and somehow she had to wheedle information out of Isaac. Over the past few months, the Gemini had terrorized the East Coast, killing more than a dozen people across different states. But those attacks were smaller. Isolated. The killers had doubled that in one day today. With one shooter in custody, the media would crucify the OPD, launch a witch-hunt if they didn’t make another arrest soon. Sure, she could work with BAU to form a basic profile of the UNSUB, the Unknown Subject of the Investigation, but the profile would be
better
, more
useful,
if she knew more. Even if Keaton
was
stalling, her best chance was to let down the drawbridge and let in the Trojan horse.

Isaac was right. She
did
save people. She tried to anyway. Damn it. Isaac Keaton had already gotten into her head.

He’d messed with the UNSUB, too. Sociopaths had a knack for finding that one button, then peeling down to the raw nerve until it was exposed and vulnerable.

It might be a dangerous tactic, but at least once the enemy was inside, she’d have a chance to take a swing at discovering and pushing
his
buttons.

•   •   •

“B
ack so soon, Doctor?” Isaac asked as Jenna came in. “After the first five minutes I assumed you were waiting for backup.”

Astute
. “Is that why you paired up, Isaac? Backup? You don’t strike me as the type to need backup.”

“Aha, Dr. Ramey.
Need
and
want
are two very different things.”

Jenna settled in the chair across from the killer, crossed her legs, and leaned toward him. “Fair enough. So did you
need
backup or
want
backup?”

Isaac rose from the wooden chair an inch and slammed back down at the same time he hit his hand on the table. “Now, that’s why I like you, Dr. Ramey. You didn’t assume that because I corrected your statement, it meant I wanted rather than needed backup.”

His wild eyes settled, calm confidence replacing the excitement.

Still no answer to the question.
Let’s try this a different way
. “You don’t like assuming, and yet you assumed I was holding out for backup. We have different sets of rules?”

Of course, she already knew that answer. Isaac was a sociopath, and all sociopaths, be they Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, or Jenna’s own mother, shared certain traits. One of those traits: they always played by their own rules, rules that set double standards—one standard for only them, and another standard for everyone else.

Isaac seemed to know where she was going. He nodded emphatically, mocking and humming his agreement. “Grandiose sense of self, feels the rules don’t apply. I’ve heard this a time or two.” He winked. “Yes. Agreed. I assume things about people. I’m typically smarter than they are.”

Jenna didn’t doubt it. Still, she’d heard it from plenty of monsters, and many times. Overestimating their intelligence was where they went wrong.
Play to it.
“What are my rules, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Isaac cocked his head, studied her for a moment. Finally he said, “Both. Wanted and needed.”

A reward for asking the right question. His pupils were dilated. He liked her.

“Am I right to
assume
my next question won’t get an answer?”

“Phone call yet?”

Jenna glanced at her watch. They couldn’t hold him forever without that call, but the hell if she had to give it to him without having some clue why he wanted it. Hank and his team had to be here by now. “Who’s your phone-a-friend, Isaac?”

“Who’s the first person you ever saw as one? A color, I mean,” Isaac countered.

Jenna pushed away from the table, stood. Always the damned colors. “Let me see if I can find a timetable on that call for you.”