Hunting Fear (10 page)

“My pleasure. Take care of that baby.”

“I will.” He sort of bobbed his head. “Thanks again.”

Gazing after the deputy, Lucas said, “Well, you made a friend there. See something in the baby’s future?”

“Yeah. She’s going to be a teacher.” Samantha led the way out of the building.

Lucas didn’t say anything until they were in his rental car and safely out of the parking lot without drawing the attention of the media. Then, thoughtfully, he said, “Aside from Bishop and Miranda, you’re the only seer I know of who can see that far ahead. The baby becomes a teacher in—what?—twenty-five years?”

“About that.”

“And you saw her as a teacher.”

“A good teacher. A special teacher. And her sort of teacher will be needed more than ever then.” Samantha shrugged. “The bright moments of seeing something good I can help bring about are generally outnumbered by the dark moments I see tragedy or evil that I can’t do a damned thing to change.”

“Which is why you warned Champion.”

“I warned him because it was the right thing to do. Just like warning Carrie Vaughn when I thought she was going to be a victim, and Mitchell—”

Lucas shot her a quick look, then fixed his eyes on the road again. “You warned Callahan? You said you’d never seen him in the flesh.”

“I said I
hadn’t
seen him . . . before I had the vision about him.”

“Splitting hairs,” Lucas muttered.

“I can be very literal-minded, remember? And, anyway, I didn’t see him, I just talked to him.” When Lucas didn’t respond, Samantha said, “It was obvious Metcalf didn’t take me seriously when I went to talk to him about a possible kidnapping, so I called Callahan and warned him to be careful. I doubt he took me seriously either, and it obviously made absolutely no difference, but I had to try.”

Lucas shook his head slightly but didn’t comment on that. Instead, he asked, “And what did you see that brought you and the carnival to Golden?”

“What makes you so sure Leo would change the carnival’s normal route just because I asked him to?”

“Leo would go out and rob a bank if you asked him to. Setting up shop in a small but prosperous town when you asked wouldn’t have given him a moment’s hesitation.”

Samantha was silent.

“So? What did you see? You didn’t know about the series of kidnappings before you got here, right?” He wasn’t very surprised when she answered the last question rather than the first one.

“Not really. We’d heard rumors when we passed through the state last spring heading north that there’d been a couple of kidnappings. Unusual enough in this area that it was noticed and talked about. Heard a few more rumors over the summer as we traveled through Virginia, Maryland, New York, and Pennsylvania, but since we were never in the actual towns where people went missing, we never heard more than rumors.”

“What did you see, Sam? What brought you here?” For several long minutes, she remained so silent that he thought she wasn’t going to answer him. Then, finally, she did.

“I had a dream.”

He frowned. “Your visions don’t present themselves as dreams.”

“They never had before.”

“Then how can you be sure this dream was different?”

“Because you’re here,” she said flatly.

He was pulling the car into the parking lot of the café where Lindsay’s car had been found, and didn’t say anything until he had drawn off to the side and stopped near the yellow crime-scene tape surrounding the sheriff’s department cruiser.

“You came to Golden because you knew I’d be here?”

Samantha got out of the car, waited until he did as well, then said coolly, “Don’t flatter yourself. Your being here was just part of the package. An indication to me that my dream was a vision. I’m here because I have to be here. And that’s all you get, Luke.”

“Why?”

“Because, as Bishop was so fond of saying, some things have to happen just the way they happen. If you’re meant to know more, you’ll have a vision of your own. Otherwise . . . you’ll find out when you get there.”

He stood gazing at her, trying to decide if she was just being stubborn or honestly felt that by telling him about her vision she would negatively affect whatever she had seen. She was good at hiding her thoughts and feelings when she wanted to; he had never been able to read her, perhaps because he’d never known her to be afraid.

Of anything.

“Shall we?” she suggested, gesturing toward the cruiser.

The two deputies standing watch informed Lucas that the Crime Scene Unit had come and gone, apparently finding no forensic traces they felt would be helpful in either locating Lindsay or identifying her kidnapper.

“He’s not going to make it easy for us,” Samantha said. “He’s not the type to give you points just for showing up.”

The two of them ducked beneath the tape and approached the car.

Lucas said, “If you’re right about this game—”

“I am. And you know I am. It feels right, doesn’t it?”

Without replying to that, Lucas said, “What Jaylene said makes sense. He can’t expect me to play his game until the rules are made clear.”

“Not if he means to play fair, no.”

“I think he’ll play fair—even if by his own warped ideas of fair play. At least as long as he feels confident of coming out on top. But if I start . . . getting ahead on points, then I’d say his rule book will probably go right out the window.”

“You’re the profiler,” Samantha said.

He eyed her. “You disagree?”

“I just think it would be a huge mistake to assume or infer anything about this one, at least until you know a lot more. He’s different from anybody you’ve ever come up against.” She hesitated, then added, “And I think that’s part of the game, you know. To keep you guessing. To challenge your assumptions.”

“What
aren’t
you telling me?” Lucas demanded.

She looked to make sure the deputies were out of earshot, then said, “You were facing each other across a chessboard, Luke. Both masters. Both equal in ability. Don’t you see what that means? As well as you understand the criminal mind, he understands yours. He’s a profiler too.”

Sheriff Metcalf eyed the dark-eyed, swarthy owner/manager of the Carnival After Dark and tried to keep a rein on his temper. “You’re telling me not one of you saw anything at all?”

Leo Tedesco smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, but we’re a nighttime carnival, you must understand that. My people are generally up very late—and sleep very late. The maintenance crew was up early caring for the animals, of course, but they’re housed on the back side of the fairground, far from the road. I can assure you that none of us saw your Detective Graham at any time this morning.”

“You’re speaking for them all? I don’t think so. I want to talk to everybody.”

Tedesco sent Jaylene a rather rueful look, having obviously decided that she possessed the cooler head of the two. “Agent Avery, Sheriff, I hope you both know we’ll be more than happy to cooperate; I’m only trying to save you wasted time and energy. I understand time is a factor, and—”

“And just how do you understand that?” Metcalf demanded.

“Please, Sheriff, do you really believe anyone in Golden is talking about anything else? Plus we’ve had the media out here more than once, and from their questions and speculations it’s obvious you’re dealing with a serial kidnapper who’s a bit anal about his timetable. He always demands the ransom be delivered by five o’clock on Friday afternoon. Which in this instance would be tomorrow afternoon. Correct?”

Metcalf glared at him.

Jaylene said mildly, “That’s common knowledge, is it?”

Tedesco nodded. “A reporter I know from one of the Asheville newspapers followed a hunch and has already uncovered a few more kidnappings here in the East with the same . . . elements, let us say. And he was too excited to keep the discovery to himself. I’m guessing the six o’clock news today will be filled with lots of information you probably don’t want to get out.”

“Thanks for the warning,” she said.

“Don’t mention it.” He smiled widely, displaying a gold tooth. “Honestly, Sheriff, Agent Avery, I’ll do anything in my power to help. Especially now that Sam has to be off your suspect list.”

“Who says she is?”

Tedesco looked at the sheriff, brows lifting. “Isn’t she? She was in your own jail, Sheriff, when your detective was taken. And has dozens of witnesses to place her here when the first gentleman was kidnapped, aside from the fact that you’ve found absolutely no evidence linking her to the crime. Aside from her very obvious lack of motive and physical strength. Surely even you must admit she’s a most unlikely suspect as a kidnapper.”

Since it didn’t look as though Metcalf was willing to admit any such thing, Jaylene said, “Mr. Tedesco, could you excuse us for a moment?”

Promptly, he nodded and turned away, saying, “I’ll be in the office caravan, Agent. Sheriff.”

Staring after him, the sheriff muttered, “Caravan. It’s an RV that cost every penny of a hundred and fifty grand.”

“And his home,” Jaylene pointed out quietly. “Wyatt, we’ve checked out these people. You’ve checked them out. Police in about eight states have checked them out. They’re decent, law-abiding citizens who run clean games and shows, treat their animals well, and educate their children. They’ve caused absolutely no trouble and have even been going to church in Golden since they’ve been here. Half your town would make better suspects than these people.”

“Goddammit.”

“You know it’s the truth. And what Tedesco said was also the truth. We’ll only waste time we don’t have in concentrating our efforts here. Leave a few of your deputies to take statements if you feel you have to, but we need to move on. We won’t find Lindsay here.”

“And you’re
absolutely
certain of that?” he demanded.

She held his gaze steadily. “Absolutely.”

Metcalf looked away finally, his shoulders slumping. “Then we’ve got shit for leads, you know that too.”

“We’ve got a little more than twenty-four hours to find something before the ransom is due. I’m telling you, we won’t find anything here.”

“Then where?” The desperation in his voice was clear, and he made no effort to hide or disguise it. “I don’t know where to look, Jaylene. I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll tell you what you might have to do,” she said, still quiet. “You might have to look past a few of your beliefs and limits and accept the undeniable fact that ordinary police work may not be able to help us here.”

Grim, he said, “You’re talking about Zarina.”

“I’m talking about Samantha Burke.”

“Same difference,” he snorted.

Jaylene shook her head. “No, there is a difference, and that’s what you’ve got to get into your head. Zarina is a carnival seer and mystic, who takes money to tell fortunes. It’s how she makes her living, and it’s mostly theater, drama. Give the customers what they expect. Offer them a show. She sits in a booth draped in exotic silks and satins and wears a ridiculous turban while she peers at palms and into her crystal ball. That’s Zarina. But Samantha Burke is a genuine, gifted psychic.”

“I don’t believe in that shit.”

“I’m not asking you to believe, Wyatt. I’m just asking you to accept the fact—the
fact
—that there are things beyond your and my understanding, things science will undoubtedly be able to explain one day. Accept the fact that Samantha Burke may well be one of those things. And accept the fact that she will be able to help us. If you let her try.”

After a moment, he said, “You sound very sure of that.”

“I am,” she said. “Absolutely positive.”

“Because she helped you and Luke before? Helped resolve another investigation?”

“Yes. And because I know Sam. She’ll do everything in her power to help us.”

“You, maybe. I doubt she’ll be too eager to help me.”

“She likes Lindsay. And besides that, she has a strong sense of responsibility. She’ll help.”

“How?”

“Let’s go see,” Jaylene said.

“You mean he’s a natural profiler,” Lucas said.

“I doubt he has a degree in psychology so, yeah, probably self-taught. God knows there are plenty of books on the subject now, never mind the Internet. Maybe he got interested in the art and science of profiling—beginning when you entered the picture.”

“You’re giving me too much credit for this.”

“Or blame?” she murmured, then shook her head. “You didn’t create this monster. If he wasn’t playing this game with you, he’d be playing some other game in which people died. It’s his thing. Killing. Playing with people’s lives. But I’m willing to bet that if you ever get the chance to interview him, he’ll tell you that he decided to play this particular game when he saw you on TV or read about you in the newspapers and realized that you were so good at finding people—and he was so good at losing them.”

“Christ,” Lucas said.

Samantha shrugged, then turned her head to study the cruiser Lindsay had driven. “It’s just a theory, mind you. An uneducated shot in the dark.”