Mind Games (24 page)

“Oh, here and there. Mostly there.” Seeing an opportunity, he let his natural charm surface as it usually did when needed. Never too much, never phony. Never failing.

She drew on her cigarette, sucking every bit from each inhalation, then releasing the smoke from her nose and mouth in Macon’s direction when she spoke. “Really. Passing through or staying nearby?”

“Passing through.” He paid closer attention now. “But I’m not in a hurry.”

“That’s good. I hate men in a hurry. In fact, I like a man who knows how to take it slow.” She got right up in his face, those two headlights of hers aimed in his direction. “Real slow.”

“I can do that. As a matter of fact, people who know me best say I’m molasses slow.” He smiled, now meeting her gaze as if they were alone in the room. “You live around here?”

“Not far. Where you bound for tonight?”

“Haven’t decided. Got any ideas.”
This is always the easiest part.
“I’m open.”

“Can you hang around till I get off work?”

“Sure, why not? What time do you get off?”

“Around two. I close up the place.”

“Hey, Alice,” a voice from behind shouted. “Another round for the table here, and make it snappy.”

“Hold your horses, dickhead,” she called back. “Ain’t like this is the first one tonight.”

“Not the first beer, not the first anything. You oughta know.” Chuckles at some not-so-private joke rippled around the bar.

“Morons,” she said to Macon. “Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?”

Macon didn’t look around. “I was about to say that I’ll be right here when you close up.”

She caressed the shaft of the tap and pulled it toward her like a seductive pole dancer holding on. “Another cold one.” She planted the glass in front of him. “On the house.”

“Your name’s Alice?”

“That’s right. What’s yours?”

“Hank.”

“Nice to meet you, Hank.”

“Nicer meeting you, Alice.”

* * * * *

W
hen Alice closed the bar, Harley followed her to a multi-building apartment complex with enough cars in the lot to make his unobtrusive. At least the car wasn’t sitting at the roadhouse where cops might stop and ask questions. Of course, they might do that anyway, but he’d been careful not to call attention to himself. Alice had the next two days off, which she meant as an enticement. For him that meant two days before anyone would miss Alice. By then, he’d be long gone in her Bondo-patched Camaro.

“Well, here we are,” she said. “Ain’t much, but it’s home.” The apartment was nothing special, but it was clean and neat.

“Nice,” he said, sinking into the recliner end of a blue velour couch. “Comfortable.”

“Want a beer?”

“No thanks. I’ve drunk enough. Two is my limit, and tonight I had three.”

She pulled a Corona from the refrigerator and flipped the cap with an opener. “Now don’t you go telling me you’re drunk. The night hasn’t even started.” She plopped down on the couch and sidled up next to him. “I don’t have to work tomorrow, remember? We got the whole night and day, and the next night and day too. You did say you weren’t in a hurry.”

“No hurry. I’ve got all the time in the world. I’m wondering how one man could be so lucky.”

She leaned back, looked him up and down, settling on his face. “You know, you are one good-looking guy. You sure you ain’t no model or nothin’?”

He laughed. “No, I’m no model. Most of them are fags, and that’s definitely not me.”

“Honey, you are too damn handsome. You’re gonna have to prove to me you’re straight.”

“You’ll know.”
Damn, Harley, you horny bastard. I’ll have some time with this one before I’m out of here.
Although a bit worn and not as young as he liked, she knew what to do. She pulled a kinky move that caused him to cry out.
So, this is the receiving end. He almost laughed. Her hurting me. Must be what’s called role reversal. Well, I’m not proud. She can reverse all she wants.

This woman was definitely wasting her time behind a bar.

Chapter Thirty

Near Miss

L
ucier, Amos, and Deacon raced toward the cabin. Now that Diana was safe, he authorized sending Macon’s picture to television stations across the state for the late, late news.

“This bugger is making fools out of us,” Jenrette said over the phone. “The world is gonna know this is a serious manhunt.”

“How do you think I feel?” Lucier said. “He killed two women on my watch and took Diana Racine right from under my nose. I’ve never had a case like this before. We’re tracking a psychic using a psychic, and from what Beecher said, she’s in no condition to help us.”

“In her delirium, she kept murmuring something about finding the prize.”

“The prize? What do you think she meant?”

“Beats the hell out of me.”

“Damn.”

“Easy, Lucier. We’ll get him.”

Lucier hoped so, but this guy was always one step ahead. Just out of reach.

He followed Beecher’s directions to the darkened cabin and parked where the detective told him to. The three men trudged back on foot. Beecher opened the door.

“Anything?” Lucier asked.

“Nothing. Either we’re home free, or the bastard saw something and took off. Guess the only way we’ll know is to wait.”

Lucier listened while Beecher and Dumar told them everything that happened. He asked a dozen questions about Diana. None of the answers made him feel any better, other than she was alive.

“We should have caught him,” Lucier said. “We should have caught him and fucking killed him.”

“He might still show up. If he doesn’t, he won’t get far, Ernie,” Amos said. “By morning the whole country’ll be looking for him.”

“We should’ve taken him,” he said aloud, oblivious to those around him. He looked out the window. Watching. Searching.

Waiting.

The five men crouched in silence until dawn’s light. Lucier rose from his position at the window, stretched. “He made us. The bastard’s long gone. All we’re seeing here is the sunrise. You guys take Amos back to the station. I want to make a stop first.”

* * * * *

H
alloran was sitting in the waiting room with Diana’s parents when Lucier arrived at the hospital. “How is she?”

Galen answered instead. “Not good. If you hadn’t found her when you did, the doctor said she’d’ve died from internal bleeding. Other’n that, she’s got a broken rib or two, a dislocated jaw, and her right eye’s swollen shut.”

“She’s sedated,” Blanche said. “Poor baby was hallucinating when they brought her out of the swamp.” She sniffled and Galen put his arm around her. “Kept talking about finding a prize.”

“What he done to her is unbelievable. She ain’t never harmed a solitary soul.” Galen clutched his wife tighter. “Not ever.”

“You’ll get him, won’t you, Lieutenant?” Blanche asked.

“Oh, we’ll get him. No question about that,” Lucier said. “His picture is probably all over the me
dia now.” In spite of the confidence of his words, Lucier was having a hard time believing them.
Getting
Harley Macon wasn’t as easy as his words implied.

Halloran pulled him aside. “That ain’t all, Lieutenant. The doctors said that he―”

“What?” Lucier sai
d. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“She’s been…you know.”

“No, Mickey, I don’t know. What?”

“She’s been…violated pretty bad.”

Lucier didn’t say anything, but his stomach tightened along with his jaw muscles. “Where is she?”

“I don’t think they’ll let you go in right now.”

“Where?”

Halloran hesitated.

Lucier gripped Halloran’s arm. “Where, Mickey?”

“Down that hall, room 312. But I’m telling you, Lieutenant, they won’t let you in.”

Ignoring Halloran’s warning, Lucier headed down the hall with a purposeful stride. A nurse stopped him as he approached the room. He flashed his badge and entered anyway. She went after him but backed off when he turned, stopped, and glared.

Diana lay still, an IV taped to her hand. Her left wrist was swollen and blue, and the other revealed a bracelet of purple, a stark contrast to her pale skin. She looked thinner. And so tiny.

He pulled the only chair next to the bed and sat down, covering her free hand with his. She tried to open her eyes. The good one focused on him. She strained to smile, but couldn’t. He found a tub of petroleum jelly on the bedside table and spread some on her dry lips before she fell back to sleep.

“You’re going to be all right,” he said, hoping she heard.

The doctor entered the room and motioned Lucier to follow. After introducing themselves, Doctor Mendoza said, “She needs rest, Lieutenant, lots of rest. She’s been through a traumatic ordeal.”

“What’s her condition? Tell me everything.”

“That’s something I’ll discuss only with the family.”

Lucier moved in closer and spoke softly but with a hint of menace. “I can get a sex crime unit over here with a rape kit and tie this place up for hours, if that’s what you want. You’ll
have
to talk to them.”

“This is unorthodox,” Mendoza said.

“I’m a friend, and I need to get this guy. I’m mad, Doctor. Make me madder.”

Mendoza studied Lucier, then sighed, defeated. “In addition to what’s obvious—the bruising and swelling coupled with severe dehydration—Ms. Racine was sexually penetrated multiple times. We took swabs, so you’re not scaring me with the rape kit business. I want you to get this guy as much as you do. Given her size, she’s lucky it’s not worse. There’s tissue damage, two broken ribs, contusions on her stomach and thighs, and a laceration on her back. Those will heal in time. The psychological part will be more difficult. She answered my questions when your man brought her in, but she was seriously shaken. That fear isn’t going to fade as easily as her bruises. Given her weakened condition, one more attack and a broken rib could have punctured a lung or she could have died from internal bleeding.”

Lucier grunted, paced in a circle to relieve the rage inside him.

“When she recovers, I’ll suggest she sees a therapist. I mentioned that to her parents, but I don’t think her father’s psychologically inclined. Not uncommon. I’m about to tell them the rest.”

“He’ll do what’s best for her, I’m sure.”

“I’ll try to keep him out of her room as long as possible. He’s a rather abrasive little man. He could upset her. But go on back if you need to talk to her. She might be able to help you get this maniac.”

“Can she talk with a dislocated jaw?”

“Correction: swollen, bruised, but not dislocated. The old man’s overdramatic. She may hurt, but she can talk. Not for too long, though.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Lucier patted the doctor’s shoulder and went back into Diana’s room. She forced a smile when she saw him, and his spirits rose. “You’re awake.”

“Barely. They’ve given me something. I’m groggy as hell.”

“Did you hear me before? You’re going to be all right.”

“Water, please.” Lucier held her head forward and put the straw to her mouth. She drank greedily, pulling back when finished.

“How do you get to be all right after this, Ernie? How?”

“Time heals all wounds.” He pushed her hair from her forehead. “You’ll see.”

“All I can see…is his…face. All I can feel is…my own fear. How does that…ever get to be all right?”

“Shh. It’s my fault. I should have gone with you instead of Harris.”

She winced and moved her free hand to her chest. “You can’t think like that. This man is crazy. He would have found a way to get at me sooner or later. How is B. D.?”

“On the mend. He’s a lucky man. The knife missed his heart. It was Macon, wasn’t it?”

“How did you know?”

“We took our best shot. He seemed the most likely candidate. Can you tell me anything that might help us find him?”

“You’d think after three days but…I can’t.” She reached for his arm. “I think…I think he might have taken someone tonight, Ernie.” She swallowed and drew a few short breaths before speaking. “That was the game. He takes someone, kills her, then when he brings me something of hers—some clothing or trinket—I was supposed to use my psychic powers to tell him where the body was. If I couldn’t, I’d die.”

“What?” Lucier’s voice came out stronger than he meant, and he softened it immediately. “That’s insane.”

“Exactly. He’s psychic too and wants to prove he’s better. He’ll be back. He has to win. Don’t you see?”

Lucier could see she was getting agitated. “He won’t get to you, Diana. We’ll nail him before he gets within ten miles of you. I promise.” He brushed a finger to her lips. “No more.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”